#blacksmith tree frog

[vintagewildlife]

Blacksmith tree frog (Boana faber) By: Hans Rosenberg From: Living Amphibians of the World 1966

[monstersandmaw]

I am unreasonably excited for this stardew fic im hearing about 👀 (also seb, my love- i always end up romancing him)

Thank you! In all my playthroughs (maybe five before this one, lol) I've never romanced anyone. This one (which inspired this story) I decided to romance and marry Seb :).

The story is gonna feature a lot of the game and setting as inspiration, but I'm going to edit the mechanics a bit so it's less contrived, and there are gonna be more supernatural elements and folks at play... :). And an affectionate, fwb situation with Elliott before the end-game Sebastian romance, just a heads up.

Since you were kind enough to reach out about it, here's a 1400 word WIP sneak peek of Rowan, my gruff, buff werewoof farmer:

(CW: standoffish, loner character with scars on his neck from a werewolf bite, passing mention of a werewolf attack at night that nearly killed him)

This run-down, wild farm, with its endless tangle of fairytale brambles arcing around the roots of maple and oak trees, and its overgrown ponds full of frogs and flowering water weeds, was beyond perfect.

Of course, Rowan knew next to nothing about organic vegetable farming, but that was a problem for another day.

Mayor Lewis dithered on the top step a moment longer before taking his leave with Robin and heading back up the rutted path towards the town. Apparently Rowan had been taciturn enough to drive the chatty old man away, and something about him had evidently unnerved Robin a little. Maybe it was the mess of scars on his throat. He didn’t much care. If it meant they left him alone, so much the better. He wasn’t sure that anyone but Robin in her off-road pickup could make it comfortably along the winding drive to the farm anyway, and it was a miracle that the old man hadn’t toppled into a pothole or a ditch on his way over.

Rowan watched them leave together, deliberately ignoring their nattering gossip about him, which carried easily enough on the spring air to his sharp ears, and he felt something new prickle down his spine. It wasn’t even close to the full moon — he’d made damned sure of that before booking his one-way ticket to the sleepy little valley — but something about this place set the wolf in him prowling. He realised with a jolt that his wolf liked this new territory, with its fresh air and cacophonous birdsong. Where he’d been fractious and aggressive in the city, prone to lashing out when he felt the least bit cornered or trapped, now his wolf was practically bounding on the spot to explore his new territory and claim it as his own, and Rowan recoiled from the idea.

“I am not an animal,” he snarled at himself.

He thought that after bearing the curse for a year, he should have been far more accustomed to the feeling of there being a whole new part of himself inside his own head, or in his heart. And yet, noticing that the way he was feeling was largely because of the wolf, and not his human side, still freaked him the fuck out.

He turned back to the front door of the tumbledown cabin where his grandfather had lived until he’d had to go into care five years earlier, and immediately put his boot through the rotten boards of the veranda with a curse and another snarl. A small family of mice skittered away beneath the house, their pungent smell rising through the new hole to his sensitive nose, and he sighed. “Still not alone, even out here.”

Although the moon was only halfway to full, and against his better judgement, Rowan did let the shift sweep over him a few nights later, and as he sloughed off the complex trappings of his human life and sank his claws delightfully into the velvet-soft dirt, he patrolled the perimeter of the farm where his human self had spent his first week in Stardew Valley clearing weeds and setting up his first organic vegetable beds.

His wolf didn’t think about the uppity shopkeeper in the general store or the awkward blacksmith who’d smelled of a nauseous cocktail of discomfort, anxiety and axle grease, or the harried-looking man in a tweed jacket who’d smelled of coffee and antiseptic. His wolf lowered its head to the ground and inhaled the scents of rabbit and squirrel. It couldn’t decide if it was relieved or saddened to find no trace of wolves — shifter or otherwise — in the area, but seemed to settle for relieved as he slunk like a deeper shred of shadow from the porch of the farmhouse and bounded off into the dark to explore the place with the new, golden eyes of a wolf in place of the slightly blurry, hazel eyes of a human.

A rockfall in the cliffs behind the wreckage of the greenhouse had exposed a damp cave some years ago, though it smelled of bat guano and little else to interest a wolf. He let it be. Trotting eagerly on, the wolf relished the decadent flex and stretch of its powerful muscles, and the bliss of being able to shift whenever the fancy took him was enough to make him tilt his head to the sky and howl his ecstasy at the silent stars.

Rowan knew that being bitten and turned, and dumped unknowingly into the secret world of the supernatural, had taken its toll on him.

His sanity had been right on the ragged edge when he’d come across that forgotten letter from his grandfather in a desk drawer. After a year of trying to hold the remnants of his miserable life in the city together, of slinking down into an old storm drain on the edge of an abandoned industrial estate every full moon, to cage and contain his frustrated, furious wolf, Rowan had known he had to get out of the city. Permanently. It was messing with his wolf and he was losing more of his awareness to it with each passing full moon. He’d also started zoning out at his desk at work and coming-to with claws out and the wolf prowling right beneath his yellow-eyed facade of calm, even halfway through the cycle. The constant clacking of keyboards, the shrill, metallic ringing of office telephones, and the stink of leftover lunches from the cubicle next door to his was going to make him snap. Violently.

Part problem and part gift, his wolf existed purely in the ‘now’. There was no painful past; no human lying abandoned and bleeding and irrevocably changed on the rain-soaked tarmac of a grotty bus station; no human who’d drifted out of touch with his one surviving family member; no bills overdue and no landlord to keep happy. There was only the scent of moss and emerging spring grass and last year’s fallen pine cones, and the echo of a fox’s passing trail across the land which was now his territory.

Rowan’s wolf followed its nose down to the lower pond and lapped luxuriantly at the rich, cool water. His ears drew back and another thrill of delight ran down the length of his body as the sweet, wholesome taste of the water exploded across his tongue; he could detect none of the pollution and chemicals of the city water, just fresh spring that bubbled up from the depths of the earth, carrying with it the minerals and magic of the place.

Yes, this place had magic in abundance.

His grandfather had married a witch, so magic had been in Rowan’s blood already before he’d been mutilated by a lone werewolf at three in the morning in a filthy, city bus station. Perhaps that had been why a bite that messy had taken when it would have killed most people. He prayed he never met his monstrous sire, because he knew he’d rip his fucking head off for ruining his life and turning him into a slathering, near-mindless monster once a month. It was probably only by sheer, dumb luck that he hadn’t been killed by hunters, or killed someone himself by accident, and it had only been by the grace and patience of a blue-haired witch named Mercury that he’d even known what was happening to him in the first place. He shuddered to think where he’d have been without her.

A figure moved in the darkness at the edge of the trees on the southern-most reaches of his property and his lips drew back into a snarl.

“Easy, Rowan,” came a resonant, bass voice, and he froze, tilting his head, ears pricked. He recognised that voice, but couldn’t place it. For answer, he just growled a warning. “Easy,” came the voice a second time. “Rowan MacTavish, I am not here to hurt you. It is I, Rasmodius.”

At the sound of his full name on the still night air, Rowan’s whole body shivered, but the wolf let go of his mind a little. Thought came to him just a little easier. Rasmodius. That was the name of the wizard in the tower. Rowan blinked his golden eyes and sat back on his haunches.

“May I approach?”

He whined and ended the sound in a soft sneeze. Close enough to a petulant ‘fine’, he supposed.

___

(more soon, hopefully, if there's interest :3)

[andmaybegayer]

Now that I have rung Bell One I decided to go deeper because who the hell knows where the abyss or whatever the other Bell is in lives. Going through Darkroot Garden, found the secret living tree that lets you into a weird garden of frogs and killed a knight and took his Wolf ring. It says that belonged to Artorias and I feel like the giant stone knight I fought was. Not Artorias. From what I know.

(note to future self. You need to come back this way later, there was a second route through the forest if you don't stab that tree. It's the branch if you head straight on from the blacksmith below Undead Parish rather than turning around towards the Darkroot Basin.)

Also before this found a door locked by "A Contraption" which I think might be the thing the blacksmith sells for 20000 souls?

I am an extremely easily spooked person, the amount of effort it takes for a game to put me on edge is basically zero, so Darkroot is extremely creepy. But it has pigeons so it's good.

Wandered the other way, got bodied by a black knight on the way down through Darkroot Basin, recovered my souls and went the other way.

I have found a Hydra. It is big and spits water and hates me in particular. It is also friends with a bunch of ice jocks. The ice jocks are pushovers but I tried to get a closer look at the Hydra and got absolutely destroyed. I think I'm meant to just walk past this for now and I will do that, next time.

[herpsandbirds]

Blacksmith Tree Frog (Boana faber), family Hylidae, Atlantic coastal forest of Brazil

photograph by Eco Terra Adventures

[herequeerexitentialfear]

Georgie

Character bio for my wotr commander, Georgie - way more under the cut

Character Name | Georgie Heartwood Character Titles - Nickname | ‘my [little] starry night’ ‘The Wandering Bard’  Race | Tiefling Class(es) | Bard [Beast Tamer] Pronouns | He/Him Path | Azata Alignment | Chaotic Good Professions | Shepherd - Farmhand - Babysitter - Traveling Performer

Skills

Georgie has a wide knowledge of nature and the world, due to his upbringing as a shepherd and farmhand, and his travels respectively, with both contributing to the swiftness and sureness of the way he moves through the world [Lore (nature), knowledge (world), athletics and mobility]

Appearance

A blue skinned Tiefling with rams horns and short curly and yet darker blue hair. He has non-symmetric full body vitiligo, mostly around joints, but is most notable in a large patch over his right eye, and white freckles over the left side of his face. His irises are a bright and glowing turquoise, with tiny white pupils, and sclera of a similar tone to his blue skin.

His body is wiry muscle on a slight frame, his height at 5’ 7” without his horns, and they only add an inch or two. His skin is nice because of the oils of the sheep he tends, but his hands still have the calluses of someone who has done manual labor all his life, not to mention the calluses from his fiddle. His most noticeable scar is on his cheekbone on the left side of his face, and alongside his white freckles, looks like a crescent moon in the night sky. But he has many others all over his body, white flecks from thorns, his carving knives, and even some sheep bites among others, the marks of someone who spent most of his life outdoors.

Personality

Georgie is an optimistic person, but one that's aware of the hardships of life. His love of music and folk tales is the first thing you notice next. He is down to earth most of the time, but when something fantastical is going on, he has a habit of moving his head to the clouds. He will always reach out a hand to help people regardless of their situation, his kindness knows few limits, and he is always looking to befriend people, regardless of their station in life.

His kindness has one main exception, people who profit from the suffering of others, and who generally abuse their power over others. Most nobles fit under this category, and so do many figures of authority. Those who scorn others and discriminate will also earn his ire.

Don't let his joyous demeanor fool you, he is capable of dangerous deeds, and is a revolutionary and freedom fighter at heart, who will challenge anyone who obstructs others freedoms and rights to exist. His summons are adorable until you're getting attacked by a glowing frog, several fay creatures, and his dogs, all while his eyes are glowing unnaturally bright, and songs of war are weaving around the room, inspiring his summons.

History/Hooks

Georgie was abandoned in the hamlet he would come to be raised in as a baby, presumably abandoned by someone passing through due to his tiefling nature. He was found in a hollowed out wood stump by one of the local shepherds, who raised him up in the hills. He contacted the small settlements Headwoman, who refused to name the child Johhny, so instead he was named Georgie Heartwood, as they both hoped he would grow up to be someone who was loved enough to be fought for, and Heartwood, for how he was found in the ‘heart’ of the tree stump.

He grew up as a jack of all trades, mainly watching his fathers flock, but also assisting the blacksmith, the carpenters and the hunters. He felt he needed to pay back his community for raising an ‘unlucky’ child like him, and they had not always discouraged that idea, and he had to slowly win them over with his hard work and determination, suffering from many petty chores all the while.

Eventually he grew up into a fine young man, who was a valued member of the community, taking over his fathers role as shepherd of their flock, however he had come to realize just how different he was from his community, and through the traveling performances, wanted to pursue life on the road as a traveling performer, with his trusty fiddle. Eventually this was found out, and the community pushed him to realize his dream, and so he set out with the next caravan train with a promise to be back every harvest.

He was shocked by the discrimination he would come to face, and while he still held his suffering against those in his community, he was made aware of just how much worse it could be. Still it wasn't all darkness, he met a fellow performer who converted him to worship of Desna, as his old god Erastil no longer appealed with his more law-like aspects, to the growing chaos of Georgie's good heart. They also became lovers, before parting amicably. He enjoyed performing, soothing hearts and bringing joy to people's faces alike, learning more of the many peoples that inhabited his world.

Eventually, he was returning home for harvest, when he was forced to make a detour near the worldwound, only to wake up in Kenabres square on a stretcher.

[harveyhawkscripts]

[M4A] The Fortress Titan [DnD and Transformers inspired] [Fantasy] [Character introduction] [Runaway listener]

Google Doc

Usage:

- Okay for monetization

- Please credit me as Harvey Hawk :)

- Tweaks, improv, and pronoun changes are okay! Just please do not rewrite the script completely.

Synopsis: The listener runs away from home and takes shelter in a massive cave. Deep inside the cave, they find a fortress which turns out to house the spirit of the soldier Aurelian. 

Key:

[SFX and Action]

(.) Short Pause

(...) Longer pause

(Voice instruction)

Word count: 1144

—

AURELIAN:

[Robot start-up / maybe gears turning]

(Softly) I am… active? How long have I been…?

(Out loud) Halt! What is your business here? How did you find this place?

(.)

Your voice. Are you a child? What are you doing here, little one?

(.) 

Not a child, but young nonetheless. Too young to be wandering these caves alone.

(.)

I am… I was Aurelian. Now I am no less than the place where you stand. 

(.)

Underground… castle? Not quite. In truth, young one, you stand in a mighty fortress. When you touched that panel, it reactivated me. I have been dormant for… tell me, young one, how long ago was the great Six-Score War?

(.)

I see… Then it has been nearly three hundred years.

(.)

You wonder how I am speaking to you? Understandable. I assume you have never been in a talking fortress before. The truth is, I used to be a person, just as you are.

(.)

You wish to know my story? Very well. But in return, little one, you must tell me what it is you are doing here.

(.)

Very well, then. A long time ago, I was a knight of King Amadeus. Like my father before me, I fought in the Great Six-Score War. And, like my father before me, I had little knowledge of why I was fighting. Though, it seemed no one truly knew what started the war, nor why it continued. It had been going on so long it was as if everyone forgot, and only fought for fighting’s sake.

(.)

Is that what they say…? Hm. And what do you think, little one?

(.)

Yes, greed does seem a more likely explanation. That is what the princess of the time thought, as well.

(.)

The princess was the smartest person in all the kingdom. At least, she was in my experience. And she was… everything to me. We met as children; she would sneak away from her studies and I from my training, and we would walk through the woods together, telling stories and chasing frogs. As I grew older, I fell hopelessly in love. I told myself I would rise above my station for her. I would someday be general, I said, and when that day came, I would ask for her hand. Unfortunately, it was easier said than done. Despite my efforts, it was not I who was awarded the title of general, but a close confidant of the king.

The king, having inherited a war, tired of the bloodshed. He called on his wisest scholars and strongest soldiers, on the great blacksmiths, and finally the most powerful sorcerer in the land. The sorcerer was named Casimir and was known for dabbling in dangerous and dark magics.

(.)

You have heard of him? That does not surprise me. He was incredibly famous – or rather, infamous – in my time.

Well, little one, the king gathered these people to come up with a way to end the war. And what they decided on was a weapon – a giant, devastating weapon that towered over the trees. One that could take two forms: that of a fortress, and that of a warrior.

For years, not a blacksmith, stonemason, or carpenter was spared from the grueling task of constructing the titan. Meanwhile, the sorcerer and his scholars searched for a way to magically pilot the behemoth. And lo and behold, they found one.

(.)

What they needed was a soul. A person’s spirit could be used to power the titan, and in theory they could learn how to pilot it. Casimir demanded a soldier give their soul to the titan, particularly the general. However, the king had great love for his general, and insisted instead that another knight take his place. In return, that knight would receive the highest honors as well as any blessing the king could give them.

(.)

Yes, I gave myself up. It was foolish, but… any blessing. I would finally be able to marry my love. I offered my soul to the sorcerer, thinking I would be in control of the Titan, but… Casimir put an additional spell on my being. A spell that took over my very mind and soul.

Unable to control my new body, I was under the sorcerer’s command. I razed villages and claimed land in his name. I could see the utter destruction I wrought but could do nothing to stop it. And when the opposing side was all but decimated, the sorcerer turned me against the king and demanded the throne. When he would not give it…

(.)

I tried to refuse. I was not strong enough. Under Casimir’s control, I destroyed… everything. The king, his army… the princess.

In the chaos, the king’s general was able to slip past my defenses. He slew the sorcerer, and I suddenly found my faculties returned to me. Dazed and horrified, and still bound to this infernal body, I hid here. I remained in my fortress form, dormant, until you entered and reactivated me.

That is my story, little one. But what is yours? What brings you to the caves deep under the mountains?

(...)

Your parents…? I see. So, you are dealing with your own war, then. My sympathies, little one. No one should be driven to run from their home.

(.)

Young one. I have been alone for hundreds of years. Perhaps I wish to make up for the damage I did years ago. Perhaps I cannot stand to see a child alone, as I once was. What I am trying to say is, If you wish to stay here, to find peace, then I will not stop you. However, I still do not have the energy necessary to transform. Nor do I wish to cause harm to this mountain. If you make this place your home, I will be your friend, but I can do little to actively care for you.

(.)

You still wish to stay? Will you be able to procure your own food?

(.)

There is a market nearby. Very well. Consider yourself welcome. I admit, I have never cared for a child before. Well, I suppose if you are old enough to find yourself here, you are old enough to be self-sufficient. Tell me, young one, what is your name?

I welcome you, then, my new friend. I promise I will care for you as best as I can, despite the limits of this body.

(.)

You are welcome, young one. I must thank you, as well. You have not only awoken me, but you were willing to listen to my story.

(.)

Then this will be a fresh start for both of us. From this point forward, I will be your sanctuary. I will tell you stories of old, shield you from the elements, and be a place for you to rest your head. You have my word.

(.)

Welcome home, young one. I hope you will be happy here.

END

[aceblueorchid]

started using the journey mod and god i love it!! i love mapping shit but several crashes fucked up my in game maps. but aah i am so happy that i can save everything!!!!

infodump about my world below :3

i live in the bottom blue roofed structure near the docks! but my spawn chunks is a blue roofed house surrounded by water. i will have to replace it later; i dont spawn inside the house since its covered, so i will have to make like an open garden space (i like the house too much to delete it but i gotta D:)

Structures around my house: my nether portal, a disabled wool farm, a horse stable with many horseys and skele horseys, a small broken bamboo farm, a villager powered carrot/potato farm, and a semi-working iron farm. It's hard to point them out since they blend in with the trees. ALSO my very first base (now empty) is next to the blue roofed (warped stem/copper my beloved) bridge. again hard to point out my bad.

the big stone square is a failed drowned farm that i made for tridents ( i have plenty now so i will have to destroy it later too). The green and orange roofed structures (big white "W" and "P") are my melon and pumpkin farm. I stopped production bc i have PLENTY and my poopy laptop didnt like it running all the time.

Next to my spawn chunk house is a WHOLE (empty) village/town i made bc i was bored and liked building shit from build tutorials. I have shit labeled as bakeries, stores etc. In the town i have: a butcher shop that has a smoker furnace smelting machine; a blacksmith house that has a smelting setup for furnaces and blast furnaces; a flower shop that has a moss farm that i built recently; a log mill with a tree farm and a stone/cobble/deepslate mining space way underneath. i would LOVE to add more but im burnt out on making detailed buildings then shoving a farm or something inside.

As for my villager hall, I have built and redesigned it at least 3 times now. On the map its surrounded by mushrooms and dark oak trees near the center of the map. I love the final design, despite it looking like a summer camp. But it has like 30+ villagers and perfect defense from raids. Straight down the map from there is the villager breeder itself, with a bright yellow roof. Its set up like a mini lake house/campsite/caravan. Its VERY efficient and I def need to move the villagers. There is an underground rail system that transports them to the villager hall easily.

The white wool dotted area is a template for a mob museum but that plan has a better location. now im thinking of putting a bee/allay/frog garden sanctuary in there instead. Its a big empty space perfect for something but Im not sure yet.

And finally, to the left side of the map dotted in water and cobblestone patches is my mob head collection area. when there is a thunderstorm i drop everything and head over to that area to trident creepers. so thats why its barren and ugly. I dont wanna build anything there bc i use that space for blasting.

oh and obviously theres an abandoned village in the center of the map. the story is long ago a village tried to start out there but failed. then later a new town came along and prospered but left the old village untouched, believing it to be cursed. a couple set up shop closer than the others (right underneath the wheat fields and right of the old village is a book/potion tower shop) and they prospered but very few tried to visit which killed their business. but thats about it tbh lol.

future plans is a bee, frog, allay, and sniffer sanctuary. and several remolding/demolishing projects. I have resigned/moved outta my base like 3 times and my village hall like 3 times. If i dont like it anymore im changing it lol

[noxspost]

the pantheon

Pyro: God of fire, foresight, time, timelines, wildlife and prophecy

Familiars: a stag and a doe

Cattail: God of water, knowledge, futilely, creativity, orientation of romantic attractions and other attractions.

Familiar 2 crocodiles and 2 alligators

Suntail: goddess of life, creation, sun, fate, the pyre

Familiars: spiders

Soleks: God of the dead, wine, revenge, family, gates, hospitality and is the ruler of the four afterlife realms

Familiars: two twin cats that look like the Ying and yang

Black feather: God of death, truth, plants, mental health

Familiars: two ravens

Hellfire: deity of war, blood (relationships of any kind as well as the stuff you bleed out) magic, literature, academics, and witchcraft

Familiars: two owls

VA: the god of nature of all living creatures, human nature, impulse, stars, the hunt, summer, order, hearth, seabirds (and waterfowl), constellations

Familiar: a twin headed snake and loons  

Goat’s leaf: the god of the nature of all living creatures, night, instincts, healing (physicians), sickness (also disease), autumn, history, and society

Familiar: two goats

Zephie: is the patron goddess of sea voyaging, wind, weather, climate, and nature disasters, navigation and ships, pirates, sailors, sea trade.

Familiars: two sheep

Silver tongue: the goodness of agriculture, tree bare, wisdom, humanity, sky, home, and architect

Familiars: dragonflies, Caimans

Loco: God of trickery, festivals, souls, the craft, mountains, mischief, and madness

Familiars: foxes, coyotes and coywolves

Thistle: God of justice, karma, cause and effect, consequences, blacksmithing, working with fine metals, new tree, sun, and weapons

Familiars: axolotls

Northern lights: the spirit and god of memories, hope, dreams(sleep), doorways, maned wolves, textiles and guardian of the between also king of limbo.

Familiar: An Asian type of dragon

kenós: goddess of death, childbirth, femininity, masculinity, guardian of souls with disabilities (visible, physical, mental, and invisible all under all under the term, disability) and space (void)

Familiars: crows and wolves

Alcove (half dik-dik): the goddess of felines, canines, flocks, herds, ink paper, parchment, allegiances, witches, Philla and Agape.

Familiars: frogs and Karas

Kir-kor: is the god of victory, mutiny, brutality, discord, chaos, (the four before celebrations is more of sub aspects) celebration, morality, anarchy, father of all healer and smiths of all types.

Familiars: pigs or boars

Oka-la: is the deity of the swamps, sugar cane, starches, motherhood and fatherhood, virginity, hunger, and mother of the blades (warriors)

familiars: Banded Water Snakes

Jute: goddess of snakes, birds, Aurora borealis, thieves, merchants, railroads, silver, and gemstones

Familiars: seals and peacocks

Hope-la: the god of dawn, caves, beauty, grasslands, stories and archery

Familiars: Moles and Jaguars

Dise-rsra: the goddess of dusk, dragonflies, lava, mother of dancers and entertainers of all types

Familiars: secretary birds

Dyved: goddess of philautia, marriage, cunning, potions, messages  

Familiars: Polars Bears

Ermina: god of ruins, communication, strength, clocks, roads, parties, community

Familiars: The Asian golden cats and meerkats

[gertlushgaming]

Sword Of The Vagrant Review (PlayStation 4)

For our Sword Of The Vagrant Review, Where we journey into a gorgeous hand-painted fantasy world known as Mythrilia and discover the truth about your bloodline and its darkest secret. Play as Vivian the Vagrant, a traveling sellsword, who follows her lost father's research in an effort to reunite with her family. Hack and slash a path from a quiet coastal village through mysterious forests, haunted castles, and wrecked battlegrounds. When the endless barrage of enemies has been vanquished, what solace will be left for our hero? The Vagrant is a 2D action RPG. As Vivian, you will experience an exciting and challenging adventure focused on combat gameplay that utilizes combo chains, charge attacks, and special skills, all while improving your character's build through new equipment and abilities. Play casually or become a master combatant.

Sword Of The Vagrant Review Pros:

- Beautiful graphics. - 2.47GB download size. - Platinum trophy. - Works on Playstation 5. - Action RPG gameplay. - 2D perspective. - Controller settings - rebind controls. - 3 save slots. - The gallery shows off concept art. - Metroidvania aspects. - Maps uncover as you play and show any additional routes and exits. - Loot drops from enemies, Breakable objects in the world, and loot chests. - Rune stones can be attached to a weapon to add a new attribute or boost abilities. - Equipment loadout - weapon, armor, accessory, and potions. - Abilities tree where earning mana lets you spend it on new abilities or upgrades. - Skills can be obtained and equipped as you see fit with each costing X amount of Rage to use. - String Dragons Crown vibes from the atmosphere to the gameplay. - Solid combat system complete with combos and dodging attacks. - Change outfit within the menu. - In-game cutscenes. - Big boss encounters. - Collect food to replenish health. - Full stats breakdown. - Vendors allow you to buy and sell, blacksmiths can let you craft a new item if you have the materials and cash. - Items that can be sold will have a for-sale tag to make it easier. - Random encounters where you get locked in an area until all are dead. - Day/night can happen as you play. - Excellent atmosphere. - Stone tablets and campfires allow you to save and travel fast. - The mini-map can be left on the screen as you play. - Combo counter. - Items have a one to five-star rating. - Cooking will give temporary and permanent buffs. - Gets quite addictive.

Sword Of The Vagrant Review Cons: - Slow starter. - Knockback is a pain in the ass, especially in the platforming sections. - The major obstacles will always be if you have the necessary abilities unlocked. - Can be hard to know what parts of the environment can be broken. - Combat gets very hectic and hard to deal with mobs. - Repeats the same task over and over. - No quick way to check if you have new loot or better loot. Related Post: Finding The Soul Orb Review (PlayStation 5)

Sword Of The Vagrant: Official website. Developer: OTK Games Publisher: Rainy Frog Store Links -  PlayStation Read the full article

[chronicles-of-kats-dnd-game]

Lost Mine & Abyss Session 4 - Can’t Hit Me, Bro

-The party returns to the Stonehill Inn to see Ataxia still passed out on the table with Creak and many other patrons of the inn. Well, at least they know the drinks work. 

-Having some more time left before The Plan, the party heads to Barthen’s Provisions and pick up some portable rams. They return to the blacksmith, still working on the frog emblem, and have him start work on turning them into gauntlets for Sid and Zoream to punch real good.

-Sheara splits off to talk more with the Tymora cleric and loses track of time. Two healers out in a combat session!

-Night falls, and Zoream retrieves the barrel and makes his delivery to the Sleeping Giant taphouse. The Redbrands attempt to pressure him into staying and drinking with them, but release him with the promise of more alcohol to come. 

-As Zoream acquires more alcohol, Camila sneaks out to observe the effects of The Plan. The once-crowded taphouse is mostly cleared out, with five asleep, three in process of falling asleep, and three nervously alert. This leaves many unaccounted for, though- and Camila then hears the noises of a large crowd of frat boy voices yelling to find them. She sneaks back to the inn to inform the party, who sneak out towards the Sleeping Giant behind the buildings

-Dakwert is spotted by one of the Redbrands, who breaks away to question him on the location of the Gilded Frogs, Dakwert having not introduced himself to the gang yet. Sid comes out of hiding to attack him. Roll initiative!

-Zoream takes out the Redbrand (Kyle) with a Ray of Sickness. He, Dakwert, and Sid go running through the trees for the Sleeping Giant while Camila stays behind to move the body and lead the others away.

-The three other Redbrands searching with Kyle run up to see Camila and no sign of their dear friend. They demand Camila tell them what happened, while the rogue goes running into the woods in the opposite direction of the party. The three Redbrands (Jordan, Gunter, and Kevin) go running after Camila. Kevin trips over the dead body of his best bro Kyle and is traumatized

-Sid and Dakwert hang back to attack the Redbrands at range, while Zoream continues running ahead to the Sleeping Giant. The Redbrands continue to gang up on Camila, until Sid runs over and smacks Gunter into the ground. Kevin, being a teenager and a little bitchboy, runs away, tripping over Kyle again in the process.

-Now very badly beat, Camila disengages and starts running to catch up with Zoream. Jordan, similarly low and rage in his eyes, runs after the goliath, dodging Sid’s attempts to stop him.

-Zoream arrives at the back of the Sleeping Giant, casting Dissonant Whispers through the cracked window at the nearest Redbrand, causing him to go running out of the building. Another alert Redbrand (Frank) witnesses this and kicks open the window to attack Zoream

-Meanwhile, Sid and Dakwert spend the next couple rounds trying and failing to hit 3 HP Frat Boy Jordan, who Fortnite dances at their efforts, bragging about his lucky socks. They are pink with beholders on them.

-The drowsy Redbrands within the Sleeping Giant crowd around the window to see what’s happening. The last alert one (Josh) pushes one out of the window to get to Zoream

-Jordan continues stabbing Dakwert while dodging every hit in style. He’s simply too much of a chad to die.

-Zoream gets ganged up on by the Redbrands stumbling out of the window, and is knocked unconscious. Frank drags his body into the Sleeping Giant, and Camila arrives to see him tell someone to keep him alive and bring him to the boss. She takes some shots at the Redbrands left outside with her bow.

-Sid restrains Jordan to make an easy target for Dakwert’s dagger- which the Redbrand still manages to dance around. Sid finally has enough and just snaps his neck. Dakwert steals the lucky socks from his body, and the two run to help Zoream and Camila.

-Inside the Sleeping Giant, Zoream makes death saves as Frank continues dragging the unconscious orc in and dumps him onto a table. Josh, left outside, is almost downed by Camila’s arrows before finally leaping inside and hiding against the cover of the wall. His predicament is ignored by the other Redbrands completely.

-Sid and Dakwert arrive at the Sleeping Giant at last. The gnome gives Camila a potion of healing, and the dragonborn cleric casts a Healing Word through the open window. Zoream returns to life surrounded by Redbrands, pretending to still be unconscious. In this dangerous situation, the fourth session ends!

[castillon02]

The Gwent Song

Jaskier pumped his legs harder as he ran towards the stables. He had been late to meet Geralt before, but never this late. Usually they slept in the same lodgings, so Jaskier’s timing wasn’t even an issue! Only Geralt had foregone a room yesterday, because he’d be out all night hunting a bruxa anyway, and the barkeep had promised to pay Jaskier after his performance, but she had been called away about her brother’s runaway sow, and the boy left to pour the drinks hadn’t had the coin to give him his due. Which meant that Jaskier, in turn, hadn’t had the coin for a bed at the inn across town.

He had flirted his way into the bosom and bedsheets of the local blacksmith, but then she’d wanted another round in the morning, and was Jaskier supposed to be a cad and deny her? Him, descend to the absolute height of rudeness, and with such a lovely and generous partner?

Unfortunately, even after the blacksmith had been satisfied, he’d still had to hunt up (and wake up) the barkeep, so as he skidded into the stable, he was already panting his apologies. “Sorry, sorry! There was a missing sow---”

Geralt turned away from Roach and glowered.

Jaskier snapped his mouth shut.

“Roach was tacked and ready to ride half an hour ago,” Geralt said, one of his hands clenching the top of Roach’s stable door with white knuckles. “Now she’s been waiting so long that she’s out of sorts. Fuck off or come with, bard, but don’t hold us up because you can’t be bothered to sow your wild oats to someone else’s fucking schedule.”

Jaskier gasped at the unnecessary disparagement. As if he would ever plant his oats anywhere! He was very careful! “The only oats I hand out are the ones I give to Roach! And speaking of Roach---”

Jaskier might, just maybe, have followed up by expressing some equally unnecessary things about who was the master in Geralt and Roach’s relationship, man or horse.

Geralt, in turn, might then have intimated that he wouldn’t expect a “silk-spoiled little lord” to know anything about equal partnerships or responsibilities to others, and---

Well. Things escalated.

That half an hour’s lateness led to hours of frozen silence on the road. Birds chirped in the trees around them. Frogs sang their squeaky choruses. A doe bleated her mating call. Jaskier and Geralt remained mute.

Jaskier had had about enough of it, not least because Geralt was always going to win a battle in which silence was the weapon. Also, it was a ridiculous thing to fight over. Jaskier couldn’t help being a stupid viscount, the barkeep couldn’t help her brother’s pig taking itself for a walk, and Geralt couldn’t help loving his horse more than anything else.

Jaskier pursed his lips. He plotted his strategy. He made a contemplative humming noise, just to see if this would be easy and he could get Geralt to break by chastising him for daring to exist above the volume of a mouse.

Geralt’s neck twitched as if he’d like to turn it, and his shoulders tightened. Roach, beneath him, flicked her ears. Geralt pet her neck and kept his silence.

No matter. Jaskier had a secret weapon up his sleeve. The one thing that Geralt might like almost as much as Roach.

He strummed his lute with an introductory flourish. “Oh, Gwent is a game with four rows of cards / a game that’s been mastered by this humble bard!”

If anything could get Geralt to talk to him, it would be singing about gwent. Wrongly.

Sure enough, after hearing the first verse, Geralt’s shoulders hunched all the way up to his ears.

Jaskier readied his second salvo. “Surely you can’t refute the words that I sing / about this game of dice that’s been played by kings!” He paused for an excoriation about the six rows or the lack of dice in the actual game.

“Cards,” Geralt muttered, barely audible above Roach’s clip-clopping.

“About this game of cards that’s been played by kings!” Jaskier trilled, incorporating the edit.

“Hmm,” Geralt said, sounding grudgingly approving.

“The commander’s horn doubles all your board’s score / And you’re sure to lose if you play two Reavers or more!”

Geralt slowed Roach so they were walking alongside one another. “Only doubles the points on the row,” he said, looking down on him. “And I know you’ve seen me win with tight-bonded Reavers before.”

“Oh, dear, must’ve forgotten,” Jaskier said breezily, and he sang the edited lines aloud. “Luckily, I have you around to correct me when I’m wrong. One of your natural talents.”

Geralt sighed. “Jaskier---”

“The Nilfgaardian deck always loses in a draaaaaaw / and the clear weather cards don’t affect the player who played them at aaaaaall!” Jaskier bawled out.

“You could only be this inaccurate if you knew the real rules,” Geralt pointed out, amusement leaking into his voice.

“Hmm, it’s almost like I only contravene the rules when I have a decent reason for it. With you, at least,” Jaskier said, and he gave up the slight pretense by adding, “I’m not late just so I can make you and Roach irritable, you know.”

“Hmm.” Geralt went quiet again, but it wasn’t the furious silence from earlier.

Jaskier practiced a tune on his lute that had some tricky little chord changes. If professoring and music tutoring had taught him anything, it was the value of wait time.

“Never know if you’re late or just not showing up,” Geralt finally said, petting Roach’s neck again. “Maybe it’s the day you follow your dick somewhere else.”

Jaskier stopped dead in the road. Not show up? Current lack of reciprocation aside, if his dick had its way, it would be a dowsing rod that only led to White Wolfs. “What? No, what? Sorry, stop, stop for a fucking minute!” He hustled forward and tugged at Geralt’s boot in its stirrup. “Wait. Geralt---”

Geralt reined Roach in, but he frowned and looked away from him. “Not gonna follow an old Witcher forever,” he said.

“What the fuck,” Jaskier said, because yes he fucking was. Except for when Geralt got tired of him, or Jaskier had a contract somewhere else, or Geralt left for the winter, or---it didn’t matter. Jaskier clasped Geralt’s bony, leather-covered knee. “Look,” Jaskier said. “Our paths may diverge sometimes, but I would never leave without saying goodbye. And I would always hope to see you again and travel again by your side. I could never just leave. Why---Geralt, I would never---”

But Geralt would. He had, in the beginning of their acquaintance, wandered off without saying a word while Jaskier was distracted, and Jaskier had had to ask around to follow him. Surely this was emulation, a habit Geralt had gained from someone else.

Who had left a younger Geralt without even a word of farewell?

More broadly, how many folk observed a Witcher’s comings and goings without saying a damn word? Not even a “Melitele’s blessing” or a “Gods be with ye”! No wonder Geralt felt he wouldn’t be missed.

“I will always say goodbye,” Jaskier promised, looking up at Geralt. “Even if we fight worse than two gravehags over a cemetery, I’ll say something.”

Geralt’s lips twitched. On that particular contract, he and Jaskier had gone to the cemetery only to stumble upon the grave hags already doing most of Geralt’s work for him. All he’d had to do was kill the victor, which had made a distinct ‘oh fuck’ face upon seeing a Witcher but had been too tired to do anything but be decapitated. It was one of the first times Jaskier had seen Geralt laugh.

“I mean it,” Jaskier said. “‘Goodbye.’ ‘Toodle-oo.’ ‘Good luck on the Path.’ ‘See you around, Geralt.’” He waggled his fingers. “If I don’t say anything and I don’t show up---and this is crucial, mind you---then it means that something has gone awry and you should go looking for me.”

“Because someone’s trying to string you up by your balls again,” Geralt offered. Roach stamped impatiently underneath him.

Not wanting to test Roach’s goodwill, Jaskier let go of Geralt’s knee and started walking again. “Or someone’s sow got out of the pen and this has resulted in an improbable chain of events that has caused my tardiness. And you never know, it might be that a Witcher could wake a barkeep up faster than a bard, which might have helped this morning, though I do pride myself on the effectiveness of my volume,” he said.

“Hmm,” Geralt said. He tapped Jaskier’s shoulder with his boot and raised dubious eyebrows.

“All right, the ball-stringing is also a possibility. I’ll admit it, they are very nice balls, anyone might want them to add that special touch to their decor.”

Geralt snorted.

“Oh-ho! Do I detect a scintilla of skepticism? A drop of dubiousness? An iota of---”

“---Could tell me ahead of time if something’ll keep you,” Geralt interrupted. He kept Roach walking next to Jaskier even though she tossed her head over the slow pace.

Jaskier paused. “Weeeellllll,” he said. “Could I? Or would you say,” he gruffed up his voice, “‘Damn it, Jaskier, just meet me in the next town when you’re done fucking around!’ and be on your merry way?”

Unfortunately, being a dick to Geralt and keeping him out of the loop also meant taking advantage of the fact that Geralt’s curiosity or anxiety or what-have-you usually kept him where Jaskier wanted him.

Geralt frowned. “Hmm. Don’t have time for,” he waved an expansive hand over Roach’s ears, “idiocy. But if you need your coin---something important...I could take care of Roach instead of saddling her and making her wait. Or I could do some heavy lifting for someone.”

He could wait for a foolish bard while still using the time wisely, in other words. But only, Geralt implied with a heavy glance, if he wasn’t waiting for said fool bard to show up ‘any minute now.’

Jaskier cringed. Yes, Geralt had overreacted and had his moments of dickishness, but Jaskier had also been an absolute member. A complete genital. A full-blown reproductive organ. “I’ll tell you, then,” he said to Geralt. “If something comes up. And you keep in mind that if you haven’t been told, or bade farewell to, then I haven’t run off to sing about some other sexy Witcher down the way, but am instead somewhere in your vicinity, potentially running from ball-snatchers.”

Geralt smirked down at him. “A sexy Witcher? Good luck finding one of those.”

“Did I say sexy?” Jaskier asked, widening his eyes innocently. “I meant scary. Terrifying. Real boot-shakers. So intimidating that I simply must correct that lyric from earlier before you do some Witchering at me for the inaccuracy. The Nilfgaardian deck always wins in a draw… Hang on, the second line actually takes a bit of rephrasing, but I’ll get it. I don’t give up, you know!”

“I’m aware,” Geralt said long-sufferingly, but with another playful tap of his boot-tip to Jaskier’s shoulder. “How many verses to this song are there, anyway?”

“Hmm. There are only so many rules to gwent, so you’d think there are only so many potential correct verses,” Jaskier said, rubbing his chin.

“But?” Geralt prompted.

“But on the other hand, I can make up as many fake rules as I want to! So the answer is, there are as many verses as we need.” Jaskier smiled uncompromisingly at Geralt. “You know. In case we run into another sow situation. People prepare all they can, building strong, ahem, interpersonal fences, but sometimes the pig still gets into the garden.”

“Or the grave hags get into the cemetery,” Geralt said with a little upward curve to his lips. He was quiet for a short while, the comfortable clip-clop of Roach’s hooves anchoring the other forest sounds, until abruptly he said, “Probably the truest song you’ve ever sung. The gwent one. Glad to make sure it stays that way. Even with---” He made a chopping motion with his hand.

“The times when we’re both being pig-headed and hag-minded?” Jaskier asked.

Geralt nodded.

It was as much of a declaration as Jaskier had ever heard from him. “Well, I know how much you care about the facts,” he said, touched. “I’ll be happy to sing the right version as long as you’re there to remind me which one that is.”

“Hmm. Still haven’t finished the line about the weather cards,” Geralt said, and then he spurred Roach into a trot.

Probably this was so he didn’t have to look at the stupid grin on Jaskier’s face. “And the clear weather cards clear the weather for aaaaall!” Jaskier sang out, as jubilant as a clarion.

Grumpiness and dickishness happened, but so did gwent and music and caring. They would make it through any storms of temper as long as they could talk it through. And if talking wasn’t happening? Jaskier had a song for that.

---

[Note: When they meet up again after The Mountain(TM), Jaskier gives Geralt the silent treatment. Geralt, after an immense sigh, starts singing a song made of wrong lute facts for Jaskier to correct, which is how Jaskier knows that Geralt really does want to reconcile. :D] 

[Also on AO3] 

[sleepyowlwrites]

writing prompts! first sentences of fairytales edition

In old times when wishing still helped one, there lived a king whose daughters were all beautiful, but the youngest was so beautiful that the sun itself, which has seen so much, was astonished whenever it shone in her face. - The Frog King, or Iron Henry

A certain cat had made the acquaintance of a mouse, and had said so much to her about the great love and friendship she felt for her, that at length the mouse agreed that they should live and keep house together. - Cat and Mouse in Partnership

A certain father had two sons, the elder of whom was smart and sensible, and could do everything, but the younger was stupid and could neither learn nor understand anything, and when people saw him they said, “There’s a fellow who will give his father some trouble!” - The Story of the Youth Who Went Forth to Learn What Fear Was

There once was a wonderful musician, who went quite alone through a forest and thought all manner of things, and when nothing was left for him to think about, he said to himself, “Time is beginning to pass heavily with me here in the forest, I will fetch a good companion for myself.” - The Wonderful Musician

One time a mouse, a bird and a sausage became companions, kept house together, lived well and happily with each other, and wonderfully increased their possessions. - The Mouse, The Bird, and The Sausage

There was once a poor woman who gave birth to a little son; and as he came into the world with a caul on, it was predicted that in his fourteenth year he would have the King’s daughter for his wife. - The Devil With the Three Golden Hairs

There was once upon a time a tailor who had three sons, and only one goat. - The Wishing Table, The Gold Ass, and The Cudgel in the Sack

Once upon a time in the middle of winter, when the flakes of snow were falling like feathers from the sky, a queen sat at a window sewing, and the frame of the window was black ebony. - Little Snow White

There once was a man who had three sons, the youngest of whom was called Dummling, and was despised, mocked, and put down on every occasion. - The Golden Goose

There was once upon a time a rich King who had three daughters, who daily went to walk in the palace garden, and the King was a great lover of all kinds of fine trees, but there was one for which he had such an affection, that if anyone gathered an apple from it he wished him a hundred fathoms underground. - The Gnome

There was once on a time a poor peasant called Crabb, who drove with two oxen a load of wood to the town, and sold it to a doctor for two talkers. - Doctor Knowall

Hill and vale do not come together, but the children of men do, good and bad. - The Two Travelers

There once was a young hunter who went out into the forest to lie in wait. - Donkey Cabbages

In the days when wishing was still of some use, a King’s son was bewitched by an old witch, and shut up in an iron stove in a forest. - The Iron Stove

There once was a woman who had three daughters, the eldest of whom was called One-eye, because she only had one eye in the middle of her forehead, and the second, Two-eyes, because she had two eyes like other folks, and the youngest, Three-eyes, because she had three eyes, and her third eye was also in the center of her forehead. - One-eye, Two-eyes, and Three-eyes

East India was besieged by an enemy who would not retire until they had received six hundred dollars. - The Three Black Princesses

Let no one ever say that a poor tailor cannot do great things and win high honors; all that is needed is that he should go to the right blacksmith, and what is of most consequence, that he should have good luck. - The Glass Coffin

There once was a king, but where he reigned and what he was called, I do not know. - The Griffin

Two or three hundred years ago, when people were far from being so crafty and cunning as they are today, an extraordinary event took place in a little town. - The Owl

In days gone by there was a land where the nights were always dark and the sky spread over it like a black cloth, for there the moon never rose, and no star shone in the obscurity. - The Moon

This story, my dear young folks, seems to be false, but it really is true, for my grandfather, from whom I have it, used always, when relating it, to say complacently, “It must be true, my son, or else no one could tell it to you.” - The Hare and the Hedgehog

[ariars-art]

First post of the new name/direction of this blog with my Linked Universe Percy Jackson AU! Meet the Demi-God boys!

After cleaning out my room a couple of weeks ago I found my old PJO & HoO books and my old obsession clashed with my new one along with my passion for mythology! I have a lot of stuff thought up about this AU and I’m going to keep riding the self indulgence juices for as long as I can!

Some info on the boys/the AU can be found below! Not everything is below, I would like to keep some secret/for the future ;) And feel free to ask/send questions about the AU, I would die of happiness if you did!

Wind -Son of Poseidon (God of the Sea, Storms, Earthquakes, Droughts, Floods and Horses) Counselor of Cabin 3. -14 years old. 3 years at camp. -He is a summer camper, and lives with his Grandma and younger sister Aryll when not at camp, they are unsure if his sister is a Demi-God as well. -Has gone on a few of quests so far, mainly ones that involved the sea including one to the sea of monster with his best friend/best rival Tetra.  -Really excited about all his new cousins and family. -Hates being underestimated due to his age, he’s been on quests, he's a son of Poseidon, he’s just as capable as the rest of them! -Favourite part of his powers is his ability to talk to fish and horses. Horses don’t like him back though. Wild -Son of Hypnos? (God of Sleep and the Personification of Sleep) -Doesn’t even know his age, let alone his birthday. -A year round camper, well he’s got no where else to go. First year at CHB -All he remembers is being inside a nice plush cabin with lots of pillows a tree growing in the middle that leaked a milky colored sap that was dripping over his hands and lips. -Slept for a really long time and he guesses now he has no memory? At least that’s what Chiron told him. But why does he feel so guilty? -No quests just yet, he likes practicing archery trick-shots with the Apollo kids. -A daughter of Athena keeps trying to get him to eat frogs and bugs. Some of them make him feel funny. Twilight -Son of Lupercus (God of Shepherds and Wader against Wolves), Champion of Lupa (Wolf Goddess). Centurion of Cohort 3. -19 years old. 4 Years at Camp.  -Summer Camper, goes home despite it being uncommon for Romans to do so. -Wasn’t found until he was 15, his father was too minor of a god to really draw any attention to Twilight. He liked it that way. He trained himself and it was enough to protect himself for a couple of years. -When he was 15, one of his mortal friends was killed the crossfire of one of the few monster attacks, afterwards he was taken to Camp Jupiter. -Whilst completing his training in the Wolf House under Lupa the wolf Goddess, the she-wolf took a liking to him and agreed to train him further than other Demi-gods and eventually took him on as her champion. -On a quest met someone and they teamed up and he fell in love with her despite knowing that she could never love him back. -Talk shit you get the stick Sky -Son of Zeus (God of the Sky, Lightning and Thunder. King of the Gods) Counselor of Cabin 1. -19 years old. 3 years at Camp. -Year round camper, but wishes he could be a summer camper like his girlfriend. -Very in love with his girlfriend who is a Daughter of Apollo, they knew each other as kids but never knew they were both Demi-Gods. -Has been on only two or three quests but they were very big/very important and needed the power of a son Zeus. Doesn’t like to think about his first quest.  -Prefers to use his Wind powers over his Lightning Powers. -Feels quite bad due to the fact ever since he and his younger cousin (Wind) showed up at camp the number of monster attacks have only increased. -Jealous of Wind’s ability to talk to some animal, he wishes he could communicate with his bird.

Four -Son of Hephaestus (God of Fire, the Forge, Metalworking, Technology and Blacksmiths) Co-counselor of Cabin 9. -18 years old. 4 years at camp.  -Summer Camper, goes home to his Grandfather during the year. -Quite small for an child of Hephaestus but that doesn’t put him down. -Known for stealing extra end of year beads from the Big House. -Sometimes seen talking to himself. -Is most skilled in weapons but has dabbled in creating automatons but all he ended up with was a cranky bird who likes to sit on his head, he named him E.Z.L.O. -”Yes I did flex and my sleeves fell off, shut up Legend!”  

Hyrule -Son of Hecate (Goddess of Magic, Crossroads, Sorcery, Necromany and Light) -16 years old. 2 years at Camp.  -Year round camper -Still quite new at all this Half-blood Demi-God stuff . -His Saytr guide got killed while escorting him to camp, managed to make the rest of the journey by himself. -His magic goes a bit haywire when he is stressed, last time he turned 3 members of the Hebe cabin in an acorn, plank of wood and a toaster for a few hours. -A little scared cause he feels unworthy next to all his siblings and all the other heroes in camp, but knows deep down he might be stronger than most of them. -Keeps taking the new Hypnos kid into the forest around the camp and sometimes they don’t show up again for a few days.

Time -Son of Janus (God of Beginnings, Transitions, Time, Duality, Doorways, Passages, and Endings) Former Praetor of Camp Jupiter, Former Centurion of the First Cohort. -Age unknown, but he’s quite old for a Demi-god.  -Gave up the Demi-God life and his Praetor position years ago to go and live with his mortal wife. -Due to his powers he sometimes ends up walking through doorways through time and space. Thats how he ended up here. Not his first rodeo in this time though. -Was raised by a group of forest Dryads for the first years of his life before moving to Camp Jupiter.  -Been on many quests, including one which ended up with him having to battle against the primordial moon goddess Luna. After winning the fight he took her sword. - “Look, I didn’t ask to be a half-blood.” Legend -Son of Hermes (God of Roads, Travel, Athletes, Diplomacy, Thieves, Commerce and Trade. Messenger of the Gods) Counselor of Cabin 10. -17 years old. 7 years at Camp. -Year round/Summer Camper, it kinda changes every year. -Currently holds onto the record for the most quests at Camp Half-Blood. Kinda proud but also kinda over it.  -Hoarder of all sorts of items, unknown where he gets all these items from.  -Bonded with Hyrule while he was holed up in Cabin 10 before his claiming by Hecate. -He sees a possible opportunity in the son of Poseidon to help him return to the mysterious island he wash up on years ago. An island where he fell in love with a goddess who could never leave. But he is going to find a way, he will. -Stole a pair of his dad’s flying shoes, but turns out they were kinda a dud. Can’t fly but can run really fast. Warriors -Son of Mars (God of War and Destruction) & Legacy of Venus (Goddess of Love, Beauty, Desire, Prosperity and Victory). Praetor of the 12th Legion. Former Centurion of Cohort 5. -18 years old. 4 years at Camp. -Year round camper. He’s in charge so he’s got to stay. -At first thought to be another child of Mars with a pretty face he was placed in Cohort 5. He was quickly made centurion of the ragtag group of Demi-Gods and quickly the cohort was competing with the best of them.  -He caught the eye of the current female Preator and when her colleague failed to return from a quest, she promoted Warriors to Preator, despite him not having completed the minimum 5 years of service to be eligible for the position. -Most well known for helping defend Camp Jupiter during a war a year ago, which helped solidify his new position as Praetor. But he feels guilty for every life lost in each of the battles. -A bit of a heartthrob who can't help but flaunt his double legacy sometimes.

[apothecarinomicon]

Spring week 1 part 1

I’m not quite sure how to begin.

I’m not typically one for journaling but it would appear to be part of the gig, as it were. I found this book—the one I’m writing in, heavy and musty and leather-bound—sitting on the table when I arrived, open to a blank page. There are at least a thousand pages filled before it, and no matter how many blank pages I flip past this one I can’t reach the back cover without closing the book entirely.

Mòrag told me things that present themselves for investigation here tend to be worth exploring, and if my gut tells me what’s right not to stray from its guidance. But I’m getting ahead of myself—you don’t even know who I am.

My name is Fionn Gill, and I’m a witch. I know, I know, but I don’t get into all that “warlock” “wizard” shit. It’s just a way to separate and belittle the same practice based solely on the gender of the practitioner, in my opinion. My specialty lies in potion-making, though I’m not very experienced. I’ve really only just finished my training—I’m from Huntsmanland and they’re not nearly as magically-inclined there as they are in High Rannoc. This is the first part of the country I’ve visited other than my tutor’s homestead and I must say, it hasn’t made the most stellar impression.

My tutor Edith received a letter stating that services would be required in the town of Greenmoor, and since the letter didn’t specify her services, she sent me to take care of it. I don’t know if she expected it to be an indefinite position, but here we are.

I didn’t bring a lot with me—just enough for the journey. It was about all I could carry walking. I arrived in Greenmoor with just about the clothes on my back, hoping they had an apothecary of their own so I could get this over with.

I’ve never really been one for small towns, and nor do they have much love for me. I’ve always thought I was meant for adventure—movement, action, peril, all of it. Small town life just feels so… stagnant. Nothing changes, no one grows or changes or has anything interesting to talk about. It’s enough to drive you mad.

Not to mention the natural suspicion of outsiders. I could see it on Mòrag McKinney’s face, even as she greeted me at the edge of town in her official capacity as mayor. Her hair was done up in a huge bun of thick braids on top of her head—a hairstyle with a formality at odds with her armored clothing.

She seemed surprised when I told her I was the witch. That’s not uncommon—like most intellectual and healing work, witchcraft is traditionally the domain of women. Even in the relatively forward-thinking country of High Rannoc, I tend to get some variation on ‘oh, how progressive!’ when I tell people my vocation. Often if you get a man doing witchcraft, his neighbors will whisper certain things about him. My neighbors back home were whispering those things about me anyway, so that wasn’t much of a hurdle to me.

Mòrag (she insisted I call her by her first name once we’d been properly introduced) gave me a brief tour of Greenmoor. It is, to put it lightly, tiny. I’d estimate a population around fifty. Near everyone has a job that serves an internal function to the community, with maybe the exception of the innkeeper. There are blacksmiths, miners, a carpenter, a tanner… she didn’t indicate any artists or poets or anything of that sort to me, which was disheartening. Even when I thought I would only be here briefly, I was hoping to enjoy the finer things the locals had to offer. The closest this town comes is a library, but I sorely doubt they have any kind of collection of works by local authors.

Mòrag pointed out all the magical resources in town, and some of them impressed me—the lunar tower and ritual circle in particular looked useful. She did not show me any apothecary, and following her aforementioned advice, I took that to mean there wasn’t one. Can’t wait to go out and experience the joys of foraging in the wilderness myself.

Once we’d gone through the entire village, she showed me to the cottage where I’ll be staying. It’s a little ways away from the town proper, down a walking path through some trees. It’s little more than a one-room thing, with only the washroom closed off from the rest of the space. The walls and door are made of dark wood, and the outside still has bark attached in many places. The roof is sloped and overgrown with moss and ivy. Inside the main room there is a bed, a large set of shelves which ought to have reagents and potion-making materials on them but are mostly bare, and a table on which this book sits. The washroom has a tub and a latrine—no plumbing to be found. Out back sits the remains of a garden, only one plot of which looks salvageable. A ways back into the trees there’s a creek. Most of the rest of the clearing is in the early stages of becoming overgrown, with trees and bushes and flowers starting to stretch themselves out and remembering how to be wild.

Mòrag told me the witch who was here before me was a bit of a recluse. No one in town knew very much about her, and she seemed to prefer it that way. They came to her for her healing potions and never made it past small talk and kept inviting her to parties and festivals even though she never attended. And then one day nearly everyone in town woke up with a gift from her—the farmers received her animals, the barkeep her ferments, the innkeeper and bakers her crops. As the townspeople tallied their gifts they realized it amounted to nearly everything she owned. They went together to her cottage to ask her why she’d given it all away, and found her cottage—this cottage—empty. The ensuing search turned up no body, no note, not a shred of evidence to speak of. It was as if she’d disappeared into thin air. As the townsfolk talked and wondered what had happened, they quickly realized no one knew her well enough to provide any real insight. They couldn’t even come to a consensus on what her name was.

They had quickly moved on to discussing the more pressing issue: the town was lacking a healer. The general store owner had worked with my tutor Edith in years prior (Edith loved to tell stories of the time she spent pursuing the culinary arts). Thus, the letter and thus, my presence.

Mòrag told me she hoped I might be more engaged in the community than my predecessor. I decided to refrain from telling her not to get her hopes up, and instead expressed my confusion: I’d thought this was a single gig, that I was to heal someone of their illness and then leave.

She disabused me of that notion with rather more intensity than I think was warranted.

She told me that unless my predecessor reappeared, I was all they had. She said Edith had spoken highly of my abilities in her return letter (I doubted that—Edith never spoke highly of anyone). She told me I would receive a base pay of 20 silver per cure to start, and that if I did the townsfolk well and they grew to like me, they’d most certainly be willing to pay more. She told me that the folks of Greenmoor were good people, even if they were a bit disaster-prone and some of them could make good use of a little more common sense.

And, well, how do you say no to that?

When I asked where I would be getting my materials, she told me the areas surrounding Greenmoor were rich in natural resources. So it will be as I feared. I’m glad I brought my off-road boots.

Mòrag left me to get settled in and I immediately took stock. There are no reagents on the shelves (of course not! Why would there be?), but I did find a cauldron, mortar and pestle, and a copper alembic (which is used for distilling)—so at least once I have the reagents I’ll be able to do some basic cooking with them. I also found a small leather-bound book with vague descriptions of some of the areas surrounding the village. I should be able to cross-reference it with my notes on the environments where useful reagents can be found to make searching for materials a bit less painful.

I pulled a matted tangle of weeds out of the garden plot, but it looks like whatever was planted underneath already shriveled away to nothing. Well, at least the land’s clear now.

One thing that I knew I’d need if I was going to be able to handle this was a familiar. I’ve never been one for conjuration but in this case it’s an unfortunate necessity. I was supposed to be getting one within the next few weeks at Edith’s anyway, and I already knew the process. You’re supposed to have a more experienced witch observe your first time, but that’s just academic formality—there’s nothing actually dangerous about the process.

I found what looks to be a quarter cran basket (was my predecessor into fishing…?) under the bed, and set out around the property collecting small rocks and flowers and toadstools that had the right kinds of vibration. They were for use in the ritual, but also collecting them was a good start to cleaning the property up. Because if I’m going to be living here, it cannot stay looking like this.

I took the basket into the woods near the creek and laid its contents out in a circle as wide as I was tall. Before I placed each one down, I held it for a moment and asked it to help me with my task. Then, I sat in the center of my circle and closed my eyes and tried to meditate. Clearing my head has never been my strong suit, but I’m usually able to fudge the process enough to do what needs doing. This time took a bit longer than usual but eventually I managed. I felt my energy (spirit, consciousness, whatever) radiating out from me, pink and orange and bright and loud, first to the edges of the circle and then beyond. All of it asked a single question and listened for the answer.

The response came from much closer than anticipated, when I felt something small hop onto my knee.

I opened my eyes and looked down to see a frog staring back at me, blinking lazily and making small, guttural noises. Her back was green and rough and slimy. One of her eyes was milky, pointing vaguely off to the left, while the other gazed straight at me. The tips of her toes (three on each foot) edged closer to brown than the rest of her body.

Having clearly presented herself, she now asked if my gut said we would be good partners.

I’ve named her Ailean.

And now here I am, writing all of this down. I don’t know if I’ll be able to manage this every day. Whoever reads this may have to settle for a few times a week. With that said, I do think I’d like to go back and read what my predecessor wrote. Maybe it’ll give a clue as to where she’s gone, and help me escape this position sooner. She seems to have been quite the prolific writer—getting through her logs could take months, especially if the townsfolk keep me particularly busy with their various woes. I’ll have to start reading sooner rather than later.

Speak of the devil, there’s a knock on my door. It hasn’t even been a full day and I might already have my first customer. I’ll finish this later.

⇦●〇●⇨

[umbramatic]

It's Vaespar Night

This is an original fiction Halloween Shitpost that I have been planning for a few years now. It stars one of my sonas who I love very much, is kind of a sequel to another original fiction shitpost (Steam Over The Post Apocalypse), and, well, kudos to whoever gets the joke.

This is version 2.0 of this story, as it has gone under heavy revisions to deal with sticking TOO heavily to the joke and just cleaning up some other stuff.

But be prepared, for the spooks and frights of:

It's Vaespar Night

A woman in a black dress and cloak, a black dog, and a teal-haired person with hyena ears and a lizard tail sat by a campfire in the dark of night.

"Are you going to tell me one of your timeline's stories now, Riley?" the woman asked.

The chimeric person groaned and stretched. "I am BUSHED after today, Eris. No spoons for it."

They gave her a wry look.

"Say. Why don't you tell me one of YOUR stories from YOUR world?"

"Me?" Eris said in shock

"Yeah, you're bound to have something good."

The dog barked affirmatively.

Eris put a hand to her chin. "Hmm... Trying to think of one..."

"If it helps you narrow it down... " said Riley, "What about a story about... You? Before you met me?"

Eris' eyes lit up. "Oh! I've got a good one!"

Riley grinned as they sat closer to Eris, extending a hand to pet the dog in the process. "Well? What is it?"

Eris fidgeted. "Let me think..."

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

It was a beautiful evening.  Or at least it would have been were it visible in the Night Forests of what was once North America, which blocked all sunlight.

In a small village beneath the branches of said forest, various Kohvuze - pointy-eared people who were monochrome save for their irises and bioluminescent markings - were tending to their business. People coming and going in the streets, blacksmiths were forging, scribes were writing, children were playing, that sort of thing.

Outside one particular house several Kohvuze were winding down for the evening, the parents tending to chores while the children rustled about, when the father happened to sniff the air.

His eyes widened, and he turned and whispered to the woman next to him. "Do you smell that?"

She also sniffed. Then licked her finger and held it up. After a few seconds her eyes widened.  "By the Midnight Lady..."

She immediately whirled around towards the children. "Kids! Inside now! There's Sour-Sweet-Spores about!"

The children immediately dropped what they were doing and headed inside. Though one little "boy", with purple markings and eyes, paused for a bit before going back inside.

Around the village everyone else started doing the same. Everyone dropped what they were doing and took their kids and tools and whatnot inside.

"Why are we inside again?" asked the youngest of the children.

"Didn't you hear your mother?" said the father. "The Sour-Sweet Spores are blowing about! You know what that means! I wouldn't go out on a night like this for a nylite and a half!"

The "boy" thought a bit. "His" father was right. Sour Sweet Spores by themselves were entirely harmless, yes. But the spores are highly irritating to the Nipping Shadowtails that live in the forest's tree stumps, causing them to growl in annoyance. And those growls set off the Screech Fish living in the ponds, which are even louder. And all that noise greatly annoys...

...Her.

The "boy" knew she liked to take her anger out on.

----------

Not too far away, in an underground lair in the forest, a black-robed, seemingly human woman plugged her ears and groaned.

"Those blasted animals are making their noise again. It's ruining my mood. Hopefully taking my anger out on that one village will help.. Maybe I can snack on a few villagers to further calm the nerves. LOVELAND!"

A gorf, or frog person, resembling a fire-bellied toad entered the room.

"Yes milady Vaespar?"

"Start making preparations. It's one of those nights again."

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

Back in the house, the father continued to fuss.

"Ooh, I wouldn't go out on a night like this for SIX nylites!"

-----

Meanwhile, Vaespar emerged from her den.

"It may be a terrible night for my ears, but I guess that makes it a wonderful night for my... my... Eyebrows?"

Her eyebrows detached, enlarging and floating around like bat wings before reattaching.

"...Teeth?"

Dark, shadowy teeth emerged from her robe and started chomping repeatedly before receding. Vaespar shrugged.

"...I've got nothing. Where is he, Loveland should have gotten him by now... BISCUIT! BRING ME THE PARAPHERNALIA WAGON!"

It was then a black poodle emerged from the den, slowly dragging a large cart.

-------

Once again in the house, the Kovhuze family huddled in silence. But the "boy" fidgeted and looked around at seemingly nothing until "he" turned to "his" father.

"...Dad?"

"Yes son?"

"We've been sitting here for so long... Do we REALLY know Vaespar is coming?"

"He" gestures to a small orb on a table.

"...Maybe we should ask the Vaespar Watch."

"Excellent suggestion, [Eris]."

He started stroking the orb as energy swirled inside it.

"Hmmm. There's a lot of smoke...  Ah, there we go....

-------

Deep in a mushroom grove in a vast dark forest, one particularly large mushroom was home to one particularly powerful seer.

And he was getting request after request to look into this Vaespar situation.

Him, having to keep an eye on Vaespar the All-Devouring Darkness? He's not paid enough for this but he does it anyway.

He stroked his much larger orb, speaking to brodcast his words all the while.

"Anyway, let's get this over with...  I'm zooming in on her lair now... Yep, we've got a Vaespar warning, conditions look... bad."

----------

Atop the Paraphernalia Wagon, Vaespar was singing.

♪ It's time to ♪

♪ Lay ruin fon Vaespart Night ♪

♪ Cause far more than just a fright ♪

♪ I may start a little small ♪ - she shrunk down -

♪ but my terror will stand quite tall ♪ - she got bigger -

♪ But I'll be sure to have myself a meal- she returned to normal size -

♪ When I ruin those Khoviuze's nights for real!~ ♪

She spun, then snapped her fingers, causing a thunderclap far above the trees that caused Biscuit to jump.

"Go on you stupid dog," said Vaespar. "Go!"

She conjured and cracked a whip, causing Biscuit to move the cart along.

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

The seer sighed.

"Everyone? I'm Seer Mk-Feersin. AndAnd I'm here to tell you: It's bad."

-----------

Biscuit was not enjoying this. The cart was heavy, and he was just one dog. At one point he looked forlornly up to Vaespar, who scowled.

"What, you want a blankie and treats and a chew toy? KEEP MOVING."

She cracked the whip, and Biscuit was forced to oblige.

------

The Seer continues to observe.

"As you can see from my careful scrying,I am paying careful attention to Vaespar's ludicrous activites. And,let me tell you now, they are ESPECIALLY ludicrous tonight".

----

Back in the house...

"Dad?" asked the "boy."

"Yes [Eris]?"

The "boy" took his glasses off. "If I take my glasses off, I can't see how much danger we're all in."

The father frowned. "Put those back on and look the danger in the eye!"

[Eris] sheepishly did so without a word.

---------

Meanwhile the approach of Vaespar's Paraphernalia wagon continued.

A Khovuze traveller crossed paths with the wagon, not noticing who was riding it at first. Before he did Vaespar transformed him into a fruit, telekinetically yanking it into her hand. She ate the fruit down to the core, then crushed the core beneath her palms. She spit a seed out onto the ground, disturbing a Night Forest Prism Worm.

As the Paraphernalia Wagon progressed, it trampled over a bunch of forest mushrooms. One remained standing. Vaespar quickly noticed.

"...Biscuit, back up a little, I missed a spot."

-Biscuit obliged, flattening the last mushroom. Vaespar gave a hearty laugh.

---------

[Eris] shifted.

"Father, I-"

"Shh!" said the father, staring at the orb. "There's a new update!"

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

Indeed the Seer, having obtained several cups of some caffeinated beverage, was indeed leaning in particularly close.

"Oh, NOW she's hunting the Fizzing Fuzzbucket! Awfully rude, those are endangered."

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

Indeed Vaespar was using her wagon and whip to chase a strange, orange fluffy creature. The chase continued for a long while down the winding road until the Fizzing Fuzzbucket dived into some thorny bushes, fizzing in protest. Vaespar attempted to follow off-wagon but yelped as the bushes pricked her. She scowled in the Fizzing Fuzzbucket's direction.

"...Well played."

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

The Seer did a half-hearted fispound.

"And the Fizzing Fuzzbucket wins this round."

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

In [Eris]' house, there was much cheering at this news, but [Eris] "himself" was just antsy.

"...D-dad?"

"What is it, [Eris]?

[Eris] pointed to the back door. "I need to use Euphemism."

"The Euphemism?! NOW?! Not for 66,600,000 Nylites and an extra 66 nylite chunks! "

"I have to go really bad...."

The mother nudged the father. "You can go [Eris]. But don't be long! SHE'S coming!"

[Eris] quickly nodded and exited the back door.

----------

It wasn't long before [Eris] had somehow gotten very very lost.

"He" had wandered very far into the forest, looking around for that blasted Euphemism, when suddenly "he" came across a thorny bush with a Fizzing Fuzzbucket hiding inside.

"Oh, hello!"

The Fizzing Fuzzbucket gave a fizzy whimper.

[Eris] turned to see a black poodle, latched to a cart.

"Doggy..."

"He" immediately went over to pet. The poodle leaned into the pets affectionately.

"I wish I could adopt you but sis is aler-"

"He" looked up.

And saw Vaespar sitting atop the cart glaring at the thorny bush.

"Blasted bush spoiling my fun... That Fuzzing Fizzbucket will pay for this, and so will-"

It was then she noticed [Eris].

"...Who are you?"

"I'm [Eris]."

Vaespar cocked an eyebrow. "Pretty puny thing."

"I'm trying to eat more. You're Vaespar, right?"

Vaespar puts a hand to her chest, offended. "I'm Vaespar, right?!"

[Eris] shrugged sheepishly. "I'm sorry ma'am, I can't see well. It's due to a condition in the corneas and retinas of the eye that causes them to-."

"He" removed "his" glasses again.

""If I take my glasses off, I can't see how much danger I'm in.""

Vaespar scowled. "Put your glasses back on and look the danger in the eye!"

[Eris] sheepishly did so.

Vaespar scoffed.  "I'm Vaespar all right. And I'll prove it…"

Her eyebrows suddenly detached, grew massively in size, and started harassing [Eris].  [Eris] held up "his" hands in shock. "Aah!"

The eyebrows shrunk back down and returned to Vaespar's forehead.

"I'm Vaaespar all right, on Vaespar night! Now out of my way, your little village is calling."

[Eris[ watched Vaespar go. And thought of "his" family. "His" village.

And promptly bolted after.

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

Back home, [Eris] parents were staring out the window, calling "his" "name."

"[Eris]! [Eris]! Where are you?"

"Oh if Vaespar got "him..."

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

Vaespar was continuing on the wagon when her and Biscuit's progress was stopped by [Eris] sliding in front of them on a hollow log.

"NOW what do you want, pipsqueak?" said Vaespar, rolling her eyes.

"Please scare me again! It gives me a thrill," said Eris.

Vaespar sighed. "Look kid, I gave you a sampler already, you're not worth taking out ALL my rage on."

[Eris] paused, not moving an inch. Then took off "his" glasses and started polishing them.

Vaespar groaned. "You're blocking my way."

More polishing.

"...Fine kid, you asked for it, you WIN. Get up here."

Stairs suddenly appeared on the wagon. [Eris] gulped and ascended them.

At the top was Vaespar herself, and a latched door that was shaking. Rattling. As if something was inside.

"I'm not scared! I'm most definitely not!"

Vaespar gave a very wicked grin. Biscuit whimpered.

"...If you insist," said Vaespar.

She opened the latch.

And everything became chaos.

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

First came the eyes, malevolent eyes glaring from simmering goo.

Then cobwebs, of the most large and fearsome spiders.

Then phantoms, dancing around [Eris] chanting "his" "name."

Disembodied legs and faces stalked for "him", slowly.

Tadpole like phantoms streamed before "his" eyes.

Faces with gaping mouths leaned in for "him".

"Enjoying yourself?" echoed the voice of Vaespar. "Take a little walk!"

Lighting cracked as giant feet attempted to trample "him."

[Eris] rapidly tried to climb up a ladder as winged beasts harassed "him."

Atop the ladder, screeching beasts harassed him.

Hands reached from trap doors to grab "him" as "he" fell down one himself.

A screech scared "him" into a luminous cavern.

A wheel of feet chased him."

Eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes.

Apparitions, swooping over "his" head.

Searchlights, gazing upon "him."

Violins playing, beings being trampled before "his" eyes.

Birds squawking, watery beings pursuing "him".

Arches, wings, shadowy figures.

Gnashing teeth, clawed crustaceans.

Dancing ghosts, volcanic vents, biting reptiles, arches, arches, arches!

EYES!

A box, a spring, launching "him" into the air.

A revenant, hovering around "him."

Until finally [Eris] swallowed "his" fear and took a sniff.

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

The horrors faded. [Eris] quietly closed the latch.

"So, Ms. Vaespar?"

Vaespar gave "him" a perplexed look. "Huh?"

"Well, see ma'am,, the Sour-Sweet Spores are gone now. Spores don't spawn forever."

Vaespart scoffed. "I guess?"

"And when those stop, the Nipping Shadowtails aren't irritated anymore and stop growling."

Vaespar rolled her eyes. "Right, right."

"And whenThat stops, the forest ponds stop rippling, and THAT stops the Screech Fish from screeching. And THAT stops, guess who!"

Vaespar's eyes widened. "...Oh.

[Eris] pointed to her.: "It stops YOU!"

Vaespar scowled. "...I could eat you on the spot."

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

The seer grimaced. "She could eat :"him" on the spot."

----------

Vaespar sighed. "But you're right. I've lost my appetite. And none of the Paraphernalia wagon did a thing. I'm almost impressed."

[Eris] bowed and moved to leave. Vaespar sighed.

"Come on Biscuit, let's go home. "

Biscuit took one look at her and suddenly burst free of the wagon, running after [Eris]. and nuzzling and licking "him." Vaespar frowned.

"...Bah. I'll get Loveland to pull the wagon next time."

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

The Seer, for once, was ecstatic.  "I have seen many things with this scrying orb. I have never seen anything like this in my life."

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

Vaespar resorted to pulling the wagon up the mountain herself.

"Well, that was a bust. But someday, I'll get my revenge on you kid. You'll see..."

She cackled to herself the whole while.

-----------

[Eris] and Biscuit returned to the village and were met with raucous applause.

"Uh, thanks..." said [Eris].

Biscuit barked happily.

[Eris] parents watched in awe.

"I'm so proud of "him"..." said the father.

""He" did a lot on the way to the Euphemism!" said the mother.

They rejoiced all through the night.

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

"So wait, you're telling me you've been Vaespar-busting since you were a kid?" said Riley.

'''Yep," said Eris. "That's how I got down on the path to who I am today. And Biscuit was Cookie's grandfather!"

Cookie barked affirmatively.

"Wow... That's a cool story... But something about it feels... Familiar," said Riley.

"How so?" said Eris.

"Like I've heard it somewhere before... Like back in my world."

"Thar doesn't seem.... Possible."

"Yeah, I know." Riley said. "I should sleep on it."

"I should sleep too, said Eris. "Goodnight."

As she and Cookie went off to bed, Riley tapped their fingers to their head in annoyance.

"Come on, think think. Wait, could it be..."

They shook their head.

"No, that was about Christmas!"

***

Happy Halloween y'all! Yes, this was a Halloween Is Grinch Night parody. No I am not sorry.

[itawonka-creates]

This Jewelry Will End Up Killing Me - Chapter 3

[Prologue] [Ch2] [Ch 4]

Damian didn’t know what mask he should put on. Servants rushed behind him, answering every request and whim that the residents of the manor threw at them. If this was a business dinner, he’d normally stay quiet and ignore the jargon thrown about the room. If this was a dinner with the titans, he’d do much of the same to avoid a headache and only talk when addressed. In both cases, even if he was cold they wouldn’t be able to kick him out.

Looking around, he found an odd mix of both cases. Lord Bourgeois had his own guest, sitting at the far end of the long table discussing taxes and laws. Papers were scattered around their dishes as they ate and talked to each other. However, on his end, it was more so reminiscent of the tower. Alya and Nino were clearly becoming somewhat inebriated by the wine. Marinette and Adrien were doing their best to keep them under control. Chloe was sitting in the middle, not appearing to be part of either world.

He wanted to make a good impression if only to lengthen his stay while he figures out his next step. Damian wasn’t the personable type, but staying quiet would likely sour his image with the family. While trying to decide which group was easiest to approach, he overheard Lord Bourgeois. “-ising the taxes would be beneficial to the growth of the economy.” Considering the bakery had a fair amount of customers when they dropped off their clothes, he couldn’t imagine that the debt came from lack of business.

“Sir, with all due respect the people are restless with the taxes as it is.”

“The people have to understand that the Demon King’s terrorism costs the city thousands in repair costs. Adventurers and travelers only bring in so much income. What we need is-”

“Have you tried looking at the current budget?”

Both men looked up at Damian who simply shrugged, “Perhaps looking at the current budget would shine some light on current liable expenses.”

The man looked at Lord Bourgeois and pointed at Damian, “Who’s this?”

Bourgeois narrowed his eyes, “As far as we know, a young lord from a land called Gotham.”

“Never heard of it.”

Damian sighed and set down his fork, “Do you have a copy of your town’s current expenses? I can help look them over.”

The man looked at Bourgeois for permission and Bourgeois nodded, “Go ahead, Roger.” Roger gathered the papers and handed them over to Damian. Damian shuffled through them, looking at its contents and humming. Roger chuckled, “It can be complex. You know, you can hand those back t-”

“It’s true that travelers and adventures, the number of places they could spend their money is severely limited. There are only one or two blacksmiths and weapons dealers. You have a grand market of clothing and food, that’s not enough to make a sustainable profit. You need an attraction or a larger variety of goods. If you choose the second option, then you’d need to make sure there are fair prices on all wares, but you can allow higher prices on rare goods you can only find within the city or surrounding area.”

Damian seemed almost bored as he continued to shuffle through the reports, “Expenses on the city’s infrastructure is significantly high. Someone is skimming revenue from the taxes meant for rebuilding. This amount of Tikki should be enough to sustain a village, so you’re overtaxing your people and being scammed.” Damian handed Roger back the papers and waved his hand dismissively, “Just look at your city’s council members and see if any of them have recently made any big purchases. You’ll catch them.”

Both men simply blinked, disbelief written on their faces as Roger looked over at Lord Bourgeois. “What do you think?”

Bourgeois seemed to be embarrassed at the whole thing as he forcefully coughed in a feeble attempt to clear the tension. “Yes, well, Roger see to it that you investigate this matter at once. If anyone is taking advantage of the people’s hard work they must be severely punished.”

Roger wiped the corners of his mouth and saluted, “Right. Thank you for the dinner, sir.”

Roger scurried off and Lord Bourgeois narrowed his eyes at Damian, “So where did you-”

“My family has trained me to be proficient in various skills and trades. Economics is child’s play.”

Bourgeois hummed, seemingly satisfied with the answer before resuming eating. “Well, thank you for your input, Damian.”

Damian shrugged and finished the last bite of his meal, “It was nothing.”

Chloe scoffed and mumbled, “Sure it wasn’t.”

Adrien took notice of Chloe’s cold shoulder and peeled himself away from Nino, “Hey, Chloe-”

Chloe shied away from his reach and she sighed, “I’m exhausted. I’m going to my room.” Chloe looked up at a nearby servant and grabbed his arm, “Make sure our guests are treated well.” The servant nodded and she excused herself. Lord Bourgeois tried to call his daughter over for a kiss goodnight but was ignored as she left the dining hall.

Adrien went back to Nino and positioned himself where he could stabilize Nino as he stood up. “I think we’re all done with dinner for tonight. It was lovely.” He grunted as Nino pushed all his weight onto his friend, chuckling and slurring his little comments. “Yeah, I know Nino. You’re going to hate yourself tomorrow.”

“Damian? A little help?” He looked over and watched as Marinette struggled to stand up straight with Alya leaning on her. Damian rolled his eyes and threw Alya’s arms over his shoulder. Marinette smiled in relief and looked to Adrien, “Where are we putting them? Alya will probably just fall asleep.”

Adrien motioned for them to follow as he led them out of the dining room with a quick thank to Lord Bourgeois. Adrien walked down a few corridors and up some stairs, much to their friends’ dismay. Damian noted how antique everything seemed to be and how quiet it seemed. Adrien stopped in front of a door and opened it, “We can leave them here.” Marinette and Damian nodded as they unceremoniously dropped Alya onto the bed. Adrien brought next over and laid him down next to her before bringing up a blanket. “Why does it always end up like this?”

“Because they’re Alya and Nino.” The comment must’ve slipped out her mouth because Marinette froze and looked up to gauge Adrien’s reaction. Adrien laughed, putting a hand over his mouth to muffle the noise, and Marinette relaxed.

Damian rolled his eyes and headed towards the door, “Where are we sleeping?”

“Right!” Adrien ran over and out of the room, Marinette close behind. Adrien looked around the hall and walked over to another door. “This room can be Marinette’s and the room next door can be Damian’s. The restroom is down has a silver knob at the end of the hall.” Adrien unlocked both doors and smiled, “Breakfast will be waiting for us in the morning. Chloe and I sleep in the other wing. If you need anything, ask one of the servants.”

Damian didn’t hesitate to head into his room. He was too tired to watch Marinette try to say goodnight to the guy. Instead, he sat on his bed and looked around. An average size room with a large bed and dresser. The window had a small balcony that overlooked the courtyard. Damian stretched and laid down. “Tikki?”

The small goddess came out from within one of his belt’s compartments and hovered over him. “Yes?”

“What’s my next move? My weapons work against the creatures of this world. Even without magic, I was able to destroy those frogs.”

“You need to find my wielder.”

“Right. Is it Chloe?”

Tikki hummed and landed on his chest, “She has strong spiritual energy, but I’m still hesitant to say it’s her. My wielder is here though.”

“Alright then. Tomorrow I can convince them to go and capture more frogs. We can take the earrings for a test run.”

“Damian, you can’t just hand out the earrings to everyone. We have to be careful about this. If the public finds out that a goddess is not only among them but handing out power would cause too much of a commotion.” Tikki patted Damian’s chest, “I’m sure they’re here, though.”

Damian thought for a moment before asking, “Is that what happened with Nooroo?”

Tikki sighed, “He was too sweet, too generous. I believe he was tricked into his servitude.”

“What about the other deities?”

“The only other god to come and directly interfere with this world was Plagg.”

Damian looked down at the little creature and realized it looked vaguely like a ladybug. He absent-mindedly reached out to her and pet her head. Tikki didn’t seem too bothered. “Plagg?”

Tikki scowled, “Yes. I am considered the goddess of creation, he is the god of destruction.”

“Ah.”

“Plagg should’ve been the one to greet you. I took his post after he was reprimanded for causing too much mischief in your world.”

“Like?”

“Leaning Tower of Pizza. The lost city of Atlantis. Dinosaurs.”

“You’re joking.”

Tikki groaned, “I wish I was. We voted to temporarily relieve him of his post but he never returned.” Tikki’s face morphed from frustration to concern, “I don’t think he’s in any trouble but when he didn’t come back I worried. He’s not known for laying low for so long.”

Damian paused for a moment before saying, “You are a lot more human than I thought.”

Tikki was about to say something before perking up and looking around. Damian wanted to ask a question, but Tikki darted to the window. “Damian, come over here.” Damian got up and walked over to the window. He noticed that all the windows had small balconies, it was very uniform, but what stood out was a bright green light that moved through the trees.

Looking closer, he noticed that the green light actually looked more like a pair of eyes. Damian asked Tikki, “Is that normal?”

Tikki shook her head, “No. It’s not. It may be magic, but those eyes are too abnormal.” Damian sighed and walked around to the drawer, “Damian?”

“They haven’t finished washing my things yet. They have my weapons.” Damian roughly shut the dresser and looked around, “If someone is lurking around the grounds of a wealthy family then either they’re here to steal or here to kill.” His eyes landed on the nearby vanity and he grabbed the letter opener, “This will have to do.”

“Damian, that’s not even sharp.”

“It doesn’t need to be sharp for me to hurt someone with it.” It was shiny, new, pointed end but that was about all. It was too light. He wouldn’t be able to do much with it, but there were a few options. Damian looked back out the window and noticed the eyes coming closer. The little red fairy’s gaze only grew in intensity, “Tikki-”

“I know this energy.” Tikki fluttered about, trying to figure out the best course of action, before going back to the same spot, “I know this energy!”

“That’s good?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“The person.” The two watched as a figure lurked out of the shadows and into the moon’s spotlight. It was cat-like and much too modern, reminding him of Selina’s costume back home.

Home. He wondered what his father was doing now.

“Tikki, that looks like a uniform from my world.”

Tikki nodded before turning to him, “Do you have the earrings?”

“I couldn’t exactly let the staff take them with all my other gear.”

“No! No, I’m not chastising you.” She looked at the man strutting through the courtyard and shook her head, “In fact, I’d be happy for you to try them out. All you have to do is say spots on.”

Damian was taken aback, Tikki always insisted that the only person using the earring should be the chosen descendent. If she was asking him to try them on now, this could mean trouble. “Let’s be sure we know what we’re up against before we jump to our last resort.”

Tikki nodded, but before she could respond she retreated behind Damian. He looked out the window and noticed the man use a staff that extended to an unnatural length, bringing him up to the window next door. “Shit.” Tikki latched onto Damian’s collar as Damian stormed out of the room. Damian was quiet for a moment, tuning his ear to any little noises he could hear through the door. He heard a light tapping and, despite her better judgment, he heard footsteps. Damian mumbled to himself, “She has no sense of self-preservation, does she?”

Muffled voices could be heard, but nothing he could make out. Tikki flew forward and through the wood. Damian heard a soft click, but with the sudden silence in the room, he’s sure the man heard it too. Damian stood back and Tikki flew behind him. Damian was about to ask a question when the door swung open. Marinette rubbed her eyes, “Damian?”

Damian hid the letter opener and peered over her shoulder, “I heard something-”

Marinette yawned, “What? Is this a full moon or something? First Cat Noir-”

“Cat Noir?”

The green eyes suddenly came into view and he stepped out of the shadows and into the hall’s light. The mop of blond hair was a stark contrast against the black leather and he smirked. Crossing his arms and motioning to Damian, Cat Noir said, “At your service. So, princess, I thought I was your only dark knight. Who’s this?”

Marinette was not amused, “Damian, meet Cat Noir. Cat Noir, meet Damian Wayne.”

Damian didn’t know what to make of him, but Marinette’s calm demeanor threw him off. Damian held out his free hand, “Nice to meet you.”

Cat Noir took it and the ring on his finger glistened, “Likewise. How do you know Marinette?”

“We only recently met.”

“Really? And yet you were about to barge into her room unannounced at night?”

Damian’s eye twitched, “I wouldn’t have felt the need to check up on her if someone wasn’t stalking the grounds.”

Cat Noir wrapped his arms around Marinette’s shoulders, “I was not stalking. I was checking in on Marinette. It’s been a while.”

“A while? You were gone for several weeks.” Marinette shook herself free of his grip and stepped towards Damian, “Cat Noir, couldn’t you visit me in the day time?”

“Now where’s the fun in that?”

Damian couldn’t keep his eye off the ring, “Where’d you get that?”

Cat Noir looked at the ring skeptically, “A gift. Why?”

“I’ve never seen a ring glow like that before. Is it enchanted or something?”

Cat Noir drew his hand back, “It’s one of a kind.”

“Right.”

Marinette frowned as she looked between the two, “Is this some weird dominance thing or-” Her sentence trailed off as she stared at something behind Damian’s shoulder. He turned and noticed Tikki poking her head out. Tikki’s eyes were trained on the ring, she didn’t even realize she was caught. Damian looked back at the two and noted their reactions; Cat Noir seemed frozen while Marinette was ready to shriek.

Damian quickly covered her mouth and shushed her, “Stop. Stop. Calm down.”

Marinette looked frantically at Damian for answers he didn’t have. Cat Noir snapped out of it and grabbed Damian’s arm, “Hands off!”

Marinette jumped away, “Bug! Mouse? Bug mouse!”

“It’s not a ‘bug mouse’! It’s a-”

“Kwami.”

Tikki finally seemed to snap out of it and glared at Cat Noir, “How do you know that word? Humans should not know that word!”

Cat Noir stepped away and grabbed his staff, taking a defensive stance. He looked over at Damian and Marinette and nodded his head, “Marinette, get behind me!”

“What?”

The look in Cat Noir’s eye was desperate, panicked, full of anger and pain. Take out the fear and it would’ve been eerily similar to the way Damian looked at his enemies after Rah’s al Gul died. Vengeance, fear, and a hint of sorrow; a dangerous combination. “Can’t you see he’s dangerous?! Only the Demon King has a kwami! He must be working for them!”

Marinette shook her head, “What are you talking about, Cat Noir?”

Cat Noir shook his head, “I’m not letting this happen again!” He extended his staff and swung it around. Objects and decorations shattered and Damian grabbed Marinette before throwing them against the ground.

Damian looked up, “Are you insane?!” His staff retreated into itself, going back to normal size before he tried to smack it down on Damian. Damian rolled himself and Marinette out of the way before grabbing her arm and pulling her onto her feet. “C’mon!”

“Wait, but Cat Noir-”

“Is trying to hurt us! Move!” He pushed Marinette’s head down as they ducked under another attack. Damian pulled them both out of the room and quickly shoved her into his own. He locked the door behind him. He looked around for any exit routes and noticed the window. He cursed under his breath and pulled Marinette to his chest as he turned around. He took the brunt of the impact when Cat Noir busted through the window. The glass shattered around them and the action knocked them both down. He wasn’t even able to take in the damage when he was suddenly pulled off of Marinette.

Damian was thrown against the wall and grunted as Cat Noir held him up by his collar. The strength was unnatural. “I’m not going to let you hurt her!”

Damian glared at the cat, “You’re the only one doing damage!” He lifted his legs and wrapped them around Cat Noir’s arm before twisting his body and throwing them both to the floor. “Calm down!”

Cat Noir grit his teeth as he struggled against Damian. Cat Noir managed to break free and elbowed Damian in the stomach. With the wind knocked out of him, he wasn’t able to react fast enough. Cat Noir was on top of him, “Cataclysm!” Suddenly a surge of dark energy surrounded his palm as he held it overhead. “You won’t hurt my friends!”

Damian struggled against his grip, “Tikki!”

Cat Noir brought his hand down and Damian braced for the impact. However, it never came. He looked up and noticed Marinette holding a now corroding vase. The vase’s ashes scattered over Damian and there was a sudden beeping coming from his ring. Marinette’s hands shook once the vase was completely gone and she pushed Cat Noir off of Damian.

“Marinette-”

“Stop!” Marinette’s voice flattered, but her conviction was clear, “Just stop.”

Damian sat up and looked at Cat Noir to gauge his reaction. It was shock, “He’s a threat!”

“You’re the only threat here, Cat Noir!”

“He has a kwami!”

“And so do you!” The red goddess flew up to his face and her gaze was unwavering, “De-transform.”

“What?”

“De-transform now!” Looked down at the ring as it beeped and another piece of the paw print disappeared. “Three minutes. I’ll have my chosen follow you. I will see him either way. De-transform.”

Cat Noir looked behind the red goddess and noted how much of Marinette’s attention was on Damian as she helped him up. She wasn’t even looking at him. Cat Noir shook his head, “Not unless she leaves.”

“What?”

“Not unless-”

“I’m staying right here!” Marinette wrapped her arm underneath Damian’s and stabilized him. She looked back up at Cat Noir and stood her ground, “I’m staying here. I was going to find out sooner or later. Just do it.”

Damian looked between the two before settling on Cat Noir. He watched all of Cat Noir’s resolve die out as his ally stood against him. Cat Noir’s ears drooped and he gulped, “Cla-Claws in.” A green light enveloped him and once their eyes adjusted Marinette gasped loudly.

Adrien shuffled his feet and looked to the ground as a cat creature flew beside him. Tikki didn’t react at first, but the cat was clearly at her mercy. It chuckled nervously, “H-Hey, sugar cube.”

Tikki blinked before asking Damian a question. Her monotone voice made it all the more intimidating, “Where are the earrings?”

With the threat gone Damian could only ask, “Why?”

“Either you put me in the earrings or I kill this cat!” She charged at the other creature and gave chase. Anything that wasn’t knocked over was suddenly smashed on the floor as the two flew around the room.

However, in the wake of the destruction, none of the humans moved. Adrien kept his head down, he was shaking his head and mumbling to himself. He seemed to be in a bit of shock himself as he fidgeted. Marinette, on the other hand, was ridged. Damian was the first to reach out, “Adrien-”

“Hello!” The new voice caught all of them off guard. Damian shoved Adrien behind the bed and ran to the door. He opened it a crack, noticing one of the manor’s servants about to knock. “Oh!”

“Can I help you?”

“There seems to be a commotion-”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“But, sir, the crashes-”

“Your greeting was the only thing that woke me up tonight.”

The servant grew flustered, “I’m sorry. I’ll check on the miss next door.”

“No need!” Marinette ducked under Damian’s arm and looked up at the man. “I’m right here. I didn’t hear anything either.” Marinette smiled, although it was clearly forced.

The servant looked between the two and flushed, “Oh! Oh. Well, I’m sure you two didn’t hear a thing. I’ll be sure to let the staff know to give you two privacy.”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing! Nothing! Have a good night!” The servant quickly left their sight.

Damian closed the door once the man was out of earshot and sighed, “Well, not the best excuse but it’ll give us some privacy.”

“What do you mean?”

Damian shook his head and guided her back towards the center of the room, “I’m not having this conversation with you. Let’s focus on one thing right now.”

Marinette looked at the bit of blond hair poking out from behind the bed, “Right.”

Tikki flew back over to Damian’s side, dragging her cat counterpart by the ear beside her. “Remember the old god of your world?”

“Plagg?”

She shoved the cat in front of her, “The one and only.”

Plagg rubbed his ears, “I expected a warmer welcome!”

“I expected you to return to your post! Where have you been?”

Plagg rolled his eyes and flew over to Adrien, “I found my chosen. It seems that the Demon King made this boy an orphan. He was still young when he survived the attack, but he wants to take the Demon King down. He’s a good kid!”

Tikki growled, “You did this without consulting anyone!”

“You’re down here too!”

“Yes, but I didn’t leave my post! You have been missing for well over three years!”

Plagg waved his hand nonchalantly, “That’s like a day for us up there.”

Tikki growled and looked as though she was about to charge when Damian stepped in, “Woah! Woah! We don’t need two of you fighting here. Adrien stand up.” Adrien nodded and left his little hiding space, “Adrien, look up.” Adrien hesitated but did so. Damian looked him over and shook his head, “What are you getting yourself into?”

“Plagg came to me a few years ago. I’ve been moonlighting as Cat Noir since. Gathering information, fighting monsters. Getting stronger.” Adrien’s voice cracked, “I’m sorry, I just-”

Damian closed the gap between them and placed a hand on Adrien’s shoulder, “Adrien, I’m going to tell you something my father told me. Justice, not vengeance. If Marinette didn’t step in, you would’ve taken it too far.”

Adrien opened his mouth to say something but instead shook his head and covered his face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Marinette bit her lip and stepped up. She cautiously reached out before running her fingers through his hair. She frowned and licked her lips, “Hey kitty, it’s okay. It’s okay now.” She gently shushed him as his shoulders shook, “It’s okay. We’re all okay.” Marinette looked up at Damian as if to ask if things really were okay. He didn’t give an answer. Instead, Damian looked back at Adrien and stepped forward to rub his back. Marinette took it as permission to get closer and pull Adrien into a hug. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Tikki stopped berating Plagg when she heard a soft sob rack through the chosen’s body. Plagg looked on with pity as Adrien worked through the guilt of almost killing someone. Damian bit his lip and looked around the room, it was a wreck and Marinette’s was even worse. Still, at least his bed was clear.

It felt like putting a kid to sleep, the two guided Adrien to bed and sat by him as Adrien let everything out. Marinette looked at Damian, surely full of questions that would have to wait until tomorrow. Even the gods sat by their side, quiet and calm. Tonight the five simply sat together, comforting their own as they worked through the destruction.

As the night went on, the room only got darker. Damian looked around and thought about his next steps. His train of thought only broken by a soft voice, “Are you awake?”

Damian looked over at Marinette. Adrien had fallen asleep beside her. Damian helped her lay him down without waking him. Marinette pushed some hair out of his face and whispered, “I don’t know what to think right now.”

Damian was almost surprised at the gesture. Hours ago she would’ve fainted at the thought of him being so close. Now, she was acting so familiar. “What’s going through your head?”

She shrugged, “I’ve known Cat Noir for a few years now. He’s someone I can count on.”

“So this is a shock.”

“That’s one way to put it.” Damian watched as she ran her fingers through his hair, putting him at ease and making her smile. “So we have gods among us?”

“Yes.”

“I have so many questions.”

“I expect you to, but it’d be best if we got a bit of sleep.” She nodded and laid onto her side. She continued playing with Adrien’s hair in the same way he would play with Ace’s back home. As he laid down on Adrien’s other side, he wondered how all of his pets were doing. Did they know he was dead?

Marinette looked over at Damian, “I’ve never seen him like this; as Adrien or Cat Noir.”

“Trauma can do that to you.”

“Trauma?” She hummed, “People always talk about the Demon King, but I’ve never had to deal with him.” She shook her head, “I don’t know anything, do I?”

Damian shrugged, “You’ve been sheltered. I’m not surprised.”

Marinette bit her lip, “I don’t want to be anymore. I want to fight. My friends shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

Damian turned onto his back and looked around the bed. He noticed Tikki and Plagg already asleep. He felt something poke him and remembered the earrings still with him. He looked back to Marinette, “You want to fight with me?” Marinette nodded and he handed her the earrings, “Put these on. We’ll train tomorrow.”

Marinette reached out tentatively, but quickly put them on once they were in her hands. She turned back to Damian, “Is it bad that I’m terrified? Especially after tonight?”

Damian sighed, “It’d be bad if you weren’t.”

“Aren’t you?”

Damian closed his eyes, “No.”

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

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