#faceless worshipper.

[hewantshisbrideback]

ARYA STARK AND THE GODS ❦ BOURNE FOR THE GOD OF DEATH

Thirty different gods stood along the walls, surrounded by their little lights. The Weeping Woman was the favorite of old women, Arya saw; rich men preferred the Lion of Night, poor men the Hooded Wayfarer. Soldiers lit candles to Bakkalon, the Pale Child, sailors to the Moon-Pale Maiden and the Merling King. The Stranger had his shrine as well, though hardly anyone ever came to him. Most of the time only a single candle stood flickering at his feet. The kindly man said it did not matter. "He has many faces, and many ears to hear."

The Many-Faced God, also known as Him of Many Faces, is a deity worshipped by the Faceless Men, a guild of assassins established in the Free City of Braavos. The tale of the guild's beginnings centers around a figure of unknown origins, the first Faceless Man, who heard the prayers of the slaves to their various gods of death and came to conclude they all prayed to the same god "with a hundred different faces", the Many-Faced God, and that he was "that god's instrument".

This belief came to be reflected in the Guild's temple, which has a large public sanctuary that contains idols of thirty death gods. The religious order refills its pool of black water with a poison, so that drinking from it leads to a painless death. Visiting worshippers light candles to their god, then drink from the fountain using a stone cup, then go lie in one of the alcoves. Others take advantage of special alcoves, called "dreaming couches", which have special candles that bring visions of the past, for a sweet and gentle death.

Followers of Him of Many Faces consider death to be part of the natural order of things and a merciful end to suffering. The guild will agree to kill anyone in the known world, for a price, considering this contract to be a sacrament of their god. The price is always high or dear, but within means of the person if they are willing to make the sacrifice. The cost of their services also depends on the prominence and security of the target.

The High Valyrian words associated with the cult and its assassins are valar morghulis, or "all men must die", and its traditional response, valar dohaeris, or "all men must serve". This philosophy runs deep. Members are made to forsake their identities for the service of the Many-Faced God, and may only assassinate targets they have been hired to kill. They are not allowed to choose who is worthy of the "gift" by themselves.

[heartfullofleeches]

Dea [Worshipper God] comforting an upset Darling before Bed

Word Count: 1.2k. Commission 2/2. 

Warnings: None besides some mild hurt/comfort. Pure fluff 

No Pronouns for Reader. He/she/they used for Dea

-

“Penny for your thoughts, my grace?”

The slackness of your shoulders. Vacancy in your gaze. The incurious disposition to their cheerful greeting. All signs your vigilant adorer searches for upon being blessed with your return. As your most faithful and presumably sole devotee, Dea is forbearing to your woes - granting you time to settle in and breathe before airing their concerns.

A short walk to the couch with your hand in theirs, not another word spoken as the deity cautiously directs their touch to your shoulders - ushering you to the sanctity of the cushions. They proceed by relieving you of some of your burdens - peeling the damp coat from your arms and draping it over their right. As if this day couldn't get any worse for you, the beginnings of a storm had caught up to you right before you made it through the door. Dea knew they should have been more persistent when encouraging you to carry an umbrella with you, but the selfish part of them knew it'd serve to hasten your journey home. 

Thankfully, aside from your jacket and hair, the rest of you was almost entirely dry. The deity excuses themselves to carry your coat elsewhere - returning seconds later with a towel in hand. Warmth radiates from the cloth as it's delicately placed atop your wet scalp. Only when her ears catch that awaited sigh of relief passing through your tight lips does their question reach you. 

“Sure…”

It's pained - debilitated. There's that familiar, heart-rending sting swelling behind their eyes at the utter defeat in your voice. How he longed for the tears obscuring their vision to be sobs of joy… No- they mustn't cry when you are the one in turmoil. Dea waves a hand over their eyes, conjuring a small coin from their robes with the scant turn of their wrist. Taking your palm in theirs once more, the deity firmly places it in its center - closing your fingers around the offering with a tender kiss to the backs of your knuckles. 

Upon first glance, it's simple to tell it's no ordinary penny. For one, it was significantly larger than one of typical size. Gold plated as an alternative to the common copper tinge. As your nails scrap over its surface, a thin line splinters the golden finish. You pick at the film with your nails until you're left with a white, faceless coin. You hold it closer to your face, sniffing curiously. No scent. 

Hesitantly, you wedge the small disk between your teeth - biting down. 

The coin breaks away as smoothly as butter whilst remaining firm on your tongue. As you chew, it makes a moment for any flavor to register. What you presumed to be white chocolate turned out to be… something else entirely. It doesn't quite taste like it anyway. This taste.. It reminds you of something. The first bite of a sweet you haven't had in some time. Did you eat so much of it that you grew bored of it? Was it not being sold anymore? Was it still in stores - and just didn't taste the same anymore?

Swallowing, you sigh. Where do you begin? Do you tell them about the falling out with your friends? Your troubles at work? How everytime it feels like you're taking a step forward in life, you're knocked three back? Your mind is racing, yet the rest of you feels so drained. It's all too much. At least for one night. 

“I'm just… tired, Dea. That's all.” 

Dea’s lips remained sealed - expression one of contemplation. It softens, fingers tucking a now dry strand of hair behind your ear as they hushedly mutter. “Thank you for being honest.”

The deity slides a hand beneath your knees, the other positioned to your neck as they lift you up from the couch, heading towards your bedroom. “I would appreciate hearing the minor details in the morning, but for now I believe some well deserved rest is what you are in need of most. Come morning, I shall have a bath for you prepared soon as you wake. How does that sound?” 

Had they possessed a human heart - it may have combusted upon the weight of your head falling to their shoulder. “That sounds… actually kinda nice…..” 

Dea pushes the door open with their foot, adjusting you in their arms as they enter your bedroom, trailing leisurely towards the bed. The blankets had already been peeled back, awaiting your fated return just as she had. The god places you upright on the mattress, kneeling as they lift your foot into their lap. Dea unties the laces of your shoe, gently grasping your ankle as they remove the footwear, setting it on the floor beside your bed. They repeat the process with your other shoe, carrying both of them to your closet to be safely stored away. 

Joining your side yet again, Dea helps you into bed - arranging your legs comfortably beneath the sheets before rolling them up to your chin with a corner left untucked for them to easily slide into once finished with their mission. 

“I am so proud of you, My Grace.”

Your voice is muffled by the layers of blankets swathed over you. “For what?” 

‘Just for being you. It's not easy - being human, facing so many hardships throughout such a short time on this earth. I wish I could take it all away. Keep you from those who may harm you. As much as it pains me, I am aware being with others of your kind is a necessary part of life… It's what allows me to grang you the freedom to run off into this cruel reality with me everyday….”

Dea pauses.

“N-not that you need my permission! It just kills me to see you hurting… I've probably talked your ear off enough for one night- Goodnight, My Grace.”

“Dea?”

Your voice is even harder to make out than before. 

“Yes?”

“....Thank you….”

The stinging behind their eye makes it return, but isn't as melancholic as before. “It is my pleasure, Y/n. As always.”

The deity shuts off the lamp beside your bed, snuggling up next to you with a protective arm projected over you as exhaustion takes hold - your eyes drifting close to the soothing whispers of your eternal admirer. 

“Sweet dreams, My Grace. Know as you fall asleep that I will always protect you. As your faithful disciple, and the one who cherishes you ever so dearly in my heart.”

[lassieposting]

Serpine in therapy for the asks :)

Okay so my headcanon is actually that Nef doesn't get a choice about going to therapy. It's part of the parole agreement he makes with the Sanctuary when he immigrates to Roarhaven. Whether or not he is answerable for our Serpine's war crimes, and whether the Sanctuary here can try him for his war crimes back in Leibniz, is still up for debate by legal professionals and he'd rather not risk it, so in exchange for his freedom he agrees to comply with weekly check-ins with a parole officer (which ends up being Skug, because China is spiteful), regular therapy, and location monitoring.

And like. Honestly, he thinks the whole thing is a massive waste of time - the Sanctuary flexing its power over him to make a point. He shows up, he's charming and personable, he flirts with the therapist and the girl on reception and anyone else he happens to bump into - but he thinks that before long, he'll have them convinced that he's psychologically normal and doesn't need their services, and they'll discharge him.

But like. The thing about Nef, aside from having a sadistic streak a mile wide and Chronic Backstabbing Bitch Disease, is that he's spent the vast majority of (at least) his adult life surrounded by people who would turn on him in a heartbeat if it suited them to do so. He comes from a world where abuse, manipulation and betrayal are not only common, they're the norm. That's the only way to relate to the world and to others that he understands. The Faceless worshippers are a nasty bunch who all encourage each other's worst impulses and learn to care only for themselves, and on the rare occasion that they break those habits, they tend to get hurt by those who haven't. So like, Nef's normal meter is completely and utterly broken. In his Handbook backstory, his childhood was unstable and emotionally damaging. As an adult, he has nothing to do with his family - all he had was Mevolent and the Church. His relationship history is littered with violent psychopaths like Christophe Nocturnal and Jaron Gallow, people who approved of and supported Serpine's own sadistic tendencies, but also tended to vent theirs on him when it suited them. This. Man. Is. A mess.

The therapist suspects complex trauma - although, that's not as unusual a diagnosis as it is for mortals: it's a given for millions of sorcerers who survived the 500 Year War - narcissistic tendencies, though not to the point of a full blown personality disorder, and an obsessive focus on/one-sided rivalry with Skulduggery.

Honestly, I think Nef would mostly use it as an opportunity to annoy Skug. He pays attention, but mostly so he can take what the therapist tells him and put it to use while Skulduggery is stuck in the car with him for an eight hour stakeout. Psychoanalyse him. Armchair-diagnose him. Treat him to a three hour monologue of "My therapist said..."

But like. You know that thing where you start saying hewwo to mock other people who say hewwo, and it's kind of a mean-spirited joke at first, but suddenly you've unironically adopted hewwo into your daily vocabulary and can't stop saying it? Yeah.

Some of it starts to get in via osmosis and sheer habit. He spends so long mockingly telling Skug about all the problems that he (Nef) thinks he (Skug) has, that he actually starts to notice things for real. He can tell when Skug is dissociating. He can point out to Val that she has a tendency to pull away from and lash out at the people who want to help her, because she's terrified to be seen as anything other than competent and capable, and then he'll think, hold on, I do that too.

A lot of therapy goes in one ear and out the other because it doesn't work for him - complex trauma is just Like That. The standard practices - like CBT - seem like platitudinous drivel to you, and the fact that everyone else seems to think they work often feels like a great big joke everyone is playing on you. But he takes in enough to start making some small changes to how he interacts with others and how he behaves. He starts learning how to react appropriately to distress signals in the people who are becoming his friends, rather than seeing those signals as something to take advantage of, a soft spot to sink a knife into and twist. He's developing basic empathy, which actually helps him, because for once in his life he's in a situation where bonding with others is The Way To Get Ahead, rather than something that would get him killed.

And he's getting a better grade in therapy than Skug, by virtue of actually agreeing to go, so he gets to be smug about that.

[lazulian-devil]

Are y'all ready for Book 3? No? Well, I dont care, do I now. You're already reading, its too late for you to leave now.

The Villains of Skulduggery Pleasant 3 - Batu

We arrive in the third book, The Faceless Ones, which seamlessly incorporates the consequences of everyones actions into even worse mayhem.

Following Vengous almost succesful attempt at opening the rift, a mysterious man named Batu (who is also the guy dealing with Sanguine at the end of Book 2 being all ominous) is behind the kidnapping (and murder, lest I forget) of all remaining Teleporters. Because he needs someone to teleport something through a portal in a different dimension.

(Tangent: Im sure Shunters didnt exist yet in Book 3. I feel like this should have been a Shunter thing and I can neither remember nor bother to find proof why the Anchor needs a Teleporter instead of a Shunter. In Book 8, Crayfon Signate quite literally does something similar with the Sceptre of the Ancients, looking for a Signature and then finding the correct dimension. Im pretty sure its about it all being a gateway instead of a direct transferal. If anyone knows, do tell.)

Alright, so. We have Batu/Paddy as our main villain and he is a brilliant and excellent one. But lets get the honorable mentions out of the way, so no villains feel ignored.

Our boy Billy-Ray Sanguine is of course part of Batus Squad, but so are the remains of the the Diablerie with Jaron Gallow, Murder Rose and Gruesome Krav. I honestly admit that I feel they are caricatures and the screentime they have is sufficient not to make them boring. They all die in the end anyways and its a shame that it reflects in the way they are so very one note and almost ridiculously "evil". On top of that, we also have a Seahag (in a lake. With corpses. I do love how dumb that is). Then theres Scapegrace and the second buildup for Thurid Guild.

I will be honest with you: Batu is an exceptional villain in terms of motivation, speech and arc. His surrounding villains are sadly one note caricatures, besides those that get to live into the next book (mainly Guild, Scapegrace and Sanguine). The others are often played for jokes or just to make a point on how cruel, wicked and horrendous the Diablerie and the worshippers of the Faceless Ones truly are. Which, yeah. Thats fair. But I always love myself some three dimensional side characters, so let me be a little sad.

Now, lets think about why Batu actually works:

Hes mortal. Evil, yes. But mortal. But he could have been magic. Technically, its his birthright.

And thats all, really. Its man grasping for something he could have never had and that he could have never been gifted. Its another case of fanaticism. Fruitless, sad and deadly.

Now, the SPU has a long history of ignoring of belittling mortals in the way that they are and who they are. This becomes more apparent in later books (the xenophobia/eugenics in Phase 2 for example) but its also pretty evident here:

Batu uses his mortality, his frailness and his visual weakness as a shield. If, for example, Batu was young and fit, it wouldnt quite work the same way. His age and behaviour is a smokescreen.

Funnily enough, he even points it out in his first interaction with Skulduggery and Valkyrie:

"Reach a certain age and suddenly, you're a nobody, suddenly you're not even worth counting." - Book 3, Chapter 13

That combined with his somewhat senile mannerisms, the whole old-man schtick is so very stereotypical. Because of course it is. Both readers and heroes alike are blinded by how much of a an old man™ Paddy really is.

Contrast this with Batus first appearance in Chapter 7 and 14. The way he speaks ist fundamentally different.

"You failed me, Mr Sanguine. I paid you to do a job and you failed me. [...] You will have a chance to redeem yourself."

Paddy doesnt hold power in conversation, hes a silly little man. Its on purpose, of course. Authenticity breeds trust and everyone can relate to an old cynical man, stuck in his ways. Batu on the other hand commands a room. Speaks with a high tongue, with precision. Short and accurate, no breath wasted. Naturally.

When you read the books and you are aware of the twist, there are a lot of things, behaviours and sentences that could make you raise an eyebrow. But our heroes dont have the time to question anything, so they dont. They willingly accept that this man owns the land with the rift, that he doesnt panic at the explanation of magic, that his questions are a little suspicious. Because then they would need to stop. And neither Skulduggery nor Valkyrie do such a thing. They are cocksure of themselves, remember? And Batu knows. Batu even bets on that, as all sorcerers he has met have been equally cocksure. And all his henchmen are too. He's playing all of them, simply because he knows how they work. He has weaseled his way into their homes, has fed their cats (s. Chapter 36), has seen their arrogance and sadly his cynicism proves right at every turn. He really is invisible to them. A mortal obstacle, to be dealt with to safe the world. Always the roadstop, never the destination.

In Chapter 20, Paddys reaction to magic is a smile, not fear. He knows magic exists. It entices him. The shock he displays is - of course - an act, but a very believable one. Sure, yeah, the old man doesnt mind anymore. Hes too old, he has seen too much. Magic might as well exist to him. And he was horribly stubborn this whole time, so it makes sense that he would have an equally spiteful response to magic.

We even come full circle: Paddy asks Valkyrie if she despises mortals for what they are.

"Someone who can run fast dismisses the people slower than he is. What if its someone who can run really fast? Then the slower people become little more than an annoyance, and then an irritation. Superiority breeds contempt." - Book 3, Chapter 20

(Quick sidenote: Its like he wants to be caught when you start looking for it? He himself is the one who runs fast. He himself sees the others as annoyance, as irritation. What a beautifully wretched thing to say.)

Essentially, Paddy is justifying himself here, but, again, reader and heroes are caught up in this very relevant question that plagues Valkyrie: Being detached from Humanity, from Family. Once again, Batu is using his understanding of the magical world against them. He is one step ahead. He recognises Valkyries youth and asks her specifically. Not Skulduggery, who would dismiss it. Her. Even further, he points out the massive flaws in the systems to her, as one of the first in the whole bookseries:

"So magic people view themselves as mages and everyone else as mortals. And that doesnt sound like a group of people elevating themselves to godhood to you?" [...] "... They have the power of gods, dont they? They have magic at their fingertips. Their affairs affect the world. [...] You hold the fate of the world in your hands. If thats not godlike, I dont know what is."

Now the avid reader might have noticed that once Paddy speaks about sorcerers and magic users, his whole old man™ act falls away. His speech becomes more like Batus, because he is Batu in this moment. He isnt acting here.

And why does no one recognise it? Because its a justified question. Again and again, Batus line of logic proves true: All sorcerers are playing god to an extend. A theme that will be picked up far more heavily between Book 7-9 and the entirety of Phase 2. So, as readers, its enticing to see someone challenge the presented Status Quo and as Valkyrie, this direct confrontation helps settle her own views as a growing Teenager into this magical world of god-pretenders. Batu fulfills both the role of a mentor and a villain, pointing out the straw that will break the camels back again and again and again in the following books.

He himself fights like a mortal: There are no fancy gadgets in the big fight. There are machine guns and grenades, painfully mortal weapons. Painful is literal in this sense. Batu chooses reliable weapons of war and not unpredictable gods. At least, in the beginning. There are also the Hollow Men, a whole artifical army of them. Which, broken down, is hilarious. The sorcerers, capable of destructive magic and definitely murder, are using the mortal weapons against the heroes. The army that is there to support them is one of magical stupidity, literal child friendly canon fodder. His army of magic men is one without mind, without question. And his Diablerie, despite actually having a brain, never question him either. They're all hollow men, one way or another. Some of them by power of creation and some of them simply because they are blinded by their own fanaticism, blinded by Batu and the true fight. So, he doesnt fight like a mortal at all. He fights like a mortal that knows the sorcerers. Using the best of both worlds, the most potent startegies each side has to offer. Additionally, there is also the implication of him commanding a massive army without even being there, which does underline his godlike aspirations as well.

Finally, when its revealed that he is indeed Batu, he declares himself "not a mindless drone" and "someone with a vision" (Chapter 36). But what is the root of all his evil?

"Magic." He said. "My father was a sorcerer. So was my brother. But not me. I just didnt have the spark, you know? But now, its finally my turn."

Batu feels robbed of godhood. And that is precisely why he is summoning gods to overtake the world. If he cant reach for divinity, everyone else who can needs to suffer for it.

[Val] "You're going to let a Faceless One take you over."

[Batu] "And then I'll be brimming with magic that ordinary sorcerers would never even dream about. They're not gods, Valkyrie. They're as pathetic as the people you left behind in your old life. But me? I'll be a true god."

But that isnt everything. Despite how much his mortality annoys him, he sees it as the one defining strength that seperates him from sorcerers. His mortality makes him powerful.

[...] "I was born without magic. Ive had to be strong. My will is iron. Im not going to be simply erased - not like the others."

His mortality makes him so powerful that he will rise above the mortals, above the godlike sorcerers and be able to Neon Genesis Evangelion Pilot his way through the world as a Faceless Ones vessel.

So now everyone can agree that Batu is another insane man in a series of insane villains, right? I dont need to spell that out. But before I go and give you a nice little ribbonbow for the ending, lets look at Batus death and how its described.

"Batu turned, spread his arms and raised his eyes to his god, and as it rushed to fill him, he screamed with terror and exultation. And then Batu was gone." - Chapter 42

The Faceless One described here is the one that is responsible for all the mayhem at the end of the book. Its by far the strongest from the bunch. So maybe some part of Batus willpower speech is true. But the written text makes it very clear that this is not the case. Batu is an excellent vessel for the strongest Faceless One. But nothing more than that.

Which is horribly ironic. The man that gained the trust of dozens of sorcerers, has perfected being a non-threat to anyone but believes himself to be worthy of the power of a literal god vanishes instantly. Just like everyone else.

But I love Batu as a villain. Waving all the weirdness aside. He is compelling because in the few moments that he is actually authentic, he is terrifying.

Not to mention he actually achieved what The Diablerie and Baron Vengous couldnt. He manipulated Skulduggery into revealing where the gate was. He used the ressources of the enemy to his own gain. The saddest thing about Batu is, that if he had put his mind to anything but godhood, he would have ascended anyway. He has all the ressources: smarts, wit, the ability to plan longterm, not to mention charisma and leadership skills.

He would have made a magnificent sorcerer. And thats just... incredibly compelling. Batu isnt strong with magic. He doesnt throw flames around, he isnt a walking skeleton. He is a cynical, old man that despises the hand he has been dealt and instead of accepting what is, he cuts from the world the pieces he thinks he deserves. And in this incredible determination blossoms a man that could have been anything. That had the skills, the mind, the speech to become something wonderful, something progressive, a change bringer.

Instead of recognising the talents he possesed, he focused merely on what he didnt have. Turned to evil, to spite. To bitterness and cynicism. He almost became the downfall of the entire world in his quest to prove that he was, indeed, as godlike as the rest of them.

9/10. Go Paddy.

Wanna read more of my breakdowns?

Here is Part 1: Nefarian Serpine and Part 2: Baron Vengous for you!

[detective-inspector-her]

Just a thing I noticed while reading Resurrection.

Never nodded. “My mum met you once. You wouldn’t remember – it was only for a few minutes. It was at the Requiem Ball. She says you were one of the most arrogant people she’d ever talked to. She said you were so young and full of confidence, and you looked at all the other sorcerers like you were so much better than them. She said she knew right then that you were trouble. Just trouble, waiting to happen.”

Fellas, is it wrong to be a confident teenager? Is it abnormal for a teenager to be arrogant or trouble? Is it wrong to be confident in your own home? Also, weren't some of the people at the ball worshippers of the faceless ones? I reckon Valkyrie had every right to say she's better than them, and in a way, she's at least as good as some of them.

Don't take this as hate to Never or their family by the way, I just enjoy thinking about this particular part of the chapter and tearing it away, because I think that is grief and anger talking. Because the ball was held in Valkyrie's house, she'd survived enough dangerous things to be entitled to an ego, and she was a teenager. We have reputations for being idiots.

Anyways, there are my daily readings.

[thegodemperorsmycopilot]

Dramatis Personae

The Inquisitorial Agents

Ezekyll Krinn, "Hollow"

Jeziree M'Bannyon, "Dust"

Rezika Kastalani, "Rush"

Sabin Zimnyadova, "Frost"

Uhlaxendra Oktano, "Lex"

4

A lithe form barged into the chapel, autorevolvers in firm grips as the guns swept across the ruined chamber.

The gunslinger saw 3 different gunsswing toward her as a pair of large dogs growled. She slowly let her arms sag downwards, guns pointing at the marbled floor.

"What the hell did I miss?"

"You're late, Frost," the rail-thin scout deadpanned as he lowered his worn laspistol.

Frost holstered her guns as the scout half-carried and half-dragged their unconscious markswoman towards the doorway, her long gun slung on his other shoulder. "What the pike is with all y'all, bein' late all the pikin' time."

"Got here as fast as I could, Krinn," came the tired reply as she held up her trenchcoat with fingers poking out of bullet holes. "Got a little held up."

She looked over at the pilot in their faceless helmet and dark flight jacket and noticed that they were standing next to a corpse on the floor in a pool of dark coloured blood. She walked over to the body and crouched down to have a closer look.

The corpse's face was twisted in a rictus of pain and hate, its throat violently ripped out. Three arms were splayed across the floor, one throughly mangled. Suppressor-equipped handguns were still gripped tight in its hands.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she noted the pair of large dogs had returned to quietly nosing at the mutant corpse. Since their scout had a tendency to frequently bring strays of all kinds back with him, this didn't surprise her at all.

Over her shoulder, she asked, "Fill me in, Hollow, what'd I miss?"

"Gunman over there pikin' ambushed us. Didn't even hear 'im slip in from the front till it was too late. Dust's pikin' lucky to be alive an' nothin' broken. Bodyglove stopped the pikin' bullet. Lucky it wasn't las," he grumbled as he gingerly laid the markswoman on a pew that was mostly in one piece. "Still knock'd her right outta her pikin' perch, no mistake', righ' splat on the floor. Pikin' lucky to still be breathin'."

While Hollow was speaking, the pilot took off their helmet, pulled off the wrap holding their hair in place and shook out their hair with a sigh.

"Dogs tore into the gunman before we could stop them," the pilot picked up from where Hollow had left off. "Don't think he was expecting them. However, Mister Mutant down there brings up a few questions and, more importantly, an urgent need to vacate the premises."

Frost stood up and dusted her pants off out of habit. She looked at Hollow and their pilot.

"So, Hollow, Rush. Is this dead guy related to the cultist gangers you dealt with?"

"Not wearing their colours, no similar identifying marks, and dissimilar equipment from the Flesh Bringers. But he could be an affiliate or a hired gun," answered Rush softly, looking down at the floor before looking up at Frost. "A retaliatory hit? Revenge?"

Hollow spoke up, squatting next to the corpse, "Nah, I've seen enough of their pikin' kind in the last few years."

He paused, fixing everyone with an empty stare.

"This confirms that there's a pikin' genestealer cult on-planet, and they're active. Might've been scared up by you lookin' into those mutant cult rumours."

Frost covered her face with a hand.

"Great. Of all the Emperor-loving luck. A cult of Chaos worshippers taking over violent underhive gangs and, now, a genestealer cult. I dunno which is worse. All we need now is the damn zombie robots to show up and we'll have a full hand of just-kill-us-now."

"Could always be worse," a dulcet voice chimed in.

Frost whipped around, finally seeing the blonde-haired girl. She took her in with a cocked eyebrow. Right, the dogs had to have come from somewhere.

Her nose may have been pretty once upon a time, but it clearly had been in one too many fights. That close-cropped hair must have been a sin against some saint or God as she imagined it be like pure woven gold when grown out. She also appeared taller than most of their present company despite being crouched on the floor.

Frost realised that she was ministering to a third hound who seemed to have taken a through-and-through in its foreleg, blood and hydraulic fluid had soaked its fur. And then belatedly noticed the battered law enforcement armour she was wearing.

"Alright, who brought the Lex?"

Section prev

Section 1

Section next

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Light of This World | Ch.2

When you awoke in the comfortable embrace of those same silken sheets you frantically cradled your hand to your chest. The same one that just hours ago—if they even count by those—stuck into a giant cube of molten rock. Even with the confirmation that you were their beloved Light, it didn’t change the shaking fear that clung to you still. A people that condoned abduction, and causing physical harm to their abductee in search for a being they weren’t even sure existed. Registering lightly padded steps and the muffled musings of the servants in white from behind the door gilded in golden accents and velvet textures. Your body kept still in a curled position, refusing to acknowledge the recent presence of Rowana’s High Priestess; the Light’s beloved guide.

“(Y/n)? Are you…doing okay?”

Peering over the foot of your bed she tried to meet your eyes through the transparent curtain and failed. For you kept your eyelids shut, tucking your head as far into the plush pristine pillows that you could. You refused! Refused to concede to the one who sprung this on you so suddenly! The one who sat silently behind as the gaggle of faceless worshippers and fanatics were willing to burn away your hand despite their protests. 

“(Y/n)--I–I am really sorry about all this…I’m sorry all I can really do is just stand there…”

The sight of her brown eyes flashing sympathy and pain when you called to her. The spiteful gaze pointed at those wearing white disappearing as fast as they came. The glassy eyes pleaded with you to forgive her as she reached to you once more. Her pink lips quivered and her rapid blinking spoke volumes to you as you sat up in the bed.

“P-please (Y/n)! Forgive me!”

______________________________________________________

You let the shivering hands of those in white button your pearl-white tunic. A minor compromise for having dressed with only Brie present. The moment the final button was done you shooed them away letting Brie dismiss them as she walked slightly ahead of you guiding you from the solace of the bedroom through the golden hallways of the castle. 

She walked so elegantly. Her feet stepped parallel to one another and her hands folded in front of her. You attempted to mirror her only for her to shoot a look of disdain, as though she wanted to slap your hands apart. Taking the message to heart, you released your hands balling your hands into fists keeping them at your sides. You flashed a look of pride only to be met with her exasperated shaking her head. If it weren’t for her necessity to be stone-like she would have no doubt brought a disappointed pointer and thumb to pinch at her nose. 

She halted the entourage and you at the arrival of what she deemed your personal throne. And for a personal throne room, it was quite extravagant. The floor was shiny black marble that had white and golden streaks that led up to the golden accent stairs to the golden throne. The throne itself was large, padded and surrounded by white and black pillows. A blanket was folded neatly in place enticing you to finally test how comfortable this throne. The rest of the room was a mixture of gold and black coloring pillars that held up high vaulted ceiling that that featured a single light, synonymous with a miniature sun–a bright burning ball seemed to glow at the center piece of the chandelier. There was one window, or there should have been but it looked as though the space was filled in with an opaque brick covered by a golden velvet curtain. It was extravagant. 

It almost happened to outstand the creature waiting stiffly at the steps of the cushioned throne. 

“My Light, this is your head Head Captain: General Minks. The highest in command for you and Rowana’s safety.”

The creature bowing before you was like none you’d met before. Dressed in a fitted white uniform fashioned with a red sash tucked into a sword-holding belt—he no doubt had the look of a general. But the clothes had nothing to their wearer. He was of moderate height with purple skin and pointed ears. The scleras of his eyes were black and his irises a ruby amber, seemingly glowing as they followed you. They were slightly shrouded by indigo-colored bangs which stemmed from a head of violet and pink strands that reached down his back. In short, he was other-worldly.

As Brie had instructed you, you only lightly bowed your head before offering your hand into his waiting purple one. Your resisted the urge to pull away when soft lips fully grazed against your hand. You tried to keep a straight face as Brie sighed and loudly began to cough in hopes of drawing the general’s attention from you.

“General. Minks. If. You. Please?!”

He groaned leaning his head back and rolling his eyes. He turned to stare directly into your eyes again, watching you fluster as he brings your knuckles to his kiss again.

“It truly is a pleasure to be of service to you my Light, I am General Minks.”

“N-nice to meet you. Uhm and a–likewise?”

You frantically looked to Brie for approval who shrugged and circled her hand. Lighting up with remembrance of the protocol, you brought your hand in front of you feeling the way his touch lingered as you pulled away. With your head held high you moved past him, stepping up those marble steps to the throne, working to keep your own enjoyment hidden as you settled into the throne. 

At the elevated vantage you could see the entirety of those in your private throne room the servants practically drooling huddled at the foot of the steps and the guards with obsidian armor and steel accents posted at both gilded entrances one of which you entered in. General Minks stood wiith an unknown glint in his eyes on the second step.

Brie stood near your left side, bending slightly to lean near your ear. 

“If your wondering he’s an elder demon contracted to a previous Light. I wouldn’t trust him as far as I can throw him!”

You shot her a questioning look so she continued.

“He just does whatever he wants! He usually doesn’t even spend time training his army–”

“Well perhaps that’s because he never had a Light to protect!”

Brie sneered at the interloper, who had somehow appeared at your other shoulder, without you even noticing, to playfully whisper his own defense.

“Ugh! That has nothing with you being an insufferable rat-demon!” 

“And that your majesty is what’d you’d call discrimination.”

“Its true to his character! So many of the followers we carefully vet and filter during the hiring process get their souls harvested with no compensation!”

“Didn’t they put you through the wringer your majesty? It should be okay if some of them should…retire early.”

“Uhhhhh?”

“Don’t expect them to condone your murderous tendencies!”

The two continued to bicker bordering on playful teasing and accusations of high treason. You sighed leaning back into your seat to let the arguing on either side of you. You were glad there were pillows it was going to be a long day…

[brainwrongbutalive]

Skulduggery - son of Abrogate Raze (a cult leader) who left home. Abrogate Raze goes on to murder his mother, and ruin their family

China - daughter of Faceless Ones worshippers, grandmother was so toxic that China killed her, very strained relationship with her brother.

Solace had no hope, even if she had been raised by them

[bubblemoon66]

China Sorrows’ Backstory Headcanons [1/3]

I’ve never shared my headcanons about China’s youth and that is a tragedy that needs to be rectified immediately because I’ve probably got a more vivid image of her backstory than I do for any other character. 

This was written before I read UTE and isn’t canon compliant with it but I don’t really care about canon anymore soo....  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TW for mentions of child abuse, sexism, death, cults, arranged marriage. 

China’s given name is Bébinn. She was born and grew up on a large estate in Westmeath, Ireland with her parents, brother and maternal grandmother.

China’s mother, Tristitia, was a natural omnilingualist. I.E. She’s an adept who can speak any language and didn’t get to choose her discipline.

Tristitia was born in Ireland, but her ancestry was mixed. There’s a lot of Irish, but the scorpion on the family crest can be traced through several empires all the way to ancient Babylonia.

She was an only child.

Her father, alongside his two brothers, died fighting by Mevolent’s side in the war against the Unnamed when Tristitia was young.

China’s father, Dì, was Han Chinese. He was a natural teleporter. His discipline meant he was well-travelled.

He had four siblings. Two older sisters, an older brother and a younger sister.

His family came from a long line of powerful sorcerers but had only relatively recently converted to the Church of the Faceless, so they didn’t have the same standing in the community until Dì and his siblings started marrying in.

Their marriage wasn’t exactly arranged, but it wasn’t a love-match either. It was just a practical choice among slim-pickings. They were both from old, distinguished, purist mage families. Their values aligned. Their families approved. They were both ready to start a family and figured their bloodlines mixing would beget some powerful kids. Also, they weren’t closely related, which was a real consideration. Faceless Ones worshippers like to marry within the church, so inbreeding is an issue.

The best word to describe their relationship is amicable.

After Bliss and China were born, both of them began affairs. Each had a vague idea about the other’s relationships. Neither minded so long as they were discreet and kept up the happy family facade in public. Basically, it was an open marriage with a don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy.

Tristitia preferred short, torrid trysts.

Several of her affairs were with China and Bliss’ tutors. Several more were with family friends met through the Church of the Faceless.

Dì had a second family in his homeland. He spent a lot of his time with them.

Neither China nor Bliss ever recognised their father’s other children as siblings. They’ve never met and with the family crest and house coming from the maternal side of the family, they’re not really a part of the same legacy.

Overall, China’s and Bliss’ relationship with their parents was formal and distant. Their physical needs were taken care of by mortal servants, their education was left to hired sorcerers, and their moral instruction came from their maternal grandmother.

Tristitia cared for her children’s well-being but, in her mind, the best way to protect them was to enforce perfection. After all, they won’t be punished if they never misbehave. So, she just winds up parroting her own mother’s teachings but with less harsh punishments when the children’s behaviour deviates.

Dì was less strict than the other adults in the house (although compared to non-cult standards he’s still pretty strict) but defaulted to whatever rules his wife and mother-in-law set.

His affection for his children was expressed through gifts picked up on his travels.

China often received bolts of silk, jewellery and hair ornaments, calligraphy supplies and, when she was older, rare books.

Bliss was given weapons, musical instruments and mechanical curiosities.

The aforementioned grandmother was named Ishara.

She was fifteen when she married China’s grandfather.

They were first cousins once removed.

Their marriage was arranged and devoid of any affection.

She was a vitakinetic—a healer. Although she used her powers to inflict pain as much as take it away.

She also had a keen interest in botany and toxicology.

After the deaths of her husband and brothers-in-law, she became a matriarch who ruled the household with an iron fist. Life on the estate revolved around her will. Disobedience was swiftly and harshly punished.

Both Bliss and China (and Tristitia, during her early childhood) had their given names used against them prior to taking a name.

This is taboo, even among the Church of the Faceless.

Bliss was five when he took his name.

China took longer to escape that abuse; she was seven before she took a name.

The children’s education was excellent for the era. Subjects included grammar, rhetoric, arithmetic, geometry, geography, music theory, astronomy, dance, Latin, Greek, French and Mandarin.

Although China revived a much better education than most girls of the time, there was still sexism at play. When Bliss studied athletics, she was encouraged to focus on drawing and calligraphy.

They were taught by mages (and mages only) with an expertise in one or two subjects. The mages would stay with the family for a few months, tutor both children intensely, leave suggestions for practice exercises and further reading so they could peruse the subject further and then move on.

Having a teleporter in the family meant tutors could be from all over the world.

The content of lessons was carefully monitored by Ishara. In particular, history and philosophy were taught in a very limited way that meshed with the family religion.

Unbeknown to the rest of the family, Bliss convinced a couple of his tutors to privately debate ideas and share books created by mortals. He was interested in the wider world from a young age and not all their tutors were anti-mortal.

All the family held a low opinion of mortals, although the extent of their bigotry varied.

Ishara believed, and encouraged her family to believe, that mortals were basically animals; useful if well-trained but incapable of the same level of reason and emotion as a ‘person’. Soft-hearted sorcerers might grow fond of individual mortals, but they shouldn’t be afraid to put a poorly tempered one down.

This view was mainstream but not universal among The Church of the Faceless.

Sorcerer’s who took this teaching to its extreme, view sexual relationships with mortals as akin to bestiality.

The mortals who served on the estate were kept out of sight (and out of mind) as much as possible. They navigated the house through hidden passageways, kept their eyes to the ground and were commanded to never speak unless spoken to.

The family never really hid their magic from their servants (or other mortals who lived near the estate). They didn’t flaunt it or discuss magic with them, but they didn’t hide their differences either. They were too insignificant to make an effort for.

Half the nearby mortal population was convinced the family was secretly sidhe. The other half swore they’d made a deal with the devil. All avoided interacting with them as little as possible.

It’s canon that China’s family’s beliefs veered away from traditional Faceless teachings. For millennia, they believed their family was more special and more deserving than other followers. This wasn’t shared with anyone outside the family.

These beliefs were enforced by sermons held twice daily in the family’s private chapel and led by Ishara.

However, at least once a week (sometimes more, for festivities) the family would travel to the church Mevolent led to listen to him preach.

If Dì was home, they’d teleport. If he wasn’t, they’d travel by horseback and/or horse and carriage.

Racing Bliss on horseback through stretches of countryside is China’s fondest childhood memory.

This is also the family’s chance to socialise with other sorcerers. After listening to a sermon, it was common to linger in the church afterwards to talk about it or catch up on news. This usually led to an invitation to dinner with a fellow church-goer (and sometimes breakfast the next day if they lived in the opposite direction).

While the adults wined and dined, the children were left to entertain themselves. So, yes, China got to play typical childhood games like hide-and-seek and blind man’s buff with other kids. She also got to play some atypical childhood games like what’s-the-worst-thing-we-can-drop-down-the-meurtrière because all her playmates were murderers in the making.

Young China and Bliss were very close. They were each other’s primary emotional support growing up.

They had an ‘us versus them’ mentality where it was the two of them pitted against everyone else in the household.

They’d act as lookouts and alibis for each other when needed. Also, if one of them was being denied food as punishment, they’d sneak some in if they could do it without getting caught.

That said, they never directly stood up to their parents and grandmother in defense of the other. Doing so would have only resulted in them both being punished (and their sibling calling them a fool).

Bliss was the more protective of the two, mainly because he was four years older and was in a better possession to protect (although their individual personalities also play a role).

They didn’t always get along perfectly, but their childhood fights were rarely serious or long lasting. Most of the time, it was just name calling.

Like most members of their family, China and Bliss were naturals. They didn’t get to choose their discipline or experiment with any others. One type of magic came naturally to them, and that was it.

They were taught to believe that being a natural is a sign of favour from the dark gods.

China is a venerian—a sorcerer who can manipulate a person’s sense of attraction. It isn’t just limited to romantic, sexual and aesthetic attraction either. She also affects their sense of platonic and social attraction. People who don’t know her are inclined to trust her and have a desire to protect her. The effect isn’t as strong if you’re used to it or are prepared for it.

NB: Signum Linguistics (symbol magic) isn’t a discipline. It’s a separate skill that isn’t limited to sorcerers alone, although many sigils require magical energy to activate.

Although she would have never had admitted it aloud to anyone, during some of China’s darkest moments she questioned whether the only reason Bliss protected her during their childhood was because she manipulated him into it—tutelary is a type of attraction too.

Obviously, Bliss’ magic is enhancement. He’s physically stronger but also more agile, resilient, durable, and dexterous. His senses are more keen too, although this isn’t as noticeable as his strength.

China’s magic blossomed slowly. It wasn’t obvious she had any magic until she hit double-digits. Although once she and her family had figured out what her discipline was, they suspected she’d been using it unconsciously for some time.

Bliss’ magic was apparent from a young age. Think three-year-old stomping their foot and cracking a paving stone.

China had very little control over her magic when she was younger. It’s the reigning in that’s a problem. It’s hard for her not to attract others, and it only grew stronger with age.

Bliss had the same issue with his magic. It was hard for him to reign in his strength. He broke a lot of furnishings during a gawky adolescence by misjudging his strength.

China’s magic and her lack of control over it led to many awkward to downright dangerous situations in her youth.

It started with a lot of staring from her fellow church-goers in public.

Then, when she was fourteen, an older mage belonging to the same church as China begged her to run away with him. After she refused, he grabbed her arm, intending to make her come away with him. An eighteen-year-old Bliss broke his arm two seconds later, but the incident stuck with her.

After that, China was permitted to study fencing and other fighting techniques—something she’d always wanted to do but had been prevented from doing.

The other consequence was constant chaperoning. Admittedly, her social circle had always been carefully controlled, but this was different. Where before she could have socialised with the children of family friends freely, now, she had to sit with one of her guardians every time she left the estate.

Despite this, more incidents followed. Nothing as dramatic, but always uncomfortable. China quickly grows bitter about the discipline she wound up with. Unfortunately, complaining about magic gifted by the gods would have been regarded as blasphemy, so she had to keep quiet about her feelings.

As China’s power and admirers grew, Mevolent began taking note of her. He saw potential in her and the opportunity to mold her into something useful.

During a dinner they’re both guests at, he strikes up a conversation with her. It starts off with a lighthearted discussion about her education and an innocently presented comment about how he wishes he had more time to devote to his pet interest, signum linguistics. The conversions ends with Mevolent promising to loan China several books on the subject.

Right from the beginning, China excelled at signum linguistics. The subject came naturally to her. She had the right temperament, and her educational background in languages, geometry, and calligraphy helped immensely.

After she had the basics of sigil magic down, China started modifying the house. The tallow candles were the first to go—replaced by illuminating sigils. She creates other conveniences and then defenses. It wasn’t long before she moved onto tattoos though. That’s where her real interest lay.

Tattooing sigils onto herself became her way of reclaiming her body. When she was young, her discipline made her feel vulnerable. Sigil magic turned her body from a weakness to a weapon.

Mevolent was too busy to devote himself to tutoring China formally, but he checked in on her progress after his sermons and would offer advice over dinners.

Her family approve of China’s study; it’s a suitable interest for a noble sorceress. They approve of Mevolent’s attention even more so. They’re already high status in their community, but the attention of the charismatic leader only helps their standing.

Ishara attempts to arrange a marriage between Mevolent and China, but he politely refuses. He has his eye on Serafina. She’s a better match politically and personally.

China’s mostly relieved. She’s fifteen at this point and not ready for marriage. However, there’s a minor part of her that’s disappointed. Even in her teens the idea of power entices her and a marriage to Mevolent would have come with considerable power.

Around the same time China began studying signum linguistics, Bliss took up traveling. It started with days away with sorcerers he knows through the church who are of the same age. The trips grew longer the older he got. After the first year, he started going off on his own.

Dì encouraged him. Tristitia and Ishara were neutral—they considered it a normal part of a young male sorcerer’s development to go adventuring before they settle down.

China resented him for it, though. His increased freedom came at the same time her own was being restricted. He’s allowed to disappear for months at a time and she can’t even spend time with her childhood friends without a guardian present. And frankly, she was lonely without him in the house.

They fought more often at this point when Bliss was home because China didn’t know how to deal with her jealousy or express her emotions healthily.

Although none of the family was aware of it, Bliss’ time away was drawing him further away from their beliefs. He’d always been inclined to question what he was taught, but being exposed to other ways of thinking and living cemented what he’d suspected for a while—he’d grown up in an abusive cult.

[neitherthehoneynorthebee]

Do you have any Dead Men head cannons? They’re the main reason I love the series

Hi Anon! Sorry for taking a bit to respond - I have been trying to think of what headcanons I have that I haven't already talked about, but I've decided just to give you my main hcs for Erskine, Hopeless and Larrikin instead:

I mean, the short answer is yes, I do, I have many many headcanons. These guys live in my head rent free and I've sort of created my own particular world around them over the many years I've been in this fandom.

Erskine: as a young man he was a violinist like his mortal father, after he became an adult he joined Meritorious' side before the war started and spied on enemies, where he met Hopeless. Generally, he's a very conflicted man - he loves his fellow Dead Men but (as of 1800s when I am currently writing him) he's also struggling with ideological differences and split loyalties. I think his radicalisation in canon definitely deepened in the 20th and 21st centuries - and that the period after he was captured but before the war ends is probably the only time he could have been convinced not to join the Children of the Spiders fully.

Hopeless: Nonbinary, on the asexual spectrum. Their family were a brutal set of Faceless Worshippers, high in the hierarchy, close to China Sorrows' family. Hopeless was definitely poorly treated and undervalued by them because they didn't present any magical powers - and by the time they discovered their magic they knew that they should hide it. They're a fear-mage (basically they can read and affect other people's negative emotions, and shapeshift into people who've died near them). This is a heavily stigmatised but powerful magic, and it's the only one Hopeless is capable of using - they're not magically ambidextrous in any way. Now that they've escaped their family they are motivated by two main objectives: winning the war, and looking after their friends (especially Erskine). Their ultimate loyalty is to Erskine, which means when they realise that his loyalty to Meritorious and Corrival's beliefs is wavering, they're in a very difficult position. They're gentle to people they love but have the capacity for great violence if necessary (the violence here mostly psychological).

Larrikin: incredibly powerful healer, raised in a large family in a mortal village by a wonderful mother who was secretly a sorcerer. In a relationship with Dexter Vex. He's very lighthearted and teasing, but when he has to can be very serious. He believes in the cause but not like some of the others - he wants very much to make it out of this conflict, and help/heal as many people as he can along with him. Enjoys some frivolous wordplay and annoying people he distrusts. The reason he wasn't canonically at all the missions was because his healing powers were more useful on the main battlefield.

[blackjackkent]

Back from vacation, done with Extra Life, which means I can start soaking myself in Baldur's Gate 3 again. :P Picking up Hector's playthrough which left off directly after the battle in Grymforge - the gnomes are now free, Nere is dead, and we have his head and a (broken) moon lantern, and Hector and Karlach have (headcanonically) had a bit of a moment. ;)

Quick looting adventures around the now-very-empty Grymforge area.

Found this in a locked chest which seems like it might be important to the gnomes we just saved:

Unfortunately they appear to no longer be here but they did invite us to come say hi if we wander into Baldur's Gate.

Any remaining duergar also appear to have cleared out. The whole area is kind of eerie with no one around.

We also found some skeletons that seem to have been the Dark Justiciars Shadowheart mentioned.

Narrator: As you look at the skeletons, you realize they are all clad in the same dark armor.

"Dark Justiciar uniforms. These were Shar worshippers, the same as me."

Hector had the option here to make a nasty comment about followers of Shar, which he did not do. I don't know if I'd call him necessarily open-minded about the subject in general but he has grown to view Shadowheart as separate from the faceless bulk of the enemy sect and doesn't want to be cruel to her.

"Ominous. Let's not linger."

"Let's not. But a word of warning: down here in the Underdark, few dangers ever truly die."

That's cheerful.

I put the armor on Shadowheart because it seems like it would make her happy. It's actually kind of cool looking.

Nearby, while looting through a pile of boxes, Hector unlocked a big box full of crossbows, passed a history check, and announced, in a rather scathing tone, "I know this design. Shar's faithful wield crossbows like these."

So all in all I'm getting the impression we might be getting more #sharcontent soon.

I think I'm going to pop back to the mushroom folk, turn in Nere's head and hit up the big cave of rewards Spaw promised us, and then I guess we'll come back and pursue this since we need to move through this area anyway and we still need to find an alternative to the broken moonlantern before we can move on to Moonrise.

[garak]

in light of the stranger being the only(?) aspect of the seven that has been confirmed to be “real” (in the same way rhllor or the old gods are real, that being that they have confirmed ways in which they act upon the world via visions, imbuing powers, etc) here are some characters i think are favored by the stranger

most obvious answer besides the faceless men & those trained by them (excluded because they’re confirmed by canon and thus i have nothing to add) is sandor clegane. known follower of the stranger who was denied direct death but allowed the death of his persona of the hound and thus was reborn as a man of the cloth. come on he even has the hood and his face is divided into two sides. he even has animal imagery. obvious stranger adherent.

my guy ilyn. looks like a skeleton, has both masculine and feminine features, is notably unnerving. he’s the royal executioner and is able to behead someone in one swing. his colleagues believe he only lives to deal death. great candidate for being favored by the stranger.

lady stoneheart. you may be saying, “but judas, isn’t she favored by rhllor and wasn’t she a big worshipper of the mother when she was alive?” and to that i say what you think women aren’t worthy of being favored by multiple gods from multiple religions… anyways since she exists solely to deal death and execute people and her body is mangled and what not i think she’s a great candidate as someone who has the stranger on her side.

runners up are most characters who have physical disabilities or scars that make others afraid of them, particularly maelys blackfyre, theon, & tyrion (especially post nose job). lmk anyone else you think should qualify

[rose-from-ashes]

If I were to pick a non-ffxiv theme for Emet-Selch and the Garlean Empire, Coup d'État by Ghost and Pals would be it. It's fully instrumental, and there's basically no information but we know from the writer of the song that it's about Adres, a militaristic individual with a massive cult of faceless worshippers- already, that's extremely fitting for Solus zos Galvus, who was practically worshipped by the Empire in place of any actual deity, and yet behind his guise considered none of his followers to truly be people.

In sound, it's harsh and unsettling, with a driving drumbeat almost reminiscent of the marching of a massive legion. The percussion and some of the instruments sound mechanical in nature to me, which in turn makes me think of the rise of Magitek. In general, strong recommend!

[we-are-a-dragon]

Lyra (playing Hesty): I want to read the journal I took from Hinter Wildtree when we get back to the inn.

DM: It turns out his real name is Jorgan Felldale. His diary reveals that he is half-orc, half-elf. His mother was an orc who got pregnant with an elven ally, and after she died unexpectedly the father raised baby Jorgan himself. Unfortunately his extended family were openly racist toward the young mixed-race boy and his father didn't try to stop them. He was raised in the elven tradition and learned archery and magic. He grew to hate his 'family'. When he came of age he left to seek out orcs and learn about the other side of his heritage. He fell in with a traditionalist group of Gruumsh worshippers and they nurtured his resentment toward his elven upbringing. He converted to Gruumsh, tore out his own eye, and swore vengeance on everything elven.

Lyra: Cool motive, still murder...

DM: He travelled to Theriya and took a cleaning job at the museum, polymorphing himself into an elf to get close to Corellon worshippers. He found the broken Keystone in a museum vault and created a pact with a demon to restore its power, in return for his blood. He knew it would eventually kill him, but it was worth it to him as he put together his plan to heal Gruumsh's missing eye.

Hamish (playing Hunter): *raises eyebrows* Can he do that?

DM: He reckoned if he could restore Gruumsh's eye it would put him on a power level to challenge and this time defeat Corellon. Jorgan learned of a ritual created by a splinter cult of Bane designed to heal their god if he was ever grievously harmed in his ancient conflict, and travelled there to learn the ritual. Once they had taught him what he needed, he used the Keystone to dominate them and transform them into the Faceless. When he returned to the city he tracked down a powerful symbol of Corellon, the god who had wounded Gruumsh, which he needed for the ritual to work.

Marijn (playing Winnifred): Shame's necklace.

DM: Indeed. The rest is history.

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Okay, so I'm SUPER curious and also SUPER new to your God of Storms AU! I have two questions for you about it: Do mortals need to achieve some sort of feat before they're granted godhood, or do they need to be turned by a full-fledged god only? And does Kabuto make an appearance in this AU? I have a rough headcanon for my ideas so far, and I'd love to compare it with yours, if that's ok! :>

So like Gaara, Kabuto is the son of a shrine maiden, Nono Yakushi, and he wants to follow in her footsteps to become a priest for the shrine. They care for Danzo's shrine specifically. He's the one who sets Nono on a series of impossible tasks in order to keep his favor. Kabuto's a younger follower that helps enact his will in the mortal world when the god's unable to himself. Followers of Danzo are also more likely to wear adornments associated with him, including his masks.

Danzo's influence through his masks slowly erodes Nono's person-hood. She's unable to protect her family, the sole reason she wore the mask to begin with, and becomes an active threat to them instead. The mask's unbreakable and Kabuto can't get her to see reason, so he's forced to kill her to save himself.

The Faceless God has been keeping tabs on this situation of course, he's been having a pissing contest with Danzo for eons, after all. He'll help this useful little lamb, and as payment, the mortal will follow him instead! Luckily, the mask didn't fully corrupt Kabuto, but parts of his identity are taken along with it, leaving him in a serious state of confusion... Aaand in the sights of yet ANOTHER capricious god.

I'm having a bit of trouble figuring out how Kabuto would attain godhood, if he even does so, though! 🤔 Perhaps he'd get sick of being a bargaining chip between deities, and find a sneaky way out of his contract? I can definitely see him being one of the only known mortals to dupe a god, maybe by stealing power from them and becoming one himself? The God of Deception? Of Transience? I dunno, but your AU's really fun, so I went hog-wild lol! 😅

This is such a great ask to wake up to!

I have not given a role to Kabuto in this au and this one is really perfect for him. Especially being the first (and probably only) mortal to actively work on tricking a god into making him immortal.

To answer your first question though: I depends on the mortal. Some of them are made into Gods/goddess’ because of feats they have achieved, some because the god who found them simply wanted to turn them into a god. For example: Ibiki never achieved some great feat in his mortal life, but was the first mortal murdered by another. When he was found by Tsunade she spoke with the other gods (mostly Hashirama, Mito and Madara) to elivate him into a god because she felt his death could be used, and it was. Ibiki became the god of justice specificly because of that. On the other hand, you have Itachi who died in a war fighting as a soldier for the sole reason of wanting to protect his brother from danger, and Obito happened to find him after his death and got to know him. It was Itachi’s ideal’s of protecting Sasuke that made Obito want to turn him into a hod, and by extension it was Kakashi’s protectiveness of Sasuke (a child left alone in a cruel world after his brother’s death, who died himself because of the cruelty of others) that pushed him to plea for Sasuke to also be made a god alongside his big brother.

So for Kabuto i think he’d definitly go the ‘i earned it’ route but in his crafty way. He genuinly believes in Danzo when he first follows him, but then Nono’s death causes that belief to start crumbling. Which is where Orochimaru steps in to take control.

Orochimaru thinks Kabuto is a worshipper. Their strongest worshipper ever, who tosses Danzo’s mask to the side in favor of wearing one Orochimaru made (because he really does feel ‘faceless’ after worshipping Danzo so long).

Orochimaru thinks that Kabuto is fiercly loyal to them, and in some ways Kabuto is. He’ll do what Orochimaru asks, worship them, and dedicate his life to them

But it’s all with a goal. Kabuto doesn’t want to end up like his mother, a priest lost to the power of a god. He wants to carve his own path. To become a god in his own right, so he uses Orochimaru just as much as Orochimaru uses him. It’s a take-take bond. Kabuto does nothing for free and his determination and stubbornness quickly makes him a favorite of Orochimaru (while Danzo has moved on to his next victim. He has better things to do than hang around and wait for Kabuto to ‘see reason’).

It takes years, but over time Kabuto becomes more than just a follower of Orochimaru. He becomes their most trusted mortal, and honestly person. There’s not even a god that Orochimaru trusts as much as they do Kabuto. At least one of the other gods try to warn him this is not a good thing (probably Tsunade or Jiraiya) but they don’t listen. Kabuto worships them, sacrifices to them every day and does exactly what they ask.

What they ask of course includes a lot of things. Kabuto has killed other god’s favorite mortal’s and earned their wrath but Orochimaru always protects them (like I could see him at least trying to Kill Anko and being faced with a VERY angry Shizune). Kabuto has also managed feats that only demi-gods have been said to be able to do, which earns him the watchful eye of almost every single other god.

I think one of hus biggest feats would be sneaking into one of the gods domains and stealing something that Orovhinaru wants. Perhaps that’s when Orochimaru takes his step outside the line and elevates Kabuto to a god. An act which angers a lot of gods but they can’t really argue with because Kabuto did trick them. He did prove himself and very much earn his place as a god, even if they hate it.

Of course he could also be given a task and wax poetics about how hard it would be for a mere mortal to achieve. How even with all of his skill he’s still skin and bone. He still bleeds and dies, and if he dies then Orochimaru wouldn’t have him to do tasks for them or worship to them. It’s the first time ever Orochimaru is loved to change anyone to a god. They have promises to do so with many other mortals before, but it has always been a lie. A promise to get what they want.

With Kabuto, they realize he’s right. He is just a mortal and Orochimaru’s kind of attached to the work they do. Surely if they turn Kabuto into an immortal he will continue being loyal to them and doing as they please

So they fall for it. They grant him immortality and status as a god, earning him the title of God of trickery (which many incorrectly associate with Orochimaru much to Kabuto’s annoyance) and surgery (gatta have a bit of medicine in there XD)

He’s known for his crafty nature, ability to blend in anywhere and trick even the gods, and his protectiveness of orphans. Those are the only people in the mortal world Kabuto cares about and he is fiercely protective of them, Espeshally against Danzo who loves to seek out the weakest and most lost to use, just as he did with Kabuto.

[dawn-of-worlds]

Five creeds (out of some large amount)

The Builders of southern Lekesh are a disparate lot, drawn from all across Incarien, but all agree on this: their displacement to this continent was an act of providence, and they have some glorious part to play in the divine plan. Countless faiths have sprung up to fill in the gaps in this belief, living more-or-less peacefully side-by-side in that growing monument-filled settlement called the Glorious City.

The influence of Erland's and Tepponilamek's sects is prominent even among religions that do not pay heed to these deities. From Erland's faith, they inherit an emphasis on hospitality and communal meals, as well as a propensity to express devotion through craft. From Tepponilamek's worshippers they have obtained a scholarly bent, with many religions emphasizing the value of learning and the importance of literacy. Canonized scriptures are also more common here than anywhere else in the world, which has further allowed most religions to take on a highly hierarchical structure.

Any faith that can meet some threshold of devotees (the exact number growing as the population does) receives a representative in the Council of Priests, which has the task of distributing the annual pool of drafted labor over public infrastructure, communal farmland, and whatever religious megaprojects are in vogue that year. Note that after a global distribution is agreed upon, there's another set of debates where the priests work out who will order their faithful to do what: the Glorious City has no real secular authority, and all state power is exercised and enforced through its churches.

An incomplete list of religions observed in the region follows.

(these aren't intended to be orders in the game-mechanical sense, though they're all derived from mishmashes of pre-existing orders so if eg Erland wants to command the Keepers of the Secrets of Earth and Fire I see no harm in letting him fluff it as being a command to the Cult instead)

The Scribes of the Pale Epitaph The Scribes are a scholarly organization that worships the Inken God, a wise and curious winged being that brought humanity writing and thought, but who otherwise remains largely uninvolved in our affairs. It is this god who gave humanity their awareness of the inevitability of death, and in doing so let them prepare for it.

The scribes teach this: become immortal through your actions: carve your name in stone, write wisdom worth repeating, be worthy of remembrance. In doing so, you will rise above the endless faceless masses that died before your time, who left no legacy, wrote no tomes, made no discoveries, and are now subsumed in pale white eternity.

The Pale Epitaph, holy book of this sect, is still being written. Half its pages are blank; set aside to record the names and lives of those believers who did truly great things, to be included in every future copy. Some believe that when the book is filled, humanity will have completed its purpose, and the world shall end.

The Scribes' central temple serves as a great library and school as well: a number of great logbooks let any visitor record their name. Though Koskela the Atai is no follower of this faith, they are invaluable as a source of historical knowledge, and as such can often be found here.

Cult of the Downward Spiral The Cult originated in dank mines and quarries, whose weary workers were quick to latch onto the faith and the succor it promised. From there, it spread, and it can now be found in most of southern Lekesh.

Its introductory teachings are simple: work along your fellow men, bear your suffering in silence, and never lose sight of your goal. Die deep beneath the earth; live there if you can; and pray for your soul to find its way further down in time, or it shall surely be lost to nothingness.

All this draws from a deeper truth, taught to the priests and the curious. Humanity lives at the edge of reality, in a shadow cast by True things, in a border-land where life is barely possible, clinging to the fumes and fragments that issue from the actual. Our cursed half-lives are innately doomed: in time our fickle breath will leave us, our bodies will fade, and our souls become untethered and drift out into the void.

True reality lies beneath us. The further one descends into the earth, the denser, harder, realer things get. Dig deep enough, to the heart of everything, and you shall find the First And All, who created all other things as a pale imitation of his own glory, who now awaits our return in regretful agony, and who will extend warmth and hospitality to any that rediscover the way down.

The Callers of the Wind Fish This faith worships Maretik, believing the whale to be the physical body of Tepponilamek, or perhaps the great vessel where the deity stores all winds that are not currently blowing. They consider the land of Lekesh to be sacred to Tepponilamek (which is not entirely incorrect), and thus chosen for their faithful lot to dwell in.

They hold a set of atypical beliefs, eschewing personal property, marriage, and non-communal child rearing, as they believe that the first great upheaval was a clear sign that such institutions were to be abolished. All emerged from the whale's mouth equal: mankind's choice to return to claims and clans and hierarchies was a grave sin. Even their representative on the council is chosen by simple seniority, rather than internal politics.

The Callers believe that the Wind Fish shall return in time, retrieve all those truly faithful, and distribute them across the globe to preach their gospel for all to hear. They endlessly seek portents of this rapture in the patterns of the wind and waves, so far to no avail.

The Starlit Chapel This minor religion acknowledges two deities: the sinister subterranean Grasping Earth, god of greed and stasis, and the benevolent Starlit Lady, who wrestled herself free of the Earth's prison, and created plants to break stone into soil, and beasts to walk the land, so that life might exist free of his greed.

The faith calls for its believers to not suffer tyranny, to act with charity and compassion, to never harvest without sowing, and to learn the names of the stars; it is commonly followed in the small villages surrounding the City.

The Blind Men Taking their name from the well-known parable of the four blind men and the auroch (elephants/gegants being unknown in this part of the world), this philosophy simply holds that no mortal can ever truly know the nature of the divine, and that every worshiped god is little more than a convenient lens to understand the world through. A Blind Man might invoke the Inken God while composing a manuscript, might ask the Wind Fish for protection from storms, or might curse with the name of the Grasping Earth.

Their priests engage in careful study of comparative religion (and have made several true claims about the shared identities of different faiths' gods), and engage in highly abstracted theological disputes: actual lay services are more like group therapy with booze.