#pure survival skill and feral behavior

[depresssant]

'it's an american wedding. they don't mean too much. we were so in love.'

yandere!gojo x reader

synopsis : a simple senior year predicament landed you in a cage you were sure was bound to drive you insane.

it was always survival over luxury for you

amongst the rich kids, you were like a penny in a pile of a hundred dollar bills. seeing people with expensive cars and brand clothes that probably cost thousands of dollars never really mattered to you. you came from a very poor background and it never really mattered to you because there was nothing wrong with being poor. you really couldn't care less since some people were just unlucky. like you.

however, you didn't know what you were doing in a place like this.

everybody deserved the chance to climb out of poverty to live a good life. that was a belief you held onto firmly because it was the only thing that you kept you going, but you did not belong in an estate like this.

but now here you were, and you couldn't regret it more than you did right now.

"what the hell, satoru?"

the bane of your existence tilted his head and furrowed his brows in that manner that captured the hearts of everyone. if only they saw. if only they knew. if only they realized who this wolf in sheep's clothing truly was⏤that this persona of a kind, cheerful, and loving guy everybody knew and loved wasn't who he truly was. he was the devil walking amongst humans, and he was fooling them all.

"what?" he asked all innocently with his teasing grin and flirty eyes that finally weren't hidden behind those sunglasses that he wore everywhere.

"dinner with my mom? what the hell is wrong with you?"

"she invited me over, babe. what was i supposed to do? reject her offer?"

gosh, he was insufferable. he knew exactly what he was doing, but didn't want to admit it. the idea of his new, profound actions had made that pit of unease which settled in your stomach grow with each little skin-crawling thing he did.

this wolf sauntered around helpless sheep, picking them out one by one until he reached his prey. you. the thing was, you didn't know why he was so fixated on you.

that was the worse part.

he was out to get you, and you couldn't do anything but wait.

and satoru had now picked out your mother.

"leave her alone! she's got nothing to do with this!" you hissed out like a feral cat, but you were good at controlling your emotions. this rolling stone just managed to bring out the worst in you⏤the ugly you didn't know existed.

satoru laughed and wrapped his arms around you in a suffocating hug as he smothered himself into the crook of your neck. "relax." his arms tightened the second you tried to move around. it was a warning. "is it wrong for me to meet my wife's mom? besides, your mom is an amazing cook. i can see where you got your skills from."

your mom.

the three days since you hadn't seen her felt like an eternity. was she worried? was she lonely? was she concerned about this “friend” you were having a sleepover with? considering your history, you wouldn't be surprised if she tore up the entire neighborhood looking for you before you were finally allowed to message her.

satoru's attention on you was like working a full time job in which you only clocked out when you fell asleep. even then, he found ways to ruin it for you, either with his helicopter behavior or die hard need to be touching you every second of the day.

your silence was something he didn't like, so he squeezed your body under his hold. that was enough of a threat. holding back a sigh, you reluctantly returned to running your fingers through his silky, pure snow-colored hair that surrounded his beautiful face like a halo. how could a person this beautiful be so vile?

if only you could save your mother from his poisonous claws.

"you know, your mother told me a few things about you."

"... what did she say?"

his sapphire blue eyes flicked up to stare into your eyes, and time came to a standstill when he smiled. he smiled like an angel but loved like the devil. if the devil could even love. you didn't want to admit that every time you looked into his eyes, your breath halted like the world around you. it went against your deep-rooted hate for him, but you'd be damned if you didn't crumble like ash when he set you on fire with his mere gaze.

satoru explained how your mother gushed and ranted on about how hard-working you were, how you were kind and caring, and how you needed a partner who would support you when times got difficult. he teased you about baby pictures of you, and you questioned whether this really was the same scrawny guy you saved from a bunch of bullies.

back then, he looked completely different from how he did right now. he wasn't some hot jock with a body that girls fan-girled over, no. he was a tall and scrawny kid with broken glasses, a busted lip, and bruises that told you he was clearly being bullied by his peers.

that fateful summer day, you were just taking a stroll through the neighborhood when he came tumbling towards you with four kids you knew all too well. ordering satoru to get behind you, you had beaten the crap out of everyone of those guys and patched him up at your home before walking him all the way back to his house.

he had vowed to meet you again, and well, he had done it.

that kid was so much more different than the guy you knew now, and you would be lying if you said you didn't feel a little solemn about it. he had changed for the worse. you should've know that when he made another appearance in your life. those four guys had disappeared.

satoru just followed you around like a bubbly guy trying to rope a grumpy and moody girl into a friendship, but you could do nothing but regret it now. he tailed you around to get evidence of you and your illegal “activities”. to threaten you.

you wished you never even saved him from those bullies that day. the thing was that you got into tussle with the police quite a lot. you got into fights a lot and had landed up in jail for the fifth time before getting released on probation. the deal was three strikes and you would land up in the slammer permanently. you were two strikes in when satoru got a video of you in a fight...

he used it to threaten you.

that was three months into school, and he had wound up with you in an abandoned warehouse near the place holding a party where the two of you were. he proposed his deal leading to you nearly going ballistic, but those three digits dialing the police were enough to make you settle down. 

satoru's deal was simple. if you became his girlfriend, then he wouldn't show the video to the police.

typical rich kid shit.

of course, he would use any means to get what he wanted. you were no exception.

reluctantly so, you accepted, and the seven month of agony begun. the smothering touches, the constant need to be near you, the controlling and obsessive behavior, the tracker in your phone? he was batshit insane!

you were a very patient person, though. rumors and history stated that most of his girlfriends lasted a maximum of a month before he got bored, so you waited. you waited, waited, waited, and waited! that was your fatal mistake.

how stupid of you.

one evening before prom changed it all.

the cool autumn breeze of the california evening blew at your loose strands of hair, the large palm trees casted shadows that fell down the lukewarm sand of the beach as clear and sparkly waves running along the orange and pink horizon crashed upon the shores, singing a faint tale of time.

"marry me."

staring at that blue diamond encased in a gold ring decorated with silver, you couldn't have helped but feel like chains had begun to wrap around you like boa snakes... slowly beginning to squeeze the life out of you.

satoru's eyes were bright and glowing like the colors of the diamond, and they looked up at you sinisterly with that grin that seemed to make the entire world fall apart around you. 

"we'll go to the courthouse tomorrow. who gives a damn about the elders?" his voice was pleading, but there it was. that tone. he spoke like he was stating. not pleading. "we'll have an american wedding."

and an american funeral.

for when he put the ring on your finger, you died.

...

the sun set, and you looked at the snake wrapped around your ring finger. it glimmered under the dim light of the bedroom like the glowing eyes of a predator staring from the shadows. 'you two were so in love with each other that it had driven the both of you insane!' satoru had claimed, but maybe...

maybe it was just you who had gone insane.

[thecreaturecodex]

Thetil

“GOMOA” © Mynet Inc, by Pavel Romanov. Accessed at the artist’s deviantArt page here

[Commissioned by @cupofsorrows​, inspired by the Neural Network Fantasy Creatures. The commissioner requested that I do at least one of the nonsense names; I’m planning two-and-a-half (I figure that the name staggath at least suggests stag-like characteristics). This is a piece of art I’ve been waiting to use for a while now. The provenance appears to be a ripoff of the Monster Hunter creature Gogomoa for Legend of the Cryptids.]

Thetil CR 15 CE Monstrous Humanoid This giant appears something like a red-skinned baboon, with enormously muscled arms ending in oversized claws. Its ribs burst forth from its chest like javelins, and a short tail trails behind it.

A thetil is a creature of pure rage. They exist permanently in a state of frenzied anger, and seek to incite this wrath in other beings as well. Creatures exposed to a thetil’s bodily fluids are transformed into feral beasts, growing claws and fangs and lashing out at all around them. Thetils revel in the chaos this incites, and may make hit and run attacks on settlements before retreating to enjoy the show. A thetil can even induce this effect at range, tearing out one of their ribs and throwing it as a grisly javelin.

Thetils are sometimes called “troll-apes” due to their regenerative properties and general physiognomy, but they are not directly related to either species. Evil humanoids may see a thetil as a totem creature, either to be venerated and appeased or in order to hunt for trophies. A thetil may encourage such trophy hunting behavior, killing some of the weaker of the hunt before parting with some of its bones, flesh and blood. The bacchanals that result from willingly consuming thetil flesh and blood are dangerous in the extreme, to both participants and bystanders.

Thetil      CR 15 XP 51,200 CE Large monstrous humanoid Init +6; Senses darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, Perception +12, scent Aura frightful presence (60 ft., DC 22) Defense AC 29, touch 10, flat-footed 26 (-1 size, +2 Dex, +1 dodge, +19 natural, -2 rage) hp 237 (19d10+133); regeneration 5 (cold) Fort +16, Ref +13, Will +13 DR 5/-; Resist acid 10, electricity 10, fire 10 Weakness always angry Offense Speed 50 ft., climb 30 ft. Melee 2 claws +28 (2d8+9), bite +28 (1d6+9 plus incite violence) Ranged bone javelin +20 (1d8+9 plus incite violence) Space 10 ft.; Reach 10 ft. Special Attacks rend (2 claws, 2d8+13) Statistics Str 29, Dex 14, Con 24, Int 9, Wis 15, Cha 18 Base Atk +19; CMB +29; CMD 42 Feats Blind-fight, Dodge, Great Fortitude, Improved Initiative, Improved Vital Strike, Intimidating Prowess, Mobility, Power Attack, Spring Attack, Vital Strike Skills Acrobatics +10 (+18 when jumping), Climb +27, Intimidate +22, Perception +12, Stealth +9, Survival +13, Swim +19 Languages Giant Ecology Environment warm hills and mountains Organization solitary or pair Treasure standard Special Attacks Always Angry (Ex) A thetil suffers a -2 penalty to its Armor Class, as if it were a raging barbarian. If it is under the effects of a calm emotion spell, or any other effect that would nullify a rage effect, it is exhausted in addition to the normal effects of the spell. Bone Javelin (Ex) A thetil can draw its ribs from its body and throw them as Large javelins. It may draw as many as 10 such javelins per day. Creatures struck by a bone javelin are exposed to the thetil’s incite violence special attack. Incite Violence (Su) A creature struck by a thetil’s bite or bone javelin must succeed a DC 22 Will save or temporarily turn into a ravenous beast. Treat this as moonstruck, using the thetil’s Hit Dice as its caster level (CL 19th for an average thetil), except that it can affect creatures of any type. The save DC is Charisma based.

[sayaka19fan]

Hi, sayaka! I came across a post discussing why Dino has never tried to force Ash's obidience by threatening to harm his friends and beloved ones unless being suggested to. Arthur, Yut- lung, even Fox realised how effective it was. I am not sold. Believing it's all due to Dino's obsession feels off to me. If you don't mind, could you share your thoughts about this topic? Thank you!

To answer your question I have to flash out Ash's and Dino's dynamics a little. First of all I need to say that their relationship is modelled upon a trope I would call "Bastard father and enviable son".

It is the same trope working in Garasu no Kamen (alias Glass Mask) by Suzue Miuchi between Masumi Hayami and Heisuke Hayami or between Askeladd and Thorfinn in Vinland Saga by Makoto Yukimura. The older man has thrown away any moral in his life and feels like he is leaving nothing good behind himself when he met a young boy, clever and somehow pure. Apparently they want to destroy that pureness but in reality they make a gamble and want to see if that treat of the character will survive after they have trained their boys in the hard way. Being strong-willed boys makes them the most subtable candidates for this particular gamble.

Masumi lost his mother and his cheerful childhood because of his adoptive father and swore revenge on him for that. Thorfinn lost his father and somehow was taken in by his father's killer and did the same as Masumi. And Ash is no different, although Ash swore to take revenge earlier it was Griffin's death that put it in motion. Still Masumi gave his adoptive father a piggy back ride, Thorfinn refused to kill Askeladd in the sleep and goes so far to save his life. And Ash never learned to let the others down, even if it makes him an easy target.

Back to your question, Dino doesn't want to turn Ash into someone who abandons his friends. I believe that he is not simply blind because of his obsession with Ash. Killing Griffin, threatening Eiji's life and taking Max Lobo and the others as hostages made Ash feral and reckless, then harder to control or predict. When Dino says to Ash that he doesn't like to hire Blanca just to kill Eiji he really means that it is time for Ash to realise that he can protect what he loves only with the power Dino is offering him.

Because of his fondness of freedom Ash could protect the others only in a self-sacrificing self destructive way. To Dino self preservation is such an obvious instinct that he failed to understand Ash's actions when they are guided by Eiji's presence. Bonding his survival instinct with revenge or the pride to fool his hunter was the best way to keep the boy alive in spite of the hell Ash was living in. Above all, Dino wanted Ash to live, therefore in his last moments Dino didn't pull the trigger.

He cared for Ash enough to provide him with the skills he needed to survive in their world. But both Dino and Ash aren't allowed to show any weakness. Whenever, seeing how easily Dino welcomes Ash back, someone suspected that Dino had feelings for the boy, Ash's disgusted words would put everybody off. Dino needed Ash to give purpose to his own life while Ash didn't want to be needed by him. He wanted to be irreplaceable to Eiji but he found his very existence a threat to Eiji's well-being. Ash came to the painful realization that he couldn't protect Eiji's innocence and couldn't avoid turning him into a wanted criminal in order to have him by his side, the very thing Dino did to him.

Also when Ash confronted Dino saying how ridiculous it was turning a living toilet into his heir, although Ash was talking about his own life being a joke, Dino got offended. As if he was hurt for being misunderstood, as if Ash was ingrate. He punched him mercilessly. Even in the infamous kiss scene Dino acted under provocation. Ash had just called him on breaking his promises. It was an assertion of power more than an urge of lust.

Dino himself explained his behavior at the beginning with that enigmatic "I love you sweetheart". "Aishiteiru" with the kanji 愛 [ai] , the Japanese word for "I love you" in that line, can be used generally, including the love between family. 恋 is only for relations/feelings toward a person of the targetted sexual orientation. This means that 愛 is between true friends or father and son too. On the scale, 愛 is stronger than 恋. 愛 describes the feeling of someone who can't rest until he sees that his loved one is safe. It applies to Ash looking for Eiji when he got missing and to Dino rushing to the Mental Health Facility after hearing from Max that Ash was dead, even knowing already that it was a fake news, because he needed to see it with his own eyes.

Ash was lucky enough to find Eiji in his youth, Dino thought he has to raise the person able to live with him, to bring him up from ashes. "Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't."

We probably want to see Dino as a proper realistic depiction of an abuser so that we can blame him for everything. Still I believe he is not quite here. Marvin and the others in the manga are more coherent to that image. The trope is stronger than the realism.

[oliveheart-worldbuilding]

Prairieclan

hi! c: i have two clans that are wip, was wondering if you could give some feedback based off what i have so far? they are in Illinois, btw.

Hello there! Tumblr!! won’t!! notify!! me!!!!

I love giving feedback on worldbuilding so let’s get to it!!

Prairieclan

Situated on the Great Plains, these cats have light colored pelts along with big ears and long tails. Over time, they have grown to specialize in hunting rabbits, hares, shrews and other various prairie creatures. They have long legs and are fast runners; -foot is a common suffix in this clan. These cats have long, tubular bodies and have angular faces.

The Great Plains uh? I didn’t know much about them so I had to do a quick search to see how everything looked. I looks like an interesting place for a group of cats to live, I quite like it. For what I have seen, there are two types of praires: tall grass ones and short grass one. I’ve seen that fauna and flora change a bit from one to the other so I would make sure to decide which one to use. They specializing in small mammals makes sense, I recommend doing a small list of fauna and flora that you can use as both prefixes and prey/medicine (in case of using the role of medicine cat). Personally, I have been using this page to get information about the typical prairie ecosystem:  http://shelledy.mesa.k12.co.us/staff/computerlab/ColoradoLifeZones_Plains_Mammals.html

This one is about short grass prairies but, luckily, it will help you a bit!

Their fur color makes sense too. But, I do have a question. You say that they are fast runners and, looking at their territories, their life style probably focuses on running to catch prey so, why is –foot such a common suffix? In a place where being fast is essential, wouldn’t –foot be an extremely rare suffix? One given only to extremely well-versed cats? If this suffix is given to cats that are faster than the rest of their clanmates but all of their clanmates already are fast… wouldn’t it make this suffix be treated like a really important and rare one only given to really fast cats?

Genetics common among this clan include…

Colorpoint gene (cscs)

Red (leaning towards a lighter red color) (O)

Cream (d, O)

Dilute tortie (d, Oo)

Fawn (d, b1b1)

Lilac (d, bb)

Blue (d, BB, Bb, Bb1)

White (WW and Ww)

Medium to high white spotting (SS and Ss)

Tabby is uncommon; solid is most common (aa)

Caramelization gene is common (DmDm, Dmdm)

Short fur (LL, Ll)

Interesting decisions here. When choosing Colorpoint, cinnamon and caramelization  (and even epistatic white and white spotting) genes as common ones, you are making these cats less feral. I must remind you that these genes are not common in the wild. With this I mean that, normally, only pure-breed cats have them; for your cats to have them too they should have been in contact with humans or kittypets at some point. They could have gone through a lot of hardship that made their population quickly drop making them accept kittypets in or maybe the whole clan has kittypet ancestry. Maybe kittypets started breeding with clan cats and their genes have stayed in the genome thanks to it being more difficult to be spotted in the grass and even thanks to culture! This is something that I don’t see often in warrior cats’ worlds. These cats are intelligent and they do have a culture, beauty standards probably exist at some degree too. Mixing that with the fact that paler fur would probably have more chances of surviving in these conditions and these fur colors being considered beautiful in comparison to others, it may have made it easier for cats with this fur color to reproduce and pass them down.

Skills: running/sprinting, storytelling.. -foot is common in this clan as a suffix, as is -throat

Seems fine. I’ve seen people implement ‘story-teller’ as another role for cats to take, maybe you would like considering adding new roles that could add more to your clans as a whole. Again I repeat the same issue I have with –foot, consider thinking about it.

I’m using aliuronymy’s naming system, but i’m using a body part suffixes. I also plan to have correct genetics, as well as realistic cat behavior. 

Seeing how these clans take place in Illinois and not England, I recommend using your own list of prefixes since the fauna and flora are going to be wildly different. Feel free to send any genetics ask if you need help! Genetics are my favorite thing ever and I don’t get to talk about them much. Cat behavior can be tricky to work with so I personally recommend doing a good research before getting to the actual story.

They aren’t the most fleshed out right now, sorry about that. Feedback would be great tho. :)

I really like the place you choose and, so far, they look like a really interesting start! I’ll love to hear from you again once you write more about them! :D

[theveryworstthing]

today we learn about the mainlander castes, their ruling families, and their God Royalty. this is part one since i’m going to put the Royals on their own post.

pictured here we have:

Lord Cahphie (i call his family Fight Club in my head. you’ll see why.)

Lady Mirriow (a mirage brought on by the cacophonous sound of a million hyenas laughing.)

Lady Twaine (child made of coffee and architectural planning.)

and Lady Emelyerat (the pastel priestess who runs this god forsaken show.)

read below the cut to know the things. there are...a lot of things.

Caste system:

Royals: the King and Queen. God ruler bloodlines.

Lords and Ladies: The non-Royal royals. The four officially ruling families and some super rich families. They run around in a system called the courts, which is basically where rich people go to make deals and sneer at other rich people while looking fancy.

The People: Exactly what is says on the tin. The general range of middle class schmucks.

The Grey People: The lower class. Life is hard man, they’re just trying to get by.

Ink Servants: Pretty much slaves. Slavery was outlawed long ago but there is a contract system in place that makes it so people that can afford it can basically go into any prison and buy a person to have them serve out their sentence as their servant. The buyer provides room and board, the Ink Servant works, and since nobody really checks in on most of these arrangements, they just assume that everyone involved is treated with dignity and respect until this rehabilitation period is over. I won’t elaborate further. Its not all criminals though. Sometimes people in dire straits like poor single mothers or the disabled willingly sign themselves onto the contracts to secure housing and safety for their loved ones. Most buyers treat these people more like normal servants but there are some who see no difference between them and the prisoners. In fact, most of society sees them that way.

Courts:

Cahphie (keepers of the natural order): The Cahphie court and their subjects are known as the People Of Peace. This is ironic considering the astonishing amount of civil wars they’ve been in and how the Cahphie family seems to be entirely composed of ultra-petty ticking time bombs. They are a relentless people who hold serious grudges and thrive on pure brute force and cussedness. They treat the caste system as an absolute food chain that is never to be disturbed and are some of the few mainlanders who have no problem with feral animals and beastly behavior, since they feel those traits can be used to great advantage. Despite all this, when viewed from a distance (while holding completely still and radiating fear and respect like your life depends on it because it probably does), they seem pretty chill. The Cahphie are a reactive force at heart, you have to piss them off first. They find no honor in going after people without a reason. But oh man, are they good at finding reasons. The rest of Mainlander society has gotten really good at not doing that though and there hasn’t been a war for ages.

This would be good news for the current Lord Cahphie, who through a fluke in genetics isn’t filled with gallons of barely contained Liquid Fight, but that just means that his court gets bored. Past events say that boredom is more dangerous for his people than actually going to war so his great great grandfather, sick of not having enough excuses to stab people in peacetime, cultivated a strong dueling culture. People in the Cahphie courts duel over just about anything; land, love, the last slice of cake, and Lord Cahphie duels the most. Every day in fact. Every day by law. You see, only the strongest deserve to be at the top and winning duels is the best way to prove you’re still capable of running the Cahphie family. So every day there is a call for challengers and (almost) every day he destroys them. If he loses then one of his siblings or worse, his parents, get a chance to fight him and if he loses to them he loses his position. He’s come close to failure a few times but he’s still ruling ten years in with no sign of flagging. Good news for the court duelists, as he’s much better at non-lethal wins than his kin (much better meaning he tries at all not to murder them as hard as possible).  Better news for the People Of Peace in general since his rule has really thinned out the heads on pikes. Neutral news for his family members, who totally aren’t using the dueling tradition to find honorable and legit ways to assassinate him before he has a child and take his place. The lack of a good war is really starting to make them itch.

Relationships With Non Mainlanders: They find Rabbits hardy and admire both their chemical warfare and their survival tactics. They mostly see them as possible cannon fodder/playthings though. They have the same kind of respect that a dude in a wolf shirt has for huskies. Noble creatures who are good enough, but at their core they’re dumb animals compared to Real Foodchain Kings. They respect the Hare’s ability to live their nomadic lifestyles and thrive in the wilderness but mostly hate the fact that they stray into their (at least they claim) lands without permission sometimes. They don’t really deal with Vultures. Vultures have seen too many battle aftermaths to play into the spiel about their honor.

 The Mirriows (the blood that rejoices): The Mirriow family and their court are known as The Good Neighbors. This name is apt as the other courts basically go there to party and eat, while occasionally asking to borrow things that they have no intention of returning. Their cities are lively, boasting year round festivals, exciting new fashions, and news from the ships and caravans that stop there. Their food is legendary on the mainland, taking inspirations from the different cultures passing through (yes, even Vultures) and turning out dishes good enough to have local cooks routinely enlisted to cook for The Royals. Their theater and dance scenes have similar acclaim, and simply wandering the night can take you to anything from dramatic historical shows to small jazzy underground burlesque joints. Truly the Mirriow courts are places of happiness and distraction. Forget your sorrows, don’t mind what you saw out of the corner of your eye, and don’t bother reading the fine print sugar. Its probably fine.

Everyone’s not so easily swayed by the Mirriow though. The mix of cultures makes their courts far more accepting of the bending of societal rules, making it known by some as the Unseemly Court. This accusation is usually flung after meeting Lady Mirriow, the personification of the sound that a contract signed in blood makes when it snaps its fingers to a groovy beat. She sashays through life with the aesthetic of a Disney villain, wielding a laugh like a mildly singed saucy velvet painting of a hyena and an amazing Nervous Making Smile. Despite her whole deal, she’s good ruler and her people love her. She takes care of them, carrying on her family’s legacy of generosity, always ready to make deals with others for favors and goods. The amazing gifts and services she gives in exchange for what can usually be seen as trifles to the untrained eye through these friendly contracts keep her in the good graces of the other families and out of most drama. They are totally not ways to subtly manipulate people and find on the books reasons to punish anyone who tries to cross her with near impossible riddle-like fine print clauses that depend on quick clever thinking to make sure she doesn’t own you for life. They are certainly not that. Unrelated, her family is known for their disorienting conversational skills, distractive backhanded flattery, always following through on deals, and the ability to somehow never lie even when you feel like they are lying to your face. They also own a secret trove of very old, very illegal literature that would definitely have gotten their whole bloodline struck down in a bloody rage by the Royals if it was ever found. It’s a good thing its never been found. It’s a good thing everyone is too distracted to look.

Relationships With Non Mainlanders: Rabbits, while still certainly second class citizens as a whole, are treated a little more equally here. This is the only place that they and Hares are really free to act and dress more according to their own cultural ideals. Mostly the ideals mainlanders see as cool but still. Vultures are fans of the area, flying in with all the juicy gossip and relishing in cuisine that actually bothers to include their tastes.

 The Twaine( the keys that shape the door ): the Twaine family and their court are known as The Fair Folk. The Twaine are strange, bordering on both the most beloved and most despised by the Royals. The dismissal comes from the fact that Twaine society is focused on forward motion. They’re the inventors and artists who develop housing, transportation, machinery, medicine, and manufacture a good chunk of mainlander goods. They’re driven to build and fix and work. They tend to be smaller and less bombastic than other mainlanders, typically going for simpler aesthetics. The Twaine family even crop their luxurious ears and tails when they come of age, signifying function over form. Despite all of this desire to make new discoveries and help society progress, The Fair Folk rarely do anything new with all this knowledge. This is because at the end of the day they are very loyal to the Royals (perhaps even more loyal than the Emelyerat in some ways), and the Royals have a certain way they want the world to be. So, before anything is made for public use it must be submitted to the Emelyerat for approval. Failure to make your thing official and use it anyway can get you labeled as a degenerate treasonous Witch, a term that doesn’t carry the sweet old aunt fondness of Rabbit society. Mostly because it usually carries a death sentence. Of course sometimes submitting your idea gets the same result so most Fair Folk just keep their ideas to themselves, occasionally writing them down or discussing them with those they really trust, burning the notes afterwards with a swell of love for the Royals, civic pride, and a little fear. Not a lot of fear (they will be quick to tell you) but like. Enough.

On the flip side of all the witch executing, the Royals love the Twaine for their amazing musical ability (more than a few have been summoned to the Royals for lifelong employment) and the sheer level of housekeeping they do for the mainland. They’re quiet and subservient and have no problem being ordered wherever to fix whatever. They’re a boon during natural disasters, getting places looking good as new in no time, and their restoration of older buildings and objects preserve much of the mainland history that is left from the Before Wall times. They also handle the building of the Castles, the twin structures that are destroyed and rebuilt in different locations every hundred years. The Twaine family are the head architects for the Castles and hold their position with pride. The Castles are labors of love (and slight madness), a release of all the creative energy that can’t be put elsewhere. Rooms of amazing art and beauty hidden in blank walls, stairs that descend into a darkness that lasts too long and is full of the sound of far off orchestras and footsteps that aren’t yours, secret gardens that can only be reached by singing at the gates of prismed glass, wash rooms that resemble pools in forest groves where its always twilight and clockwork lightning bugs perform synchronized dances through the trees, ballrooms of scented mist and crystal floors that make dancing feel like gliding over a troubled ocean. All this is done with no input from the Royals. They’re not even supposed to tell them what they’re doing. Sure there are guidelines but each Castle is meant for the next in the Royal bloodline and since no one knows what the child will like they just wing it. Pure freedom.

The current Lady Twaine just became the head of this project and is trying her best not to burn out on the creative power. Her father’s death was unexpected, so with her older brothers dead just years before in a witchcraft scandal and her mother trapped in a cycle of grief she took on the crown. She’s barely 19 and her people describe her as resilient, industrious, mature, and delicate. Mostly she’s just young. Young and tired and possessing an inability to read or exhibit social cues reliably that make her seem more aloof than anxious. She has thirteen years to get caught up on and finish the newest Castles before the next heir is born which is not much time to make something that should entertain your godlike king and queen.

But that’s okay because it isn’t like she ever sleeps.

Relationships With Non Mainlanders: They find Rabbits to be fine workers but they don’t really ‘get’ them. The abstractions in their art, their community based living arrangements, their social structures, and their family allegiances. None of it really makes sense to The Fair Folk. They work closely with Rabbits and share a love of discovery but to some this makes it look like they’re on the same level and they’re not okay with that. They will go through amazing lengths to show a rabbit with the exact same credentials and skill level that they are beneath them. Not in cartoonishly evil ways just… they’re cold. Cold and dismissive.  As for the others, they straight up don’t trust Hares (liars and thieves, practically homeless vagabonds) or Vultures (disgusting cannibalistic flying germ factories) but they rely on them to transport materials and goods so they tolerate them and pay them well so they don’t return the saltiness and leave them up shit creek. There will be a paddle though. That paddle just happens to be held by a person on the shore who is snapping it over their knee while staring you straight in the eyes under a banner depicting rude illustrations of you getting sensual with a toilet brush. Of course if anyone drops out of their jobs its just claimed that clearly the mainlanders were right about them all along and how dare they shun their generous offers. The Fair Folk are not popular.

 The Emelyerat( the holy uplifted): the Emelyerat family and their court are known as The Gentry and they are the only Lords and Ladies that have the privilege of getting direct holy orders from the Royals. Serving as the clergy for all variations of mainlander religion, the Emelyerat are…enlightened? They’re certainly devout. Taking the Royal’s words as law and shaping the culture and aesthetics to deliver whatever they need from all mainlander kind. They are the ones who write and approve mainlander history. They declare who won what wars and what they were fought for. Not so much editing as strong bias and a tendency to simply eradicate periods of time if the Royals deem it so. They serve them always and think of nothing but their happiness. And how could they not? The King and Queen are just…just…they love them. Their presence is a blessing. Their beauty inspires them and their power gives every mainlander safety in their fold.

The Gentry acquire the best entertainment, the most interesting baubles, and the strongest magics to grant their every wish. So what if the enlistment of certain people into the Royal courts isn’t done with their explicit consent or conscious understanding that they have been spirited away? That good mothers disappear on shopping trips and come back a week later wearing elegant flowing robes with golden beads braided into their new patches of silver fur and breasts completely dry of milk for hungry babs. So what if violent criminals and heretics are granted reprieve from the gallows only for sobbing monstrous beasts warped by magic and in need of hunting to appear in the Royal’s  game forests days later? So what  if beautiful young mainlanders follow flirty charming people that they’ve strangely never seen around here before into the woods on festival nights and don’t wander back home until its fifty years past? That they appear still twenty odd years old with bright glassy eyes and pregnant bellies and a glow about them that makes their remaining kin not question this gift. This reunion. That they talk about their time away as if it were a dream. The extravagance, the unbridled joy, their lover tall and regal and looking so upset when they reveal their homesickness. No. they were always radiant and loving and they cried the day you asked them where the door outside was. They begged. Begged you to come back to the gardens, to dance and eat more of the strange food. The warmth of their arms around you as you danced the night away. The tantrum. Things breaking. Beautiful crystal shards at your feet. Laughter ringing through the court like spring rain. That first lick of fear. You hadn’t felt it in so long. Your heart was full, you’ll never be happier. You finally notice that they don’t move quite right. Their voice is like honey. A tearful kiss goodbye as the court looks on. You can feel their warm eyes on your belly. You can feel the jealousy.

And now its only been a few days since you left but the baby feels like its almost due now. You can feel it moving and something inside you is screaming a warning but something stronger makes you feel the same glittering euphoria you felt dancing with your Royal lover. Everyone else just looks on, helpful and accepting and you don’t worry about them being in the birthing room with you. Its fine for this. Because someone will need to take care of the baby and you know, through the haze of peace and joy, that it won’t be you. So you let them watch while you expel the opalescent egg and smile at the tiny creature that turns to you when the shell cracks open. Your vision dims as you disappear inside of its hungry mouth but you don’t feel anything. No pain, no fear to accompany the sound of snapping bones. The onlookers coo as you all sense the first glimmer of awareness in its eyes. You feel your consciousness not so much fading as changing, sliding away. You close your eyes. Your baby has grown so much. Surely they’re five or six by now. They look it. Surely the will be happy.

But anyway.

So what? That’s such a small price to pay to bask in their majesty. Not even a price. A gift. A gift that these people find the less divine worthy of company. The current Lady Emelyerat knows all about this gift. As Head Priestess she has been invited to the Royal’s courts many times. Ever since she took the crown at twenty-four she’s been in their confidence. Now, at thirty-eight, she’s a powerful mage who runs the mainland like a well-oiled machine. Forty-nine years of excellent service to the Royals. Traveling from Castle to Castle, solving what problems she can for the people so they don’t have to, putting aside family life to serve. Or rather. Wait. That last one isn’t even an issue as she had no one left after her mother…no no she has a husband. Where was he? They were wed after her coronation. And the boy! I mean son. Sons? Oh what kind of mother was she? How embarrassing. But then again it was so easy to forget these things. Some of them happened at least ninety-three years ago! Speaking of which, her oldest turns three in a few months. She has to remember to do something for him.

She has to remember to.

Her husband will help. He’s so wonderful and.

And he’ll.

He’s.

She probably won’t have time for frivolous activities this week. She’s so busy and the Royals have new projects for her. Having tea with her court or whatever she was thinking about will have to wait. No activity has a greater need than service to her majesties after all! This makes her life a little lonely sometimes but the work is worth it and she’ll have plenty of time to herself when she hands the crown to her future children. No need to fret. She’s only twenty-five after all.

Relationships With Non Mainlanders: All peoples not of mainlander blood are welcome if they wish to swear themselves to the Royals. Sure these people might be lesser in some ways, but that just means they should be uplifted! Through the Royal’s wills all things are possible and all people with open hearts and minds will serve and be loved by Them. And those that don’t? Well.

They all come around sooner or later.

[sirarthurtennerly]

Dossier: Sir Arthur Tennerly

Full name: Arthur Tennerly Nickname: Arth Titles: Cadet, Knight of the Silver Hand Race: Human (Stromic and Lordaeronian) Gender: Male Age: Twenty-six (26) 'At first glimpse...' Tall and lean, but with broad shoulders and thick wrists. Shoulder-length red hair, gray eyes, short red beard. Disfiguring facial scars. -- Background -- History: Arthur Tennerly was born in 11 AD to Sir Lucais Tennerly, Knight of the Silver Hand, and Lady Myrtle Kelsey, their firstborn child. House Tennerly of Bencaster and the unlanded House Kelsey of Lordaeron were both minor in the extreme; after the Third War destroyed their fortunes, the family was never able to recover. Sir Lucais himself died on Mount Hyjal. Arthur himself, age 10, was sent to Northshire Abbey to finish his time as a page and begin his squireship. In 25 AD at the tender age 14, having become a squire a year or so earlier than average, he set off as a "squire-errant" rather than sticking around to apprentice under a knight. He learned the finer points of his art in the school of hard knocks, only now and then staying for a week or three at a church or somesuch for brief tutoring from an experienced Paladin. He is know to have been active during the Defias rebellion, and in most conflicts since, in various capacities - as a squire- and later knight-errant, these tended toward auxiliary military service at most, but most often acting as an adventurer. He has somehow managed to survive more than a decade of such misadventures. In addition to field service, he has spent a good deal of time in Stormwind itself, particularly its poorer neighborhoods. He has been known to, in his words, "help [criminals] find a better way." This tendency is what ultimately led him into the thick of the string of murders related to the Georgiano case, and from there to joining the Guard to ensure that these people can no longer prey on the innocent, and to avenge a friend who had become a victim. Legacy: While his father's death technically makes him the head of House Tennerly, that house is scattered and no longer has any land or liquid assets to speak of, making the title is more or less meaningless. Thus far, he seems content with merely bearing the name and the sigil and the ancestral sword, Firebrand. He is also more than happy to continue the family's long, proud martial tradition - since the founding of the house, it has never not had a knight bearing its name. -- Appearance -- Aesthetics: He wears his thick, wavy coppery-red hair loose to his shoulders, and maintains a closely-cropped beard of the same color. The twelve years he's spent as a knight-errant have not been easy on him, all the less for having started early - he has numerous facial scars, albeit mostly faded to thin wide shadows, and his nose appears to have been broken too often to fully heal, and is somewhat crooked. High, sharp cheekbones and iron-gray eyes are set on an angular face that might once have been handsome, before his warrior's trade put paid to that. His accent drifts between bog-standard aristocratic Lordaeronian and Highland Stromic. When he's not in uniform as a Stormwind Guardsman, he dresses as a cavalier would – a long, hooded green cloak bordered with thread-of-gold of sturdy wool, oiled against rain; a belt and baldric of good leather, tooled in aesthetically pleasing but mostly meaningless patterns and with a buckled shaped like the House seal. A suit of mail armor in forest green and brown protected him in his knight-errancy, being better suited to constant travel than full plate. These days, he prefers it as a compromise between flexibility and protection when not on duty. Build: Sir Arthur is not a large man - slim the way a knife is slim, all sinew and whipcord muscle and not a spare scrap of flesh beyond what fitness demands. He is fairly tall, however, with a few inches on most, and long-limbed with the broad shoulders and thick wrists of a swordsman. Strength not being his advantage, he relies on the long reach of his arms and the skill earned from endless practice both on and off the field of battle to make up the difference. Trinkets and jewelry: The heavy gold signet ring of House Tennerly – with the rampant bear of the House magically protected from wear – hangs from a leather thong around his neck, tucked safely under shirt and mail. His cloak is fastened by a lair of forged-brass pins bearing the Bear Rampant of his house, reversed on the left so that they snarl at each other across his chest. In his bag: He carries several gold coins in a pouch on the side of his satchel, to ensure he has the necessary coin to finance his often long-term adventures. A smaller pouch at his belt holds a few more, along with loose silver pennies and other pocket change. Other details: It is rare indeed to catch him without his sword hanging from his left hip, or his misericordia dagger from his right. The sword itself has a blade that is clearly very old, inscribed with Old Arathi runes, and has been re-hilted many times. The present hilt is nothing fancy; plain steel and leather-cord wrapping, with a polished cut agate decorating the pommel. -- Talents and Psychology -- Personality: Close comrades speak with varying degrees of irritation, weary resignation, or wry amusement of Sir Arthur's impetuous nature and burning need for action, often flinging himself head-first into battle with little more than a brief tactical assessment. Generous to a fault, that "man of action" mindset often also leads him to use up much of his meager income – typically in the form of giving to beggars, though he is usually able to tell which are genuine and which are trying to scam him. He is also highly protective – close friends and comrades quickly find themselves regarded as surrogate family, and thus liable to see Sir Arthur take a very close interest in their trials. He is very friendly and good-natured, quick to laugh and thick-skinned. Whether by nature or from experience, he empathizes easily with the poor and down-trodden, and is slow to judge those who do what they must to survive, and quick to anger against those who take advantage of the unfortunate. He loves a good fight, but always prefers to settle disputes with words before swords unless dealing with someone he considers to be an irreconcilable enemy. Oddly, despite an independent streak, he thrives under the discipline of an established hierarchy, and believes whole-heartedly in the vital importance of the rule of law. He considers his honor and integrity to be dearer than his own life, and is absolutely dedicated to his duty. Strengths and weaknesses: Nearly all of Arthamir’s talents and strengths are martial in nature - he is a very skilled swordsman and rider, and has a good head for strategy, tactics, and organization. His courage borders on the suicidal, and his loyalty is unshakable once earned - both of which have led him into hot water on more than one occasion, especially in situations where someone he is loyal to is in trouble, as he is prone to mount a head-on rescue attempt. Aside his friendly demeanor, easy confidence, and casual charisma are boons in personal interaction. He has been noted to be too trusting - he wants to believe in people's better nature, and while he isn't easily deceived, necessarily, this can and has combined with his better nature to lead to his being manipulated. His recklessness has been mentioned before - he rarely thinks of his own safety and, in absence of orders and if there is no one else to take care of, is prone to taking a given problem head-on. This lack of concern for his own well-being also leads into his tendency to place honor and duty so far above his own needs that he is willing to grin and bear great hardship to uphold his values on points so small that many would call it irrational. His protective nature sometimes goes so far as for him to become wrapped up in a bitter disagreement, purely due to his instinct to act on behalf of those he feels responsible for. Relatedly, he is extraordinarily stubborn – once he digs his heels in, he often sits there come hell or high water. This is particularly troublesome when he is intent on holding a field of battle, nearly always volunteering to serve in the rear guard. On the bright side, he has enough self-discipline to be on his best behavior when on-duty. Factions and loyalties: With a Stromic father, a Lordaeronian mother, and having spent very little of his life in either country, it is perhaps unsurprising that he considers Stormwind, where he spent his adolescence, to be his home. He is proud that he swore a knightly oath to the House of Wrynn when he earned his spurs, even if he has yet to become a Knight of Stormwind in truth. He IS, however, a Knight of the Silver Hand, and enthusiastically so. He often disagrees with the clergy on orthopraxy, however, and is seen as something of a maverick by many. Nevertheless, his devotion to the ideals of the Order cannot be called into question, and wherever he fights he raises the cry: "Tyr and the Silver Hand!" That being said, while he believes in the value of peace, he will always be ready to defend the Grand Alliance against the depredations of the Orcish Horde and its Banshee Queen. He also considers close friends and allies to be a surrogate family, and will defend them with his life. Prejudice and judgment: In addition to the ancient enmity against the Amani inherited from his father, he nurses a burning hatred for the undead that destroyed the homelands of both his parents and drove his family into exile, and the Legion that killed his father on Mount Hyjal - the former of which causes him rather more difficulty than the latter, in times of peace. On a far lesser level, he isn't fond of goblins, Dark Irons, Alteraci, feral worgen, Highborne, the Horde in general (excepting Tauren), or a handful of miscellaneous nuisances (such as Hozen), for various reasons and to varying degrees. Motivations: Sir Arthur is a man driven by his obligations. Ultimately, everything comes down to duty - to his people, to the Order, to the Alliance, and, now, to the 42nd.