#quickfoots

[cryptid-quest]

Cryptid of the Day: Quickfoot

Description: In the Summer of 1988, David Colman and his family were driving through Knock Forest, near Cairnpapple, Scotland, when they saw something running 50-70mph down the road. Rumors told of Silver Man, a white figure who haunted those woods, though some think it was Bigfoot

[bones-of-rabbit]

bunch

[bluespiritshonour]

Fuming at the mouth again at how much women's work is looked down upon.

It's always “being a healer is nerfing Katara” and never “why isn't healing given more importance in the shows?” argh.

I mean it in Vox Machina way. Pike was a healer and everytime she wasn't with the team I was freaking the fuck out like, oh no, they're all screwed.

It's like in Zatch Bell/Konjiki no Gash Bell where the main girls Tio-Megumi have healing/shielding powers and only ONE attack spell and they were considered so essential to the team Kiyomaro would make his super genius calculation blindly relying on them. And they saved Kiyomaro-Gash’s arses several times more than the other way around.

I want Aang and other male waterbenders to heal. The need to fight is over with the war, but the need to heal never is.

I want fucking Pakku to go to Yugoda and ask her to teach him how to heal.

[soloavengers]

syl & thorne vs. 81617261 rattlers this was absolute hell

[aiko-kpwc]

I was wondering a little about the cannibalism, was it the influence of the dark forest or did she come there post cannibalification?

Actually it basically came from her mom becuase she'd force Quickpaw to put off eating alot to try and make her loose weight and a bit after she became Quickfoot she had an argument with her mother which resulted in Brightstar(Her mother) going to attack her with a swipe but she caught her mother's wrist in her mouth and the taste of blood made her loose it and she began to rip her to pieces and eat her alive!^w^

[fllagellant]

Okay for a fun experiment I am going to consult my dungeons and dragons books and see if any of the other subclasses for bard , barbarian and Maybe Druid catch my eye . And see what sort of perfect world we could have if I have this amount of creative liberties for Giilvas

[overlordrae]

My OC, Catis.

[fowlblue]

Pokey mon? 👀

Hmm… Lurantis, Aipom, and Leafeon!

[snaill-dragon]

Part 3 of my old warriors fan clan being redesigned.

Part 1 is here, and then part two is here!

Warriors Swiftsight and Quickfoot, they’re siblings. Swiftsight is birdkit’s mom. Quickfoot is just a good friend and warrior. He’s chill.

[threeninepress]

Three Nine Digest #19

This week I have been mostly thinking about… my Mausritter adventure (Fast Show reference in case anyone is as ancient and British as I am).

Below is what I’ve collected from previous dispatches regarding my adventure hooks, npcs and the spell I’ve made. The bit that’s new is the spell token, which includes a spell tablet I drew (yep, continuing with my audacious plan to draw this entire adventure myself).

I’m putting all these in one spot because my next step will be harvesting them and putting them in my project on Affinity. At first I am going to stay pretty true to how the adventures are laid out in the excellent The Estate collection. I’ll probably fiddle with things once that’s done and make it more my own.

For now, though, here’s the state of play for Goodnight Maus.

Goodnight Maus

(Mausritter adventure site inspired by Goodnight Moon)

Adventure Hooks

Pick or Roll 1D6

The youngster Hamish Quickfoot has not been seen since he ventured off in search of fortune in the Great Green Room. His parents are offering a reward for anyone who can bring him home safely.

Toliver Thickwhisker, Burgher of Under-Step, has commissioned a party to raid the toy house in the Great Green Room. He wants silverware (six places) for an important dinner he is hosting for visiting dignitaries.

Legend has it that the ancient, and magical, arms of Lady Strongbite are located somewhere in the Great Green Room. Her saga states she fell to Rupert, the great orange menace who once called that room home.

The rats of the Wall Gang control the routes in and out of the Great Green Room. They have just raised the price of their tolls. Under-Step’s city council have commissioned a party to scout the room and find alternatives.

The engineer Tink Finetail has designs on an underground engine that could connect Under-Step to Drain’s Hollow. He’ll pay a premium for clockwork mechanisms, the kind known to exist in the Great Green Room.

During a rowdy night at the Weevil’s Head pub bets were taken on whether there was a mouse in Under-Step brave enough to bring home a whisker from Tabitha and Tomasina (the young, but cruel descendants of Rupert, who now stalk the Great Green Room).

NPCs

Hamish Quickfoot5hp, STR 9, DEX 12, WIL 10 Attacks: d8 bow

Wants: To return home with something valuable.

Jerald Longfur4hp, STR 7, DEX 7, WIL 9 Attacks: d6 walking stick

Wants: To be left in peace. Failing that, a good meal.

To read the rest of this post head to Three Nine Press on Substack (it's free!)

[cryptid-quest]

Cryptid of the Day: Quickfoot

Description: Dubbed Quickfoot by the press, this Sasquatch was seen in West Lothian, Scotland in November 1995. The witness was David Colman, who was driving with his wife and three children when they saw the beast running along side his car. Loren Coleman estimated that the beast had to be running 70 miles per hour in order to keep up with the car, hence the name.

[animeandmangainsentences]

Ron Kamonohashi's Forbidden Deductions

Sherlock Holmes is secretly also Jekyll & Hyde, and the only way he's allowed to solve the city's most difficult cold-cases is if he's partnered with his kindhearted (but more importantly quickfooted) Watson.

[nateconnolly]

No more she threatened, but she fixed the horns of a great stag firm on Actaeon's sprinkled brows; she lengthened out his neck; she made his ears sharp at the top; she changed his hands and feet; made long legs of his arms, and covered him with dappled hair—his courage turned to fear. The brave son of Autonoe took to flight, and marveled that he sped so swiftly on.—

he saw his horns reflected in a stream and would have said, “Ah, wretched me!” but now he had no voice, and he could only groan: large tears ran trickling down his face, transformed in every feature.—Yet, as clear remained his understanding, and he wondered what he should attempt to do: should he return to his ancestral palace, or plunge deep in vast vacuities of forest wilds? Fear made him hesitate to trust the woods, and shame deterred him from his homeward way.

While doubting thus his dogs espied him there: first Blackfoot and the sharp nosed Tracer raised the signal: Tracer of the Gnossian breed, and Blackfoot of the Spartan: swift as wind the others followed. Glutton, Quicksight, Surefoot, three dogs of Arcady; then valiant Killbuck, Tempest, fierce Hunter, and the rapid Wingfoot; sharp-scented Chaser, and Woodranger wounded so lately by a wild boar; savage Wildwood, the wolf-begot with Shepherdess the cow-dog; and ravenous Harpy followed by her twin whelps; and thin-girt Ladon chosen from Sicyonia; racer and Barker, brindled Spot and Tiger; sturdy old Stout and white haired Blanche and black Smut lusty big Lacon, trusty Storm and Quickfoot; active young Wolfet and her Cyprian brother black headed Snap, blazed with a patch of white hair from forehead to his muzzle; swarthy Blackcoat and shaggy Bristle, Towser and Wildtooth, his sire of Dicte and his dam of Lacon; and yelping Babbler: these and others, more than patience leads us to recount or name.

All eager for their prey the pack surmount rocks, cliffs and crags, precipitous—where paths are steep, where roads are none. He flies by routes so oft pursued but now, alas, his flight is from his own!—He would have cried, “Behold your master!—It is I—Actaeon!” Words refused his will. The yelping pack pressed on. First Blackmane seized and tore his master's back, Savage the next, then Rover's teeth were clinched deep in his shoulder.—These, though tardy out, cut through a by-path and arriving first clung to their master till the pack came up.

The whole pack fastened on their master's flesh till place was none for others. Groaning he made frightful sounds that not the human voice could utter nor the stag; and filled the hills with dismal moans; and as a suppliant fell down to the ground upon his trembling knees; and turned his stricken eyes on his own dogs, entreating them to spare him from their fangs.

[timothylawrence]

Wanted 2 see if the Giilvas Rana friendship could exist ….

Giilvas Quickfoot , wood elf bard/barbarian , folk hero … he’ s like if a very large mastiff was given human form and had the never-ending urge to protect people . If a brick wall could be a friend . Has a rather contradictory and confusing past due to the many different tales told about him . He’ s also casually kinda crass / vulgar but that’ s a part of his charm promise

GIILVAS!!! First of all your tav is so pretty.... im obsessed with the gold... <33~!!!

ALSO OMG!! A wood elf bard/barbarian... i know Rana would love the Barbarian aspect... she's probably a little annoyed by the bard aspect (her and volo have beef... she thinks it's all a big scam)! Rana loves vulgarity and crass humor, it's her go-to so I know they'd have great banter back and forth... !!!

Rana would get along well with Giilvas!!! 100000%!!!!

[aiko-kpwc]

Here's the WIP for Brightstar's death

Context; Brightstar is yelling at Quickstar(Quickfoot) who is in tears, also girl is very round=3 I love round girl=3

[fllagellant]

@ikarons :333 2/3 now … kissing is merely the tension of it . I promise the last one of this set js going to be more . Make-out centric for lack of a better term LMAO

For ‘A last kiss before one goes away’

-

Two things can be true at once.

“Tell your father- Tell my father-in-law I am sorry I couldn’t make it to the celebration.”

The first is simple; They are attached at the hip. Even while Wyll was rearranging the bulk of his travel pack for the fifth time, Giilvas still hovered over his shoulder like he had never seen it before. Like he didn’t fetch everything Wyll needed in the first place.

Wyll chuckles, a melodic thing, as he tilts his head back to look up at Giilvas. He was still sat on the edge of their bed, Wyll close enough to rest the side of his head on his knee if he so wishes. But, he can’t. He knows he can’t.

“He’ll understand. In fact, I’ll bet you that he’ll find a reason to come down here and see you.”

The second is still simple, but it felt far more difficult to grapple with; They are not physically attached at the hip. They are both men who travel, men who walk the worlds and men who always will. They both have their own priorities, and, while they usually line up, they can’t always.

Wyll Ravengard was still a Ravengard, and Ulder Ravengard was still a Ravengard. And Ulder sent the letter a week past for a summons. A request (requirement) for Wyll and his betrothed to bless the Midsummer Night festival within Baldur’s Gate. The dates listed would also have them in the care of Ulder for just under a week- Always an open room at the estate for the two of them, and they knew this.

Giilvas was still a Quickfoot. The name completely ironic, now. He was many things. Graceful was not one of them.

He had tried to say it was little more than a twisted ankle. It was definitely more than just a twisted ankle.

“Just don’t tell him everything, okay? I’d like him to not think of me as a… bumbling idiot.”

Wyll was in riding gear, Giilvas was not.

Two things could be true at once.

“I don’t need him coming back around to disliking me, after all the work I put in to making him tolerate me.”

The first is simple; They are attached at the hip. Giilvas grabs his cane when Wyll rises from his knelt position on the bedroom floor. His travel pack finally, completely packed. After Wyll found as many reasons as he could to keep packing it again. And again. This home might be temporary. They might stay here a few years then move onward. But, for now, they had a little cabin. Hardly anything. It was everything.

Footsteps punctuate the still quiet, sun coming through the windows like waves. Patches of warmth and light patterning the floor, the walls. Giilvas’ cane clicked against the wood, Wyll avoids the spot on the ground that always creaks.

“He won’t think of you like that, he’ll be hard on you for getting hurt, but this won’t end his ‘tolerance’ for you.”

The second is still simple, but it felt far more difficult to grapple with; They are not physically attached at the hip. The jostling of a horse ride to Baldur’s Gate would be worse for the healing process. Giilvas wouldn’t even be able to mount the horse, even if he demands he could. He could! He just needs a minute- a few minutes- No, he won’t hurt himself again. If he’d be allowed to prove it, then-

Wyll refuses to take him along to a festival he would be miserable at. The most he would be able to do would be… drink. And that might be all he could do, the pain from the journey would be rather mind-consuming for the week. And Wyll knows his father would be accommodating. If Giilvas could make it down there, he would be in good hands. But he was healing good now, and the risk of ruining that for something like this…

“You say that. You say that. But if I was him, I think I would have a moment of clarity.”

Giilvas voice hitches, Wyll pauses in the doorway.

Three things can be true at once.

“Oh- Giilvas, come here. No need for tears, my Rose.”

The first is simple; They are attached at the hip. Wyll drops his travel bag and turns on his heel. He had been waiting for the tears, truth be told. Giilvas had been rather stoic about the whole thing, and he kept waiting for the moment it cracked. Wyll had told him, multiple times, that he’d stay. He’d stay here with Giilvas if he just asked for it.

Giilvas couldn’t accept that. Everytime it was offered, he’d shake his head. He’d say no. He wouldn’t keep Wyll trapped- ‘I’m not trapped here, Giilvas.’- when his father asked for him to join him for the celebration. It’s the principle.

Wyll’s thumbs brushed a tear from his cheek, hand drifting to cup his jaw. He knows it’s worthless to ask if Giilvas was sure about this.

“I’m not trying to cry, I just- Hells, what has gotten into me?”

The second is still simple, but it felt far more difficult to grapple with; They are not physically attached at the hip. Wyll has to rise up on his tip-toes, not wanting to risk trying to pull him down to his height, and presses his lips gently against Giilvas’ own. The sun warms his back, warms Giilvas’ face. Wyll thinks he can taste the peach preserve from breakfast on his lips, or maybe it was his mind pulling from those romance books he read as a boy.

Giilvas resist the want to reach out, to grab, to hold. His hand grips the handle of his cane tighter, knowing that he was one moment away from either agitating his injury, or making Wyll change his mind at the last moment. He melts, relaxing into the loving gesture, regardless.

He tries not to linger in the kiss, it’ll only make it harder to pull away- And he has to, he knows this. Wyll knows he’s pushing the line, risking leaving too late. But, he pulls back enough to press kiss to the tip of Giilvas’ nose, the corner of his mouth. Hand slips into Giilvas’ free one, squeezing it once, twice, three times in a row.

“Promise me you’ll not do anything too foolish while I am gone.”

“I hardly think I can promise that, my Blade.”

The third is one that they both know, maybe consciously, maybe unconsciously, but they know it; They’ll always come back to each other.