#they’re either a dark elf a high elf or an orc

[bfunslvd]

Ranboo play Skyrim challenge

[thetantiger]

Carnivals and Chaos

Word count: 3,344

Characters: Mythodoran (he/him), Sanlasteron (he/him)

WHEW this one's a long one and I did it in one fucking sitting lmfao here you go

“I can’t believe you agreed to this!” Sanlas grinned ear to ear, practically bouncing up and down as he walked with sheer excitement.

“I can’t believe I agreed to it either,” Mythodoran replied dryly. They were walking down the path to the Darkmoon Faire. Whether or not the Darkmoon Faire is actually open at the time of writing this is irrelevant because time is a social construct and also fuck you. Bright blinking signs lit their way through otherwise eerie, dark woods, and soon enough the stretch of the lively Faire expanded before them.

“Ooh! I know exactly what I want to try first!” Sanlasteron grabbed Mytho by the arm. He noticed the Kaldorei flinched as he reached for him and Sanlas paused, looking at him. “I- oh. Are you alright? You flinched.”

Mythodoran sort of stared at the void elf’s hand warily and opened his mouth to respond, but then turned and coughed into his hand.

“If you don’t want me to touch you, you can just say so,” Sanlas assured. He suddenly felt very self-conscious of every time he’d impulsively laid his hands on Mythodoran or hugged him.

“I-It’s quite alright,” the Warden replied, still seeming a little unsure. “If it bothered me, I would have let you know. Very quickly.”

“I see,” Sanlas said, deciding that was enough of an answer for him. “Well come on then! There’s plenty to do in the Faire!”

As he trekked along enthusiastically and Mythodoran followed behind him a little less enthusiastically, Sanlas was beaming with delight. Mythodoran had actually taken a day off of work, just to go to a carnival, with him! He was really moving up in Mytho’s graces, or at least it felt that way. Perhaps the night elf should have stayed home, though--he was clearing his throat a lot. 

“This right here! This is what I was talking about,” Sanlas exclaimed as they approached a game booth. “Tayonna always beats my ass at Whack-A-Gnoll, but I find it fun nonetheless.”

Mytho, as cynical as ever, chimed in; “Hitting a stuffed gnoll with a stuffed mallet. Why not hit a real gnoll with a real mallet?”

“Because Snaggletuft’s a nice guy,” Sanlas replied with a smirk as he exchanged some coin for tickets. 

Mythodoran crossed his arms. “Well you go first.”

“You can go at the same time,” the orc woman running the booth commented.

“Yeah! They’re just foam,” Sanlas said, gesturing to one of the mallets that was handed to him. “What? Afraid I’ll hit you on the backswing?”

“Where? In the chest?” The Kaldorei grinned at him. “Because that’s about as high as you can reach on me.”

“I am insulted!” the void elf claimed in a very insulted manner, handing Mytho the other mallet. “I’ll have you know I can reach things very effectively. Void magic has its perks.”

Mythodoran simply grunted in reply, and they were off. A timer started ticking somewhere and Sanlas zipped through stuffed gnoll after stuffed gnoll, flinging cotton in various directions though unfortunately hitting a few fakeout dolls of a little girl and losing points a couple of times. Mythodoran was just as quick on his feet if not quicker, and was even better at focusing on and prioritizing his targets, hitting a few stuffed Hoggers. Sanlas was a little less lawful, though, and decided to play dirty, swinging and connecting his mallet into Mythodoran’s side. “Ah! What the hell?!” Mytho exclaimed as he was knocked off his balance, stumbling a little and his focus lost.

Sanlas simply grinned at him and kept at it, dashing from gnoll to gnoll in a frenzy, until he felt something knock him in the back of the head. He whipped around and swung at Mytho again, the night elf parrying his mallet with his own. Now this was war.

For a considerable amount of game time Sanlas and Mytho had completely forgotten the objective and were simply sparring with foam weapons, ignoring the mechanical clicking queue of more stuffed dolls popping up and then disappearing. Sanlas was only really able to land light taps on the man, anything with more force behind it taking enough time for him to block it. Mythodoran got him good a few times when he wasn’t expecting it, and was just about to take a heavy bonk to the noggin when suddenly he felt relocated, disoriented and extremely dizzy.

“Gah!” Sanlas exclaimed, his belly churning a little. “Do you have to teleport us out immediately instead of just asking us to leave?!”

“Is that what this feeling is?” Mytho, next to him, asked, seeming to stumble a little.

The orc woman shrugged. “It’ll wear off before you know it.”

She was right, Sanlas noted as his vision cleared, but still. C’mon. Noticing the mallet was gone from his hands, he decided it was time for the next attraction. “Well, Mytho--how do you feel about rollercoasters?”

Mythodoran sighed, and responded, “Overwhelmingly positive,” in an extremely flat tone.

Sanlasteron snickered and picked up on the sarcasm. “Alright, sunshine, don’t get too excited. Come on, it’s not that bad. You get to sit next to me!”

“What a treat,” Mytho muttered.

As the two sporadically explored the Faire, Mythodoran seemed to lighten up more and more. He still refused to do the dance competition game, but at the very least he stopped being pessimistic. Neither of them were good with a gun so the shooting game was an absolute embarrassment for the both of them--the closest thing to a rifle that Mytho had operated, he mentioned, being a glaive thrower, which is only similar in the notion of having anything to do with projectiles--and the land-a-ring-on-the-turtle one Sanlas absolutely sucked at. The bright side was that Mythodoran took it upon himself to teach Sanlas to throw a ring properly, as it wasn’t too different from a Warden’s glaive, which resulted in him standing behind Sanlas and manually instructing his hands with his own… so that was nice. They debated about the cannon across the Faire--actually, Mythodoran debated with him about it, because he insisted it was unsafe and would hurt a shit ton as soon as Sanlas hit the water, and Sanlas agreed to skip that game out of sheer principle of not wanting to get his clothes wet and that he hadn’t packed a swimsuit of any sort. They took a stroll through the small zoo the Faire had, got to pet some goats in the process, and then pivoted to grab a bite to eat.

“I’m beginning to wonder why we haven’t seen Carnie anywhere,” Mythodoran commented, still munching on a basket of fries.

“Maybe she’s not working today,” Sanlas replied, before stopping in his tracks and almost dropping his corndog. “OH. MY. GOD.”

“What-?” Mytho’s immediate confusion was muffled by the food currently in his mouth. “What is it?”

“LOOK AT THAT-- THAT THING!” Sanlasteron pointed at an object hanging in the back of a prize counter. It was a stuffed animal, and Sanlas LOVED stuffed animals. And right now, in front of him, was a weird, hybrid combination of what appeared to be a cat, a dragon and a moose, and he immediately ran to the counter with the prize tickets he’d earned thus far.

By the time Mytho had calmly walked over, still idly snacking on his fries, Sanlas’s excitement had died down. “What’s wrong?” Mytho asked, noting his disappointment.

Sanlas glanced pitifully at the merchant at the counter who just shrugged. “I don’t have enough prize tickets,” he mumbled.

Mytho blinked at him. “How many you got?”

“Only about.. a hundred and fourty,” he replied. “And it’s three hundred.”

Mytho rolled his eyes and handed the fries to him. “Here, hold this.” Once Sanlas took it--and stole one--Mytho dug into his pocket and fished out a fistful of whatever he’d earned. “This should be about enough.”

As the merchant inspected the amount of tickets, Sanlas frowned at Mytho. “You didn’t have to do that,” he insisted, suddenly feeling guilty.

Mythodoran shrugged nonchalantly and opened his hand, expecting his fries back. “And what am I gonna do with them? I’m not one for anything I’ve seen at any of these counters. I’m not gonna use ‘em.”

“You mean it?” Sanlas asked, excitement picking up in his voice again as something swelled in his chest.

“Of course,” the Kaldorei replied with another shrug.

Sanlasteron was about to leap at him in excitement and hug him but hesitated for just a second, noting his earlier discomfort with such contact, and before he could remember that he said it was alright the merchant at the counter had gotten The ThingTM and handed it to him. Sanlas gasped and took his cuteness aggression out on that, hugging it with a tightness that might kill a small animal. He was absolutely giddy, jumping up and down slightly in place and holding it close to him. He might be making a fool of himself, but he didn’t really care. What made it more special is that Mytho had contributed, and had helped him get it. “EEEE! Mythodoran, it’s so cute!! Thank you!!”

Mythodoran made a strange, almost choked noise and looked away, mumbling, “Yeah. No problem.”

Eventually, they started strolling the Faire with no intention to play anymore games, and soon veered off to stride along the island’s coast, just on the edge of the wilderness. Sanlas was sure it was fine, both him and Mytho could fight if there were wolves around. Sanlas inquired about Mythodoran’s hobbyist blacksmithing and Mytho replied it was going swell, and he had made small little shapes and trinkets and shivs, and was planning to get a forge installed in his home. This got them talking about the concept of home in the first place, starting with Bel’ameth.

“It will never be Teldrassil,” Mythodoran said with a small, wistful sigh. “But.. it’s the best we have. And it is a lovely World Tree.”

“I can see that,” Sanlas replied. “I’ve certainly gotten attached to quite a few places--Stormwind and Boralus to name a few--but nothing will ever quite be like Quel’thalas. One day, I hope our faction barriers go out for good, and I can return to my homeland and see my sister more often.”

Mythodoran hummed thoughtfully. “That would be the dream. The Forsaken are allowed in Bel’ameth.. I can’t imagine anything more out of place than that.” He paused for a moment, and then asked, out of nowhere, “...Tell me about your home, Sanlasteron.”

“Quel’thalas?” He asked. “Well-.. It has spiraling golden and orange and crimson trees, and its grass is a vibrant yellowish green. Silvermoon itself is a marvel to behold.. Twisting yellow and red towers, the streets lively and joyous. Part of me wants to see it.. part of me never wants to lay eyes upon the path that wretch Arthas had carved out of our city ever again.” He squeezed The ThingTM in his arms a little tighter. “...Honestly, Mytho, thank you.. for the plushie. I kinda have a weird attachment to stuffed animals.”

Mythodoran’s tone did not seem judgemental, only curious. “How so?”

Sanlas shrugged. “When I was a kid in the orphanage, I didn’t sleep very well. Nyssedri usually told me stories or sung me to sleep and she helped a lot, but someone who worked there gave me this stuffed phoenix plushie, and I absolutely loved that thing. But it was lost in the rot, when the Scourge attacked. I really miss that thing.” He sighed. “Lunastrae, as underwhelming as that relationship was, kinda reignited my love for stuffed animals. I had like one or two during my travels with Tayonna during the Fourth War but I didn’t really accumulate a lot until her cause I felt kinda self-conscious about it. Now I have a lot.”

“...They make you feel safe,” Mythodoran noted.

“I suppose you could say that,” Sanlas replied.

“You surround yourself with people and things that make you feel safe,” the Warden Captain continued. “Tayonna, Nyssedri. …Do you feel unsafe, sometimes?”

Sanlas blinked, taken a little off-guard. He wasn’t sure how to answer that question. “...I guess so,” he landed on. “...I guess I’m terrified of something like the Dead Scar happening again. I-.. I thought my sister was dead, and faction barriers didn’t let me even check to see if that was true until the Faithful. And-.. seeing zombies and ghouls and skeletons march upon your homeland and leave black rot in their wake, and brutalize the guards that were meant to protect you, eating citizens alive and trying to hunt you and having to hide from that at such a young age--” he paused. He realized he was spiraling a little, and wayyy oversharing. He swallowed hard, “I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s quite alright,” the Kaldorei responded, and Sanlas almost jumped at the feeling of a hand on his upper back. It was strangely.. grounding. “...I.. sincerely apologize if I brought up some bad memories for you.”

“I-It’s okay,” Sanlas sighed. “I-.. I should probably talk about it more anyway.”

“You definitely should,” Mythodoran responded. “I get the feeling that you cover your troubles by appearing nonchalant. I get the feeling you think yourself and your struggles are a burden onto others. You must let yourself be upset more often.”

“Of course you would say that. Mister Frowny-Face all the time.” Sanlas shrunk into himself a little.

“You are being defensive,” Mytho stated simply.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Sanlasteron sighed. “Maybe you’re right. I.. I really want to be close to people but I only do that by being an ear. I don’t really like to talk about myself.”

“That makes you a walking diary, not a conversationalist.” Mythodoran, regrettably, moved his hand away from Sanlas and stuffed both of them into his pockets instead. “You were orphaned before the Dead Scar. If you don’t mind me asking..”

“They didn’t die. At least, not to my knowledge. They abandoned me and Nyssedri there. I’m too young to remember.” Sanlas shrugged again.

“That explains everything,” Mytho concluded. “You have abandonment issues, and you feel that if you are real with yourself and your feelings then people will find you too difficult and will abandon you.”

Sanlasteron looked at Mythodoran skeptically. He was cutting through his act so flawlessly and was absolutely chill about it. “And where’s this coming from?”

“I’m an observant person,” he answered with a shrug of his own. “And besides.. I do not find you difficult. I enjoy this version of you far more.”

Sanlas almost choked on his own spit. “I- what? Really?”

Mythodoran offered him a smile. Something about Mytho’s smile was unique, special, a novelty, an absolute sight to behold because he rarely ever smiled. This was part of Sanlasteron’s offer to bring him to the Faire--to get him to smile, but Sanlas thought it would have been at a silly game or something or other. Sanlas thought that maybe if he performed enough antics he could get him to laugh. And it’s not that Mythodoran didn’t have a good time--at least, Sanlas had seen him smile and heard him chuckle quite a few times today. But right here, right now, alone on the strand of Darkmoon Isle, was the most genuine smile he’d seen Mytho ever muster, and it kicked him in the lungs. “Of course. I often mean what I say.”

Sanlas gulped and turned away, trying desperately to hide the heat rushing to his face. “I-.. right, of course. Sorry.”

“You are overly apologetic.”

“Sorry.”

“Sanlas.”

Sanlasteron tensed. Mythodoran’s voice was stern but kind, worried yet collected. He stared at the sand.

Mythodoran was quiet for a moment before sighing. “I.. understand that I need to be more joyful. But you need to acknowledge in yourself that there is more than just the unbridled tomfoolery of a show you put on for those around you. I.. apologize if my previous comments or actions gave you the impression that I do not enjoy you as a person. I promise that it is the opposite. It is.. just hard for me to adjust to people. It is even harder for me to trust them.”

Sanlas finally looked at him, relieved to change the topic even just a little. Though that proclamation of Mythodoran enjoying his company had his head spinning in the background. “Why is that? I, uh.. told you about my problems. But- it’s okay if you’d rather not.”

“If I did not trust you, Sanlasteron, I would not be in the woods alone with you.” Mythodoran glanced at the plushie. “And that ThingTM.”

“I see. Well- lay it on me.”

Mytho inhaled deeply. “...Every single person I have ever really counted on has betrayed me in some way. My parents were mostly kind people, but they were greatly dissatisfied with my military career choice, as men in Kaldorei culture are most often druids and casters and it’s the women that are the Sentinels and Wardens. And their deaths during the Burning of Teldrassil did not mend that wound.” He looked at the ground, and Sanlas could see a very deep and distinct pain in his eyes, and it tugged at his heartstrings. “Then there was Shadryssa. I was naive, and young, and what had gotten me roped up with her was my absolute disregard for my own safety. Admittedly, when I was younger, I was kind of-... promiscuous.” He shifted uncomfortably. “She took advantage of that and I didn’t use my mind very often back then. And by the time it got so bad--the screaming and the hitting and the games--I couldn’t simply get out. She had me under her thumb.” He ran a hand down his own face, seeming to try and stabilize or refocus himself. “She.. violated my bodily autonomy numerous times, and that is why I flinch. Since I escaped, I felt I could only rely on myself.. and I even let myself down, too. I can rely on Cydris, but only in a workplace context. I gave my trust to Aruna and she squandered it. I am trying to trust James, Courier Nine, Palamedes and Andro.. and I am trying to trust myself again, too.”

Sanlas felt horrified. “Oh.. I- oh my god Mythodoran, I’m so sorry. I- I had no idea-”

“Trust me, Sanlasteron.” Mytho offered him a kind, forgiving expression. “If I was truly triggered or bothered by you putting your hands on me, you would already be missing fingers.”

“Are you sure?” Sanlas frowned. “I can easily just like-.. not do that, you know. Like it’s no skin off my back if I-”

“Yes, I am quite sure.” The night elf crossed his arms. “I am okay with you touching me.” He paused, and clasped a hand over his mouth. “That- hm. That came out wrong.”

“BaHAH-” Sanlas doubled over and tried not to drop his plushie. After giggling for a good minute with Mytho groaning in absolute, characteristic despair, he straightened himself. “Well Mytho, if that’s what you brought me to the edge of the woods for, you could’ve just asked politely!”

“SANLAS.”

Sanlas laughed some more. “I mean- I would’ve brought us a mat and everything!”

Mytho wriggled his mustache and, though smirking in amusement, turned on a heel in the direction they came from and started walking that way. “I AM GOING HOME.”

“Uh, hey, skyscraper!” Sanlas waved and turned to open a void rift. “Heading to the base?”

Mytho turned right back around and walked back to Sanlas, eyeing the portal he’d conjured. “I- yes, thank you.”

Sanlas smiled. “Don’t mention it. And- hey, if you ever need to talk about that shit some more, don’t hesitate to call me or something. I’m serious.”

“You as well, Sanlasteron.” The Warden gave him a nod. “Any time of the day.”

“What about 3 AM?”

“Eh, I’ll probably be awake.”

Sanlas snickered, and with that, Mytho ducked through the portal. The void elf stepped in after him, The ThingTM in-hand. 

Yeah. Today was a good day.

[fnrrfygmschnish]

Some drawings of various species I’ve been poking around with as part of a random just-for-fun worldbuilding thing, lined up next to each other to give a general idea of how tall they are in comparison.

From left to right: Gnome, dwarf, elf, orc, and human.

Gnomes are actually made of fresh clay, and need to stay moist and out of direct sunlight to avoid drying up and either cracking or becoming too stiff to move.  As such, they live underground in a network of tunnels and caverns that’s come to be known as “the Gnomelands” (or Gnomegardren in their own language), and stick to shady or very moist areas if they’re ever stranded on the surface during broad daylight.  Their “beards” are in fact growths of crystalline or metallic substances, rather than anything close to hair.  They have no need for food, which sometimes leads to awkward situations when they have to attempt to take care of visitors from species who do need to eat -- a guest in a gnomish home may be served something which is only technically food, such as a raw potato or a hard and very moldy loaf of bread that has probably been in storage ever since the last guest came through months or even years before.  “Where do babies come from” is a philosophical question for a gnome rather than one of basic biology, because nobody knows what causes one particular lump of clay to spontaneously come to life and shape itself into a new gnome.  They are possibly immortal, though only in the “can’t die of old age” sense; they can still be killed, and it’s usually assumed that a gnome that dries up completely and hardens into a little statue is killed in the process.

Dwarves are pretty much like you’d expect -- short and stocky, bearded, can see in the dark, usually live underground, and known for mining and a love for gold.  Their attachment to gold isn’t out of greed, however, but rather for religious reasons -- they believe that all the gold that exists came crashing to the world’s surface in falling stars sent by the sun-god Khom ages ago, and that because of its divine nature it is the preferred offering to their entire pantheon of gods.  Gold coins are never used as “everyday” money, but rather donated to temples, where they are often smelted down and shaped into temple decorations or exchanged for other forms of money to be used to pay for temple repairs and improvements.  All dwarves grow beards, though dwarven women typically have thinner, wispier beard hair and much less mustache growth; a total lack of facial hair is strongly associated with disease in dwarven culture, so shaving is all but unheard of.  Their bones are actually denser than those of other humanoid species, contributing to the overall sturdiness they are known for.  Dwarves can interbreed with humans, though the resulting “half-dwarves” are usually indistinguishable from full dwarves.  They can also interbreed with elves, producing what the elves call Lugreleth (”Dark-Elves”) -- slightly shorter and more muscular than elves, with better vision in the dark and a strong dwarven tendency to grow beards (which is all but unheard of in full-blooded elves!)

Elves are known for their pointy ears, keen senses of sight and hearing, and unusual hair and eye colors (dark blue hair and bright yellow, green, or red eyes, for example.)  There are two major racial/cultural subgroups among the elves, the Lonneleth (”Moon-Elves,” so called because their legends claim that they once lived on the moon and were forced down to the world’s surface by some lunar catastrophe ages ago) and the Bosq’eleth (”Wood-Elves.")  The Moon-Elves’ society is based in the far western desert, with their capital city being built in a “forest” of gigantic cacti that has sprung up around a major oasis, though they have been known to travel far from their home country both over land and by sea.  The Wood-Elves, on the other hand, are more isolated and prefer to stick to the swampy forests of the Mureen region in the southeast, where they build their houses high in the branches of the trees with complex networks of ladders, stairs, and walkways which can be raised and lowered to different levels as needed.  The two races of elves speak essentially the same language, albeit with different slang terms and a bit of linguistic drift, suggesting that the two must have some common origin.  Elves can interbreed with humans, producing Miteleth (”half-elves”) who closely resemble full elves, but with slightly shorter ears.  Further crossbreeding with humans causes the elven traits to fade, until eventually after several generations you end up with slightly longer-lived humans who may have unusual hair or eye colors.  The elves refer to hybrids with less than a quarter elven ancestry as Belideth (derived from Belido, “round-ear,” their name for humans.)  Some say that elves and orcs can interbreed, with the result being green-skinned, pointy-eared goblins -- but both the elves and orcs are insistent that this is false and that the occasional goblins seen in the western mountains are a third, unrelated species.

Orcs are muscular, tusked, and typically green-skinned (several different shades of green are possible, ranging from the rare darker blue-greens to greenish-browns to even paler yellowish-green tones.)  They are known for their tough skin and their even tougher stomachs.  Orcs are extremely omnivorous scavengers by nature, capable of easily tolerating food that would be unpleasant or even downright unsafe for a human, whether that would be due to decay, parasites, some other contaminant, or all of the above.  Contrary to popular belief in some parts, Orcs are not inherently any less intelligent than other species... but currently their culture is struggling through something of a “dark age” thanks to a succession of several corrupt leaders (and their supporters) who have pushed them further and further toward a way of life that values an aggressive, paranoid, and anti-intellectual concept of “Orcishness” above all else.  All problems are blamed on supposed threats from outside (especially the elves), and orcs are strongly encouraged to distract themselves with athletic competitions, religious rituals, and large quantities of alcohol and other mind-altering substances rather than thinking about their situation too much.  Of course, not all orcs simply go along blindly with this; orcs have always made long journeys on foot from time to time, and now some families have taken to simply never returning to their homeland (or at least not the regions closest to the capital, where things are at their worst), living as nomads in other lands.  Orcs and humans can interbreed, resulting in half-orcs who are more human-like in appearance (albeit with small tusks and greener skin than any full human) and even taller on average than either of their two parent species while retaining much of the orcish muscle and toughness.

Humans are... well... they’re humans.  You’re probably a human.  You know what a human is already!

[tastesoftamriel]

What have you found to be the more popular meals, snacks, and desserts among the children of Tamriel? I can imagine a khajiiti cub getting scolded for sneaking a moon sugar cookie from the jar.

The children of Tamriel live diverse lives, but have one thing in common: a love for snacks and treats. Of course, every Province offers something different, making even the youngest among us ready for a future in culinary adventures!

Altmer

The High Elves are known for the strict discipline of their children, but they are for the most part pampered and adored. This definitely extends to the diets of Altmeri children, which are really quite impressive and prepares them for a future of haute cuisine. The average meal is an ideal balance of meat or fish, starches, and vegetables, while still being delicious. Grilled cheesy venison patties, a warm salad with brie and roast pears, and lightly fried potato chips with tomato sauce are typical children's fare in Summerset.

Argonians

Children are one of the most important groups in Argonian society, and care extends especially to snack time for the young! A common treat for young Argonians is a sweet sago porridge with mashed taro and sweet potatoes, lotus seed paste, and coconut milk. It's nutritious and delicious, so much that some Argonians still consume it well into adulthood!

Bosmer

Wood Elf kids love munching on sweetgnat "bark", a type of jerky that's made from a dried and smoked paste made from a local insect that is surprisingly sweet. The bark is mixed with honey and fat, and is chewy, nutritious and flavourful. Also especially good for teething infants.

Bretons

The old jokes about Hags preferring to steal Breton children because they're plump and juicy, likely due to the treats that they're plied with. From dried fruit bars to chocolate cookies, you'll find all sorts of sweet delights. Yet surprisingly, the most favoured food among kids in High Rock are "fingers" made from deep fried, breaded fish paste. They're dipped in a mild lemon-pepper mayonnaise, and are a great snack or meal alongside some baked potato fries!

Dunmer

Dark Elf children aren't quite granted the same luxury as others in Tamriel, as there aren't any specific foods for kids- in Morrowind, the tradition is that you eat what's on the table, no exceptions. That isn't to say that snacky morsels don't exist. Scuttle puffs are a cheesy-flavoured snack made from puffed saltrice that's mixed with scuttle and baked until crispy. The end result is absolutely moreish, and chances are you'll be eating them by the fistful! Try them dipped in some fiery Stonefalls-style chili-scuttle sauce for a grownup version of this treat!

Imperials

In Cyrodiil, children traditionally enjoy a balance of sweet and savoury snacks, such as roasted nuts, honey-basted jerky, frozen fruit, and all sorts of baked goods. One of the most popular hits with Imperial kids is a scoop of frozen fruit-based yoghurt (usually berry or stone fruit) that's served in a wafer cone. Sometimes it's topped with fresh or frozen fruit, or a dusting of chocolate chips. It's especially good on a hot day!

Khajiit

Kittens in Elsweyr get a taste for moon sugar early in life, especially when mixed with milk. As such, milk-based desserts and meals are at the forefront of every growing Khajiit's diet. One example of this is a creamy, steamed egg and condensed milk pudding, served with a good drizzle of moon sugar syrup. These little ramekin-sized puddings, usually served cold, are too good to resist, and are the undisputed champion of Khajiiti children's desserts. And yes, they come in big portions too.

Nords

The children of Skyrim, even orphans, are looked upon dotingly by most of the population. I remember snack time at the Temple of Mara as a child: in addition to sweetrolls, taffy, and honey nut treats, we also enjoyed delicious, bite-sized cinnamon buns with honey and cinnamon. They were an enormous luxury, and where I got my penchant for baking!

Orcs

Young Orcs have healthy appetites, and their meals and snacks are served in big portions to make sure they grow up right! One traditional snack that's always popular among the kids (especially those with growing tusks) is mammoth or echatere jerky. The meat is seasoned with spices, smoked, and dried, until chewy but supple...most of the time. I've had echatere jerky that was so hard I nearly broke a tooth once, but it was of course not a problem for the Stronghold youngsters.

Redguards

The Alik'r is a place where you grow up rugged, and even the wealthiest Redguards prepare for a life of harsh sun and sands. Children therefore have a special place in their hearts, and get plied with treats like sugar dumplings. These little parcels of glutinous rice dough are filled with an exploding coconut sugar syrup centre, and are rolled either in dried coconut or powdered sugar. A choking hazard to be sure, but life in Hammerfell is dangerous after all!

[bloodied-hunters]

Dragon Age Origins characters as dnd classes. Gonna probably make this a series. This’ll exclude the player character warden since they can be anything the player wants them to be. This has been edited.

Alistair- Half elf paladin. I would’ve chosen fighter but Grey Wardens (and also templars) come off as paladins to me. Also, there’s a reason he’s a half elf. If you know, you know.

Morrigan- Someone replied with her being a multi class of Druid/archfey warlock.

Leliana- I want to say bard because obvious but also rogue who has the assassin route. Sooooo, bard with points in assassin rogue. Also, she’s a human.

Sten- Goliath fighter. I would’ve added the three options of half orc, tiefling or Dragonborn like Iron Bull, but unlike Bull, sten has no horns.

Zevran- Someone said in the hashtags that he could either be rogue fighter or rogue ranger for the dual wielding. Also, gets nat 1’s on all his lockpicking rolls while Leliana gets nat 20’s on hers. Though I’m unsure what kind of elf he’d be since dnd has multiple kinds. I’m just going to say High Elf but he could probably also be a dark elf.

Wynne- In Dragon Age, healing spells and sorcery are the same. In dnd, they’re not. So, she’d be a human cleric.

Oghern- Dwarven bear totem barbarian.

Shale- Warforge barbarian that for some reason uses her fists.

Dog- a war dog and good boy.

Bonus:

Loghain-Human fighter.

Edit: Since I had some tell me, I’m changing some of the characters (this isn’t meant to sound mean. I’m glad y’all gave some of your opinions). Also, added Loghain since I forgot him.

[centaurianthropology]

Far-Too-Specific Predictions for Critical Role C3 that will Absolutely be Wrong (but I like)

Setting and Flavor

I would love to see a group of veterans after a massive war that left both sides devastated.  Matt likes to play with difficult moral conundrums, and a setting where two warring parties both came off poorly, and now they’re both limping through a reconstruction could be really interesting for a long-play game. I would also really like to see both sides of the conflict represented in the group.  The one thing I wanted to see more of in campaign 2 was a native Xorhasian perspective in the group (aside from Essek, who wasn’t a PC).  I’m placing this as post-major Dynasty/Empire conflict at some point in the future, so it would be the same geographical setting as campaign 2, but time skipped enough that we don’t really have a ton of recurring characters.  Cameos from the longer-lived Campaign 2 characters are still possible, though.

Player characters

These predictions are based on my perception of player preferences, interesting roleplay opportunities, and focusing on things that the players seem interested in but haven’t been able to explore yet.  I have also built prior relationships, because I loved having PCs come in with relationships to build the group on and give early opportunities for trust and character building:

 Travis: Human Cleric (Order), with possible multi-class Fighter (Battle master). I would love to lean into a tactical, Imperial battle-commander type character for Travis, who can hit, but leans more support.  I also would love to see him play a cleric with wavering faith in how he used to believe and practice.  He has seen too much of war, too much of dying, to be overly-devoted to a single law or side, and is on an active quest of faith to find a higher sense of order and morality.  He maybe left the army in disgrace, or went AWOL, but either way he is persona non grata on his former side of the war, with only one ally having followed him into exile.  Prior relationship: Ashley’s fighter.  When he went AWOL or was driven into exile, she was the only soldier who followed him. He struggles with his choices and his faith, and she acts as his rock and has become far more of an equal because of that.

Ashley: Warforged Fighter (echo knight).  Ashley loves a straightforward fighter, so I wanted to give her something without complex rules to stress her out, but one that still has some really interesting flavor and possibilities once she gets into the groove.  Echo knight is ideal, because it’s not a hard subclass to play, but it can be seriously fun.  I like the idea that her character was built as an answer to Xorhasian dunamancy, to double herself and fight as two.  As she evolved and became less a machine and more a person, she became more and more attached to her commander rather than blind patriotism, to the point that when he left, she went with him.  Prior relationship: Travis’ cleric.  He was her commander, and she still tends to act as his soldier, despite his wavering faith. She followed him when he lost faith, and she continues to be the one who follows and believes in him.

Laura: Full Orc Barbarian (wild magic).  Laura loves to hit things, and has clearly wanted to play a hardcore tank for a while. I want her to be able to wade into any fight and tank a ton of damage, and full orc and barbarian both play into that. I figure her character would be Xorhasian, was a soldier for a while, but could never fit in because of her taste for wild magic and her chaotic nature.  Having her be a full orc would also allow her to explore playing a character who can’t be traditionally sexy, which would be a fun change from Vex and Jester. I see her as someone who rapidly went AWOL from the army, and is generally unaligned and doesn’t want to think about the war or what it did to her country or her people, and wallows in wild magic to avoid it.  Maybe she went to the Menagerie Coast during the war to get away from the fighting and dive deeper into her path, at which point she met Sam’s character.  Prior relationship: Sam’s sorcerer, as they walk the same path.  They share a faith, and that drew them together before the campaign, and they’re chaotic, happy best friends.

Sam: Satyr Sorcerer (wild magic).  Doubling up wild magic would be nuts, but would allow Sam and Laura to play with some crazy combos in roleplay and in combat.  Sam loves unpredictability, and so I could really see him leaning into the dice roll and relishing when things go wrong as a wild magic sorcerer.  Satyr would also lean into this chaotic bent, and would stack well with the charisma-based sorcerer build.  I see him as being from the Menagerie Coast, unaligned in the war, but touched by it somehow (possibly lost someone / his home / etc to the fighting?).  He and Laura’s character met due to their mutual inclination and tie to wild magic, and are very close friends who have tried to spend the entire war pretending there isn’t a war.  Prior relationship: Laura’s barbarian.  They are on the same wild path, but perhaps have different connections to it or opinions about it to give them different flavors and different approaches to the same chaos.

Marisha: Yuan-ti Pureblood Rogue (swashbuckler).  Let Marisha play high charisma!  Let her play a pirate!  I would love to see a snake-y pirate lady, unaffiliated with everything, acting as a sarcastic outside observer.  I would love to see her lean into snark and the scoundrel-with-a-heart-of-gold archetype, especially in a race than is stereotyped as evil.  Maybe she’s getting out of the pirate’s life, or did something horrific that riddles her with guilt that she covers with snark.  I would just love to have her get a dark, but non-political backstory.  Prior relationship: None.  She is a wildcard character, deliberately.  She comes in and adds a very different flavor and perspective, and as such, probably shouldn’t have a relationship with any of the other characters.

Liam: High Elf Artificer (artillerist).  Liam’s love of describing his spells’ mechanics in C2 was what inspired this. I think he would enjoy being an inventor steeped in tragedy, possibly as someone who invented a weapon of mass destruction for the Empire, and still wants to believe in his homeland, despite what he did and what they did.  Give me Liam as the man who has become death, destroyer of worlds.  It plays into his love of tragedy and redemption, and I am here for that.  Prior relationship: Taliesin’s wizard.  His shame has kept him a hermit, but chance brought Taliesin’s character to him, and he saw Taliesin’s character as a means of redemption or better understanding. Having his closest tie be to someone from the other side would also play into the tragedy of his character.

Taliesin: Drow Wizard (homebrew dunamancer).  Taliesin has always been Matt’s go-to for exploring homebrew content, and introducing dunamancy into C2 was a ton of fun.  I would love to see this get expanded and explored with a Xorhasian dunamancer character PC, and Taliesin has a talent for taking something Matt has played with (Firbolgs, blood hunters, etc.), and making it unique.  He’s definitely the player I could see taking the dunamancer and making him very distinct from Essek and the pre-established notion of what a dunamancer is.  This would also fit with my notion that his character was tightly tied to Dynasty politics, possibly a courtier background, prior to the war, and found himself tied up in it.  I would love to see Taliesin play a character more politically tied to the central story than Caduceus was, as he has a talent for driving plot and being a lynchpin for Matt’s larger plans.  So centering the deep-lore plot on Tal and Liam could be really great.  Prior relationship: Liam’s artificer, though theirs is not a long acquaintance.  They met shortly before the campaign, and though they have a bond, it’s new and somewhat untested.  Not to mention that the combination of an artillerist who built a weapon of mass destruction and a dunamancer make for the potential for some explosive blowouts as secrets get revealed.

[morihaus]

Betrayal

Waves splash against the rocky shores of Betony as a small ship rows into port. The docks of Whitefort town are quiet in the dying light of the evening, busied only by sailors and dockworkers as they fix ships to the moorings and ferry cargo about, hurrying to get their work over with so they might retire for the night. There are few people, and of them, the lone passenger of the sailboat blends into the crowd, steel boots stepping onto the dock, cowl held close around her head.

She keeps her head down, not attracting any attention as she takes a circuitous path around the shipyard, pausing only to spare a glance over her shoulder every now and then. It's not her first time here, and she knows where she is going- the grand Imperial ship affixed to the far dock lies foreboding in the corner of her vision- but even miles from the mainland of High Rock or Hammerfell, she feels eyes all over her, grasping hands reaching out for her. She's walking into a pair of them right now.

It's with this note of fatalism that she climbs aboard the Imperial galley, its captain waits for her at a table on the deck, seated warmly in her fine Skyrim furs. Lady Brisienna Magnessen smiles cordially, cheeks rosy, but not bothered by the winter chill as her visitor is, letting her fair hair curl down her shoulders without hat or hood.

"Agent Delarda," She greets her with a refined tone, coarse Nordic tongue dipped in honey, smoothed and shaped to suit the needs of an inter-provincial operative. "Please, take a seat. Let's conclude this as quickly as possible."

Against her better judgement, the agent sits down. Her amber eyes, sitting in dark circles, peer out at the Nord from under her hood. "They know." She says flatly, her voice quiet and weak for the first words she's spoken in days. "Gothryd, Eadwyre, Athoriki, Gortwog-" She slings her pack down one shoulder and reaches inside, producing several written correspondences. She sets them on the table in front of her, unsealed, slightly crumpled. She looks down at them now, rather than Brisienna. "Even Mannimarco, and the Underking. They know, and they want it. They're making offers now. I'm not sure how long they'll wait for me to make up my mind."

Brisienna takes a letter into her deft hands, unfurling it and scanning it over.

Arduirel- code name Delarda- lets her hands lie limp on the table, numb with cold and nerves.

After a minute or so, the Lady speaks up. "They're making quite the hefty offers for it."

"You believe them?" Arduirel says.

Brisienna looks half-insulted. "No," She shakes her head. "I wouldn't be surprised if any or all of them were lying. All that gold, those artifacts, nothing but bait."

"Should I assume the Emperor was lying as well?" She says curtly, still not meeting her eye.

Brisienna purses her lips some, but reaches over into her own pack, producing a small jewelry box. She places it on the table, turning it to her fellow agent. "The Warlock's Ring, as promised. Feel free to check. I wouldn't lie to you."

Arduirel's ears burn under her hood at that. Still, she reaches forward, unlatching the tiny chest and taking a peek at the ring inside. Gold-banded, covered in ancient runes, inlaid with a dazzling red gemstone. She closes it, satisfied with its authenticity, more or less. She looks back up at Lady Magnessen, who peers expectantly at the elf.

"The Emperor has been planning this reward for some time, Delarda. Your efforts, both here and in years previous, are greatly appreciated." For a moment Arduirel looks and only sees a mouthpiece, a puppet; she wonders whether Uriel said any such thing, whether these words were really his, or mere lip service from the Nord woman. She's sick to her stomach either way, not helped by the gentle rocking of the boat in the harbor.

"...I'm curious. What would the other rulers have done with... the Totem." She asks, quite aware of the fact she's expected to be taking it out by now. She doesn't want to touch it, to let it be seen by anyone. Her whole body feels wired, jittery, as though the other agent were about to make a desperate lunge for her pack.

It doesn't come to pass, though, Lady Magnessen remains seated, glancing down once again at the letters on the table. "Nothing good." She shuffles them around, laying one on top of the other, leafing through the names on the pages and thinking on what she knows of the Illiac's politics. "No doubt Daggerfall, Wayrest, and Sentinel would use the Numidium in their petty war games. Perhaps they would even realize the extent of its capabilities- they could undermine the whole of the Empire with this power." Arduirel feels a chill as she speaks. She wonders what Brisienna knows about Numidium. How much does the Emperor know about Numidium? The Nord frowns as she continues to speculate. "Orsinium would no doubt crush its age-old enemies, claim all of Wrothgar for the Orcs, maybe beyond. I cannot begin to wonder at what nefarious end the King of Worms has in mind... he claims he wants godhood?"

Arduirel gives a shallow nod.

Brisienna shakes her head. "By the Nine, what a travesty that would be..."

"Could that even work?"

"If what we are led to believe about big Numidium is true, it very well could. It could be as easy as it plucking him from this world and placing him high up in the heavens." There's an attempted humor to what she says, but Arduirel can only fight to keep up a veneer of composure.

"Is that what Tiber Septim did?" She blurts out.

Brisienna gives her a judgemental stare. "Is that... what? What are you talking about, Delarda?"

Arduirel clenches her fist, grinding her teeth together for a moment. "I just mean-" She looks out into the horizon, the now black sky meeting the edge of the water. "He became a Divine. He also used the Numidium. Is that related? Is Mannimarco trying to do what he did?"

Without looking, she feels the icy stare of her superior. She lets out a sigh. "Tiber Septim didn't become Talos through some... automaton. He was always Talos-" She trails off, shaking her head. "We can discuss theology when you're back in Cyrodiil, Delarda. You have the Totem, don't you?"

"Yes." She quickly replies.

"Where is it?"

Arduirel looks back at her. Brisienna's face is creased with irritation- she knows a diversion tactic when she sees it, she's starting to wise up to what's going on here.

"What is the Emperor going to do with it?" Arduirel asks.

Brisienna pauses. Arduirel stares and picks her apart with her eyes, trying to figure out what she knows. "That's none of your concern, agent." She replies with a blunt, forceful tone. "Just know that he's the only one who can be trusted with it. These petty kings will rip each other- and the Empire- apart in their bickering, and those undead sorcerers will only do the same. This thing belongs in the hands of an Emperor, a Septim, not some pack of quarreling insubordinates."

Her words hang in the air, burning against Arduirel's ears like the cold night air. Her hands begin to shiver. "The last Septim who got his hands on it..." She furrows her brow, glaring from under her hood at the Nord. "The Underking, he's Zurin Arctus, Tiber Septim's battlemage. He claims to have made the thing- that the Mantella is his heart, and that Septim used the thing to conquer all of Tamriel, to destroy all his opponents, to replace all royals with those who would swear loyalty to him." Brisienna tries to get a word in, but Arduirel plows on ahead. "And when he disagreed with this use of the Numidium, Septim fought with him, and both he and his creation were destroyed." She produces another letter from her person, one she hadn't intended on sharing. "This says that the Blades have been gathering parts of the Numidium for centuries- what is the meaning of this??? To what end does it serve???"

Brisienna leans in with a dour expression. "You take the word of a rotting, undead wizard over mine? Over the word of the Emperor?"

Arduirel stands up with a start, frost crackles in her palm as she glares down at the Nord, who reaches for her blade. "What is he planning!? Why reassemble it?! Why use it now??"

"Delarda, stand down!" Brisienna barks out the order with her sword leveled in the elf's direction. "Think for a second! If you don't relinquish the Totem, you'll be branded as a traitor to the Empire of Tamriel- you'll have one more agency hunting you down, is that what you want!?"

"I am NOT giving you the Totem! I won't let this happen again!" Before Brisienna can even question her, Arduirel shoots an ice spike into her chest. She staggers back as it pierces a rib, she wheels back her sword-arm before another spike finds its way into the hinge of her elbow, icing the joint over and sinking deep into her tissue. She cries out in pain before Arduirel charges into her, bashing her off the side of the ship with a forceful elbow to her collar.

The Nord falls into the icy water, right arm stiff and inflexible, lungs pierced by a spike through her ribs. She cries out at Arduirel- "YOU CANNOT DO THIS!" But a torrent of frost is already firing down at her, freezing the water she's fighting against, encasing her in a thick sheet of ice. Her body temperature drops rapidly, she trembles and struggles as her muscles grow stiff and weak.

The small block of ice containing her body floats out into sea. The Agent absconds with the Warlock's Ring and the Totem, forcing her way through the confused crowd and boarding someone else's ship, pushing it out to sea with the force of her magic, arrows from the guards loosing in her wake as they piece together that she had something to do with this.

It doesn't matter. The Emperor will not get the Totem. As soon as she's out of sight from the isle, she makes course for the east, for Hammerfell, as a traitor to the Empire. Her true colors are finally revealed. It's exhilarating. It's sickening. It's the only way to avoid another Summurset.

[ofcowardiceandkings]

UH WHOA not only am i posting art but theres so much of it lmfao

ive been meaning to do this for mmmm a long time, and i decided to get it cleaned up so i can present folks with my homebrew/headcanon/thingy for the d&d playable races !! i know ive missed a few off but these are ones ive seen more of over all in my own travels in Nerd Game lol

ive only DMed one thing so far (our lost mines of phandelver adventure was a total blast but oh boy the shenanigans) but im like ... drowning in it all, have been for a loooonng time since i first played Neverwinter Nights when i was like 11, i just didnt have a party to mess with yet lmao (fingers crossed our schedules get sorted so the campaign goes ahead soooooonnn).. so ive been developing some of these various homebrewy headcanons for uh over half my life

getting them all together in one place like this was unbelievably fun !!

gonna yell under the cut for a bit about it more but very shortly i’ll be opening for d&d character / item / creature commissions so watch this space or pop me a message to get in a queue <3

these headcanon things are half based on “that looks cool” and Sciencing. a lot of the more humanoid in some way races ive really pulled on human ancestors a lot, as well as muscle development in different sports. And Animals, because ye

i haven’t included humans in this mammoth endeavour because we should all know what a Human People looks like, and their proportions aren’t any different in the world of D&D i run at least lol similarly, because they’re an exact intersection between humans & either elves or orcs, the half-species arent included on here either [shrugs] i WILL talk about them some here though !!

i might eventually update this with some npc generators ive made using my own descriptors and headcanons >.>

ELVES av height; 5′6 | heads-high; 8.5 generally long limbed, with fine wispy hair, elves senses are very heightened. helping in this, their eyes are almond-shaped with slightly narrow pupils, their large radar-like ears are very mobile, and the underside of their noses are covered in a lightly damp pitted leather. part of their ability to maintain grace with an elongated frame, aside from longer springy feet, is aided by a tail built somewhat like a horse, with a skirt of hair down its length, only with a slightly longer bone to it than would be seen in the typical pony. excepting a very light dusting on their lower limbs, they typically have very little body hair. sometimes their skin shimmers, or freckles sparkle.

GNOME av height; 3′6 | heads-high; 6.5  gnomes are almost like diminutive elves with a few key differences. their hair tends to be wild if left alone, but is often styled wildly anyway. set rather low on rounded but long faces, their large almond eyes are keen, and small hands very nimble. it’s not sure if its due to their close environments or frequent encounters with accidents in experiments, but their skulls are surprisingly hard, and they possess small horn nubs made of bone and coated in keratin. their small petal-shaped ears are set low and point outward, and are able to move a little to catch sound. they may look fragile due to their size and build but they are pretty hardy and more than capable.

HALFLING av height; 3′ | heads-high; 6 a very hardy but soft and welcoming folk, halflings are built for walking and surviving well, often coming from a semi-nomadic tradition. they typically have round faces with stronger jaws and soft round eyes, and their large ears are pointed upright. their figures easily get a little curved and chubby, especially when they have easy access to decent food, in preparation for harder times and the odd period of hunkering down for some downtime, say in poor weather. truly the most functional part of a halfling is their short powerful legs with big fairly flexible hard feet, and lion-like tail for balance, both insulated by hair.

DWARF av height; 4′3 | heads-high; 6.5 dwarves are accustomed to life in tougher terrain, typically with large parts spent in the ground. their broad frames are also squat down with thick short limbs, for huge power and for life in tunnels. wide feet keep them steady and sensitive to significant seismic energy in the earth, and wide hands aid in their work and the feel of the rock. their large round ears stick outward and are slightly mobile, large noses help condition the air, and high-set eyes with huge irises aid their vision in darker spaces and the ability to peek over things without being fully exposed. their skulls are also very thick just in case of falling rocks. all dwarves are very hairy and grow beards, taking pride in keeping and styling it.

GOLIATH av height; 7′6 | heads-high; 10 a totally different variety of rock & mountain people to dwarves, they do share a few traits. a goliath’s thick limbs are long with a big reach and huge stride, with big hands and feet for steady movement. as well as being hugely tall, they are broad, especially in their shoulders, with a long neck elevating their head further. their facial features tend to be very sharp, but long. they have little to no body hair, and they often dont grow head hair either, but decorate their skulls with tattoos. as they get older, the upper surfaces of their body develop pebble like growths under the skin, often in similar patterns to their habitats.

FIRBOLG av height; 7′6 | heads high; 9 firbolg typically live in deep forests but are actually a giantkin - although not too unbelievable given their huge height and thick build. large parts of their body are hairy, nearly furry, and their head hair is thick and wild, and they often have facial hair too. their large heads have long thick noses with an almost bovine leather to their top lips, and wide set eyes. their fluffy ears are very mobile, but when relaxed they drop and point downward. their nails are thick and sturdy, aiding in being even more dexterous while being so big. sometimes they are covered in layers of clothing, but they possess a tiny goat-like tail.

DRAGONBORN av height; 6′6 | heads-high; 8 dragonborns diverged from true dragons in the ancient past, likely due to a strong magical influence of some kind, but not so long ago that the bloodlines of dragons are absent from the race of dragonborn. (the illustration shows the typical head-shape and placement of ears, each bloodline has its own features). their chest is still very round like an animal, with deep chest muscles, a slightly less mobile shoulder, and short upper arm. their 4 clawed hands and feet somewhat resemble that of a true dragon, but smaller and a little less dangerous. the length of a dragonborn’s tail can vary from just the length from hips to floor, or up to their full height, and as well as being very useful for balance and dexterity, can be used for fighting. different bloodlines can interbreed, with it being a matter of chance which line is present in offspring (although metallic is more dominant over gemstone, and chromatic over both ... (ah yeah gemstone, ill get to that soon))

AARAKOCRA av height; 5′ | heads-high; 8.5 as an avian species, especially one capable of flight, the aarakocra’s bones are hollow, making them on the one hand very agile but a little fragile. their large wingspan nearly brushes the floor, and their wings attach high on their back, through to a deep avian keel. their arms have a long forearm, which is covered in bird-like scutes, and their 4 clawed hands are still remarkably talon like which quite short palms and very mobile thumbs. their legs are very long and powerful, and backed by a typically wedge shaped tail. more often than not, their physical appearance takes after raptor species of birds, but different populations can trend towards many different appearances, including parrots and waterfowl.

TABAXI av height; 6′6 | heads-high; 9 tabaxi are an unusual sight in many places still. their cat-like bodies are very flexible and suited to their athletic climbing lifestyle. their long hands and feet have very a powerful grip, and they can retract their front claws. their long feline face is something like a cheetah or a clouded-leopard, with large highly mobile ears, large eyes and a strong nose. 

ORC

av height; 6′6 | heads-high; 8

orcs are very powerfully build, with heavy muscles and thick bodies overall. compared to other humanoids they can look a little gorilla-like. their short legs are usually a little bent to carry weight better instead of busting knees when locked. their course wiry hair grows profusely all over their body. their strong nails often grow out a little pointed. their large thick heads have high heavy brows and protruding lower jaws, short round noses and low bud-shaped ears which stick outward. the lower jaw and sometimes upper contain tusks, sometimes multiple tusks, which are greatly cared for and very impressive.

HALF-ELVES av height; 5′6 | heads-high; 8.25 a half-elf’s build will be somewhere between human and elf, often inheriting something of an elf’s eyes and nose leather, shorter elf ears, and maybe a small tufted tail something like a rabbits

HALF-ORCS av height; 6′ | heads-high; 8 a half-orc’s build will be somewhere between human and elf, often inheriting something of an orc’s skin colour and dark and profuse wiry hair, shorter orc ears, and some small tusks.

GOBLIN av height; 4′ (stood straight) | heads high; 5.5 bat/cat-like ears, nose something like bear/cat, domed head, arms/legs same length, sparse wiry hair, claws, short digits, lithe but very strong and hardy

HOBGOBLIN av height; 5′3 (stood straight) | heads high; 8 bat/cat-like ears but pinched at the base, nose something like bear/cat, very domed head, arms slightly longer than legs, claws, sparse wiry hair, quite broad

BUGBEAR av height; 7′ (stood straight) | heads high; 7.5 bat-like ears, long domed head something like a lion/bear, arms very long, nearly totally covered in thick fur, big tusks and often fangs, very bear-like hands/feet, big claws, very broad

TRITON av height; 5′2 | heads high; 7.5 lithe but well muscled, quite streamlined for a humanoid, frilled ears, pretty flat face, fins on limbs/back, “hair” is tendrils/fins/etc, short strong legs & long arms, long webbed fingers, long flipper feet, gills along front/side of chest

YUAN-TI PUREBLOOD av height; 5′9 | heads high; 9 domed angular faces, lips are not humanoid, triangular eyes, scales, quite flat nostrils with sense pits following along underside cheekbones, very little cartilage in ear, some may have cobra hoods extending out of ear instead, very tall and thin with small hands/feet, reptilian claws

CENTAUR av height; 7′ | heads high; 10 fairly stocky pony body (usually about 4′10 at withers), very muscled front end, long neck & sloping human-shoulders, long faces with long broad noses, prominent lips, horse-like ears sticking up and out, their whole scalp can grow hair but shaved sides are common, can grow hair nearly all down human-spine

KOBOLD av height; 2′6 | heads high; 5.5 almost alligator-like head & eyes, tiny nub horns, quite animal-like chest, arms/legs same length, thick stubby tail same length of body, 4 digits with stubby claws, lithe but strong for their tiny size

KENKU av height; 4′ | heads high; 5.5 corvid features, deep chest but no keel, longer arms than legs, 4 digits with talons, hands human-like but scaled, wedge-like tail half of leg height, not-quite fully bird feet.

LIZARDFOLK av height; 6′6 | heads high; 7 iguana-like, egg-shaped head, neck wattle, line of back spines varies in height, long arms and legs, very reptilian hands and feet with long claws, elbow spikes

GRUNG av height; 3′ | heads high; 6.5 large heads, neck leads nearly directly into torso, super flexible, very long limbs, triangular body, short upper arm, shorter thigh, large hands/feet, 4 digits

LOXODON av height; 7′6 | heads high; 5.5 large head, trunk as long as torso, short legs / long arms, huge bones under thick muscle, thick skin, 4 digits with thick nails, large hands / rounded cushioned feet, v e r y broad and thick build, small tail with tuft at the end, 

TORTLE av height; 7′6 | heads-high; 7 thick wrinkled skin encased in huge shell, stooping posture with neck extending forward, very long arms & short legs, 5 digits with reptilian claws, boxy head, heart shaped from above with features set far forward, tail to balance stoop

MINOTAUR av height; 7′ | heads-high; 9 powerful build with thick bones, typically well muscled, bovine head on thick neck, often very large horns, fairly long tufted tail, big hooved feet, broad 4 digit hands with thick nails, hair length varies

PLANE THINGS ???

listen this was a lot easier in the edition i first encountered lol anyway, until anything else comes up in extra material im just applying a few square & rectangle venn diagram rules

a useful word; planetouched. i dont really know why WotC seems to have dropped that term for at least 5e (i missed 4e entirely) but it refers to a “mortal native outsider” with lineage or influence from a plane other than the material, so “a material plane native creature with non-native plane influence, which can die”

GENASI height depends on material plane parent the result of a material plane / elemental pair (usually genies). they usually take after their material parent in build and broader features, but their elemental heritage comes through in features like magical hair, bright coloured eyes, unusual body temperatures, innate magics, etc.  genasi can interbreed with themselves, and the crossing of two elements can produce some interesting results (im working on that :>)

TIEFLINGS height depends on material plane parents this is the first of the squares & rectangles, and tbh its basically canonical. a tiefling is the result of a material plane humanoid being born with fiendish* influence. the word ‘tiefling’ refers specifically to a human with fiendish influence, but is also an umbrella term for ALL fiendish planetouched creatures. these DO have some names mentioned in the play material ! fey’ri = elves, tanarukk = orcs, wisplings = halflings, maeluth = dwarves, etc. so all fiendish planetouched are tieflings, but not all tieflings are human-based. the fiendish influence can be dormant for years or just string along for decades. AnyWay, all of them have horns, most have tails, odd skin or eye colour, and others can have all sorts of extraplanar features. *(fiends are another venn diagram thing in D&D, its an umbrella term for both demons and devils) 

AASIMAR height depends on material plane parents aaand this is the second of the squares & rectangles, the not-strictly-canon one. okay duplicate what i said about tieflings, but make it about celestials not fiends, basically lmao. aasimar is an umbrella term, but also a human/celestial planetouched specifically! unlike the above, since its my homebrew concept i dont have other words specifically for other races’ celestial planetouched, but i’ll get there watch this space lol EnyHoo, they all tend to have a strange glow about them in general, but usually in their eyes, and maybe hair especially. it isnt uncommon for them to have a kind of halo around themselves, or glowing glyphs/runes/sigils on or around them either. while MOST dont have full wings, a dusting of feathers isnt unusual. the features of celestials can vary a lot more. for example, unicorns and leonals are actually celestials!

aaand the slightly odd-ball;

WARFORGED height depends on build purpose these are an interesting case, as warforged are actually constructs, brought into this world by the fusing of organic muscle (like wood or leathery material) to an inorganic shell (like stone or metal), imbuing a life-giving fluid of some sort to act like blood, and bringing life to it by a powerful ritual - a unique glyph etched into their heads. as their name suggests they are usually created to become soldiers, or other army positions, although they could be suited to other purposes. unlike most constructs, they are fully self-aware and have a mind on par with humans. they do not need sleep (but require rest) and they also do not naturally reproduce. if they live longer than their purpose, then they are turned loose to deal with the world as they wish. as they are MADE they can vary greatly depending on who made them, and for what exact purpose - although they tend to have beak-like mouths, and 3 digit hands and 2 toed feet.

AV. HEIGHT CHART FROM LEFT TO RIGHT !!! human - elf - dwarf - gnome - halfling - orc - goliath - firbolg - dragonborn - aarakocra - tabaxi - kenku - hobgoblin - bugbear - yuanti - triton - kobold - grung - lizardfolk - tortle - centaur - minotaur - loxodon

oooboy that was a lot of waffle :L

[athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit]

Getting back at writing, is, well, hard. My grammar and vocabulary and basically everything is messed up so I apologize in advance for that. It's been, almost a year ever since my last written fic. That time I was still crazy with Kimetsu no Yaiba and the KyoTan ship. I'll post it some other time ^^.

Anyways, I present to you my attempt in making a plotted work from a random thought that came over me this morning.

Pairing: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Human OC/Reader)

Warnings: Basically none. Except for some curse words.

UD 01/10/21: Cleaned and revised some parts! Tried my best, hope it was enough.

•

Of Ice and Blood

Part 1

Quick backstory and some details I left out in the main work.

It was in summer, 28th of July, when Pearl Blackbell turned 19. She left her home and moved closer to the university she’ll be going to. She rented an apartment about five blocks from the school. Albeit small, it was cozy and proper, having what she needed: a kitchen, a decent-sized bedroom, a small living area with a worn but comfy couch, and a bathroom.

When she was younger, her parents started training her in martial arts and the use self-defense weapons. They needed to make sure she knew how to protect herself against assaulters and dangerous people, she was after all, their only child and baby girl . They want their daughter to be strong, both inside and outside, by the time she sets out on her own and leaves home.

Her favorite self-defense weapon was brass knuckles, despite her parents’ protests. She enjoys punching nasty people and feel the crunch of their bones beneath her fists, especially racists, sexists, bullies, and the lot. The main reason why she got into detention multiple times.

Painting it with a ruddy color, she keeps it in her person, no matter where she goes. She has two, one is for extreme situations, while the other has only two knuckles. It stills maximizes the damage dealt but it is relatively less dangerous than the full dusters. The second one is usually a spare, though she rarely uses it.

She also occasionally carries a pair of retractable nunchucks, which she designed to be hidden within her regular baggy clothes. Her father had trained her vigorously with them and she even bested him in a match before she left for the city.

Selkoth, the city of marvels.

Distant sounds of buzzing cars reached my ears as I opened my eyes and blinked away the sleepiness, the light shining from the spaces in my curtains rather helping, together with the warmth it brought to my chilled tawny skin.

[Start of the actual work]

I fully woke up as I registered the sound of my phone alarm, shortly getting up to prepare when I realized what day it was.

Monday, the first day of my college life.

I stepped into the bathroom and took a quick shower, knowing I bathed thoroughly last night to save some time today.

Time management is key.

I dried myself down, turned to my closet and started putting on the outfit I picked out the night before.

Prioritizing comfortability over appearance, I wore my favorite orange cotton shirt, my blackish-blue hoodie (that had been stained with blood some time ago, but don’t worry, I know how to clean out blood. Mama raised no fool.) over it, together with a pair of black skinny jeans. And of course, tight black sports bra and boxers, even mentioning my underwear yes?

I looked over to my mirror and it was—

Simple. And I loved it. The more simple it is the better.

'“Keep a low profile over there, sweetie. Don’t get into fights when you can help it okay??? We already taught you and prepared you to the best of our abilities. Promise to us that you’ll stay safe, and healthy. Okay? And don’t forget to call sometime.”' I sighed, remembering my mother’s words.

"Yes mama, I will.”

With a smile, I did my hair and went for a tight Dutch braid, it going down between my shoulder blades and ending a little above my waist. I ran to my kitchen to eat breakfast, satisfied with my look.

I eat fast okay

Backpack, check. White sneakers, check. Phone and keys, check. Airpods on, playlist shuffled, I bolted out of my apartment and jogged all 50 blocks to school.

Exercise is always important, and what other way to utilize time for exercising than to do it while heading to your destination, right?

I snickered.

As I made my way to the university, I saw bizarre creatures and monsters of different sizes, coexisting, and interacting with humans. Even so, I noticed other people’s disdain and bitterness towards them when I passed by. My nose is awfully sensitive to scents that sometimes the ones their body releases tells me what they feel at the moment. It’s all science, I guess. I was made extra susceptible to these, so I wear a mask everywhere and every time I go out just to partly block most of the smells.

My first day at a university open to everyone across the country gets my blood pumping with excitement. To think that I’m going to study at Ernestine State University, the Ernestine State University!

I first heard about the uni back when I was a child. News broke out about Victor Ernestine, committing suicide by driving his car off a cliff because he couldn’t accept that his daughter was one of the major leaders who made the unity of all people, of all races, possible.

Dramatic.

Months after Mr. Ernestine died, all his properties and riches were passed down to her daughter, who took over as the new founder of the university and rebuilt it to accommodate everyone, no matter the size and shape.

The strictly all-human school, renovated, reshaped, and repurposed, was now the first university to open its gates to everyone in the country of Yundomia.

I’ve always yearned to get to know other species in this world. I didn’t get the chance previously because my parents sent me to an all-human, local high school. Which sucks. I hated how everyone had a certain hatred for the other races, especially orcs. They keep talking about how they are wild beasts and savages that aren’t meant to be in society.

They treated them like animals that are void of emotions and intelligence.

Come to think of it, I mostly fought with humans who were either racist, bullies, bastards trying to hit on me, or a mix of all of them together.

I chuckled, remembering how many times I got counseled on not punching people in the face.

High school was pure torture, being a human-exclusive campus making it worse, considering how everybody smells so horrible and the principal was an egoistic dumbass I was a hair away from gutting him. My poor nose.

But now I’m done with that! I’m starting anew in this school, in this city. Perhaps make some friends along the way.

Which is kinda problematic.

I’m not the social type. I tend to keep things to myself and hardly open up to anybody. I wanna make at least one friend that isn’t human! Or just, one good friend. I didn’t have or made any friends in the past since people tend to shun me out just because I can tell how they are feeling and find it creepy.

Or they’re afraid to get punched in the face.

Entering the campus gates was like stepping into another world. I was met with the sight of humans and monsters walking together and conversing! It was nice, and I don’t get to see this much often.

I walked around and took in the landscape of the campus. It was huge! And beautifully designed to have a great number of trees and plants, while also having space more than enough to accommodate every student going to their respective classrooms.

I was minding my own business and it was all serene, until some bastards pushed past through me and knocking me to the side. I stumbled but didn’t fall. I was gonna say something, but I shut my mouth. I didn’t want to cause any trouble on the first day for goodness’ sake. So I brushed it off and went straight to the gym for the orientation.

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

The orientation was, intriguing. The dean seems nice, though I couldn't smell him from where I sat. There's also a student council made up of both humans and monsters which is a good sign. The student council president was a Minotaur with a dark brown coat and horns curving front and pointing up. The vice-president was a male student who looked decent enough. The secretary was an elf. The treasurer, a dwarf. And the rest were humans. I couldn't scent any of them to tell me what they were feeling at the moment, but the Minotaur looked uncomfortable, his hands behind his back, body going stiff when they were introduced to the freshmen. There was a larger numbr of humans than monsters, which was expected. I also noticed how both were grouped, a white line in the middle of the gym separating us from them.

Maybe to avoid any misunderstandings?

We were informed that today will be for introductions to your classmates and subject teachers so there will be no lessons at all. Hooray!

I was walking to my first classroom when a damned familiar smell attacked my nose. I stopped to stand for a moment and adjusted my mask. I looked around to spot the one emitting it and of course, saw a human. He looked, well, the typical playboy cool boy who used too much body spray on himself.

Not wanting to stand there like an idiot and prolong my suffering, I speed walk to my classroom and planned to sit at the back hoping no one would notice or ask why I’m wearing a mask.

That's always what they ask first. Not my name or how I was doing.

I expected to find no one inside since it was still early, but I was startled to see a massive orc sitting at the back looking out at the window. He was wearing a dark gray knitted sweater that was hugging his hulking frame very…well. Along with what looked like thick cargo pants and black boots.

He turned to look at me when I let out a small yelp, greeting me with his piercing, blue eyes.

Beautiful.

The orc had long, braided, jet-black locks. Two of them had distinct beads that trailed down from the side of his face and down to his chest, the rest of his hair behind him braided with intricacy and tied and ended halfway down his back.

I was pushed out of my trance when a person entered and crashed into me, swearing under my breath that it was intentional, nearly making me plant face-first on the trash bins if I hadn’t changed my footing at the last moment.

“Watch it, bitch, you’re gonna ruin my make-up,” she snapped.

Wow. She dared to call me that and not apologize like I’m the one who shoved her. Just wow. Usually at this point, I would have planted her face on the floor, but I stopped myself.

Low profile! Low profile Pearl! You’re in college now! You definitely don’t want to get suspended on the first fucking day of class now do you?? Keep it together.

Straightening up, I walked towards the back and sat beside the orc. Whose gaze fell on me, curious, when I wasn’t looking.

I made myself settled in my seat before the professor came in.

There were other races in my class. A blue tiefling sat three rows in front, wearing a casual outfit. A black-haired elf who looked and dressed clever, a row away. A cute pink pixie on my far right. A satyr wearing glasses, two seats in front of me, and a female lizardfolk a seat from of the pixie.

"Are you...alright?"

I almost jumped from my seat when the orc beside me spoke. I couldn’t help but admire how deep his voice was. I tried not to appear flustered, my mask helped with that.

“Uh…yes?”

The orc regarded me for a second before continuing.

“You were pushed earlier.”

Oh. He saw that?

“Oh, yeah, I’m okay.” I smiled at him. Then I remembered he can’t see my face. But I hoped the crinkling of my eyes gave it away.

“I’m Pearl, by the way.” I reached out my hand to him, socializing not my best suit but at least I tried.

He paused for a second before taking it into his bigger one, engulfing mine and shook it slowly. I was again, surprised by how gentle he was.

“Tai'chi.”

Interesting.

“Nice to meet you, Tai'chi.”

He lets go of my hand when the professor started talking up front.

“Nice to meet you too, Pearl."

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

Thoughts? I am wide open for constructive criticism :D

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Check pinned post for latest chapter updates💕

[abeautifuldayfortea]

Storm

Summary: For the lovely @ladylouoflothlorien who requested this, I hope you enjoy! A/N and timeline for this story is below the story. Reader is an elf child from Celebrian’s escort travelling from Imladris to Lothlorien in TA 2509. For context, Osgiliath was lost in TA 2475. Quote in italics from Unfinished Tales, JRR Tolkien.

Hi hon, could I please request something with Saruman & Reader where the reader was rescued by him as a child and has been raised by him. Something a little angsty where they’re watching his descent into madness and serving the dark lord. Maybe he tries to hide what’s going on from them but they were raised smart and it’s not exactly difficult to figure out. I think this definitely calls for some(?) angst but as for where the loyalties and morality of the reader lie by the end of it is completely up to you. I just saw you were interested in writing for Saruman and this popped into my head, which is strange because I haven’t written anything like this before!!

Words: 1380

From his window in Orthanc, Saruman watched with calculated interest as a lone figure rode hard, out of the safety of Isengard, shrinking and disappearing altogether as they turned behind the feet of the mountains. It was for the north that they rode, onwards toward Imladris and Doriath, seeking Radaghast with his message, and in time they would return, bearing news to him from distant lands. Something about the child had changed irrevocably and though they tried to conceal from him its nature, he could sense their mind had altered from the course that he had set it on. Even the firm persuasion of his voice could not fully ease their troubles.

Making fully sure they were out of view, he sat smoking in thoughtful silence within the privacy of his chambers. Never before had he reason to doubt their will or their capability ere the shadow of Sauron had taken up his mantle in Barad Dur. Yet now, his faith in them wavered for he saw within them a growing doubt, no more than a flicker, but what he was sure would in time grow to a fire that would consume them both. This he feared beyond all else and though he knew it was wise to dispose of them, his heart refused and reminded him of a simpler time, if ever there was one.

Beyond the whistling despair that painted the skirmish he had found them by  the gaping mouth of the Redhorn Pass as he journeyed south to the new capital of Minas Tirith to proffer advice. His absence had cost the Gondorians dearly and thirty years on, the sacking of Osgiliath still marred the hearts of many like a suffocating tar. They needed guidance and he would be the one to give it.

But there, at the Redhorn Pass he sensed the biting sharpness of a greater grief and fear. Overhead, the looming shadow of Caradhras cast itself, breathing its chill on the very ground at its roots like the beckoning onset of winter.

The hewn earth. The song of the mountains echoing down the channels. The iron tang of blood on the wind. A memory came to him then on the same winds, a time long ago, far away and hazy as though he stood on the other side of a frosted window, intruding on something that was both intimate and distant. The shaping of iron, the forging of rings and a young man with dark hair and his master by his side. His name was Curunír then.

The vision awoke with him a great unquenchable desire for a past he could not quite remember and yet he yearned for every ounce of it, but as he did, it faded and however hard Saruman pursued it, he could grasp at nothing but a frosty wind. Before his feet lay the scattered bodies of elves, the battered standard of Imladris laying torn … and something else. The bated breath of a child. He was watched.

Saruman turned then beyond the violence and bloodshed, and toward a copse of shivering young oak trees. An elf child. Young but not quite naïve. Impressionable still. His eyes lit.

He remembered with sour hatred the founding of the White Council and Gandalf. His endearment with the hobbit people of the north and though he had mocked him then, he understood now what bound him so tightly to that merry folk. And while his heart went out to the child, he was struck with the bitter undercurrent of jealousy for Gandalf’s hobbit folk. He would take them under his wing to forge as his creation. Not as a child of the woodlands but one that would love fire and iron.

“Well, will you not come forth and tell me your name?” His voice was a gentle suggestion, light, guised as an offer but beneath it was a power so compelling that they could not refuse it. And so it was that the child strode forward to meet Saruman without fear or suspicion and gave him their name. And it is told that they were ensnared and spellbound to him, for a person’s name is ever sweet to the ears of the one it belongs to. In Saruman’s face, the child saw the visage of their lifeless father, only older and wiser for that was the veil he assumed to their eyes. Everywhere Saruman went, the child followed, growing tall and lithe like the long shadows of dusk in the even longer march of time. Their sharp eyes were ever watching and learning, for along his many wandering travels, Saruman taught them the secret way of words and to delve beyond them to discern secret thoughts.

By the time Saruman received the Keys of Orthanc, he was just as endeared to his charge as they were to him and it was as though they were molded from his own flesh and blood. To his charge, he spoke openly of preserving the Free Peoples and while they knew of his research of magic rings, he hid from them his truest desire to be recognised and undisputedly powerful. To rule. Yet this they discerned also, for they walked together through many centuries and as the time passed them by, they saw that he strayed from the road he had set himself upon, walking in the murky in-between of good and evil.

It was at the second meeting of the White Council that it was revealed to them, clear as day. There would be no attack upon Dol Guldur despite Gandalf’s protestations. It was unlike him to be careless, to claim the Ring had fallen to the sea, to deny the possibility of Sauron’s return. Saruman was always thorough, and they knew this to be true. Gandalf sat then, silent, smoking and Saruman mocked him as he always had done.

A beat.

It was in the space of a thought that Gandalf passed his gaze over to the elf by Saruman’s side, searching for some unknown thing within their gaze.

Looking keenly at Saruman he drew his pipe and sent out a great ring of smoke with many smaller rings that followed it. Then he put up his hand, as if to grasp them, and they vanished. (Unfinished Tales, Tolkien)

And the moment passed as quickly as though it never happened. The child who was now no longer a child, watched on as the hazy fumes meandered lazily out of his hands and they knew then that they were not mistaken.

Altered and seduced as Saruman’s mind was, his charge remained steadfast by his side, for the love between them was too great, though they grew ever more uneasy at the methods he resorted to. A ring he had crafted and many coloured robes he wrought, but he did not don them. They noticed the long nights Saruman spent secluded within the high chamber of Orthanc, casting his mind this way and that and communing at times with some veiled power that they shuddered to think of. A host of orcs and men arrived at the gates of Isengard and were welcomed. “As I have given you a home, they too shall have theirs” he had said, and he cast such a pitiful look at them that his charge relented. Great pits were delved and filled with fire and it was with despair that the young elf found themselves at the shores of darkness, upon the cusp of a war that should never have been.

And yet now they rode hard to find Radaghast and set his beasts to Saruman’s task. Before them lay the chance to turn away, to divert the course of the coming war. A chance to warn of bloodshed. A chance to stop children being orphaned before their time. In a sleepless dream, they walked in the halls of memory, to a bloody day at the Redhorn Pass, Celebrian’s abduction, the loss of family and the beginning of a new one. A day when a weary traveller came by and took them in as his own child. 

An impossible choice. One that would result in war either way.

They laughed at the folly of it, a peal of bright bells on the air for in the moment for there was nothing they could do but bask in the freedom of clear air with the countless miles between themselves and Isengard. A fair wind danced beside them, masking the foul tang of iron deep beneath the impenetrable tower of Orthanc. Overhead, the stars wheeled as night came and went like the swift kiss of ignorance upon their brow and for a moment in the wan gaze of the moon, everything in the world was as it should be. The knowing silence of the coming storm.

A/N: This was a challenging request (and my first for that matter) and I had much trouble trying to fit in a plausible scenario that matched the original timeline. A goodly amount of research and two weeks worth of fretting over the timeline went into this, but it still feels off :/ and I can’t say that I’m happy with the finished product.

Because the request asked for the Saruman’s descent to evil, the child/reader would need to have a lifespan that would need to stretch for a minimum of 500 years or so. Elves are the only race (bar Tom Bombadil and other strange beings) that has a lifespan matching this and so it is the race that the reader in this story belongs to. Personally, I am of the opinion that elves would take in other orphaned elves and so the scenario from which the child is rescued from must be far enough from the major elf cities to warrant them being raised by Saruman. Hence, I placed them as a part of Celebrian’s escort bound for Lothlorien from Rivendell in the year TA 2509. This small party was ambushed by orcs at the Redhorn Pass (I chose to set the scene at the junction between the Redhorn Pass and the Redhorn Gate because the Pass is described as ‘narrow’ along the cliffs and hence there would not be much room for the reader to hide! The general timeline I used is below:

TA 1000 – Saruman arrives in ME and goes into the east on regular trips

TA 1601 – The Shire settled

TA 2400ish – Saruman returns to the west, discovers Gandalf’s possession of Narya

TA 2463 – White Council formed, Saruman becomes jealous of Gandalf because he is mooted to be head of the council instead of Saruman

TA 2475 – Osgiliath taken

TA 2509 – Celebrian captured

2759 – Saruman gets the keys to Orthanc and settles in Isengard

2851 – 2nd White Council meeting, Gandalf urges attack on dol Guldur, smoke ring incident

[mihidecet]

Sbi&co D&D AU: Friendships and Rivalries

Surprise! Early posting ahahah Simply because I felt like it <3

I do hope you’ll like this! Final chapter before the action really starts, ideally? That is what should happen unless I go off in a tangent ... who knows ahahah

A special thank you to Ranch, Sky and Ozzie from the DnD Discord, who are the people responsible for the last part of the chapter <3

The first time he sees him, it takes him a moment to register who he's looking at. 

To be fair, the amount of people around them is incredibly high, everyone moving in and out of the room to check out who their teammates will be, voices raising in calls and shouts and gleeful yells - so, basically, hell on earth. 

There is nowhere in the world that Techno would want to be any less. If he could leave that instant, he would. But they had decided to accompany Tubbo, Niki and Fundy, who were going to find out the name of their future companion for the next months or so, and it is a very good occasion to scout out the competition. 

So there Techno is, leaning slightly against Phil - not for comfort, why would anyone ever think that - while his eyes scan the crowd, trying to focus on his self-appointed task instead of the uncomfortable feeling rising in his gut.

There are some individuals that he thinks are going to cause problems. The academy students are a given: one may think that lack of outside knowledge and adventuring experience would make them a weak target. Those who think that way have evidently never heard of the academy - which was built and is currently ran by a former adventurer - and have somehow missed the endless training fields just outside the academic buildings. 

But there are also some adventurers that seem to know what they're doing; Phil taps him once or twice to nod towards them. Although to be fair, he doubts that relying only on first impressions is a good thing - their group surely doesn't look like a competent one with Tubbo and Tommy excitedly calling out random names from the board. 

Then, his eyes catch onto green skin. Half-orcs are definitely not that uncommon, especially when in a sea of adventurers, but. It's a half-orc with an axe that seems to be as big as himself, its metal shining over the crowd, helped also by the fact that its owner is definitely taller than average.

So his eyes linger: the signs of Calvin's training are not that evident if you don't know where to look, but Dream has left the nest for so little, and Techno trained with the elf for so long ... It's all in the posture, the almost lazy way he places himself in the world, which highly contrasts with the way his muscles are tense and his shoulders are set. The pretense of relaxation is something that is very dear to Calvin, because it either gets your opponent overly confident, or it makes them extremely irritated and therefore more prone to making mistakes. 

Dream is surely going to be an obstacle in the tournament; him and the short human that's gripping at his arm and shaking it, who'd clad in outfits that resemble almost too closely those of Master Fruitberries. 

Techno lightly elbows Phil's side, distracting him from where he was staring at the row of academics looking down at the groups of adventurers. The druid turns with a small smile, a question in his eyes that is answered when Techno's chin juts out towards the half-orc. 

After a moment - during which Phil's eyes scan the young fighter's form, surely detailing weapons, armour and notable characteristics - he gives a small chuckle.

"So, your infamous rival?" 

Techno huffs, eyes rolling under the hood covering his face - they're not rivals, they were just trained under the same master. There is no sense of rivalry, no feeling of needing to prove himself - certainly not to him, and Calvin hasn't been a part of his life for so long, he doesn't need to confirm the fact that he is definitely better-

His arms cross over his chest without his permission - stupid subconscious movements - and he leans back, further into Phil. He does not care for all … that.

Especially since he has no idea if Dream knows about him - it had seemed so embarrassing to ask Calvin, if he still spoke about "his favourite pupil", "his brightest student", considering how he literally just bailed on him in the middle of the night with no explanation. 

Still, Phil's hand reaches his shoulder, a gentle but firm pressure that forces him to stop curling up into himself while his eyes search him. 

"You're going to be fine. We're going to be fine. We know what we're doing, Jerry." Phil finishes with a chuckle, using for him the fake name they chose to keep their identities hidden. 

It makes Techno snort amusedly, which must have been Phil's objective with the way he's smiling at that moment, but it also eases his worries a little. 

It's just another enemy he'll have to face during the tournament. 

Nothing to worry about.

The first time Dream sees Techno, he doesn't realise it. 

He’s walking to his own team’s training field, talking enthusiastically with Sapnap about their new teammates. He's still reeling from the fact that they'll be teaming up with George: a part of him worrying about the endless hours spent annoying the wizard, hoping it won't get in the way of their teamwork - he doesn't know yet that the two of them were chosen, that George hand picked them from a crowd of endless adventurers. George doesn't plan on telling them, but that is a whole other subject.

Still, Dream sees a colourful group of people lead by what seems to be a young tiefling - eyes narrowing with worry and confusion, because … a child? In the tournament? - and doesn’t take note of the hooded giant whose ear is being talked off by said kid. 

And even if he does, his eyes do not linger: it’s probably another overly-dramatic rogue anyway. 

Nothing to worry about.

That very same morning, Tommy had woken up with a spring in his step. 

Finally they were going to have an actual proper place to train in, for what was basically the first time since he'd joined this group, and he couldn't wait to try it out. He'd spent so much time talking with Techno about their plans, since the shifter had taken it upon himself to do a bit of digging to find out what the tournament was probably going to entail; finally they could put all that planning into motion.

Tommy had, surprisingly, been one of the first people to reach the main downstairs area, snagging a table for the whole team while Techno and Niki grabbed chairs for all of them. The three of them started eating, talking strategy together while the rest of the team slowly trickled downstairs. Some more awake than others, with the notable mention of Tubbo, who had never been a morning person and had therefore plopped down on his chair, head pillowed over his arms as he waited for the mug of coffee that Tommy ordered for him the instant he saw his best friend dragging his feet down the stairs. 

To be fair, everyone in the whole tavern seemed to be a bit sleepy, since they'd all stayed up very late - probably to celebrate the team formation announcement, but adventures rarely needed a proper reason to party. 

The last one to join them had been Fundy, who had half ran down the stairs and almost smacked into a dragonborn on his way to their table - slowing down as he reached them to pretend he hadn't been in a hurry, as if nobody had been watching him stumbling over his feet. 

"Oh, for the love of the gods above, are you still talking about training? What nerds."  The mage had groaned, leaning back into his chair with a chuckle, ignoring the irritated look Tommy sent him. 

"You literally carry around a book that's as heavy as you are!" Tommy protested, gesturing towards the mostly pristine tome half-hidden under the shifter's dark jacket, but Fundy simply waved dismissively at him. 

"Aren't you worried we'll copy your strategies, too? We're supposed to fight against each other!" Fundy commented with a coy look, raising an eyebrow inquisitively towards Tommy as he raised his mug to his lips to take a rather dramatic sip. 

Before Tommy could find a good retort to that, Techno's low voice raised over the gentle chatter of their table. 

"Brave of you to think I don't already know multiple ways of crushing you to the ground." 

The deadpan in Techno's tone, combined with his words, had Fundy instantly choking on his drink - the sound of his coughing covered by Phil's wheeze on Tommy's left while Niki tried to pat him on the back, stifling her own laughter behind her hand. 

Still, in the end that is what they agreed on: they would train separately, avoid helping each other more than necessary, and they decided to ban tournament talk during breaks. For all that Tommy wanted to spend all the time they had preparing, he was also aware that this was definitely a long process, and rushing into it would only make them all more tired.

But on the other hand, they had a week to spar and practice, so they were definitely planning on making the most of it. 

After breakfast they all returned to their rooms, gathered what they needed, and then hurried to the fields, with the promise of meeting back again only once the day was over. 

Which lead Tommy to his current situation. 

What the fuck are you doing to these poor eggs?! The indignation in the voice of his patron is palpable, the demon's words resonating in his head for a moment due to the sheer loudness of it. 

Tommy huffs and rolls his eyes, continuing to move the eggs around on the metal plate with the wooden spatula Phil had carved out of a thin branch. The pained noise his patron lets out when he stabs into a yolk reminds him of a whining puppy. 

Why, why, why?! Just leave them alone, let them get nice and crispy! Don't you humans know how to cook?

Just for that, Tommy breaks another egg open and instantly breaks it apart, a part of him relishing in the desperate "no!" that follows. 

"I know how to cook, bitch! Why would I fry them, this is so much better!" Tommy grumbles under his breath, moving his other hand to the underside of the metal pan to strengthen the flame. Wilbur shoots him a curious look from where he's leaning against the tree, fixing one of the bandages around his fingers which had gotten loose from all the playing he'd been doing that morning. 

Why would you scramble perfectly good eggs?! Tommy lets out a frustrated groan, the hunger in his stomach doing wonders for how quickly he's able to get riled up, and he waves the spatula wildly in the air - thankfully, years and years of training prevent him from burning instantly the wooden tool in his hand, otherwise that would have been quite awkward. 

"I like my eggs scrambled! Suck it up, this is what I'm getting!" He yells out, which immediately prompts the other to look over towards him. His patron huffs out in his mind, and Tommy can picture him crossing his arms over his chest petulantly. 

Alright, whatever, your loss, bitch.

Tommy doesn't notice Wilbur standing up from his spot under the leaves, but he does notice the nudge in his side as the tiefling stands next to him. 

"Is good ol' cousin being a dick?" He asks, looking down at the eggs while Tommy snorts in laughter. 

"Yeah." NO! the two of them answer at the same time. Only, Tommy's the only one Wilbur can hear, so the young human definitely wins that conversation. 

"He's always been a picky asshole about food." Wilbur comments, absolutely unaware of how the demon in Tommy's head whines and starts protesting - further proving the tiefling's point. 

"In fact, you know what? -"Wilbur's face suddenly looks almost scary with how his grin turns menacing "- I have plenty of stories I could tell you if he keeps bothering you-" 

I am realizing right now I have something so very important to do don't wait for me see you in a couple of years bye-

Tommy's patron says in what seems to be a single breath of air, words slurring together and mixing with each other before the presence in Tommy's brain disappears. 

The young warlock blinks, stunned into silence at the suddenness of his patron's escape; a part of him wonders what memories Wilbur has of their younger selves that made the demon flee so suddenly.

Still, then thing is … now that he's gone, there's nothing stopping him from asking, right?

"So?? Go on, tell me everything!" The presence is, of course, back in an instant, and if Tommy was concentrating he'd be able to hear his patron physical flailing as he struggles against the intangible in order to stop Tommy.

DO NOT-

Fundy likes the new guy. He's extremely funny, that is for sure, but on top of that he is smart enough to keep up with his ramblings on team composition, and has been able to get along with the three of them quite easily. 

Fundy still considers a win the fact that he wasn't too weirded out by their less than stellar introduction, but in retrospect he shouldn't have worried. Quackity is cool. 

Or at least he seems to be, but Fundy will take it - he knows, despite what his mind likes to make him believe, that he can rely on others without risking too much, that he won't be ditched at the last second and left to pick up pieces-... 

But this is not the best time to be thinking about the past. 

Fundy turns another page on his notebook, the only book in his possession that's ragged and not well kept, and starts tracing down pathlines - the four of them have been talking about possible ways of getting around the obstacle course, since three out of the four of them are not that used to scaling buildings, and Niki can't really help all of them constantly, it would only slow them down as a whole. 

But before he can say anything, there's a sudden gasp from his left side as Tubbo darts upwards and starts running towards the edge of the training field - jumping straight into the arms of his best friend. 

"If you have a spell to make yourself faster, that could still be useful. The less people need help the better!" Quackity comments, bringing Fundy's attention back to the task at hand; the mage nods, now a bit absent mindedly as he watches the rest of their team trickle in their personal training area. He is suddenly more aware of the tiredness in his body and of the overall late hour. They have been working hard all day. They probably need a rest. 

Quackity, sitting in front of him, turns around to follow his eyesight with a questioning look and … Fundy knows he's not the best at noticing things about people, he's usually more interested in magic and how objects work, but he does notice Quackity's whole body flinch and the way his shoulders are suddenly ten times tenser than before. 

A bad feeling settles in his gut as questions start swirling around in his mind - he seemed cool, what is the problem now, and will it get in the way? - and he watches almost petrified as Quackity turns back towards him, two shades paler and eyes unfocused as he seems to be almost shrinking in on himself. 

The bard's body gives another jolt as if he's suddenly hit with a shocking spell as his eyes fall on Fundy's face - who, to be quite honest, was getting kinda worried - and then he blinks, as if coming back to himself with a small nervous chuckle. 

"You good, man?" Fundy asks tentatively, watching as Quackity shoots another look to the rest of the group only to turn back immediately when he notices that Phil is staring at the two of them - thanks, Phil, way to go. 

"I- I, yeah! Of course!" Quackity lies, evidently too shaken up to try and make it believable, but thankfully all Fundy has to do is level him with an unimpressed stare for him to crack - which is not a good sign, but Fundy will take what he can get. 

The bard bends forward, bringing a hand up to hide the movement of his lips from the rest of the group. 

"You never told me you hang out with Technoblade!" Quackity yells with a whisper, an edge of panic and urgency in his tone that makes Fundy burst out laughing, head thrown back as he clutches at his stomach. 

“Oh yeah! He’s a friend, a pal.” Fundy answers, waving around his notebook dismissively but unable to suppress the grin on his face: he hasn't had a chance to do this yet, this "I'm friends with one of the most famous killers for hire in the whole region" reveal, and he must admit he's been looking forward to it. The way Quackity's arms flail around in a mix of shock, anger and fear is definitely worth it.

“You’re friends with Technoblade?!” The bard whispers in panic, eyes wide, and Fundy is chuckling, lost in an internal debate on whether to double down on the traumatizing or to reassure the man, when he realises that Phil has been approaching them. The moment the elf kneels down on the grass, Quackity also notices him and jumps about a mile in the air. Phil, nonplussed, offers him a hand in greeting with a bright smile on his face. 

“Heya, mate! I don’t think we had a chance to properly meet yet, but I’m Phil. I love your songs.” Quackity, as Fundy has found out in the short time he's known him, does not know how to handle honest compliments - it's something the two of them have in common -, so he instantly flushes a bit, scratching the back of his neck self consciously. 

“I-uh- thank you! I really appreciate it!” Fundy sees his eyes subconsciously stray towards Wilbur, which makes him realise that it's not only Techno that has fame and renown; he wonders for a moment if Quackity's Techno-induced anxiety is also related to the fact that wherever the Blade goes, Wilbur Soot is always there with him - the Golden Bard, one, if not the best storyteller in the region. 

Phil's eyes follow to where Quackity seems to be timidly staring, and gives a small chuckle, making the bard's head snap back towards him.

“Don’t worry, he’s a big fan too.” Quackity sputters for a moment, rambled protests spilling from his mouth, but Phil merely laughs and pats his back, standing back up and offering one hand to each of them to help them stand up.

“Come on, we’re going to wash up and get dinner. You all deserve some rest."

[otherworldly-healer]

Challenge Part 1 [Preparation for Battle, Raine & Mariela] [~2530 Words]

It was well after dark at Sunlight’s Canopy. Oil lamps scattered around the room cast an eerie orange glow across the walls. Raine had called in a favor. She sat at a table alone, staring out onto the streets of Golden while she waited for the owner of the shop to enter the room. The half elf was listless. She was feeling so many things at the moment that her emotions sort of just…shut down on her. Clouds overtook the city that night, and rain thrummed on the window as her coffee grew cold on the table in front of her. A storm again, huh? Raine was transported back to that night when the full moon rose above stone plinths, changing her life forever. She could feel a chill run up her spine.

It started on the Spirale University campus. She overheard a group of students whispering rumors about two people trapped out in The Mistwood trying to leave the city. At first she thought it was just another newcomer to the city who got lost on their way exploring. It happened often enough. It wasn’t that strange. They would learn soon enough that in walking past the edge of the barrier that there was no escape. But… the rumors didn’t stop there. 

As she was making her way across campus later that day she overheard more chatter. One of the two people was supposedly an elven woman with long silver hair, wearing a coat of green cloth. The other was a human man with light-brown hair. They had been seen traveling the solitary stretch of road between Cotes and The Mistwood, then turning into the woods together. There were too many coincidences there to make her feel comfortable. If it was them… they would never make it out alive. Her mother couldn’t fight. Her father was only one man, and while he knew useful medical skills and his way around a sword,  in the past he always had a company with him in the Knights.

After Grimm had told her that the Stars had his son, it wasn’t unthinkable that they had Raine’s parents as well. Just like when she had to protect a younger version of herself and Genis, it was almost as if the Stars had set that up as a practice for this main event. They were toying with her again. She had gotten too comfortable here. She had to be reminded never to let down her guard. How could she catch herself slipping like that? That’s right…no place was ever safe for very long for the Sages. Trouble followed them wherever they went. As they could always count on the dawn, they could also anticipate dusk. For Raine, she never knew what dangers lurked there, but she always knew that it was inevitable that in time some monster would rear its head.

“Heeey. Sorry it took so long. I wish I could do more for you but…this is all I’ve got to spare right now.” Mariela walked in from the back of the apothecary, lugging a box filled with potion vials and round capsules.

“No, it’s fine. I know we’ve all been weakened here. Any help is appreciated but…I don’t mean to be a bother. You can’t find them, can you? With your attachment to the ley line?” The shopkeeper frowns and sits down across from the professor.

“I’ve never met them, so I’ve never come across their spiritual energy. I could probably find you like that if you were ever in danger but…not a stranger. On a night like this, I went out into the rain and with all the magical energy I could muster I followed my friend Caroline. It took everything I had. Even if I had met these travelers everyone’s talking about, the last time I tried to find someone like that, my soul almost got taken into the ley line for good.”

“Ah…r-right. I apologize. I didn’t wish to ask too much of you.” So, because Mariela was attuned with this ley line she could also distinguish one person’s presence from another. She’d have to ask her more about this in the future. It wasn’t exactly like a mana signature, but something similar at least.

“Naw, it’s alright. I get it. When Carol was missing I…I felt so scared. I can’t fight, so all I could do was lead other people to the place she was to protect them.”

Raine sighed, taking a moment to sip at her coffee so she had time to collect herself and think. Honestly... Raine could relate to what she was saying.

“Well. Your skills are impressive, and more than useful to others. Thank you again for meeting me here tonight. So, tell me a little more about these.”

The alchemist picks a potion vial out of the box, shaking it gently so that the foggy white particulate swirled in the liquid. Raine recognized this one. It was some sort of Monster Warding potion. Mariela had mentioned before that this kept monsters away, but she had yet to explain exactly how it worked. She asked now for some clarification.

“Alright, so you remember this one. It’s made from the same herbs that grow around the gutters on the roof. I can’t guarantee that they’ll work on every monster. After a certain level monsters become too strong to be affected by them. In my world, monsters all had a ranking system. D-ranked monsters were usually the weakest of them and they were found on the first levels of the Labyrinth. C ranks were stronger than those, then B, then A, and the strongest of all monsters would be classified as S rank. The same went for people. Anywho, the monster warding potions usually work for monsters up to B rank, but it depends. Dog monsters like wolves are especially sensitive to it. The smell it gives off will make them turn and run. If they’re too high of a level, you can at least throw it at a certain spot to guide them into groups so they’re easier to hit. That’s what we did with the orc raids every year.”

“So these potions won’t normally hurt a monster?”

“Nah. Not usually. It makes them really uncomfortable and might give some minor burns, but usually it’s just a deterrent.”

“Good to know. So then…these bombs.”

“Oh yup yup. This stays between you and me though. My shop has a strict policy that I don’t like selling anything that could be used to hurt other people. I trust you, but in the wrong hands…”

“I promise I won’t tell a soul.”

“Pheeeew. Thought so. I don’t sell poisons either for the same reason, even if I can make them. It’s just not moral to do it. So, you know about these flash bombs.” The shopkeep pulls out a bright yellow sphere. “They emit a bright light. Some monsters might be scared of light so it’s worth a try, but you’re gonna want to warn anyone else that you’re about to use one so you don’t get disoriented.”

“Then…the red ones.”

“Right-o. Those are actually bombs that cause explosions. Not big ones, when we were fighting the Labyrinth even kids used those, but they’ll definitely cause an injury. Be reeeeally careful with those. I’d suggest throwing them at the feet of a monster to demobilize them. Have you ever handled explosives before?”

“My light magic acts in a similar way and as for explosives…well. I know the dangers of them. I have never had handheld ones, but I have used them before.” At the professor’s answer, the alchemist had a concerned look on her face. Raine quickly followed up with, “Don’t worry Mariela. I’m not reckless. I like to make tactical plans before walking into danger if I can help it.”

Mariela nods. “These ones are made from incendiary plants. Less chance for collateral damage because there’s no shrapnel. And here.” The girl removes a leather belt with a number of pouches around it from around her waist, handing it over to Raine. “Carry it all with this. I really hope you find what you’re looking for out there. Be safe.”

“Thanks Mariela. I will certainly try to be.”

The alchemist put the lid back on the box and handed them over to the half elf. Raine scowled as she drew closer to the doorway, looking out to see that the rain had only started pelting the pavement with even more fury. The alchemist hopped up from her seat and peered out into the city streets herself. They both lived in this ward. She couldn’t just let her customer walk back home without at least a hood on.

“Wait up Raine! Let me just clean up and I’ll walk you right on home. I’m positive I’ve got a big umbrella here somewhere. We’re going the same direction anyway.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.”

Mariela would throw the remains of the professor’s coffee in the sink and toss the container in the garbage. It was unlike Raine to clean up, but looking at her now, she was definitely out of it. She just stood under the awning in front of the shop and kept on staring out into the night, lost in her thoughts. Mariela looked around and finally found her umbrella, tucked into a corner in the living room. Then she locked up the door into the house and walked out the front door of the shop to lock that one as well. Then she began opening up the umbrella for both her and the half elf. It was a quiet walk home. Only the sounds of cars sloshing through puddles and their shoes smacking the pavement would be heard between them. It was scary, almost, to see a time when the professor was not excitedly chattering about her newest discovery.

After walking Raine to her doorstep, Mariela pulled a healing potion out of her pocket and handed it to the professor. She had already paid for the box in her hands, but being a healer herself she had figured that she could handle any injuries herself. Mariela told her that this one was on the house, and that you could never be too safe. The professor nodded and took the potion from her, unable to speak for a moment. She bowed her head slightly and thanked the girl again for her generosity, placing the potion in her own pocket. Mariela wished her luck and began walking down the street to her own building. Raine unlocked the door behind her and walked across the threshold, making her way upstairs to get to her apartment.

The room was quiet except for the usual sounds of the city that got filtered to the back of her mind. After taking off her shoes and hanging up her coat, Raine immediately headed for her room. She knew that she couldn’t do this alone. She wished she was more certain whether or not she was actually chasing phantoms but…she had made up her mind. She needed to know. If it was her parents after all, her father was there. That meant her parents were taken from a time before Kloitz had passed. That meant in turn that her mother had yet to lose her faculties. She could actually speak to them and get the answers that she desperately wanted to hear after so many years.

Above all…they didn’t regret having her, did they? Even though she was a half-elf, born to be scorned and despised. She was the reason they were on the run for so long. If the Imperial Research Academy hadn’t heard of her existence they would not have had to give up everything. It was her fault, wasn’t it? Surely, Virginia and Kloitz would have always been ostracized for finding love with one another, but if the siblings were never born perhaps they could have lived in Heimdall forever. Her father would still be alive if they were never chased out. 

No. She would no longer think like that. If her Journey taught her anything, it was that she had the right to live regardless of her race. She would make her own place in the world...and here in Spirale...she didn’t even have to steal that place by pretending she was something she was not. People looked up to her. They accepted her, and cared for her, as hard as it was to believe most of the time. Her life was important.

What would happen, exactly, if those two people in the woods were her parents after all?  After so many years of feeling abandoned and rejected, did she want an apology from them? Did she just want to be left alone so that she might move on—scars buried deep but never quite healed? Did...any of it even matter anymore? She no longer had to hide who she was. For the first time in so long she could see happier days ahead. Logically she knew it was time to stop living in the past. Whatever she chose, it seems that she would have to make the decision quickly upon seeing them.

…If it really was them.

She wasn’t strong. Especially here in Spirale. She was a healer and a mage. Then again Virginia’s words ran circles in her mind. “Please forgive your powerless mother”. Even if Raine had some magical ability she felt she was nearly powerless, just like her mother had felt. But wait…that wasn’t entirely true was it? Raine had been through hell and back. Even when it felt like there was no hope, and life had kicked her down she changed her plans and found a way to survive on her own. Even if her magic wasn’t powerful, she was strong. She was tenacious. She would never give up fighting to find safety and belonging for her family. Above all she was crafty. She had to believe if there were monsters out in those woods, she would do as she always did and claw her way out of danger by the skin of her teeth.

Raine lay on her bed and took out her phone, staring at the list of contacts. In the past Raine had been too stubborn to ask for help. She believed that she had to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders because the only person she could rely on was herself. But now…things were different weren’t they? People she held dear knew who she was. They knew of her struggles to find a place where she belonged, and they began to welcome her with open arms. So…would it not cause undue worry to march into the woods by herself, just like when she went off on her own to find the Otherworldly Gate? Genis would be so upset if she did. Raine needed to ask for help, just this once. So… she opened her messages, hoping it was not too late to be bothering others, and called in a few favors to her friends and loved ones.

[honourablejester]

Ideas for Sorcerers (D&D)

I do love a bit of innate, chaotic magic, the forces of the world writing themselves onto people. Whether said people wanted them to or not. Heh. I will admit I’m a bit more attached to the ‘touched by cosmic forces’ angle for the sorcerer, it’s really great for backstories, but the bloodlines are also fascinating for the ‘family lore’ and ‘really adventurous ancestors’ ideas. So!

I’m mostly focused on the classic sorcerers and then the horror-adjacent sorcerers, because I’m me, and we know what I like. Apologies to fans of the Divine, Storm or new Clockwork sorcerers!

Draconic

Because dragons (and dragon ancestors) are the best. There’s a lot of fun and aesthetic with choosing your dragon ancestor too. The little scales you get with draconic resilience just make for some really cool-looking characters.

I love the idea of mixing ancestries with a draconic sorcerer. Compare and contrast. For example, a tiefling draconic sorcerer with gold dragon ancestry! Combining a ‘tainted’ bloodline with a respected one. Maybe the clan lean heavily into the lawful reputation of gold dragons, as well as a sort of internalised racism against their own darker ancestry as well. They view the fact that they were once favoured by a divine dragon as proof that their bloodline can redeem themselves of their demonic pact/ancestry, and they lean towards lawful occupations, city watch, soldiers, clergy, etc. So your sorcerer has a bit of internal conflict going on. (Also, a red tiefling with gold scales is an awesome look – tiefling skin colours with dragon scale colours is a really fun combination)

Other cool-sounding ancestry combinations: high elf & white/silver ancestry, for that ethereal immortal feeling (also fun to add stereotypical dragon traits with the white dragons, in that you’re an ethereal immortal who really holds a grudge and does not do ‘forgive and forget’), half-elf & green ancestry, for a strongly outcast, political bent, halfling/gnome & copper ancestry, because if you’re going to go for a tiny trickster you might as well go all out …

Or we have my old favourite, a tortle sorcerer with (somehow) a dragon turtle ancestor, because great-grandpa Uhok never met an older and (significantly) larger lady he didn’t want to pursue, and great-grandma Korthalok was honestly rather flattered. (Yes, I am aware that dragon turtles are not high dragons, but they are intelligent, and they’re probably innately magical/elemental enough to put a bit of magic in the bloodline)

Shadow Magic

The sorcerer’s gothic option! I do love it. Your magic comes from a strange, grim shadow realm, either because you were touched by said realm, or one of your ancestors was an entity from said realm. You get a demonic shadow hound, teleportation from shadow to shadow, and later an actual shadow form. Lots to work with there.

I feel like there’s a lot of Lovecraftian, Dreamlands, William Hope Hodgson sort of feeling here. The dark touch of a strange realm. Emphasis on isolation, desolation, alienation. Loneliness. This is also the subclass where I really, really like a later-life coming into your powers, a traumatic event causing a normal person to suddenly develop horrifying magic.

So. Any of your gothic/cosmic horror backstories. You were kidnapped and subjected to a horrific ritual. You were created in a horrific ritual (hi Warforged!). You suffered a severe, inexplicable illness as a child, and remained pale, half-dead, and possessed of strange powers for the rest of your life (I love the shadow sorcerer quirks list). An insane ancestor entered the Negative Plane and your line was almost annihilated by the resulting Nightwalker, but you somehow survived. Your parent was an extremely powerful magic user studying the Shadowfell, and you only realised much later on in your life that your childhood ‘imaginary friends’ were actually Sorrowsworn (Lost and Lonely?) that haunted your ancestral home and that your parent was somehow keeping from killing you. You tried to steal from a powerful, vindictive wizard, who flung you into the Shadowfell for your temerity, and you don’t fully remember how you survived. You slept in a barrow as a dare when you were younger, and an allip whispered secrets to you that lead you to dream of a dark realm, dreams that seemed to gradually change you as you ‘recovered’ …

This entire subclass is just very much ‘go nuts on the horror tropes and have fun’. I love it dearly.

Aberrant Mind

A new one from Tasha’s, but the other Lovecraftian/horror themed sorcerer subclass now. Which is perfectly fine, because I can always roll with more Lovecraftian horror! If shadow magic was themed strongly towards undead, Aberrant Mind seems strongly themed towards aberrations. Body horror and psychic powers! Boo yeah!

I do like the suggested origins. Particularly the parasitic twin and the imaginary friend ones. I think there’s a lot of fun to be had with those. Aberrant mind does feel more … on the science fiction end of horror, more than the fantasy? There’s a different flavour compared to shadow magic. We’re talking alien abduction and Carrie-esque childhood trauma here. Particularly when you get to the higher level actual physical transformation elements. Bit of Akira in there, bit of Innsmouth. So.

I’m liking characters who are a bit ‘aberrant’ on their own merits, even before their powers kick in as well. The outcasts from the get-go. The albino half-orc abandoned by the tribe as a child and befriended/kept safe by their possibly-imaginary flumph friend. The fallen aasimar whose blessings allowed them to survive where their stillborn twin did not, but who still feels the touch of a ghostly hand in theirs (I’m not sure how well it fully gels, but I feel like an Atropal is a very interesting concept to lay alongside this – stillborn gods and blessed, aberrant champions – celestial guides and the whisperings of parasitic twins … not sure how well it fits, but there’s a lot of crunchy concepts there)

Also, there’s your chance to have some fun with the Underdark races. Duergar, Deep Gnomes and Drow. Or sea races, when we have fun with Aboleths. Or non-sea races who still had a bit of fun with Aboleths, if we want to fully embrace the Innsmouth vibes and have normal land-based elves/humans/halflings who come over all Deep-One in the end. You come from a quaint little village on the coast, where the coming-of-age ceremony involved something of an opening of the mind. Nothing to worry about, everyone does it where you come from. Yes indeed! Heh.

And then, to bring us back to the less-horrifying end of sorcerers, and to revisit my childhood in a big way, we have:

Wild Magic

Schmendrick the Magician! Sorry, I grew up on The Last Unicorn, you’ll have to forgive me this. (Is Schmendrick actually part of the inspiration here, I’m wondering?)

But honestly, wild magic really lends itself to down-on-their-luck characters, running ahead of their own chaos, or striving to learn to control their powers. Or, on the flipside, incredibly laissez-faire types who decided to just roll with and eventually enjoy or perpetuate a little chaos. So. Tricksters, shysters and earnest young things trying to do their best.

So. You could do a straight Schmendrick. A down-on-their-luck kid who really, really wants to be a real wizard, a great magician, but their magic just will not cooperate. It has a mind of its own, and their struggle is learning to either minimise or lean into the chaos and power of it. (I like a background as a tailor/seamstress for this, partly because of animated Schmendrick’s memorable patchwork robes, but also as a little practical detail in that, if you can’t trust your magical mending not to do a ‘Sorcerer’s Apprentice’ on it every damn time, you probably would learn to darn your socks the old fashioned way)

For a variation, you could do a bit of a snake-oil salesperson sort of deal. A down-on-their-luck sorcerer turned shyster/criminal to make ends meet. Wild magic works very well as a sort of bloodline curse, bad luck and chaos following a family. A woman of the Witchbottle clan pissed off an archfey way back when, and so every girl born to the line since has struggled with wild magic. So the clan tends to move around a lot, both individually and as a whole, and individual members of it tend to work around their inevitable getting run out of town for magical mishaps in their own ways. The clan has a lot of travelling entertainers, salespeople, criminals, etc, and tend to be very loyal to each other, even if they don’t see each other all that often (concentrations of wild magic in a single area tend to be bad for said area, so family gatherings are discouraged near civilisation).

And then there are your straight trickster characters. Ones with a more philosophical approach to chaos, a belief that you should be able to deal with the unexpected, and that maybe other people should be helped along in experiencing and dealing with it too. I like bards for tricksters, but wild magic sorcerers work very well too. Heh.

I know Wild Magic might not be the most functional of the subclasses, but it’s got a direct line to my childhood, and I feel like it’s still a really fun idea.

In summary? I like the squishy spindly magic people. They’re fun.

[castieltrash1]

imagine → reuniting with lindir

requested by/for: @amelialistree! i changed a few VERY minor details but i hope this is what you were looking for!! tysm for sending in my baby boo!! xx

-

Considering none other than Thorin Oakenshield was leading the company you currently belonged to – you knew better than to bring up your past regarding the Race of Elves in his presence. Besides a few comments on Erebor or Hobbiton, the others had provided little information about their past and focused most of their attention on the reclamation of the Lonely Mountain – so revealing your previous accomplices seemed needless.

Of course, that was until Gandalf led the company to Rivendell, and you realized quickly that your secrecy would be unveiled. In fact, your worries pressured you enough to join Thorin’s complaining in regards to the enemy, as he referred to them. The word was harsh, yes, but if agreeing with Thorin was going to keep you in the company, then enemies the Elves would be. The company’s travel thus far had been exhilarating. You’d slain Orcs, turned Trolls to stone, and even met another one of the six Wizards. Never in your life had you imagined adventure as grand, and you knew there was much more to come – including defeating Smaug himself. You couldn’t lose an opportunity like this, which meant you couldn’t risk Thorin knowing of your past alliances.

However, you had no escape as Gandalf led the company down to Rivendell. Dwarves and Hobbit alike stared at Imladris in awe, taking in the beautiful valley, but you were too plagued with concerns to pay attention to the place you once found solace in. The only thing – or person – on your mind was one Elf you hoped, prayed the company would not encounter. He would surely reveal your identity, and you would too, as you knew you would be unable to avoid showing your care for him. The other elves you could brush off, and you doubted too many remembered you well, but if he saw you, it was all over.

All you could do was hope he was away in his books or the garden, per usual.

But, when he descended the stairs to greet the company, you were stuck in place. He’d not aged a day, of course, but he’d certainly grown into himself since you’d last seen him – when he was barely reaching his ‘adulthood’ years, despite him being much older than yourself. Purples and browns contrasted against his pale skin, the circlet atop his head perfectly framing his slender face. He noticed Gandalf first – being the slightly taller outlier amongst the dwarves in front – and smiled.

“Mithrandir.” Oh, his voice has certainly changed too and the mature, deeper tone sent chills down your back. Gandalf turned and returned the greeting, placing his hand against his heart before leading his arm outward. Beside you, the dwarves mumbled amongst themselves in Khuzdul, and your hand clenched at your side.

You knew you didn’t stand a chance. What you felt for Lindir was going to be obvious very quickly, and you’d lose the company in a heartbeat. But, it seemed a cheap price to pay when you considered that badmouthing Lindir was the only alternative.

“We heard you had crossed into the Valley,” Lindir commented, and let his eyes drag across the rest of the company. When his gaze landed on you, he froze, jaw tensing. Only when Gandalf mentioned Elrond, did he snap out of his daze.

“My Lord Elrond is not here,” he answered, effortlessly switching into English from his previous Sindarin. It was almost like your presence had zero effect on him, and Gandalf didn’t seem to notice much as he continued on the conversation.

Within seconds, the Elves in question arrived, and one of the dwarves pulled you into their close formation, as horses surrounded you all. But, even amidst the sudden chaos, you managed a glance at Lindir whose dark eyes burned holes into the arm around your waist.

You had no idea what he was thinking and it took a while to get a moment alone with him, as you were always surrounded by a dwarf or guard elf at one point or another. It wasn’t until food was being served, and the company took their places at the table, were you able to sneak away. Lindir had been standing by Elrond with a questionable look on his face, but when you excused yourself from the table during Bofur’s loud singing, you didn’t see him. The guards stared at you oddly as you walked a bit, but paid you no attention otherwise.

“I cannot help but feel you’re looking for me.” You jumped at the sudden voice and turned quickly, pressing your palm against your pounding chest.

“Lindir!” Without thinking, you pulled him into a hug, letting out a deep sigh. He tensed and his arms stayed by his sides for a moment’s pause, before he lifted one hand to pat your back. It seemed forced at first, but soon he was rubbing your lower back, and pulling you closer with his other arm.

When you pulled away – too aware of the curious dwarf gazes at the back of your head – you stayed in his personal space regardless, a grin on your face.

“I’ve missed you, mellon.”

He sent you a sad smile. “I’ve missed you as well, Y/N.”

He had known better than to get attached to you when you showed up in Rivendell. You had quite a reputation for adventuring and his timid self had initially been intimidated. However, he soon realized that you were more like him than expected and that your wanderlust desires were only a small part of your character. Lindir used that to his advantage while you stayed in the Valley, showing you all the hidden parts, gardens, rooms, and secrets of Rivendell. He watched the way your eyes sparkled, and knew you would never truly be content in one place for too long – but his heart was already dedicated to you. Little did he know, you felt the same way.

Yes, you had left Rivendell, but you never expected to be gone forever. A part of you would always remain there. But your connection with Lindir had made returning so difficult. Without the company’s mission, you were unsure you would have ever worked up enough courage to go back, let alone to throw yourself into Lindir’s arms so easily.

But the sweet moment was cut off as the dwarves grew rowdier, food being thrown between them and cackles resounding through the otherwise quiet eating area. You flinched within Lindir’s hold as you remembered exactly who you were being accompanied by, and the Elf seemed to think the same as he fought to hide a scowl.

“I see you’ve been busy,” he commented and pulled away from you. “With dwarves, no less.” Lindir couldn’t hide the bitterness in his tone if he tried.

You cleared your throat. “They’re not the worst company. But, as long as adventure is involved, I rarely complain, right? We used to be like that, you know.” You laughed awkwardly, but Lindir’s forlorn expression remained.

“I believe that was quite different.” His eyebrows furrowed together. “In fact, I cannot say I approve of this adventure, nor do I believe Lord Elrond would.”

“I’m not asking you to,” you retorted, then softened your voice. “I know you’ve never been fond of these types of things, but I’m going on this trip. I’m sorry.”

Lindir just nodded, and swallowed the concoction of emotions bubbling in his throat. He seemed slightly hurt, but you knew he’d been expecting that type of answer. He always had.

You took a deep breath. You didn’t want to leave him again so suddenly, but you knew you wouldn’t be staying in Rivendell either. So, you needed to leave him something. Some hope. Some reassurance.

Without a second thought, you brought your hand to his face, cupping his jaw. “Lindir, look at me.” His dark eyes obeyed immediately, and had he not always been so composed, you would have bet he was tearing up.

Your thumb brushed over his high cheekbone, and he nuzzled into your touch. The action was so small you almost missed it. But, it gave you the courage you needed.

You pressed yourself up and allowed your lips to meet his. It was the moment you’d both waited years for, and immediately both of your forms relaxed into each other’s hold. Lindir let out a soft sigh before he was kissing you again, his own hand making its way to your cheek.

“Lindir, do you trust me?” you murmured against his mouth.

Lindir swallowed heavily, but stayed rooted in place, warm breath hitting your lips. “With my life.”

You smiled softly against him. “Then trust me when I say, I will be back soon. I promise.”

-

a/n: yall this fic was some STR8 elf propaganda. im an elf-fucker tho what can i sAY. im sorry. not really. i’d like to (redacted). anyway. enjoy !! xx

[drops-of-moonlights]

Specialists, suit up! Magic Transformation!

An update on the guys and on Specialists in general! Descriptions of each guy will be lifted from the older post describing them slightly updating them as well.

Specialists are a less-magically-focused version of Paladins, doing most of the same things but without direct supervision from the Order of Mana, not quite mercenaries but not quite military, either. their armor has wings that let them levitate and fly at high speeds, and when not in use they turn into a cape-like shape.

Sky, Riven, Nex, Brandon and Timmy share a dorm and are Team 3Q, and they’re all in their second year at the start of the series. Riven is older than them, as like Stella he failed his first year, though out of aggresion and an accident than just an accident like Stella.

Sky Calem Beaufort: Crown Prince of Eraklyon, pretended to be his squire Brandon for 2 years when entering Red Fountain due to the recent assasination attempts done on him when he was still unknown to the public by the rogue team of Yoshinoya. He’s sweet and courageous, and has formal training with swords and shields, but he has a habit of procrastinating important stuff and not wanting to talk about royal duties, which is the root of the issue with him, Bloom and Diaspro in S1. Was betrothed to Diaspro since they were both kids, but neither loved each other and was purely a political agreement. Ends up dating Riven at the end of S3.

Brandon Ortiz: Squire of the Crown Prince, second oldest son of 5 siblings. He’s a very jovial person and prone to crack jokes and flirt, but he’s also the most responsible of the team and will hold them by the neck as if kittens if they misbehave. Son of a teacher and a guard, he’s a good cook and agile with his spear, and is one of the main frontliners alongside Riven. While he sticks with Sky due to his job, his friendship with him is real and he’s usually the first one to find out about his issues. Was dating Stella for a year before having to put their relationship on hold during S1, retaking it right after it.

Riven Altamura: Held back a year, he’s a grumpy Orc who’s trying to adapt to the situation. He got along horribly with his previous team, and he’s trying to see how his relationship with the rest will develop. While his face is almost always stuck in an annoyed look, he’s more experienced than the other 4 and tries to guide them whenever they seem to fail, but since he’s prideful and with a short temper, it almost always ends up in a small argument. His father died when he was little, and enrolled in Red Fountain to give some relief to his mom once they started to run into monetary problems. He’s the main frontliner of the team, and favors sabres and other curved swords to fight, though he also has a good handle on maces. He’s a Solarian, and being of age, as a tatoo of a red comet on his back. Ends up dating Sky at the end of S3.

Nex Arancelle: a particularly cocky half-elf, Nex is their second midliner alongside Sky and mostly fights with daggers or axes. He’s equally prideful as Riven and likes to argue, so they butt heads most of the time. He’s a genuinely nice person despite this, and will be the first person to try and defuse a potentially heated situation alongside Brandon when they arise. Everyone in his family are performers or actors, and has inherited their dramatics, which tend to bother everyone else. He translates his gymnastics and gestures into battle, however, and becomes a competent and flexible warrior. He’s from Magix, especifically from the Soraia District. He’s trans, and gets a girlfriend during the downtime in S4.5.

Timothy “Timmy” Ayton: A somewhat aloof elf, he’s their main gunslinger and long range fighter. Timmy is very smart and confident in his intelligence, and will gleefully correct everyone else once in a while, but he’s insecure in his social skills and sticks to his team most of the time, only occasionally talking to other classmates. He’s their fastest fighter and has a decent skill with daggers, but he sticks with his guns most of the time as none of the other guys are good with aim, especially aim from a distance. He comes from Dolona. Starts dating Tecna at the end of S5.

Helia Saladin: he’s the grandson of Headmaster Aure Saladin and is a dropout of Red Fountain. He’s a fervent pacifist and has been since a young age, but went to Red Fountain out of obligation and left the school after a heated argument with his family after the first semester, which he had passed with great scores. He works as a small-time traditional artists and lives in Magix City, but occassionally helps the guys whenever they ask him, thought only as support and healing. He’s the Witch of Alloys with powers over minerals and metal and appears as a Glamourix fairy from the start, earning Enchantix behind the scenes in S4 and getting Altheix at the end of S4. Lynphean-Esperian. Starts dating Flora during S2.5.

Nabu Grant Daithe: an Andrian noble, he was born and conceived with the sole purpose of marrying the soon-to-be-born Princess Aisha, and was raised since his youth to be king consort. He vehemently opposed the marriage, however, and shortly before their scheduled meeting, he ran away from home and went undercover as Ophir, a young performer working in Magix. We meet him at Charmix level, and earns his Glamourix near the end of S3 when finally confronting his parents alongside Aisha. He gets his Enchantix at the end of S4, and then gets Onyrix during S4.5. His title is Fairy of Shadows, with power over darkness. Gets a boyfriend during S5.

[ghoultyrant]

Craftworld Context stuff

I first got into 40k primarily via Dawn of War, the relevancy to this post being that I was initially not even aware Warhammer Fantasy was a thing at all. Furthermore, even when I did become aware of Warhammer Fantasy being a thing and in fact 40k is first and foremost Warhammer In Space, I wasn't terribly interested in digging into it, as the things I found most striking about 40k had no chance of being replicated in a more traditional fantasy context.

More recently, however, Total War: Warhammer caused me to become fairly significantly familiar with Warhammer Fantasy as a setting. (Among other points, the Total War framework made certain aspects of the setting really obvious from right off the bat, like that Warhammer Fantasy is very directly fantasticalizing the real world, including much of the geography paralleling reality and assorted political entities being Real Nation But Wacky Fantasy Version)

This has, in turn, caused me to see what the root cause of an element in 40k that's bothered me basically the whole time: the way Craftworld Eldar tend to be written by secondary and tertiary materials. (ie novels, video games, fanfic, etc; basically anything that isn't a Codex)

See, I've always seen people broadly describe Craftworld Eldar as High Elves In Space, in the same way they describe Orks as Orcs/Greenskins In Space, or Tyranids as Lizardmen In Space. (And Crossed With The Starship Troopers Bugs) Before I had relatively direct exposure to Warhammer Fantasy lore, this seemed reasonably natural and logical, and the handful of times I bothered to look up factoids about the High Elves this seemed to be born out, such as how High Elves and Craftworld Eldar both have much of their fighting force as essentially reservists rather than professional soldiers. This, in turn, made it difficult to pin down exactly why it bothered me that Craftworld Eldar tended to be written as, well, fairly close to High Elves. (Or more precisely as a very specific subset of High Elves, but that's a whole other thing)

With more direct, significant exposure to Warhammer Fantasy, it's become obvious to me that this is... more or less completely missing the point, in a manner that suggests to me that the majority of people writing Craftworld Eldar are either entirely unfamiliar with Warhammer Fantasy or are technically familiar with the relevant bits but completely failed to contextualize the implications of drawing these connections to Craftworld Eldar.

First of all, the Craftworld concept is, itself, Black Arks In Space. That's a Dark Elf-proprietary concept, note, not a High Elf one, and even more glaring is that Eldar Corsairs are a thing, using the same terminology as Black Ark Corsairs and associated with Craftworld Eldar. This is some strong meta-signaling right there that Craftworld Eldar aren't High Elves In Space at all, so I'm genuinely baffled why I've never seen it pointed out.

Second of all, Khaine. Playing Dawn of War and reading up on Eldar lore made him sound like the overall Eldar god of war, and when I saw references to him existing in Warhammer Fantasy as well they tended to also make it sound like he was the overall Elf god of war.

Um, no. Khaine is a god of murder. Like, that's not me going 'war is murder' or something, I mean that it's literally the case that Khaine is all about killing people in general. Killing in combat is an option, the one we see lore on most heavily, but that's because Warhammer Fantasy is a wargame, not because it's a particular focus of Khaine's.

Furthermore, he's one of the 'Cytharai'; in Warhammer Fantasy, Elven gods come in two sets, with the other being the Cadai. The Cadai are the Good Pantheon, worshipped by High Elves. The Cytharai are the Evil Pantheon, known to exist by High Elves but only openly worshipped by Dark Elves. (Also Wood Elves in later editions, but shhh)

Put another way, Khaine is an Elf Satan figure, literally an evil fiery god in charge of the underworld pantheon.

Warhammer 40k doesn't do anything to signal that its Khaine is particularly different from Fantasy's Khaine, either, and indeed explicitly retains major backstory moments of being a terrible person, like murdering a fellow god, blood eternally dripping from one hand as not-even-a-metaphor blood on his hands.

Which means Craftworld Eldar worshipping Khaine, using him as the basis of literally their entire warrior system, is a clear meta-signal that Craftworld Eldar approach war in a deeply concerning way, and is also consistent with the broader undertone of Craftworld Eldar codices that they are a people driven to desperation by their circumstances, which is to say they're doing terrible things because they feel they have no other choice.

This all makes blood sacrifice to summon Avatars of Khaine a pretty concerning thing to be part of Craftworld Eldar toolkit, but it gets even worse if you dig into the details. The 40k backstory for Avatars of Khaine is that back in the day Khaine got beat up so bad him and his sword -Widowmaker- exploded into a bazillion itty-bitty pieces, where a fragment is used as the basis of summoning an Avatar. Back in Warhammer Fantasy, Khaine's sword is an actual physical object within the setting that is credibly believed to be capable of destroying the world if drawn, and there's this whole thing where an Elf by the name of Aenarion wielded it for a bit back in the day so now his entire lineage is cursed for, apparently, eternity. So, uh, Craftworld Eldar periodically summon a literal murder god's avatar using, in part, his cursed sword of the apocalypse.

That's very metal, but it also makes it pretty clear Craftworld Eldar are not a good and gentle people who do their utmost to be moral or the like. They clearly have a distressing amount in common with Warhammer Fantasy's Dark Elves.

This kind of thing also puts a whole different spin on the Exodite Eldar really, really disliking Craftworld Eldar. I'd been given the impression, historically, that this was more like 'take your technology away from our Amish community'. Now I'm pretty sure it's more like 'The only reason we're not killing you Satan-worshippers on sight is because our people are already so few... but if you give me an excuse I'm getting my shotgun regardless.'

Notably, when you dig into the army lists themselves, the Craftworld Eldar-Dark Elf connection continues to exist. For example, Howling Banshees are basically Witch Elves In Space, in terms of female (-presenting, in 40k's case) melee berserkers worshipping Khaine. (Less blood-drinking and whatnot, admittedly) There's not a clearly equivalent unit on High Elf lists.

Third of all, an element of Craftworld Eldar that tends to be downplayed or ignored by secondary materials (Again, including fanfic) is that using Soulstones to run their war machines is considered to be an act of necromancy, basically calling the dead back from their slumber. Broadly speaking it makes sense to me this doesn't tend to get people villainizing Craftworld Eldar -it's viscerally less repellent than conventional necromancy, for starters- but Warhammer Fantasy is quite consistent that necromancy is Very Bad, and every time 40k deliberately invokes the comparison it's once again treated as Very Bad.

This is, of course, another example of Craftworld Eldar driven to terrible actions by how desperate they feel their situation is, which certainly sets a different tone than Dark Elves revelling in suffering for its own sake and all...

... but for one thing 'driven to desperation' is more a part of Dark Elf character than I usually see people acknowledge, with their lands being a miserable hellhole filled with monsters and not a lot of arable land and so on, among other issues.

More importantly, this ties fairly directly into my point about why I've long been frustrated by secondary materials depicting Craftworld Eldar: everything the codices tells us, explicitly and more implicitly via callbacks to Warhammer Fantasy, is that Craftworld Eldar are, as a collective people, driven to a dark edge by deep desperation, with an extra layer of miserable to the whole thing from the fact that they have to stoically control their emotions because if they vent about how much everything sucks this may literally get their soul eaten.

Which is thematically consistent with 40k as a whole! There's a reason 'grimdark' can be traced to 40k; it's supposed to be pretty widely a darker, more terrible place than Warhammer Fantasy.

Nonetheless, secondary materials are strangely prone to writing Craftworld Eldar as more like rich dilettantes, their lives secure and the most stressful thing they have to deal with being a feeling of aimlessness. Which. What?

Even when I’ve seen fanfic that hated Craftworld Eldar, they’ve stuck with Snooty Bored Dilettante Eldar!

It’s not like the bored dilettante angle makes for more interesting societies or characters...