| My hands are bound, but my spirit remains free. As I was born into this world, a piece of it, like a seed that was to grow into a tall tree; so do I leave it, felled. I do not regret the choices that I have made to bring me here. I do not deny the crimson tinge of the blood on my hands. It is there by my right to fight for life. As does an acorn, pushing through the soil to rise to birth; so did I. I fought. I fought to push through the dirt and the rocks and the rubble. I fought through the worms and the bugs and the monsters and then through the humans. I clawed and I tore and I broke the weedy surface, gasping for air, as if I were a freshly drowned beast. — And now, I am to leave once again. I am to return to the darkness that is deeper than the soil from which I grew. But even if they have taken my home, they won’t take my spirit. I alone will choose its fate. I built this place. I will be the only one who tears it down. Get fucked. |
~ Message inscribed into the last remaining wall of the Grimstone Harrow, mid-level dungeon, shortly before its total self-destruction during an attempted demolition. Presumed to have been written by the dungeon-core.
There were no documented survivors.
Water trickles noisily from the faucets, splashing down into the hot-springs. The air is warm and full of soft, mineral-rich vapors, carrying a somewhat stronger smell of salty dew and lilac perfume.
It has been difficult to find a moment when the building, the hot-spring, down on the ground floor was unoccupied. Crystal was right with his initial assessment; humans really do love hot-springs. But so do elves and dwarves and orcs and everyone else too and, given that all of these creatures are camping around the tower, the hot-springs have certainly not gone unnoticed.
This has made it hard to upgrade the room, as while the uthra being seen does offer a certain whispering mystique to the tower, Isaiah is hesitant to let them work around such careless, clumsy and violent creatures as people, outsiders.
“Very well,” says Isaiah. “Please start. Before they return.”
Crystal nods and flies around the room together with Orange. The work is noticeably slower than it was with a trained, expert craftsman like Green was. But Crystal still manages to keep pace, having healed from his injuries and Orange does her best to learn from him.
The two uthra fly around, expanding the pool and extending the walls. They develop the statues, taking on faces and poses far more extravagant than before. The hot-springs, once one, single pool of water, changes in form. The interior is now divided into three spaces that the humans can divide between themselves as they like. One pool has water from the river, one from the ocean and one from rainfall. Metal chimes hang in the air, gently billowing in the vapors of uprising steam.
Isaiah, content that the uthra are well off, flies away to leave the hot-springs before the outsiders get back.
— To lure them, the outsiders, away, it had offered a very easy and generous quest. This was enough so that just about everyone, including the non-adventurers, were interested in stepping away for a few minutes, at least.
| ~ [Dungeon] ~ |
| Upgraded Area |
| Hot-Springs {Level 1} to Hot-Springs {Level 2} |
| A quaint, ornate and private hot-spring. Adventurers and wanderers may find safety and rest here. |
| Level {1} Effect: While resting in the water, slowly restores all drained HEALTH, STAMINA and SOUL. Level {2} Effect: The healing vapors in the steam reduces all stacking status: [Ailment {1}] by {01} stage. |
| THIS IS A RESTRICTED AREA. NO HOSTILE DUNGEON-ENTITIES ARE ALLOWED INSIDE OF THE HOT-SPRINGS AREA. |
| ~ [Rorate] ~ |
| Dark-Elf, Female, Fighter |
“So… what do you do all day?” asks Rorate, looking up towards Red.
Red tilts her head. “I could ask you the same thing, floppy-ears. Shouldn’t you be praying or writing a sermon or something?”
“It’s my lunch-break,” says Rorate, her free hand playing with the tip of her ear. She shrugs, looking around herself at the kitchen that she’s sitting in. “That’s why I’m down here.”
“…Oh. Fair enough,” grumbles Red, hovering there. She looks around the room. “I dunno. Usually I’m in charge of the others. But they’re all working now,” she explains.
“So, you got nothing to do?” asks Rorate.
Red turns back her way. “If you’re trying to off-load your work onto me, forget it. I’m busy.”
Rorate tilts her head. “Actually, I was going to ask you to join me for lunch,” says the dark-elf, scratching her cheek.
Red lifts an eyebrow. “I don’t eat.”
“Huh… really?” asks Rorate. Red shakes her head. “So, you guys just don’t need food?”
Red pokes herself. “We’re made out of magic. No food needed.”
“…Oh… huh…” Rorate and Red stare at each for a time. There is an awkwardness in the air, neither of them really knowing how to move the conversation along. “- But could you?” she asks. “If you wanted to?”
Red shrugs. “I know what eating is. I don’t miss it.”
“So you could eat before?” asks Rorate.
“Look, forget it,” replies Red. She sighs and sits down on the other free chair at the small table downstairs in the underground kitchen. “Let’s talk about something else. How’s life?”
Rorate shrugs, chewing on her food. “Could be worse. I really like it here,” says the dark-elf, her mouth still half-full.
The two of them sit there for a time, engaging in a conversation that doesn’t exactly flow well. But at least an effort is being made.
It could be worse.
| ~ [Isaiah] ~ |
A white-feather harpy tilts its head, looking at Isaiah and she clicks excitedly with her mouth, making an odd hissing noise.
Isaiah returns its focus to the work at hand.
“So, uh, is this wise?” asks Crystal.
Red flies past him, having come back from her break. “This?” she asks. “This is very wise. It may be one of the best ideas yet, actually.” Isaiah, hovering there in the air outside of the tower with crossed arms, nods in approval. “Maybe keeping a few humans in here isn’t such a bad idea, for now,” relents Red, looking at the latest extension to the tower. “As a species, they have a knack for cruelty. I kind of like it.”
An outside, external stairway, attached to the exterior of the tower wraps around its cylindrical form. There is no railing, of course, and it leads right through the nests of the harpies, who have begun to settle and flock around the tower’s exterior. There is a further gimmick involved, though. It isn’t just a staircase to the next floor. It is the next floor.
| ~ [Dungeon] ~ | |
| Floor {51} | |
| External Stairwell | |
| An extremely precarious stairwell. It is thin and dangerous to climb. Any fall threatens to be immediately fatal, given the great heights. Strong winds blow and the sensation of the tower swaying can be easily felt. | |
| Monsters: {104} | Traps: {05} |
| Room Effects: Applies status [Disorientation] to anyone with less than 20 DEX. The status can not be purged until the floor has been left. |
“Damn. We’re almost up to the big numbers in monsters,” says Red, looking at the status-window. “I guess the harpies don’t count towards the floor’s monster count?”
- A harpy grabs Isaiah's arm from the side and looks at it.
“Hmm…” says a sharp voice from the side. Crystal flies in closer, looking at the harpies that are above them, sitting perched on their roosts on the side of the tower. “I think they’re external, outside monsters. So the system doesn’t recognize them as being a part of the floor. Maybe?” He shrugs. “It’s like if a wild slime ran into the tower.”
“Neat. Is this cheating?” asks Red. “It feels like the whole ‘defense oriented architecture’ thing all over again.”
Isaiah pulls its arm away from the curious harpy. The monsters had gathered around on the stairwell after the one of them had grabbed its arm and then they all started smelling and looking at Isaiah, oddly enough. “Perhaps this is a ‘flaw’ of the tower?” asks Isaiah, deciding to not engage with the strange monsters, lest they get riled up with the uthra here. “I suppose external monsters are of little concern underground.” This could just be another one of those issues where the cosmic-rules about dungeons simply aren't trimmed to the concept of a tower.
“Makes sense to me,” replies Red. “If the gods didn’t make the rules right, then to hell with them. Not our problem. The lazy fucks.” Red looks around at the gathering harpies, who are sticking to the side of the tower in nests they have made by forcing strong branches from the forest into the mortar between bricks, to make ledges and roosts. “I think they like you, chief,” says Red.
Isaiah, flying there in the air off to the side of the staircase, looks at the harpies and then back to the uthra. “Perhaps because we are similar, in a way?”
“Harpies are wild things, but they're pretty smart,” explains Crystal. “But they can’t really talk too well in anything that isn’t ‘bird’.”
“Ah,” says Isaiah. “A shame, I do not think that I recall the language,” says the entity. “But they seem to understand us.” One of the nearby harpies on the staircase clicks and whistles. The other harpies all rustle their feathers at once, in some sort of synchronized action. It is the leader of the flock, who had greeted Isaiah upon arrival. He recognizes her from when they had first arrived on the tower.
“Gods, they’re weird,” says Red, looking at them. “I’m getting out of here, before I get eaten.” She flies off.
“Anyway,” says Crystal, returning to the topic. “Let’s get those monsters going, boss. There’s a lot left to do. Half of the tower is empty and Orange is already working on the next floor by herself.
Isaiah nods, trying to think of a suitable creature to cohabitate with the harpies. Summoning more of them could be an option, but…
— Perhaps there is a trick to be learned from the human’s ways? This devious external staircase, some fifty floors up off of the ground, was an idea presented by Beulah.
“Crystal, remove that step there,” says Isaiah, pointing at a single step in the middle of the staircase.
“Huh? Uh…” Crystal looks at the step. “I can’t. Then the staircase would be broken and the rules say there always has to be a traversable path through the dungeon.”
“Then remove only half of the step,” says Isaiah.
“Uh… I mean… I guess?” Crystal sets to work, carving half of one step out of the staircase, leaving a square hole right in the middle of it through which the world below is visible.
“Thank you,” says Isaiah, taking the perfectly extracted stone square from Crystal. It focuses its magic into the cube.
| ~ [Mimic] ~ | |
| Class: Monster | Element: ARCANE |
| Type: Illusionist | Category: Hominid |
| Rank: B- | |
| Level: 40 | |
| A mimic is a soft, squishy creature that likes to live in tight, sealed containers, such as chests, boxes and cabinets. Being unusually shy, mimics will prefer to simply stay shut inside of their homes forever. They are extremely easy to stress. Because of this, they can often not control their excitement when someone approaches and will sometimes giggle noisily. When opened or when approached too closely, the mimic will strike, lashing out of its container to attack with razor sharp teeth. | |
| [Shell Dweller]: The mimic can inhabit any hollow shell, making it into its home. It is a near perfect illusion. | |
| HP: 81/81 | SOUL: 57/57 |
The top of the previously solid stone cube pops open, as a soft, squishy blob of a creature with long eyestalks peaks out of what is now a hollower container. Seeing that it is being watched, it slams the ‘lid’ of the stone square back shut and the cube starts shaking nervously in Isaiah’s hands.
Isaiah hands the monster back to Crystal. “We will place these in the staircase,” it instructs.
“Wow…” says Crystal. “That’s pretty mean. It doesn’t really fit with the holy theme, does it?” he asks.
“It does,” says Isaiah, staring down at the very distant world below. “Part of having strong faith is to understand the deadly precariousness of it.”
"I think you're spending too much time with Red, honestly." Crystal shrugs and slots the mimic into the staircase, where it latches on, pretending to be a piece of the step. For any who don't know better, it just looks like any other piece of stonework, barring its somewhat unusual misalignment.
Isaiah lifts its gaze, looking at the harpies who are continuing their odd display, squawking and rustling their feathers in a unified dance of their flock, aimed its way.
They really are odd creatures.
| ~ [Bishop Zacaries Montero] ~ |
| Human, Male, Bishop |
“My mind remains unchanged,” barks the cardinal from the northern city. “This… thing is an affront to the faith. It must be destroyed.”
The others at the table murmur, coming to their various states of agreement on either side of the argument.
“It drew the ire of the witch,” argues another cardinal to the side, adjusting his cup on the table. The cardinal from the west. “Surely that is because Isaiah is an affront to her?” he asks. “As are all things good and divine.”
The murmuring resumes. It's a good point.
“Perhaps this is only because it is a threat to her?” asks the cardinal from the north. Everyone looks his way again. “A wolf will eat a bear’s cub. If it were allowed to grow, it would be a threat.” The red-robed man smashes his fists onto the table and then points to the open window, overlooking the lively city below. “The people no longer whisper, they rave," he says with anger in his voice. "The tower grows higher and higher every day, the land is ruptured and torn,” he says. “That destruction, that chaos… How long until it spreads to us and our walls?” He looks around at the others at the table, glancing over the bishop. “It has to be dealt with, before it grows too powerful. This is what the gods want,” finishes the cardinal, tapping against the table. “- Or else they would not have sent the witch as a warning to us for our foolishness. It was a sign for us to act.”
More murmurs.
Bishop Zacaries Montero looks around the table. These argumentations have been going on without pause since that fateful day and they show no sign of stopping any time soon. The camps are evenly split, but it seems like every day some people who were on the other side just yesterday have a change of heart, only to be swayed again on the day thereafter. It goes on and on and nobody has a clear voice or an answer.
He plays with the golden token of pilgrimage in his hands as the debates continue.
Razmatazz
| ~ [Note for occultists]{HARPIES} ~ Today I want to talk to you about harpies. Harpies are primarily described as being half-human, half-bird hybrid entities. They are depicted as being generally female in western mythos. Worth noting is that the traditional image of a harpy is not what we think of today. But also, it is. Let me explain. Today, when we envision a harpy, we think of a human shaped body with bird features, like wings and talons. Maybe some feathers. Sort of a bird-human. However, originally, an old-world European harpy was a lot more clean-cut in its design. It had an actual bird’s body, full-stop, with a human head just sort of glued on top of it. As you can imagine, it didn’t look great, which is likely why the new, rebranded image of the harpy as thin, muscular femme fatals has come to the forefront, fueled by popular media. Particularly, I blame Castlevania, comics and anime for distorting this mythological imagery. Which is par for the course. They have done a number on making the creature’s new image be more conventionally attractive, because that is just what these mediums of entertainment do. Anime girl marketing goes brrrrrrr- - Most importantly however, I blame the ancient Greek poet Hesiod. In Hesiod’s work, this actually was the case. He started the whole thing. In his poems, harpies were said to have 'lovely hair' and 'fair lockes', as they were 'winged maidens'. Other Greek writers, such as Aeschlus, Virgil and Hyginus otherwise represented harpies as being disgusting monsters, as was their traditional look. However, Hesiod seems to have won out and these days, we use pretty harpies for everything. (Author’s note: I too, opt for the more marketable version of the monsters in this story. Give me those sweet clicks, dear reader. Maybe if you do me a solid and rate, I’ll get you guys some delicious harpy artwork? Eh?) The origin of harpies is a complex topic, as always. As is tradition for many mythological beings, they are primarily attributed to having Greek origins, primarily stemming from the Homeric poems. However, as is usually the case, Harpies have a very vast and broad origin that is hard to nail down as being specifically from this region. The concept of half-bird people has a long and broad history. From the angels of Abrahamic religions to the Japanese Tengu to the Hindu/Buddhist Kinnara, humans have long since found a special place in our mythos for anthropomorphized birds in particular. Returning to the Greek mythos of harpies, they were often described as being mischievous creatures that do, however, follow the will of a god or higher power, rather than base animal or monster instinct. In a commonly told Greek mythological story, the harpies were made by Zeus to constantly steal a hungry man’s food, before he could eat it, as punishment for his transgressions against the god. The harpies didn’t hurt the guy or anything. They just always stole his food before he could eat it. That’s it, really. Just kind of a dick move, but nothing too bad directly. In the short-version of the Greek lore, one could argue that Harpies exist solely because Zeus was being a dick, which is a common theme you will find, if you read into Greek mythos. They are fascinating creatures and I really don’t even feel like I’ve begun with this trivia, we haven’t even unwrapped anything big yet. But there are too many strands and directions to look into. Harpies are such a surprisingly broad topic, that they need a full book of their own to really cover the global lore behind them in detail. |
- - - - - -
Apple, Kobo, Barnes and Nobles and other platforms here!
| My hands are bound, but my spirit remains free. As I was born into this world, a piece of it, like a seed that was to grow into a tall tree; so do I leave it, felled. I do not regret the choices that I have made to bring me here. I do not deny the crimson tinge of the blood on my hands. It is there by my right to fight for life. As does an acorn, pushing through the soil to rise to birth; so did I. I fought. I fought to push through the dirt and the rocks and the rubble. I fought through the worms and the bugs and the monsters and then through the humans. I clawed and I tore and I broke the weedy surface, gasping for air, as if I were a freshly drowned beast. — And now, I am to leave once again. I am to return to the darkness that is deeper than the soil from which I grew. But even if they have taken my home, they won’t take my spirit. I alone will choose its fate. I built this place. I will be the only one who tears it down. Get fucked. |
~ Message inscribed into the last remaining wall of the Grimstone Harrow, mid-level dungeon, shortly before its total self-destruction during an attempted demolition. Presumed to have been written by the dungeon-core.
There were no documented survivors.
Water trickles noisily from the faucets, splashing down into the hot-springs. The air is warm and full of soft, mineral-rich vapors, carrying a somewhat stronger smell of salty dew and lilac perfume.
It has been difficult to find a moment when the building, the hot-spring, down on the ground floor was unoccupied. Crystal was right with his initial assessment; humans really do love hot-springs. But so do elves and dwarves and orcs and everyone else too and, given that all of these creatures are camping around the tower, the hot-springs have certainly not gone unnoticed.
This has made it hard to upgrade the room, as while the uthra being seen does offer a certain whispering mystique to the tower, Isaiah is hesitant to let them work around such careless, clumsy and violent creatures as people, outsiders.
“Very well,” says Isaiah. “Please start. Before they return.”
Crystal nods and flies around the room together with Orange. The work is noticeably slower than it was with a trained, expert craftsman like Green was. But Crystal still manages to keep pace, having healed from his injuries and Orange does her best to learn from him.
The two uthra fly around, expanding the pool and extending the walls. They develop the statues, taking on faces and poses far more extravagant than before. The hot-springs, once one, single pool of water, changes in form. The interior is now divided into three spaces that the humans can divide between themselves as they like. One pool has water from the river, one from the ocean and one from rainfall. Metal chimes hang in the air, gently billowing in the vapors of uprising steam.
Isaiah, content that the uthra are well off, flies away to leave the hot-springs before the outsiders get back.
— To lure them, the outsiders, away, it had offered a very easy and generous quest. This was enough so that just about everyone, including the non-adventurers, were interested in stepping away for a few minutes, at least.
| ~ [Dungeon] ~ |
| Upgraded Area |
| Hot-Springs {Level 1} to Hot-Springs {Level 2} |
| A quaint, ornate and private hot-spring. Adventurers and wanderers may find safety and rest here. |
| Level {1} Effect: While resting in the water, slowly restores all drained HEALTH, STAMINA and SOUL. Level {2} Effect: The healing vapors in the steam reduces all stacking status: [Ailment {1}] by {01} stage. |
| THIS IS A RESTRICTED AREA. NO HOSTILE DUNGEON-ENTITIES ARE ALLOWED INSIDE OF THE HOT-SPRINGS AREA. |
| ~ [Rorate] ~ |
| Dark-Elf, Female, Fighter |
“So… what do you do all day?” asks Rorate, looking up towards Red.
Red tilts her head. “I could ask you the same thing, floppy-ears. Shouldn’t you be praying or writing a sermon or something?”
“It’s my lunch-break,” says Rorate, her free hand playing with the tip of her ear. She shrugs, looking around herself at the kitchen that she’s sitting in. “That’s why I’m down here.”
“…Oh. Fair enough,” grumbles Red, hovering there. She looks around the room. “I dunno. Usually I’m in charge of the others. But they’re all working now,” she explains.
“So, you got nothing to do?” asks Rorate.
Red turns back her way. “If you’re trying to off-load your work onto me, forget it. I’m busy.”
Rorate tilts her head. “Actually, I was going to ask you to join me for lunch,” says the dark-elf, scratching her cheek.
Red lifts an eyebrow. “I don’t eat.”
“Huh… really?” asks Rorate. Red shakes her head. “So, you guys just don’t need food?”
Red pokes herself. “We’re made out of magic. No food needed.”
“…Oh… huh…” Rorate and Red stare at each for a time. There is an awkwardness in the air, neither of them really knowing how to move the conversation along. “- But could you?” she asks. “If you wanted to?”
Red shrugs. “I know what eating is. I don’t miss it.”
“So you could eat before?” asks Rorate.
“Look, forget it,” replies Red. She sighs and sits down on the other free chair at the small table downstairs in the underground kitchen. “Let’s talk about something else. How’s life?”
Rorate shrugs, chewing on her food. “Could be worse. I really like it here,” says the dark-elf, her mouth still half-full.
The two of them sit there for a time, engaging in a conversation that doesn’t exactly flow well. But at least an effort is being made.
It could be worse.
| ~ [Isaiah] ~ |
A white-feather harpy tilts its head, looking at Isaiah and she clicks excitedly with her mouth, making an odd hissing noise.
Isaiah returns its focus to the work at hand.
“So, uh, is this wise?” asks Crystal.
Red flies past him, having come back from her break. “This?” she asks. “This is very wise. It may be one of the best ideas yet, actually.” Isaiah, hovering there in the air outside of the tower with crossed arms, nods in approval. “Maybe keeping a few humans in here isn’t such a bad idea, for now,” relents Red, looking at the latest extension to the tower. “As a species, they have a knack for cruelty. I kind of like it.”
An outside, external stairway, attached to the exterior of the tower wraps around its cylindrical form. There is no railing, of course, and it leads right through the nests of the harpies, who have begun to settle and flock around the tower’s exterior. There is a further gimmick involved, though. It isn’t just a staircase to the next floor. It is the next floor.
| ~ [Dungeon] ~ | |
| Floor {51} | |
| External Stairwell | |
| An extremely precarious stairwell. It is thin and dangerous to climb. Any fall threatens to be immediately fatal, given the great heights. Strong winds blow and the sensation of the tower swaying can be easily felt. | |
| Monsters: {104} | Traps: {05} |
| Room Effects: Applies status [Disorientation] to anyone with less than 20 DEX. The status can not be purged until the floor has been left. |
“Damn. We’re almost up to the big numbers in monsters,” says Red, looking at the status-window. “I guess the harpies don’t count towards the floor’s monster count?”
- A harpy grabs Isaiah's arm from the side and looks at it.
“Hmm…” says a sharp voice from the side. Crystal flies in closer, looking at the harpies that are above them, sitting perched on their roosts on the side of the tower. “I think they’re external, outside monsters. So the system doesn’t recognize them as being a part of the floor. Maybe?” He shrugs. “It’s like if a wild slime ran into the tower.”
“Neat. Is this cheating?” asks Red. “It feels like the whole ‘defense oriented architecture’ thing all over again.”
Isaiah pulls its arm away from the curious harpy. The monsters had gathered around on the stairwell after the one of them had grabbed its arm and then they all started smelling and looking at Isaiah, oddly enough. “Perhaps this is a ‘flaw’ of the tower?” asks Isaiah, deciding to not engage with the strange monsters, lest they get riled up with the uthra here. “I suppose external monsters are of little concern underground.” This could just be another one of those issues where the cosmic-rules about dungeons simply aren't trimmed to the concept of a tower.
“Makes sense to me,” replies Red. “If the gods didn’t make the rules right, then to hell with them. Not our problem. The lazy fucks.” Red looks around at the gathering harpies, who are sticking to the side of the tower in nests they have made by forcing strong branches from the forest into the mortar between bricks, to make ledges and roosts. “I think they like you, chief,” says Red.
Isaiah, flying there in the air off to the side of the staircase, looks at the harpies and then back to the uthra. “Perhaps because we are similar, in a way?”
“Harpies are wild things, but they're pretty smart,” explains Crystal. “But they can’t really talk too well in anything that isn’t ‘bird’.”
“Ah,” says Isaiah. “A shame, I do not think that I recall the language,” says the entity. “But they seem to understand us.” One of the nearby harpies on the staircase clicks and whistles. The other harpies all rustle their feathers at once, in some sort of synchronized action. It is the leader of the flock, who had greeted Isaiah upon arrival. He recognizes her from when they had first arrived on the tower.
“Gods, they’re weird,” says Red, looking at them. “I’m getting out of here, before I get eaten.” She flies off.
“Anyway,” says Crystal, returning to the topic. “Let’s get those monsters going, boss. There’s a lot left to do. Half of the tower is empty and Orange is already working on the next floor by herself.
Isaiah nods, trying to think of a suitable creature to cohabitate with the harpies. Summoning more of them could be an option, but…
— Perhaps there is a trick to be learned from the human’s ways? This devious external staircase, some fifty floors up off of the ground, was an idea presented by Beulah.
“Crystal, remove that step there,” says Isaiah, pointing at a single step in the middle of the staircase.
“Huh? Uh…” Crystal looks at the step. “I can’t. Then the staircase would be broken and the rules say there always has to be a traversable path through the dungeon.”
“Then remove only half of the step,” says Isaiah.
“Uh… I mean… I guess?” Crystal sets to work, carving half of one step out of the staircase, leaving a square hole right in the middle of it through which the world below is visible.
“Thank you,” says Isaiah, taking the perfectly extracted stone square from Crystal. It focuses its magic into the cube.
| ~ [Mimic] ~ | |
| Class: Monster | Element: ARCANE |
| Type: Illusionist | Category: Hominid |
| Rank: B- | |
| Level: 40 | |
| A mimic is a soft, squishy creature that likes to live in tight, sealed containers, such as chests, boxes and cabinets. Being unusually shy, mimics will prefer to simply stay shut inside of their homes forever. They are extremely easy to stress. Because of this, they can often not control their excitement when someone approaches and will sometimes giggle noisily. When opened or when approached too closely, the mimic will strike, lashing out of its container to attack with razor sharp teeth. | |
| [Shell Dweller]: The mimic can inhabit any hollow shell, making it into its home. It is a near perfect illusion. | |
| HP: 81/81 | SOUL: 57/57 |
The top of the previously solid stone cube pops open, as a soft, squishy blob of a creature with long eyestalks peaks out of what is now a hollower container. Seeing that it is being watched, it slams the ‘lid’ of the stone square back shut and the cube starts shaking nervously in Isaiah’s hands.
Isaiah hands the monster back to Crystal. “We will place these in the staircase,” it instructs.
“Wow…” says Crystal. “That’s pretty mean. It doesn’t really fit with the holy theme, does it?” he asks.
“It does,” says Isaiah, staring down at the very distant world below. “Part of having strong faith is to understand the deadly precariousness of it.”
"I think you're spending too much time with Red, honestly." Crystal shrugs and slots the mimic into the staircase, where it latches on, pretending to be a piece of the step. For any who don't know better, it just looks like any other piece of stonework, barring its somewhat unusual misalignment.
Isaiah lifts its gaze, looking at the harpies who are continuing their odd display, squawking and rustling their feathers in a unified dance of their flock, aimed its way.
They really are odd creatures.
| ~ [Bishop Zacaries Montero] ~ |
| Human, Male, Bishop |
“My mind remains unchanged,” barks the cardinal from the northern city. “This… thing is an affront to the faith. It must be destroyed.”
The others at the table murmur, coming to their various states of agreement on either side of the argument.
“It drew the ire of the witch,” argues another cardinal to the side, adjusting his cup on the table. The cardinal from the west. “Surely that is because Isaiah is an affront to her?” he asks. “As are all things good and divine.”
The murmuring resumes. It's a good point.
“Perhaps this is only because it is a threat to her?” asks the cardinal from the north. Everyone looks his way again. “A wolf will eat a bear’s cub. If it were allowed to grow, it would be a threat.” The red-robed man smashes his fists onto the table and then points to the open window, overlooking the lively city below. “The people no longer whisper, they rave," he says with anger in his voice. "The tower grows higher and higher every day, the land is ruptured and torn,” he says. “That destruction, that chaos… How long until it spreads to us and our walls?” He looks around at the others at the table, glancing over the bishop. “It has to be dealt with, before it grows too powerful. This is what the gods want,” finishes the cardinal, tapping against the table. “- Or else they would not have sent the witch as a warning to us for our foolishness. It was a sign for us to act.”
More murmurs.
Bishop Zacaries Montero looks around the table. These argumentations have been going on without pause since that fateful day and they show no sign of stopping any time soon. The camps are evenly split, but it seems like every day some people who were on the other side just yesterday have a change of heart, only to be swayed again on the day thereafter. It goes on and on and nobody has a clear voice or an answer.
He plays with the golden token of pilgrimage in his hands as the debates continue.
Razmatazz
| ~ [Note for occultists]{HARPIES} ~ Today I want to talk to you about harpies. Harpies are primarily described as being half-human, half-bird hybrid entities. They are depicted as being generally female in western mythos. Worth noting is that the traditional image of a harpy is not what we think of today. But also, it is. Let me explain. Today, when we envision a harpy, we think of a human shaped body with bird features, like wings and talons. Maybe some feathers. Sort of a bird-human. However, originally, an old-world European harpy was a lot more clean-cut in its design. It had an actual bird’s body, full-stop, with a human head just sort of glued on top of it. As you can imagine, it didn’t look great, which is likely why the new, rebranded image of the harpy as thin, muscular femme fatals has come to the forefront, fueled by popular media. Particularly, I blame Castlevania, comics and anime for distorting this mythological imagery. Which is par for the course. They have done a number on making the creature’s new image be more conventionally attractive, because that is just what these mediums of entertainment do. Anime girl marketing goes brrrrrrr- - Most importantly however, I blame the ancient Greek poet Hesiod. In Hesiod’s work, this actually was the case. He started the whole thing. In his poems, harpies were said to have 'lovely hair' and 'fair lockes', as they were 'winged maidens'. Other Greek writers, such as Aeschlus, Virgil and Hyginus otherwise represented harpies as being disgusting monsters, as was their traditional look. However, Hesiod seems to have won out and these days, we use pretty harpies for everything. (Author’s note: I too, opt for the more marketable version of the monsters in this story. Give me those sweet clicks, dear reader. Maybe if you do me a solid and rate, I’ll get you guys some delicious harpy artwork? Eh?) The origin of harpies is a complex topic, as always. As is tradition for many mythological beings, they are primarily attributed to having Greek origins, primarily stemming from the Homeric poems. However, as is usually the case, Harpies have a very vast and broad origin that is hard to nail down as being specifically from this region. The concept of half-bird people has a long and broad history. From the angels of Abrahamic religions to the Japanese Tengu to the Hindu/Buddhist Kinnara, humans have long since found a special place in our mythos for anthropomorphized birds in particular. Returning to the Greek mythos of harpies, they were often described as being mischievous creatures that do, however, follow the will of a god or higher power, rather than base animal or monster instinct. In a commonly told Greek mythological story, the harpies were made by Zeus to constantly steal a hungry man’s food, before he could eat it, as punishment for his transgressions against the god. The harpies didn’t hurt the guy or anything. They just always stole his food before he could eat it. That’s it, really. Just kind of a dick move, but nothing too bad directly. In the short-version of the Greek lore, one could argue that Harpies exist solely because Zeus was being a dick, which is a common theme you will find, if you read into Greek mythos. They are fascinating creatures and I really don’t even feel like I’ve begun with this trivia, we haven’t even unwrapped anything big yet. But there are too many strands and directions to look into. Harpies are such a surprisingly broad topic, that they need a full book of their own to really cover the global lore behind them in detail. |
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