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independent & selective 𝐄𝐍 𝐃𝐖𝐈 𝐆𝐀𝐒𝐓 | 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 of 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑: 𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐊 primarily film & headcanon based no minors, please 21+ found by 𝐑𝐄𝐍

[firstofsakaar]

So, funny story about the submarine explosion.

-my DM as we joke about dredging canons up from the shoreline

[firstofsakaar]

🙃

[dandiestbard]

@firstofsakaar asked

Ooooooh! So you’re a—a musician, huh? Fun! We love music here! Is it all, uh…all lute, or do you play something people with taste like, too?

"Excuse me, I will have you know that this lute was gifted to me by none other than Filavandrel, King of the Elves." The bard chirped back at the man with a rather annoyed huff. He had no idea where he was, he had no idea how he got there. There was a portal, and men chasing him, and that was about all he remembered before making his quick escape through the swirling well of reality itself.

"But, to answer your question, I happen to play quite a few instruments myself. I didn't study the seven liberal arts at Oxenfurt Academy for nothing, after all. In addition to the perfectly acceptable instrument known as the lute, I also play the shawm, the harp, the rebec, the cittern and the citole. And that is merely the instruments I know well, most recently I've been teaching myself the hurdy-gurdy, but I'm not ready to debut that one to the public just yet."

[firstofsakaar]

“Oh, fun, fun,” the Grandmaster assures him, gaze momentarily looking through rather than at him. The Grandmaster glances back at the broad woman to the side and just behind him; when she shakes her head and shrugs, he nods as if he’s had a theory confirmed. Because he has.

Save the harp—which sounds familiar-ish—nobody’s ever heard of those other instruments before. But it’s cute that he’s using his little planet’s local noisemakers creatively!

The Grandmaster drapes his arm over the lute-liker’s shoulder, casually, entirely too familiar, and begins steering the little knot of them—the Grandmaster, Topaz, him, the odd handful of hangers-on—deeper into the palace.

“Oh, all seven of them, huh? That’s—that’s so funny, that’s one of those things you find a lot in these, uh. These younger cultures! Commonalities of numbers. Lots of sevens, threes, ones. All prime numbers. Very fun! Tell me, sweetheart, is your, uh…musical repertoire as…,” the Grandmaster pauses, looking behind the pair of them to find his assistant. “Topaz, what’s a nice way to way ‘hick’?”

“Why. It’s already heard you say that.”

“Yeah, I know. But for next time.”

“…country?”

“No, not—well, yes, but that’s not the part I mean. More like….”

“Quaint.”

“Quaint!” The Grandmaster beams and turns back to the bard, squeezing the shoulder under his hand. “Is your, uh, musical repertoire as quaint as your instrumental knowledge, or have some of the standards, at least, hit your home yet?”

[firstofsakaar]

“Ah-haha, a contender!” Two fists come up shaking in a victorious little celebration for him before going right back down. “Love that. Love that for you, love that more for me! Just between you and me things were, uh, getting a little stale out there. A little fresh blood on the sand oughtta liven things up, huh?”

The Grandmaster turns from his latest potential acquisition with a chuckle, fixing the collar of his golden robe as he reenters negotiations with the scrapper—leaving the man’s question unanswered. One doesn’t need to understand the words being said (more grunted, really) to see that negotiations aren’t going well. The Grandmaster reaches up and scratches the inside of his ear, nodding along with the argument being presented until he isn’t, until he waves an impatient hand to cut off whatever assertion has been made and starts arguing back. The back and forth lasts a while before the Grandmaster, in frustration, holds a hand up to stop the scrapper and turns over his shoulder to the woman nearby: short, broad, and impassive, a golden scepter taller than the woman herself grasped on one hand.

“Topaz,” he says, gesturing to the scrapper as if to say do something about this. Topaz shrugs, moves to hand him the scepter in her hand—and the scrapper abruptly changes his mind just as the Grandmaster begins to reach for it. There’s some more back and forth before the Grandmaster switches back to a language the Witcher can understand.

“—Cats! It’s like trying to teach an amoeba algebra. Settle an argument for me, wouldja? Are you a…Topaz!” The woman looks at the back of the Grandmaster’s head, even though he doesn’t look at her. “Topaz, how would you translate that?”

The woman smirks, glancing once at the fresh meat before answering. “Incubator.”

“Incu—you really think so?” the Grandmaster asks, turning over his shoulder in mild surprise. Topaz nods and the Grandmaster shrugs, turning back. “Huh. I guess it fits. Would you consider yourself to be an incubator?”

[whitehairedwitcher]

Geralt's eyes narrow and a grumble rumbles forth from his chest as he's pointedly ignored by the brightly colored royal prick. Though the language they speak isn't one he recognizes or that he's even remotely familiar with, he can catch the gist of what is going on. Negotiations over him and his worth.

He struggles again against his restraints, trying to work himself free but he's stuck fast. It would seem that for now, he'll have to just play along. Not knowing where he is and not getting an answer further complicate things. It would do no good to him if he found the portal has transported him to another world, a likelihood that seems all the more probably the more he silently observes.

Until the bright fool is spinning around and asking him a question about whether or not he considers himself to be an incubator.

Eyes widen for a moment, then narrow, and then he raises a brow as he looks from one being to another, and then settles his gaze back on the leader.

"Why? Am I worth more or less if I am?"

[firstofsakaar]

“Worth m—? Ah! Hahahaha! I…I see what you’re doing there. Cute, cute,” the Grandmaster reassures him, flicking his fingers dismissively at the Witcher. A shimmery metallic blue, matched perfectly in shade to the stripe over his bottom lip and chin, gleams on each nail. The scrapper asks something and Topaz snorts in amusement before answering them. The Grandmaster snaps the beat of an imaginary tune, stopping abruptly.

“No, see—if you’re an incubator, you, ah. You leave here. For a farm. Where you’ll spend the rest of your long, miserable life chained up and, uh. Incubating! But if you’re not an incubator…you stay here. Where you’ll spend the last gasps of your short, miserable life bleeding out in my arena. —Oh! Or maybe winning your freedom, there’s that. Doubt that, but, uh. There’s that all the same.” The Grandmaster announces it airily, tone skeptical.

Slowly, the Grandmaster leans forward, planting his hands on his thighs. His head is still above Geralt’s, but they’re much closer in height this way, especially with the benefit of the Grandmaster’s little stage.

“So, which is it, sport? Incubator or…ooo, let’s go with ‘gladiator’! I love a good rhyme!”

[whitehairedwitcher]

@firstofsakaar asked

Oh, look! It’s another, uh, another little backwater one! How cute. I just love it when one of the low-tech planets sends me a little present. You a lover—or a fighter?

This. This is exactly why Geralt hated portal travel. The potential to arrive somewhere entirely not intended to be, the chance of losing a limb or two, or having one's very being or existence rewritten or erased. While none of that had happened to him before, he knew it would only be a matter of time.

The events of falling through the portal were all still a blur, and somehow he had wound up in front of someone who's fashion sense could rival the offensiveness of his poetic companion's. Like an overdressed wizard trying to hard to impress and show that he was, in fact, a wizard. It reminded him terribly of Stregobor.

"Let me go and you'll find out."

The Witcher stared up at the man before him with pure defiance and challenge in his cat-like yellow eyes. His words were growled out between gritted teeth as he fought against his restraints. By the looks of this strange sorcerer who held him now, he was of importance. By the sounds of him, he thought himself above everyone else. He'd dealt with the likes before. He doubted the other man was just going to let him go like that.

The man spoke of backwater planets, and Geralt wondered just how far from the Continent he'd been taken.

"Where am I?"

[firstofsakaar]

“Ah-haha, a contender!” Two fists come up shaking in a victorious little celebration for him before going right back down. “Love that. Love that for you, love that more for me! Just between you and me things were, uh, getting a little stale out there. A little fresh blood on the sand oughtta liven things up, huh?”

The Grandmaster turns from his latest potential acquisition with a chuckle, fixing the collar of his golden robe as he reenters negotiations with the scrapper—leaving the man’s question unanswered. One doesn’t need to understand the words being said (more grunted, really) to see that negotiations aren’t going well. The Grandmaster reaches up and scratches the inside of his ear, nodding along with the argument being presented until he isn’t, until he waves an impatient hand to cut off whatever assertion has been made and starts arguing back. The back and forth lasts a while before the Grandmaster, in frustration, holds a hand up to stop the scrapper and turns over his shoulder to the woman nearby: short, broad, and impassive, a golden scepter taller than the woman herself grasped on one hand.

“Topaz,” he says, gesturing to the scrapper as if to say do something about this. Topaz shrugs, moves to hand him the scepter in her hand—and the scrapper abruptly changes his mind just as the Grandmaster begins to reach for it. There’s some more back and forth before the Grandmaster switches back to a language the Witcher can understand.

“—Cats! It’s like trying to teach an amoeba algebra. Settle an argument for me, wouldja? Are you a…Topaz!” The woman looks at the back of the Grandmaster’s head, even though he doesn’t look at her. “Topaz, how would you translate that?”

The woman smirks, glancing once at the fresh meat before answering. “Incubator.”

“Incu—you really think so?” the Grandmaster asks, turning over his shoulder in mild surprise. Topaz nods and the Grandmaster shrugs, turning back. “Huh. I guess it fits. Would you consider yourself to be an incubator?”

[firstofsakaar]

[firstofsakaar]

Still pulling this blog back together, but like…anyone want an unhinged alien overlord in their inbox?

Slash how do you start a blog again.

[monismemes]

Send me 📏 (ruler) + your muses height and I'll compare them to mine!

using this site

[firstofsakaar]

I need to clean this blog up, do a pinned post, new info, etc., but I really do wanna try writing here again.

What’s the easiest way to get going?

[memepocalypse]

Send, "Look at me!" for sender to grab receiver by the jaw.

[firstofsakaar]

Wouldn’t it be so funny if I just showed up here again outta nowhere and we started writing?

[firstofsakaar]

Wishlist

•human sugar daddy En Dwi

•Tony Stark

•Valkyrie

•Can I get a Loki or nine thanks (more Loki’s for more types of interaction!)

•that’s it for now but hmu for my discord

[firstofsakaar]

Hey, yeah, if you just got a follow from this and went “what the fuck?” -- hi, Orion! Hi, Heli! Don’t follow back ‘cause this one gets triggery but I keep bouncing between blogs. Catch the better shit at @goldblumstandard

[firstofsakaar]

Anyone know what tags people are using these days??

[firstofsakaar]

                    WHAT HAPPENED TO MY MANNERS?              I HAVEN’T PROPERLY INTRODUCED MYSELF.

                                        My name is Grandmaster.    I preside over a little harlequinade called the Contest of Champions.           People come from far and wide to unwilling participate in it.

                                     AND YOU, MY FRIEND,                  MIGHT JUST BE PART OF THE NEW CAST!

                                                                         template & psd credit !!

[firstofsakaar]

I’m planning on putting out a new promo. Which is better?

They’re the same image, same setup, only one is a gif and slightly lighter in coloration because of it.

PSD // Template

[firstofsakaar]

firstofsakaar​:

like if you’re an active mutual, please. 

blog revamped

follow list cleaned

avatar/header replaced