Leer of the Vinegaroons @leerofthevinegaroons - Tumblr Blog

GO DOWN, YOU BLOOD RED ROSES, GO DOWN. leerofthevinegaroons

~ T h e . F o u n d l i n g ' s . T a l e ~

Baribus Thatch. Sweep. Salt. Servant. Leer. Loyal subject to the Haacobin Empire. Original Character, multiverse/multifandom friendly, oc/canon friendly, M!A Open! The Leer || The Heiress || Explicarium || The Verse Pamphlets || Laws Of Our Beloved Benefactor

Follows back from @pawnshopsouls

#promo #self promo #old promo #gift promo #thequeenalone

hunxi-after-hours

love it when an extremely high-functioning and put-together character gets slammed with something that would topple any lesser person but continues to function in an alarmingly efficient manner while everyone who knows and cares about them flutters anxiously around them like "please lie down please rest please accept medical attention" while the high-functioning character just looks askance at all their concerned faces like "what are you talking about? I'm perfectly fine" as tiny cracks start appearing in their demeanor and facade

leerofthevinegaroons-a

Bari!Manse readies his fiddle.

It seems that even as a nadder, Baribus feels inclined to play his bit on What do you do with a Drunken Sailor.~~

leerofthevinegaroons-a

[[Was feeling artistic today so I did some colored sketches of Fish/Nadder!Baribus.~ I think I like his face better hidden like this- reminds me a little of Metaknight. XP]]

leerofthevinegaroons-a

Unannounced except for a flood of self-satisfied and proud feelings as he arrived, the brown large cat-sized fire lizard arrived in the office once again. Unlike his first visit he greeted the man with telepathic words as well as images and emotion. -Hello! Missed You!-

Baribus laughed as the little dragon flew about his office before lifting his hands to catch it. “Lad! There you are! I was wondering where you’d gotten off to in my absence.” He held the little fire wyrm close, stroke him under his chin and neck. His scales were as smooth as the leer remembered, and just as warm too.

“How’ve you been, Lad? Has the Chief and the other officers been good to you?” Thatch had so many questions one might’ve mistaken him for a child, but all that passed through his and Lad’s link were warm, happy feelings as Baribus held his scaly little friend.

leerofthevinegaroons-a

Night Terrors Part 3

“Baribus!” Still seated in a tangle of arms and legs where he’d fallen from his chair, Theodore shouted after his friend. He recalled the nightmare in horrible vivid detail, it had only just now faded from his vision so he could see the Leer standing before him. He’d opened his eyes and it was Davy Jones there, stepped out of his mind and standing before him ready for a final judgement, a horrible choice between death or eternal servitude to loose himself aboard the Dutchman and the torture that waited there.

And he’d answered, death before that horror.

Except that it wasn’t Jones standing there, it was Baribus - who was already suffering in such a manner. And it was Baribus who thought that his last friend was repulsed by him.

The heavy door slammed in the wake of the Leer and before the echo had faded Groves sprang up from the floor and dove for it intending to chase after his friend. In that way he had though Baribus had vanished. There were plenty of confused and shaken museum inhabitants that were more than happy to point the sailor on his way as he descended through the many floors and twisted his way around the halls of the building in search of him. It was likely that the former sailor was heading for his basement dwelling but just in case, in case he wouldn’t even allow himself to remain within the building, Theodore made sure to stop at each junction and ask for direction.

Eventually he was standing before the door of the basement. It was tall, solid, and though the reality of it was only one more door out of many, anxiety made it imposing. Nothing had changed since only that evening when he’d gone down into the cellar in order to wake his friend, but now he felt like the month or so ago when there had been a monster lurking down there. This time there were no Civil War mannequins at his back and he knew - hoped he knew - what awaited down there. The wax sailor heaved a breath and pushed through the heavy door.

“Mister Thatch? …. Baribus?” God but it was dark. Before tramping down the stairs he brush a hand over the wall until finding a switch. The bulbs buzzed, a few flickered and emitted a dim glow but it was still dark. At least he could find the stairs now.

Was that a hiss? A growl?

Theodore stopped, he was only halfway down the short flight. Maybe this was a horrible idea. He swallowed and tried to pierce those shadows that lurked between the shelves, crates, boxes, piles. No sign of his friend other than the imagination - hopefully just imagination - of the disapproving hisses of an angry nadder. Very carefully he crept to the bottom of the stairs and stood there wringing the hem of his shirt between his hands. By now his clothes were quite rumbled from the mistreatment of that nervous habit. “I truly am sorry.“

He ducked his head, there were only a few minutes before daylight and this apology, explanation, plea, whatever it was needed to be said if only he could get his thoughts to behave! To stop being so frantic and just align so he could say them!

“Please Mister Thatch, we’ve been friends for so long. I don’t mean to hurt you in such a way. I … I thought that you were Jones. When I woke again, I didn’t see you. Please, I don’t wish you to leave thinking that I could ever hate you, could be so fearful.” Precious moments were taken to stop and look around again and venture further into the dark that wasn’t reached by the pitiful lights, “Baribus? … I -” Whatever the last sentence it was cut off by the rays breaking over the shadows of the surrounding buildings.

leerofthevinegaroons-a

For a long time since his transformation, Baribus had had frequent spells of despair and self-loathing - some so intense that only raking his claws against something could release the horrible tension and repulsion he felt. This had developed a terrible habit of clawing not only his surroundings but his helm as well. Granted, he shed his helm every few decades and regrew a new one, but the habit remained. Even now his sharp, shelled claws dug at the polished surface of his helm, desperate to ease the pain inside him with other forms to focus on.

It was the sound of the basement door opening that finally roused the nadder’s faculties, eliciting an angry warning hiss. The nadder side of him didn’t want to be with people now. Not after being so wounded by his only friend. But the footsteps persisted, goading the leer’s bogle instincts into gear. Slowly, he crept along the shelves and boxes, careful to keep out of sight as Theodore ventured down into the dark. The was figure could not produce the smell of fear, but the nervous rumpling of his hem and the nervous manner of his speech gave it away. He was afraid and Manse was furious.

He was almost ready to jump out and confront the sailor in the most boglish way possible when Groves spoke. He explained the dream, the name Jones ringing a bell. Who was Jones? How did he relate to Theodore? If he were telling the truth, then that would mean this Jones person must’ve struck some terror into the man before his death.

Jones… jones…

Then a voice came to the leer’s mind that made him balk.

‘Baribus Thatch,’ said the strange Scottish burr, ‘do yeh fear death?’

The words chilled him to his bones. He remembered Jones. He remembered the deal he’d made for Lavinia’s safety and his short time onboard before being —in a way—rescued by the head of the EITC, a trading partner of the Heraldy Shipping Co. He’d been deemed “a valuable asset to the company” better suited for what he did best than working and becoming a monster on the rotting, barnacle ridden Dutchman.

“You… know Jones?” Baribus asked and felt his anger melt away. How could he have doubted his friend, the only one who had tried to make things comfortable for him here at the museum? Didn’t he himself know that Davy Jones was a terrifying sight to behold? And did Theodore not also participate in that most heinous of pirate wars in which Jones was a part of and in which his own commodore had been slain by that very nadder captain?

Would that not be a night vision to be terrified of?

The wretched vinegaroon stepped forward, lifting a clawed hand. “Theodore—” he managed, but it was too late. The sun had taken his friend and he could no more talk with this wax statue than he could a dead fish. Letting out a sigh, Baribus sat down in front of the sailor and stared up at his waxy face.

“I’m sorry, Theodore,” he murmured, his breath rasping gently. “I’m so sorry.”

toodamnloyal

"Theodore, I had an uneasy feeling a time ago and I came to check on you. Is everything alright?" In the realm of monster hunting, it was almost always best to follow one's instincts and Baribus's had been keenly sharpened by his time in Altgird and the Vinegar Seas.

Previously he’d been a shape shifter, only partially human and with the ability to become a swift flying bird. That curious and clever nature was part of his human identity as well, sometimes blurring a line that didn’t really exist. When fed upon by his former captain, and transformed into a vampire, half of that identity was ripped out. The feathers had fallen out of his hair, it no longer stuck up in a hundred directions and no more soft downy quills poked through. He’d always been tanned as well, testament to the hours spent outdoors every day.

The young man that Baribus saw certainly reflected that half of himself had been ripped away. With little identity left, instinct played a massive roll in his functioning, and made him nearly feral. Baribus was heard long before he appeared at the door. He brought with him the pungent scents of his career, and it set the instincts of the fledgling vampire alight. He was cornered, and with little self control over the urge and the need to hunt and kill.

With pupils blown wide he watched the Leer enter. Immediately the young vampire heard the man’s heart, heard the blood in his veins, could smell it mixed with the salt and ocean. Theodore’s mouth flooded with saliva. He was also certain that Thatch came because he knew, and was there to fulfill his duty. “Uneasy feeling? And you came all the way from Altgird for it?” Panic mixed with hunger, both driving toward a desire to kill the laggard.

leerofthevinegaroons-a

Gold and green locked onto the sailor, Theodore’s posture and tone causing the leer’s stomach to clench. He no longer sported his usual feathers or downy quills, but instead had a wild look about him. Baribus held up a hand, hoping to calm his old friend as he assessed him.

“I was already passing through town when the feeling happened,” he answered, trying to keep his tone as calming as possible. “I was intending to visit you in the morning but I feared something had happened to you. It looks like my instincts were correct.”

The leer kept his eyes on the sailor, taking in every inch of him as his mind raced for a verdict. Possession? Attack? Illness? Curse? With his eyes, he could see a kind of unnatural pallor beneath sailor’s usually warm tan, as if he’d taken extremely ill. And his expression—hunger and fear, something he’d only seen on small bogles and demons he’d been sent to get rid of. And the feeling he got looking at him was nothing short of threwdish! Even a common man would be able to tell something was wrong with him.

“Theodore,” he began again, taking a cautious step forward. “I’m here to help. But I need to know what’s happened. Has someone hurt you? Has something hurt you?”

prompts-in-a-barrel

"You don't know me. I'm not the same person anymore."

"That's okay. I'll get to know you again."

californiannostalgia

shutyourmoustache

Love how you can feel his sanity slipping away…

udntnome

This is a classic fucking prank type

leerofthevinegaroons

// @toodamnloyal THEODORE HAS DONE THIS TO BARIBUS AND HE’S STILL FINDING THEM!

#ooc || outofsights

leerofthevinegaroons

A Sick Nadder

leerofthevinegaroons

toodamnloyal

Having safely retrieved the rest of the food that Manse hadn’t snapped up, and done so without being bitten, the cursed sailor slunk closer. He was low, belly almost touching the floor and tail lifted only enough to avoid dragging and sidled up to the edge of the wading pool. It was true that Theo didn’t know how to feel about the bug-like creature. It was true that he was friends with Baribus, not necessarily Manse … but all the same … he didn’t like seeing the creature ill and miserable. Theo’s ears flicked forward and then fell flat, his whiskers drooped. Carefully he reared up enough to rest his forepaws on the edge of the plastic pool and lay his chin atop them. So … Manse was thinking about what fixing the whole mess meant for himself. Before the bug was … created? Was created the correct term? Before Baribus had been turned into the creature, the Professor had managed to devise a spell that returned him from his half-nadder state back to human in order to spend time with Mathafew, to be able to leave the museum and have a relatively normal existence. Then some trickster creature had ‘finished’ the experiment that had made him that way, and the result was a simple crustacean-like creature, and Manse had been content the way he was. Ivory’s experimentation had once again led to Baribus returning occasionally, but being unaware of Manse and the nadder-creature unaware of him and all of that had started making the monster more self-aware. Then Baribus learned about his alternate self, and so had Manse and they were really pulling away from each other, Manse becoming its own person. Theo pondered the mess as he half-lay against the top of the pool. The only reason he struggled to be friends with Manse, was because he wanted Baribus, he wanted his friend back. “Manse…” The otter creature questioned and ignoring the order to leave the miserable monster in peace, “…Are you ill… or are you frightened?”

#title #thread title #thread: a sick nadder #verse: ivory tower #verse: museum au #nadder!baribus #toodamnloyal

A Sick Nadder

#title #thread title

toodamnloyal

It seems while Theo has been meandering the museum, Manse has commandeered his kiddie pool. The bug usually isn’t out of his tank nowadays, but he seems a bit peakish and only gives a low, rattly hiss to warn passers by.

It seems the lanky crustacean isn’t feeling as well as he should.

Weeks had passed since Theo and Manse had returned to the museum after the bug had run off. Very little progress at all had been made with trying to return Baribus to them, and even less progress on Manse and Theo’s relationship. The transformed-sailor had grown reluctantly used to being a waterhound, resigned to waiting while the professor and his assistants worked to aid Manse and Baribus first.

As Theo wandered the museum, his gait was much easier these days, tail held aloft behind him rather than dragging on the floors and not struggling so much to move freely on four legs. The transformed sailor skid around a corner, his tail lashed out behind him as he swerved to escape the three mannequins trying to chase down the snack-thief. Theo galloped off until he’d managed to duck through the door leading into the giant aquarium.

The frills around is throat and along his dorsal fin were glowing with his amusement as Theo laughed around his mouthful of stolen snacks. He dove into his small plastic pool and ducked down to hide - then immediately threw himself out of it again in a huge splash of water after realizing that it was already occupied. “Manse!” Theo yelped. His snacks, several bags of sweets, fruits, and the occasionally sushi roll fell and scattered across the floor. “Sorry!” He backed away from the hissing water bug, ears and head down. “I thought you were in the pool, you know, you’re pool?” The one Theo avoided like a plague.

@leerofthevinegaroons

toodamnloyal

leerofthevinegaroons:

Being jostled was never something Manse enjoyed. Usually he responded with a his and snap of his helm or a darting slash of his claws. But as the water hound dove into the pool, crashed into him, and promptly dove out, all Manse managed to do was lift his head with a displeased hiss before resting his head half submerged in the remaining pool water.

He then spotted a piece of fruit that had landed in the pool and slowly nipped at it with his helm. It took a minute, but he finally got it and ate it when he heard Theodore’s statement. The nadder let out a rough groan and opened his shell so he could glance out at the water hound.

“Den… too cold,” he rasped, lifting his beak out of the water. “Not… well…” he continued before resting his head back in the water.

Theo lay flat on the aquarium floor in anticipation of some outburst from Manse. Since the two of them had returned to the museum, the cursed sailor had given the shelled nadder plenty of space. He’d gotten to see and spend short time with Baribus during the venture away but since returning, Baribus made very in-frequent appearances while the professor attempted to find some way to mend or separate the nadder and his human counterpart.

Sometimes Theo wondered if it was a fear of what separation might mean for Manse that made the nadder so bed tempered. Certainly when Manse had been a much more simple-minded creature with no knowledge of Baribus, he had seemed much happier.

He crept up to the pool and used his paws to collect the remaining food items that he’d stolen from else where in the museum. “Cold? It’s supposed to be nice and tropical in there. This pool isn’t even heated!” He dipped a webbed paw into the large tank, and sure enough it was rather balmy. The waterhound loped around the tank to check the temperature elsewhere, the same. Of course, down at the bottom might be something else entirely - and he didn’t have any desire to dive down there.

Swimming was reserved only for dire emergencies. This was not an emergency. Perhaps Manse had a fever, but he wasn’t going to put a paw close enough to the sharp beak to feel for one. Still though that didn’t have to be anything horrible, Miss Katherine and Ivory would have him fixed up in no time. Theo slunk back around and picked up a few strawberries that the nadder hadn’t snapped up yet. “Wouldn’t the den be the best place for you if you’re taken ill?”

leerofthevinegaroons

Manse clicked his mandibles irritably and lifted his head from the water. "Den cold," he reiterated. "Cold. hard to get. Manse sick. Hard to get in den... not come out again..."

He rested his head on the edge of the wading pool, before slipping back in the water. He was talking too much and it was taking so much energy just to answer the water-hound that he was growing too tired to tell him to just go away. he really wanted to do was sleep, really, but something inside him was... afraid to sleep in his den. At least while he was sick. He didn't want to be sick in the dark of his den. Something in being sick made his den isolating... frightening... like he'd go to sleep and never wake up...

Manse made a soft grating whine that might've been a sigh and curled up in the wading pool, his shoulder carapace poking out of the water into the warm air. A weight rested on Manse, one that only amplified the sickness, making the nadder more miserable than he had been.

"Go, water-hound," the shelled beast rattled tersely. "Go to friends. Manse knows he is not your friend. Sailor is your friend. Not Manse. Go. Others will help... Leave Manse alone..."

With that, the nadder curled up tighter, clamping its shelled head closed as it lay miserably in the wading pool beside its giant aquarium.

#leerofthevinegaroons #v: now a monster

leerofthevinegaroons

“Den… too cold,” he rasped, lifting his beak out of the water. “Not… well…” he continued before resting his head back in the water.

toodamnloyal

All along the water-hound's spine his dorsal fin had flared into a spiked ridge. The otter-like creature's back had arched and his sopping fur stood on end. Despite being nearly the size of a full grown man should he stand on his hind legs, despite being a man were it not for the curse of some trickster creature, Theo was an easily startled creature. Slinking to avoid Manse's sharp beak he set about collecting up all of the dropped snacks, all of them stolen from the various vendors around Ivory's museum.

"Your whole pool is heated." He protested. Manse had a giant aquarium that would make any commercial aquarium manager cry out of envy and the creature was hiding out in the wading pool, complaining it was too cold?! Theo held a stolen pastry between his paws and sat up on his haunches as he snaked his long tail through the water. It didn't feel cold, but then again it wasn't especially warm either. More something comfortable for swimming in - if someone actually enjoyed being wet.

Which he did not.

Still, he sat back and wrapped his tail back about himself. "Isn't the wading pool colder?" He asked, then canted his head to the side. What did one even do for ill fish? What would this mean when it was daytime again and Manse changed back into Baribus? The waterhound's head drooped, whiskers curving forward with thought.

leerofthevinegaroons

Manse clicked his mandibles irritably and lifted his head from the water. "Den cold," he reiterated. "Cold. hard to get. Manse sick. Hard to get."

He gave a sigh and rested his head back in the water. He was talking too much and it was taking so much energy just to tell the water-hound... All he really wanted to do was sleep, but something inside him was... afraid to sleep in his den. At least while he was sick. He didn't want to be sick in the dark of his den. Something in being sick made his den isolating... frightening... like he'd go to sleep and never wake up.

Manse made a soft grating whine that might've been a sigh and curled up in the wading pool, his shoulder carapace poking out of the water into the warm air.

"Don't want to sleep," he burbled softly. "Don't want to sleep... or not wake up..."

#v: now a monster #leerofthevinegaroons #v: tower museum #manse #nadder!bari #waterhound #nadder!theo

The shadow tutted. "Is that any way to greet me?" It said still using the hated form, "I created you, after all." It smiled more amused by the aggression coming from Manse than anything else. "And my face is whatever I want it to be, and I thought that this would be more than appropriate to celebrate your escape."

"But," The shadow sighed like it was indulging a small child and the borrowed shape broke away into mist before coming together again with a new face. This one a tall man with long pale features and dark hair tied back in a neat queue. Golden eyes strikingly similar to those of Manse that peered at it glittered down at the nadder. "Perhaps this is more to your liking." The shadow rumbled in a rich voice.

It continued walking along just above the water in the direction of the open ocean. "Your lovely 'foeman' will be looking for you I expect. This time you should make certain it is the one who leaves bloodied. I did try to warn you that those people are not your friends. If they could, they would kill you."

The moon was bright in the canal, the water low and the current not quite as strong. Safe in the shadows of the half-filled canal, the nadder peered at the Threwdish figure, its mandibles clicking with agitation. It wanted the Threwd to go away, to leave it to its venturing. Museum wasn't safe. No longer safe. Not with foeman. Not with new rival nadder. It was stung, hurt, betrayed, and its feelings boiled in its stomach.

Manse gave a low, rattling growl as it carefully clambered to the edge of its perch and scooped up a large mouthful of water, sloshing it down to its face within its cracked helm. Feelings would turn water to acid, help defend Manse, protect it from enemy foemen.

But then the thoughts of Ivory, Katherine, the Night Guard, and even the one lady, Lavinia, came to mind. They hadn't harmed him. They were not enemies...

"Not all are foemen," the nadder muttered, his belly at least somewhat full of the cool water. "Some are foemen. Some... still friends."

Then he heard it - the rich, familiar baritone that made him stop cold. The nadder froze in place for a time before slowly turning to look at the Threwdish figure. There, standing just above the canal water, was the tall man, his dark hair pulled back in a queue and his eyes mirroring the nadder's own.

He knew that voice. He knew it in his bones deep beneath his carapace. Something stirred in the nadder, a recognition, a will - another's will. Awe, indignation, but most of all recognition.

"You..." the nadder hissed, "you use wrong face. Face not threwd, not yours." The nadder made a spitting hiss and snapped his shell at the specter. He didn't know why he was angry, but the sight of the man before him hurt him deeply, made him sad in a way he couldn't even describe! Seeing him made his chest ache more than even the water hound's terrible bite!

"Begone!" Manse barked, clapping his claws against his cement perch. "Begone! Manse is not slave of Threwd! Manse is Manse! Leave! Manse will deal with foeman! You not master of Manse!"

#baribus #manse #nadder!bari #anon

valtsv

we all know and love dog coded characters but what about their cousin, falcon coded characters. characters whose loyalty is fierce, but more distant, less physically affectionate, an unspoken but mutually understood bond. whose devotion to you is a language that only the two of you understand. whose fearsome appearance never lets you forget the privilege you hold in having earned that devotion. who require careful handling and patience to bond with, so you don't slip and cut yourself on their sharp edges. whose trust is given after you place yours in them, not before. whose dependence on you is less apparent but no less real. whose power is only equal to their fragility. who can easily leave your side, but will always return when you hold out your hand and call them home.

#ooc || outofsights #baribus #about bari