Hi, anyone passing through! Just a lil organizational post
My name's Mith (he/him), and this is my main blog all things tumblr
I'm into Guild Wars 2, Homestuck (woah), The Witcher (books and games), Baldur's Gate 3 and all the D&D stuff i can find, though it's not the only fandoms i enjoy, so this blog is sometimes a jumble of all of the above and more
If you know me from somewhere, and i seemed not very communicative or unapproachable, don't worry, i'm just extremely shy and anxious, and i'm probably afraid of you more than you know! I love everyone i ever interacted with, though <3
I don't really have much of a tag system, but whatever works! Might add more in the future
General tags:
#mith draws — all of my (arguably, not very numerous) drawings in one place
#oc loredump — relevant info and lengthy paragraphs about any and all OCs of mine
OC tags:
#aestus — a fiery Commander who tries to be the warmest light to the world
#stig the seer — blind norn seer, herald channeling Asgeir Dragonrender; Wayfinder and Champion of the Elder Dragon of Ice and Love, Numen
#stig sprout — blind sprout that fell into the Mists and is crumbling from ley-line magic oversaturation
#eamhrys — peaceful ancient mordrem Champion, ex-member of Durmand Priory, member of an Order of Whispers team BWTCH
#the hoaxer — traumatized and chaotic ex-Nightmare Courtier in a happy polycule
#semeeas — bitchy ex-Nightmare Courtier and ex-mordrem, member of an Order of Whispers team BWTCH
#a'alaeth — chaotic lover of every part of the world, magic origins enthusiast from Durmand Priory
#oeidhche — a sympathetic soul and a mysterious merchant of every thing possible, Archon in the Durmand Priory
#caedhae — traumatized by Inquest novice pirate engineer
#loechlyn — a little sprout from an underwater Tree
Next batch of sketches :D these ended up a bit higher quality than last time. Not my intention to create art unequally, but I'm also developing my speed to quality ratio as I go at these!
Help a refugee escape transphobic toxic household & reunite with fiance.
Nasser lives in Ireland. Helena lives in Brazil. They first met o… Helena T needs your support for Help Nasser escape transphobia and reunit
On the 30th of May just as I bid my fiance @lofilesbo farewell at the airport, my mother violated my privacy and searched through all my belongings. She threw out many personal items, my HRT and is forcing me to detransition entirely.
Despite being employed (paid minimum wage), my hours are very limited and unpredictable. Regardless, my mother decided to make me pay 200£ for the privilege of sleeping on the living room floor of her cramped apartment. All this under threat of being kicked out unlawfully if I break her tyrannical rules.
Currently I am biding my time to try to save up to move to Brazil for good, but can not do it on our own and we need help. Every dollar counts!
I will vote for any candidate who promises to go scorched fucking earth on every tech company. Break every single one of them up into companies based around a single product and then split those in thirds. Weaponize existing antitrust laws to the hilt and pass the most draconian versions of them ever seen on this planet. Nationalize google search specifically. Pass consumer privacy protections strict enough to kill the data harvesting industry for good. Make all of these fuckers go bankrupt for this rent-seeking shit
mojeek.com (private searching, prioritizes smaller websites that get buried)
qwant.com (prioritizes privacy, french made)
These are just a few I found after a short search. Google is expecting everyone to adapt, but it’s only because it’s so baked in. We must go out of our way to find and actively use alternatives.
It’s hard but Google is also counting on it being harder and people not giving a shit. To prompt legislative change, we must change socially first and that is the hard truth.
Tomodachi fractal courtesy of @commanderteag featuring the characters of himself, me, @lost-wayfinder and @mithosis . This interaction between Eyrhys and Mael had me rofling.
Like they tried to change Reblogs and people rightfully got up in arms, this is a LOT worse. In order to have access to any sort of thing dubbed mature, and We haveALL seen what they think is mature, Everything from a black and white photo of a black woman's arm, to posts about IUD recalls, to a nude painted by a 17th century artist, to anything involving the word Trans; you have to send your personal information to a third party site that WILL get hacked, and you will be doxxed. And they can say "Oh shit, well it wasn't us who sent your name address and gender identity to Moldovan teenagers, here's a couple extra minutes in the ball pit.
That's bad enough!!!!!!!! But the entire idea of needing permission from state authorities to access anything labeled mature by our friendly AI overlords is some fucking Boll shit. Die Gedenken Sind Frie baby. This is all a reaction to people getting uppity about their lowly lowly rights and is being propped up by the same bad actors tht have made life unlivable. Fuck that shit.
"Well it's only being rolled out in Brazil and UK" Yeah, to start. "Well they're being forced to do this by laws." YOu know it's always really funny when these tech giants (Or whatever you call owning tumblr dot com) get really antsy about laws considering they pick and choose which ones they abide by.
This is a breaking point and it's going to be very interesting to see how we proceed from here.
Where's the fucking. The form. The fucking form. Hang on, lemme find it.
Tumblr is a place to express yourself, discover yourself, and bond over the stuff you love. It's where your interests connect you with your
This! Please fill out this! Select "Feedback" and fill out the form! They won't necessarily be paying attention to us complaining in posts, but they will read these forms!
Rules: make a poll with five of your all-time favourite characters and then tag five people to do the same. See which character is everyone's favourite
Tagged by @lady-quen <3
Don't really have anyone to tag, but feel free to grab this if you see this post :D
My all-time blorbos... Nerds who are all over the place. Trahearne will probably win, considering what this blog is mostly about
Pick a nerd
Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy (The Witcher books and game)
Trahearne (Guild Wars 2)
Essek Thelyss (Critical Role campaign 2, Mighty Nein)
Caleb Widogast (Critical Role campaign 2, Mighty Nein)
There was a hard core of things Trahearne didn't allow himself to question.
They were often the things Mordremoth attacked the hardest: his faith in the Pale Tree, his loyalty to the Dream, his commitment to his duty.
They were how Trahearne maintained his identity, even as Mordremoth wore away at less pertinent details.
For example, what WAS his duty, exactly? The Pact was involved somehow - or had been once - although he was no longer clear on what exactly defined "the Pact." His duty also had to do with ideals like unity that Trahearne was no longer certain of.
"Pale Mother said," he murmured under his breath, half delirious, "Pale Mother said with unity many impossible things can be achieved."
What impossible things? Are they good? Was she advocating action or warning against it?
A restless, uncertain sigh escaped him. He wasn't sure. He'd spent years fighting dragons, but...
He just didn't know anymore. He went back to his core of unquestionables. "My duty is to protect people, not to harm them."
What is people?
Well, people was things that could think for themselves. Beings with free will. That was also an unquestionable.
Trahearne was a person, and he was protecting himself, which meant protecting his ability to think and his free will, and that was why he fought so hard.
Do you think for yourself? Do any of my minions?
His first thought was no, of course the Mordrem didn't - but Trahearne closed his eyes and reminded himself of the difference between sylvari and minion. That word trick would destroy him if he let it.
His thoughts moved like molasses and the endless argument felt like trudging through mud.
I am sylvari was an unquestionable part of his core that Trahearne wouldn't have minded discarding to make room for other, more important things. To preserve his strength in fighting over them.
He didn't much care for being sylvari in particular; much more important were things like free will. But the distinction between sylvari and Mordrem was one of the most vital points to defend. It made a nice little constellation with the Dream and the Pale Tree, which was good. They shielded each other.
Oh, dear... It seems the Pact Commander has deserted you.
The genuine concern in Mordremoth's voice led Trahearne to believe its proclamation for a moment; he started, head jerking up from where he hung slumped in the vines, eyes scanning as if to verify, even though his Commander was doubtless miles away and Mordremoth was merely reporting from the eyes of his minions.
Then his unquestionables caught up to him. You were HIS Commander.
Mordremoth always spoke of the Commander distantly, connecting you to the idea of the Pact which was already unstable. So Trahearne made sure always in his thoughts to think of the Commander as his; personal. Friendly. A term he would usually only use, even to himself, in the most intimate of moments, such as the moment of the cleansing of Orr.
You had devoted yourself to him in Orr, and Trahearne treasured that commitment. It meant the world to him.
Now it was the easiest thing to cling to amidst Mordremoth's attacks. I trust my Commander.
Mordremoth attacked those memories, too: of the Orrian campaign and Arah. He made Trahearne feel dirty and twisted. He'd showed Trahearne a twisted Mordrem meant to look like him and said this is what you look like now. Just like a Risen.
I am sylvari. My Wyld Hunt is to cleanse Orr. I love Orr.
More unquestionables. The distinction of whether it IS is Wyld Hunt or if it WAS wasn't something Trahearne had the strength to hold. "My Wyld Hunt WAS" had only been part of his identity for two years. "My Wyld Hunt IS" had been part of his identity for over twenty, rooted deep and unchallengeable even by himself, certainly safe from Mordremoth.
The memory of the cleansing was something Mordremoth liked to question quite a bit, given how much solace Trahearne had taken from it in the beginning of his captivity. If his ritual hadn't really taken hold, if it had only been an illusion, if he had deceived himself out of wishful thinking...
The core of it, though, was that he had done everything he needed to do. He had done all he could, regardless of the outcome.
But that was too vague, or too big, and it had fallen quickly under Mordremoth's onslaught of questions about this instance or that in which it could be argued that he had NOT done all he could.
"I trust my Commander," Trahearne reiterated restlessly.
Mordremoth regaled him with an account of what the Commander was up to, painted in the worst terms possible.
Trahearne believed him. "I trust my Commander." The things you were doing had to be right. "I trust my Commander."
No matter what you did, no matter what Mordremoth accused you of doing, you had to be trustworthy. It was unquestionable.
He couldn't remember why he trusted you or for what cause, and it didn't matter. Nothing you did could be allowed to change that.
~oOoOo~
Mordremoth changed his tactics. He put a horrible nasty dirty seed in Trahearne's mind. He seized control of Trahearne's body for a moment and moved something in his brain. Trahearne fought him off. Mordremoth seized control again and tweaked something else.
Trahearne fought with adrenaline-fuelled terror, panicking and grasping and clawing at whatever he could, winning an inch here or a centimeter there, a minute of space in one moment to recover for the next onslaught.
And yet, slowly but surely, Mordremoth built a haven inside Trahearne's head, physically within him, as safe from harm as Trahearne's own life, and within it the dragon stored the roots of his own self.
Trahearne heard it chanting mantras in his head day and night. I am Mordremoth, I am the jungle dragon, all this land is mine. I dominate all minions and all life. I am the jungle, the land, the world.
I am Trahearne, I am sylvari, I think and I choose. I am loyal to the Pale Tree and committed to the Dream. My duty is to protect people and my Wyld Hunt is to cleanse Orr. I love Orr and I trust my Commander.
In his weakest moments, that was all there was. He couldn't remember the others, or they were less certain (but all the unquestionables were unquestionable, and he wouldn't entertain doubt, so he just said the ones he was sure of and focused on those).
But in his strongest moments, Trahearne developed and refined these core unquestionables, adding new ones to the litany and repeating them so they would embed themselves in his psyche.
It always felt small and weak compared to Mordremoth's voice. Whether it was truly so or not, Trahearne didn't know and couldn't spare the energy to defend such a conclusion either way.
But in his more present moments, when he and Mordremoth traded complex arguments on the nature of things like unity; the Pact; what constituted danger or a threat; the finer points of philosophy on self-defense (Mordremoth actually had very intriguing thoughts on the role of anger in defense of oneself or others), loyalty, and obedience; the wisdom behind his various tactical decisions, the soundness of his choices; or the certainty of his knowledge of Orr and it's cleansing...
In those moments, Trahearne marveled at the seed Mordremoth put in his head, and he in fact began building a similar niche for his own core unquestionables. It had to be somewhat mobile in the sense that it could not be unduly attached to other thoughts or beliefs, and it also had to be capable of growing. It had to have enough in it to fuel the re-development of himself and his worldview, in case Mordremoth succeeded in destroying the rest of him.
Some of their debates were quite helpful in developing this seed; Trahearne learned how to articulate more fully his ideas on critical thought, how they interplayed with trust (Mordremoth loved to pick on these seeming contradictions of Trahearne's core philosophy), and the nature and purpose and identity of the Pact. He encoded a few of the qualities of his Commander he treasured most, and of the Pale Tree and the Dream, so that his seedling self would know them somewhat.
Thinking of his seed as separate from himself was part of the key; he noticed Mordremoth never spoke of his seed as part of him but as a creation of his.
~oOoOo~
It was one of those quiet moments, when Mordremoth was busy elsewhere and not attacking him.
There was no wind in the great cavern where Trahearne hung, but he hadn't been able to just sit and focus on physical things in so long. He felt so light without Mordremoth's unrelenting attack.
The dragon's seed still sat in its evil little niche, of course, repeating its mantras, and Trahearne still ran his unquestionables through his mind unceasingly. This was one of those times when he was alert enough to run his entire history and every memory through, which might be helpful. But he didn't. He was still building the seed, layering it deep, constructing its own set of neural pathways, and it couldn't be too big.
There wasn't room in his head for two, after all, let alone four. Himself, Mordremoth, Mordremoth's seed, and Trahearne's seed - no, the seeds had to stay small. Mordremoth's was already crude and rustic compared to his, because it was in foreign soil.
Occasionally, noises would echo through the cavern from the tunnel leading off in the distance. Every eighteen hours, the Blighting Pods down there would burst open in a spew of rot and green pus, and Mordrem would shamble out and go to join Mordremoth's army.
Dead bodies - Pact bodies - would be thrown in the recesses, and they would slowly be covered over with the same green sludge that would thicken, harden, and form the shell of the Blighting Pod.
Mordremoth had a higher goal in mind for Trahearne, but it was much the same thing either way. Since he was sylvari, Mordremoth wouldn't use him as a template in a Blighting Tree without every last trace of rebellion being stamped out.
Trahearne felt light at the moment, but he knew that he couldn't hold out forever. Even his seed was more a last ditch effort, if not just an experiment or pastime. It wouldn't hold out on its own with nearly the success that he had against Mordremoth.
In the corner of the cavern lay the largest shard of Caladbolg. Trahearne knew it is there because at night, in the pitch darkness, there was a faint glow, and in moments like this one it called to him like a dim echo of the thing it once was.
If only it was nearer, and whole... it amplified him, it intensified who he was. Trahearne had found it rather alarming when he first began to wield it, but now he wished he had the help of it in maintaining his identity against Mordremoth.
It would probably only get destroyed, though.
~oOoOo~
He was in the upper chamber, open to the sky, again, but he was not aware of it.
I am Trahearne, I am sylvari,
What is sylvari but a disloyal minion?
I am sylvari, I think and I choose. I am loyal to the Pale Tree and committed to the Dream. My duty is to protect people and my Wyld Hunt is to cleanse Orr. I love Orr and I trust my Commander.
You already cleansed it, you Dream-addled moron!
No - I can't have - I'd know if I had -
Mordremoth pulled the memory out of the recesses of his mind and showed it to him.
Trahearne groaned in agony. My Wyld Hunt is to cleanse Orr. My Wyld Hunt is to cleanse Orr. I am loyal to the Pale Tree and committed to the Dream. My Wyld Hunt is to cleanse Orr.
The memory felt real, but so did everything else. He couldn't question is unquestionables.
Suddenly, the dragon's focus vanished. Trahearne panted slightly and repeated the unquestionables again, clinging to them like a lifeline.
His actual lifeline, a vine wrapped around his entire lower body, writhed, causing him to flop around.
Trahearne opened his eyes in time to be completely disoriented as the vine yanked him out of place.
But he glimpsed the horrified face of his Commander, only just clocking him as he sped by. I trust my Commander. I love Orr. My Wyld Hunt is -
He was being pulled back to the underground cavern, but Mordremoth began the mental assault anew.
~oOoOo~
Trahearne gasped and shuddered. Clarity doused him like a bucket of cold water.
His mind felt too big, too wide open, too coherent, his thoughts too quick. He panted in the unfamiliarity of it. He clung to his unquestionables.
I am Trahearne, I am sylvari, I think and I choose. I am loyal to the Pale Tree and committed to the Dream. My duty is to protect people and my Wyld Hunt is to cleanse Orr. I love Orr and I trust my Commander.
He'd been operating quite sharply already, compared to his usual, but the sudden complete and utter cessation of the dragon from his mind...
I am Trahearne, the Marshal of the Pact, an alliance of the three Orders, built on unity to attack the dragons. I am sylvari, Firstborn of the Pale Tree, and my Wyld Hunt is - was - to cleanse Orr, which I did in service to the Dream and with the help of my Commander...
He felt like himself again... His life wasn't under attack, doubt didn't pervade his mind like a thick fog, and...
He opened his eyes and saw you stirring from the ground along with your companions.
Mordremoth was dead.
That seed, though, still repeating its mantras, reached out a tendril and -
I am Mordremoth, I am the jungle dragon, all this land is mine. I dominate all minions and all life. I am the jungle, the land, the world.
Trahearne went rigid. He felt the mantra in his own voice - more than words. It was a perspective, with a thousand connotations and emotions pouring in with no effort on the part of the seed.
It had been rooted inside him and was far, far more powerful than Mordremoth had been. It would not just enslave him, it would transform him into the dragon itself.
His Commander and friends were rejoicing in the death of the dragon, the silencing of its voice.
But this seed would be with him forever, and Trahearne was not sure he could fight it off.
There was his own seed, but... what could it do? It was less of him than he was.
I shall have to die regardless.
"Commander? I... My sword... Caladbolg... Is nearby. It was a gift from the Pale Tree." He was reminding himself as much as his Commander. "I am connected... Bonded to it. Only it's power can free me from this. Please, bring it here."
His vague explanation would be no help in a moment. You would not want to do what had to be done. But he trusted his Commander.
But Trahearne's own words sharpened a sudden realization. Caladbolg had been in the Dream. He was bonded to it through the Dream.
Trahearne was suddenly certain that, at least if whole, the sword could be a portal into the Dream, which meant it had to be capable of holding him...
But who he was included Mordremoth's seed, now. The only part of him that could escape would be his own seed - the rest of him would have to die.
Mordremoth's seed exploded in panic, it shifted from its mantra to every old tactic Mordremoth had ever used - trying to buy time.
Trahearne's breath hitched, and he scrambled for his unquestionables.
I am Trahearne, I am sylvari, I think and I choose. I am loyal to the Pale Tree and committed to the Dream. My duty is to protect people and my Wyld Hunt is to cleanse Orr. I love Orr and I trust my Commander.
"I have the sword, Marshal." You looked at him with such faith in your eyes.
This might not work.
I'm okay with that.
He didn't have much time. He could feel his mind warping.
The seed has the most important things, but will it truly be you? I am not the same Mordremoth.
You're close enough, Trahearne snapped back. Besides... I love Orr and I trust my Commander.
The seed screeched, I am Mordremoth, I am the jungle dragon, all this land is mine. I dominate all minions and all life. I am the jungle, the land, the world. It rattled his bones.
Trahearne frantically ran through his unquestionables again. He couldn't remember the reasons for all of them. "Quickly now: use it..." his voice strained. He didn't have time to make this gentle. He didn't know how. "...on me." He got the words out before his voice broke. My duty is to protect people... "Kill me, Commander."
You protested, of course you protested...
Trahearne broke. He forgot his unquestionables and just babbled, terrified and barely coherent and only holding onto scraps. I think and I choose... "But I still hear its voice. Mordremoth is alive." His words tumbled over each other and blended in with the seed's roaring till he wasn't sure if he was discernible.
I am Mordremoth, I am the jungle dragon. I dominate all minions and all life. Your strength is already fading. Mine is infinite. I am the future. I am this world. You cannot destroy me.
"One last hateful vestige... A terrible seed planted deep in my mind. You must kill me, Commander - " please please please I don't want to be here anymore I don't want to lose myself I don't want to die - "before that seed grows..." I am Trahearne, I am sylvari, I think and I choose. The unquestionables don't mean anything anymore. They don't help. He can't think. "...before Mordremoth reclaims what it has lost."
The Pact Commander is the enemy.
The words come filled with such fear and terror that Trahearne cringes back.
I trust my Commander.
His seed - more himself than he was, now. That would have to be enough. "What's left of me can't survive on its own. Strike now, or - I am the future m. I am this world. You cannot destroy me. Run while you can."
He hated the Commander, he hated Mordremoth, he was awash with the anger and injustice of the dragon trapping him in a body that was bound to vines and not one that could fight back.
I am Trahearne, I am sylvari, I think and I choose. I am loyal to the Pale Tree and committed to the Dream. My duty is to protect people and my Wyld Hunt is to cleanse Orr. I love Orr and I trust my Commander.
His body screamed. That sylvari had learned too well, that seed would never give him peace - he would be fighting this body forever, now!
My Commander is loyal and supports my Wyld Hunt and my duty. The Dream loves Orr and sent me to it. The Pale Tree loves me and equipped me.
He saw Caladbolg coming toward him.
Mordremoth reached out to stop the blade. Trahearne reached out to pour himself into it.
Orr is a dead place, but it is rich in history. The people who lived there had lives as full as you or I.
Pain scorched through him. Magic blazed down to his toes and out various vine tendrils that had grafted into him. Trahearne gripped the edge of the blade buried in his abdomen and curled around it.
Magic tore him apart at the seams.
Riannoc was my brother and I could not save him. He was my partner and I failed him. But he thought, and he chose, and I could not stop him.
Trahearne wrapped himself around it. Go, go, go! He pushed.
He screamed, his voice mingling with Mordremoth's as both thoughts harmonized and both persons came to the fore.
His being fragmented. I... choose - my Commander - duty - commitment is -
Dragon - world - all life - infinite... I am...
~oOoOo~
The seed was like an old potato by the time his Commander spoke his name aloud. It was twisted and ugly and huddled in a dark, filthy corner, with horrid brown tendrils creeping out at all angles, rigid growths stubborn and knobbly at the lack of water or sunlight.
The seed had taken with it as much of Trahearne as it could, but Trahearne was as vast as the Sea of Sorrows and as deep as the artesian well at the heart of Orr, and the seed was a tiny little thing, a lifeboat on the sea.
But it had grown. Caladbolg had known Trahearne, and it contributed what it could. It also known Riannoc, and the Pale Tree. The Dream echoed inside it. These things flourished. Trahearne's early history was well-documented. The Dream passed on the knowledge that the Wyld Hunt was complete.
But his ideals... Trahearne from the seed wondered: What was choice, without a body? What was thought without experience? What was his duty, without someone to protect?
Who was he?
Where was his Commander?
But he trusted his Commander.
And finally she spoke his name.
Caladbolg, which had lain dormant and without a true wielder for years, glowed inside the Commander's pack.
You felt it probe the back of your mind. You felt it's magic brush by you.
And out of the air in front of you a shape materialized.
Trahearne.
~oOoOo~
You stare.
As if asking permission, you glance between Gorrik, Rama, and Yao and then back at Trahearne, who is examining his hands in a mixture of confusion and mild surprise. (You still know how to read him so well, even after so many years.)
Your eyes fill with tears - you can't help it - you'd already seen visions of Almorra and Forgal today - that stupid demon - everything is so raw right now -
A portrait of my new artificer-to-be for Fabula Ultima, Rak'ta, that I drew during the worldbuilding session lol (she/her). The journey of rendering fur continues
Her original model was made in Age of Wonders 4. I love the look of the dogfolk there.
