[elemei]

Floodhaven Knives / A collection of knives used in my Blades in the Dark campaign.

[katherinegenet]

Got the fridge magnets back out 💚

[goldenredleaf]

Cozyness☕🍁

[darkearthsuggestions]

Day again and day again; every morning the sun looks you in the eye and lays the burden of days upon your shoulders, lights the way you are to walk– and though you are tired and your feet singe on sun-scrubbed sand, you will trudge on. You will follow the breaks in the clouds until the sun loses herself to night, and you two will spend the night wondering: where do I rest? when is it dark? how far must I go until the horizon feels like home?

[prsephonies-deactivated20200815]

when i was a teenager it felt very revolutionary to be cruel to myself. like some kind of slow passive protest against how much everything hurt. i starved myself of sleep and food and tenderness because it felt right. it felt sharp and angry and radical and i wanted to be those things. adulthood is the realisation that the world is already working to cut into you well before you learn how to do it yourself. caring for yourself and others is the real protest

[friedegg]

[friedegg]

[whats-your-name-man]

[8-bitstories-deactivated2020062]

the twenty poems i wrote for coexistence. i just arranged them from the beautiful and dark to the nostalgic and sad. (this is not from the book btw) book out in may 8

[y4nd3r3x]

the signs do be kinda vibin doe 👀👉👈😳✊👊🖐️🥺🥺

[radical-eve]

[deadcades]

…Jean-Pierre Ugarte…Visions from Another World…

[germainetrain]

My favorite meme is “anime girls photoshopped into desolate Eastern-European photos”

This last one is my favorite:

There’s just something so… desperate about it.

[magickpunk]

Slavic Forest Spirits

(Encouraged by posts of slavicafire and darkkres about our deities and folklore in general I decided to add few bits to Slavic part of Tumblr. Thanks also for akwasteland-9092 for keeping up with me during progress :))

I hear her voice/Calling my name

The sound is deep/In the dark

I hear her voice/And start to run

Into the trees

Into the trees

The Cure, ‘A Forest’

For our ancestors, a forest* had ambivalent character: on the one hand it provided food and wood for winter on the other - it was a place where dangerous animals lured and the village rouges (pol. zbójcy) hid in their shelters. Treacherous especially after sunset no wonder the forest became a perfect habitat for ‘personas’ like Blueberry Woman (pol. jagodowa baba) who captured children and strangled them, Forest Rusalkas (pol. leśne rusałki), lurking young men and tickling them to death, cannibalistic Wild Folks (pol. dzicy ludzie) or many others.

Blueberry Woman (illustration by P. Zych)

Although forest spirits might have been helpful for people, it was better not to mess with them. One of the most well-known demons who dwelt in the woods was Leshy (pl. Lesz, Leszy, Leszyj, rus. Ле́ший). Half-man, half-goat he could change his height adjusting to the grass or trees. Collin de Plancy in his Infernal Dictionary depicted him as a Russian version of Greek satyr - at least, only visually. Making mocking and threatening sounds he misguided travelers or led them to his cave (where they never came back from, of course). According to The Great Book of Polish Demons, the Polish version of this demon had a positive character: it was believed that Leszy was one of the departed souls who came back to watch over alive kinsmen.

Another Polish demon was He-of-the-forest (pol. borowy, borowiec, gajowy, lasowy, leśnik, leśny dziad). For W. Vargas and P. Zych in The Slavic Bestiary he is equal to Leshy. He was a tall, elderly man with a face covered with branches, while in other source his appearance didn’t very often vary from a typical looking man (mostly he wore a forest ranger uniform and carried a gun or thick staff). Records say that his approach towards people was rather malicious (leading travelers astray, abducting young women and forcing them to become his wives, playing pranks on children), but not everytime: if he was in a benevolent mood he appreciated and helped them who took care of the forest, could guide lost children home and - as a demon who reigned a forest fauna - protected villagers and hunters from wolves or bears.  

As good as water spirits in shape shifting, forest demons could be seen in the guise of woodland animal; in most cases it was deer or hind. There are legends about Lejin (in the Land of Wieluń it’s a local name for a stag) who led travelers to the moors or tried to pull them into mud (if it was a hind, after she had led man off path, she metamorphosed into beautiful girl). He also attacked children who were picking blueberries or mushrooms up with his antlers.

Those who were wandering through the forest during night had to be vigilant not to cross the path with Forest Rider (pol. leśny jeździec) who galloped surrounded by the pack of dogs. It was a repenting soul of a severe feudal lord. Ethnologists assume that that was Polish version of German popular folklore motif, Die Wilde Jagd, The Wild Hunt (pol. dziki gon). Against this idea is the fact that this legend had been repeating in places where a German influences were very weak.  

Demonic being, inextricably linked with forest, was Baba Yaga* (pol. Baba Jaga, Jędza). She lived at the heart of the woods in the hut standing on chicken leg. Folk believers pictured her as one of the most sinister demons. Insatiable to human blood, she could devour not only children (firstly she tempted them with sweets then kidnapped and fattened) but adults too (her ‘favourite preys’ were young boys and girls). It was said that Baba Yaga had horribly ugly look and forest animals were obedient to her. In many areas of Poland (and other Slavic countries) she and the witch - the Christian image of a witch as a Devil’s conspirator, a picture imported from the West - later became a one in common consciousness.

Talking about Polish forest spirits, one cannot forget to mention Boruta Devil (pol. Diabeł Boruta - there were a loads of variants of this demon, such as Boruta the Fire-Glimmer, Boruta Ognik, Boruta the Strongman, Boruta Siłacz, Castle Boruta, Boruta Zamkowy etc.). This one is quite interesting example, because - due to the local nineteenth-century literature - he became ‘glamorized’, rose his status in native demonic society from forest, country spirit to noble, upper class demon. His name was derived from Berut who was a popular woodland being in marshy areas of Łęczyca in pre-Christian times. In villagers’ eyes he could look like a dog, an owl, cat, horse, ram, a typical man, a nobleman, a devil with horns; a man dressed ‘like a German’. After christianization he was a ghost of a wealthy, vain and proud cruel feudal lord who had no mercy for peasants, disobeyed the king and who still worshiped pagan gods in secret; they believed that he became governor of the minor devils in hell and a great lord of all Polish devils. Legend said that he guarded treasures hid in dungeons of Castle in Łęczyca. It could be said that presence of Boruta in Polish folklore created a specific group of demons, which is called Noble Demons (pol. diabły szlacheckie, diabły kontuszowe - ‘kontusz’ was a garment wore by noblemen in Poland in the past). Although quite unique, B. Baranowski in his book In the circle of ghouls and werewolves regretted that Berut had been stylized into Boruta, because in this way he lost his primeval, demonic features.

* In one book I found an information that Slavs linked forest with otherworld  - but because I couldn’t find any confirmation in other literature - they mentioned Wyraj and Niwa, paradise and underworld, situated behind a great river or deep into earth - my approach was rather skeptical. But if you guys find any more reliable info about woods and theirs connection with  dead, feel freely to add some explanation :)

* Being a very complex figure, Baba Yaga deserves an individual post. But here I tried to show only how she was portrayed in folklore tales - digging into her primeval image as a Goddess, Mother Nature was not my intention.

Sources: B. Baranowski, W kręgu upiorów i wilkołaków, B. i A. Podgórscy Wielka Księga Demonów Polskich. Leksykon i antologia demonologii ludowej, C. de Plancy, Infernal Dictionary, P. Zych i W. Vargas Bestiariusz słowiański, J. Głosik W kręgu Światowita.

Illustrations: Blueberry Woman - P. Zych; Leshy (from the clockwise) - mine, F. Giraud, M. L. Breton, unknown; He-of-the-forest - P. Zych, Baba Yaga - W. Vargas; Boruta Devil - M. Andriolli.

[hedgewitchgarden]

“I am the forest, I am ancient. I treasure the stag, I treasure the deer. I shelter you from storm, I shelter you from snow. I resist the frost, I keep the source. I nurse the earth, I am always there. I build your house, I kindle your hearth. Therefore, you people, hold me dear.”

— Inscription found in a 17th century forester’s house in Lower Saxony, Germany (via inatt)

[darkearthsuggestions]

the path is long and the forest is deep. you have a long way to go before you come out the other side– are you sure you want to leave? You could make a home here. 

[valarhalla]

Fun fact: Tenochtitlan fell in 1521. From 1603 onwards, large numbers of honest-to-god fricking Japanese Samurai came to Mexico from Japan to work as guardsmen and mercenaries. 

Ergo, it would be 100% historically accurate to write a story starring a quartet consisting of the child or grandchild of Aztec Noblemen, an escaped African slave, a Spanish Jew fleeing the Inquisition (which was relaxed in Mexico in 1606, for a time) and a Katana-wielding Samurai in Colonial Mexico.

[valarhalla]

Also a whole bunch of Chinese Characters BECAUSE MEXICO CITY HAD A CHINATOWN WITHIN TEN YEARS OF THE FALL OF THE AZTEC EMPIRE.

[shanebaer]

It was just before the break of dawn, and through the mist one could see the glimmer of lanterns from more than a dozen tall ships that crowded the small island cove. Three figures waded out of the water and onto the shore. They were like men, and yet unlike. They had gills on their thick necks, hands with three long, webbed fingers, and bony crests that almost looked like coral. They carried no light, but they walked up onto the rocky shore with the surefootedness of one on a bricked road in midday.

“I must insist to you both, this is a mistake,” The largest one spoke in deep, low tones like the gurgle of a receding tide, “Their kind have no care for us. Any trust placed in them will be betrayed.”

The second one, tall and thin, with a voice like the trill of ocean birds, spoke next, “They saved my daughter, and yours. Many of our kind would not be alive today if not for their efforts. They have earned a chance.”

The large one clicked their tongue, “Lifetimes of our people being slaughtered by these humans speak otherwise. How can you honestly believe they will change?”

“They are outcasts of their people, and have reason to hate them just as we do.”

The large one clicked their tongue once again, with tangible annoyance this time, “It is their hate that I am afraid of. It comes too easily to their kind.”

The third figure held up a hand, the gesture calm but authoritative.

The first two fell silent in regard to the third. This one was much shorter than the other two, but had a high crest on their forehead that one might mistake for a crown, and carried themselves with a singular grace.

The third spoke at last, their voice the soft hum of a seashell against one’s ear, “It will not be for us to decide. The Goddesses may have use for them, and we have a duty to Them foremost. We will make ready for the ceremony.”

[shanebaer]

you can pry each agonizing, superfluous comma from my cold, dead fingers

[shanebaer]

The sun beat down mercilessly on Iacau Tauyi as he walked the deck of the captured imperial hoardship. The smell of black powder and bloodied bronze still clung in the wet air. It was a smaller ship, but he had seen the hold and it was a good prize. They would break open the wine casks tonight to celebrate. Now, though, he had a sacred duty to uphold.

He stood in front of his crew and the crew of the Saint Riol who had been captured alive. There was silence as a bound woman was brought before him. She stood and looked him in the eye. He stared back at what looked like solid gold between her narrowed lids. She looked too young to have the glistergaze, but her face was creased and scarred as one who had spent a lifetime at war with the sea. He too had been on that side of the war, long ago.

“Your Captain is dead, Navigatrix. Your men now look to you,” Iacau paused expectantly, but the woman remained silent, “Do you know who I am?”

“Captain King, of the Gambit. I know your colors.” She nearly spat the last part.

Iacau sucked his teeth pensively, then continued, “Then you know the position I’m in, and the choice you now face. My Goddess must be appeased,” He glanced at the gathered crews before leaning in close to whisper in the woman’s ear, “Many of your crew will follow your lead, and I do not desire the death of so many able sailors.”

She sneered, “Your actions speak otherwise, pirate. I will not profane The Hoard, and I will not take orders from a slave who calls himself K-” Iacau’s heavy fist found its mark and drove the Navigatrix to the deck, blood gushing from her nose.

As his captive sputtered and gasped on the deck, Iacau frowned, “I am the only King who rules here, and my Goddess is the only one whose judgement you should fear.” He motioned a pair of his men forward. They produced a rope with a cannonball tied to one end, and began tying the other end to the woman’s ankle. Iacau continued, “As an enemy of the sea, Navigatrix Yan of the Saint Riol, I commit you to her judgement.”

While the men hoisted the woman up onto her feet and forced her to the edge, Iacau stooped down and dipped his fingers in the small pool of blood. He anointed his bare shoulders with it first, and then removed an ornate cooking knife from his belt and anointed it as well, “May Our Lady In Mourning slake her thirst for revenge with the blood of her enemies, and continue to bless us with the power to live free and die where we choose!”

Uproarious cheers rang out through the ranks of his men. Iacau nodded toward the man holding the cannonball, and it was tossed overboard. A split second later, the Navigatrix was dragged unceremoniously off the deck, her head hitting the deck with a sharp crack before she disappeared from sight.

As much of his crew dispersed to finish looting the ship, his quartermaster approached him.

“Captain, we've had hardly any recruits in the last three prizes we’ve taken. If we’re going to replenish our ranks, we may have to look at being more diplomatic-”

“I only want one,” Iacau growled, “Tell the captives they can fight for the honor.”

The order hung unacknowledged for a moment, then, “Aye, Captain.”

Iacau didn’t linger to see his order carried out. He crossed a boarding plank over to the Pilgrim’s Gambit, making for his cabin. He was through being diplomatic. He had offered his hand in mercy, and it had been spit in time and time again. He had swallowed his rage, but now it rose back up in a tide of bile.

They loved the glitter of their Hoard more than they feared the wrath of his Goddess, but he would see that changed.