#by implication only

[ccatgiri]

*caine voice* in today's adventure you need to find a jax hater capable of going 5 minutes without throwing a transmisogynistic microaggression towards gooseworx in their jax rants

[utilitycaster]

FWIW here’s a clip from Matt and Brennan talking about alignment and specifically the evil alignment as an absolute on Adventuring Academy (D20′s show where Brennan interviews DMs and experienced players); the takeaway is that for people, of course it gets way more complicated than that, but like, there is a place in classic D&D lore for “this is an enemy” and fiends and evil gods are typically that:

https://youtu.be/sig8X_kojco?t=1705, runs until about 32:20 and the last minute is Matt specifically talking about evil gods. The YouTube transcript is pretty good and here’s the part I wanted to highlight:

Matt: [Alignment] has utility for world, for setting, it has utility for being able to understand that in a game like Dungeons & Dragons, or a lot of role playing games where you, ultimately, part of the game is to overcome villains and rise up and become a hero, there has to be some level of universal antagonism.  And that's where the Fiends come in. That's where part of that cosmology, there is a pure and defined entity force that is evil...It may not be realistic to some stories out there, but that, I think, alignment comes more into play in the Outer Planes type aspect of it. But when it comes to more personal stories in the world of humans, and dwarves, and tieflings all living together, mass hysteria-type scenario, yeah, it gets a little more weird.

[galaxseacreature]

Concept

That one brooklyn 99 plot with Holt and his husband fighting about math? But Kim and Harry?

Like they get put on opposite shifts for awhile because of some staffing reason that doesn't really matter. The math thing could just be the Monty Hall problem with a more Elysium name. But look obviously I'm only really thinking about this scene:

Jean: [tired and annoyed] The math thing isn't the problem. Night shift's keeping you and Harry apart. You two just need to bone

[Judit chuckles nervously]

Kim: What did you say?

Judit: Don't say it again.

Jean: I said you two need to bone.

[Judit whimpers]

Kim: How dare you, Satellite Officer Vicquemare. I am your superior officer!

BONE!

What happens in my bedroom, Detective, is none of your business.

BOOOOOOOOONE?!?!?!!!

Don't ever speak to me like that again.

[wildfaewhump]

9 for Talvos and Iesin on the run

have a little protective iesin, as a treat

There is mud in Asa Renforth's shoes. Mud cakes their trousers up past their knees, flecks the rest of their clothes, and itches across their forearms where they fell once and just barely saved their face from acquaintance with the sucking bog they've been tramping through for hours.

Themself, they'd've given up on their quarry after a few minutes. The fella's clearly got no intention of sticking in the area, and as long as he's not bothering their town Asa doesn't see the point of chasing him down. Specially not in the relentless bouts of rain they've been having.

But Asa's not the seargent of the guard (and what a stupid title, that, when the 'guard' is just the local bullyboys and ne'er-do-wells looking for an excuse to put fists in faces without no consequences), they're just the hapless fool who was on duty when the hue and cry started, and now with the rest of their fellows they trek onward through bog and mud and biting flies to track down a man who don't want to be found.

Not that Asa can fault him, really. The others, they took a disliking to the stranger, and as Asa too well knows the disliking of the town guard comes at the ends of fists and boots and sticks. They'd thought joining up might've put a blunting to that dislike.

Ah well. Wishes ain't fishes, as their mam says.

"Come on!" Seargent Kinsey bellows from somewhere up ahead. "We're close, don't let him get away!"

Oh, close are they? Maybe Asa can go home and curl up in front of their little fire soon. Get a chance at drying off before tomorrow, wet and misty, comes to soak them again.

Something flutters crosswise to the wind above them. Asa pauses, lifting their torch overhead. The night remains dark as ever beyond their little circle of light.

"Keep up!" someone snaps from up ahead. Asa puts their head down and slogs faster. Torches bob ahead of them, wavering back and forth as the guards pick their way through the bog.

As Asa watches, one dips suddenly, then winks out. Something splashes, then stills.

Asa stops dead.

They didn't sign up to be eaten by no bog drifter, no sir. If something's out hunting, good folk best be abed. And Asa thinks, if they ever screwed up their courage enough to ditch the guard, maybe they could be good folk. It's a hope, anyway.

Someone calls out for Maisie. That'd be the downed torch bearer, then. Asa can't find a scrap of regret for him. He's loud and rough and jeers about finding out what's under all those clothes.

They take a careful, quiet step backwards.

That crosswise flutter comes again. On the other side of the group, someone gurgles as their torch goes out.

"Gather up!" Kinsey's voice cracks. "Stay together, it can't get all of us at once!"

Asa lowers their torch into the bog. The sizzle of it is loud in their ears. They keep the stick, just in case. As Kinsey forms up his remaining guard, they back away quietly, taking care not to slosh. They're not after no heroics. Not tonight, not ever.

A scream sends them flinching to their knees, whispering half-forgotten luck-knots to keep whatever twisting hungry thing is feeding tonight away from their path. They crawl, soaked and chattering in the cold, away from scream after scream, and they don't look back.

Eventually, all is quiet behind them. Asa hopes whatever it was is feeding now, and won't care to hunt further. They keep crawling.

That crosswise flutter stops their heart and locks their limbs in place. Asa stares at boggy water inches from their nose and tries not to breathe.

A faint splish in front of them has them flinching deeper into the murk.

"Please, please," it crawls out of their throat, the wretched whine of a kicked dog. "I ain't hurt no one and I won't ever again, I'll live a quiet life, I'll never come out here again, please, just don't kill me, please don't kill me, please..."

"Hurt no one, you?"

That ain't no bog drifter. Asa peers upwards, and there if it ain't a faerie, star-touched hair and heaven-flecked wings, perched on a drifting mess of peat light as you please. Its talons and face are stained dark with what Asa smells to be blood. It must've ripped into their former fellows with its very teeth.

"I swear. I ain't hurt no one at all, even when Maisie and Kinsey say to, I ain't a thug, I just needed a job, but I'm not like them, I swear. Please good fairie, grant me mercy this night?"

"Humans of town hurt mate, mine," accuses the faerie. "Now hunt him, you. Think begging when have chance, you, will save skin, yours?"

"Oh-" Asa flinches. "We didn't know, good faerie, we thought he were just a vagabond, and Kinsey-- Seargent Kinsey, he don't like that sort hanging around town begging for scraps-- not that-- your mate ain't a vagabond, sir, I didn't mean no disrespect, we just--" Asa closes their eyes and tucks their head in. They've gone and put their foot in it now. So much for that fire tonight. So much for tomorrow.

Feathers shift on feathers. Asa flinches.

"Swear. On stars, swear you. Put no hand to mate, mine."

"I swear," Asa gasps. Their heart lurches out of time, hope and fear thunking calamitously against their ribs. "I swear on the stars, on each and every one I swear, I didn't touch him."

The faerie doesn't answer. Asa holds their breath, trembling with cold. Phantom imaginings of claws coming down across their back plague them, but the faerie doesn't strike.

By the time they gather the courage to look up, he's gone.