concept: a death god that is actually surprisingly supportive and on the side of the good guys, supporting actions and promoting policies that will lead to the kingdom growing and thriving instead of being destroyed, because the more the kingdom grows, the more people there are, and the more people there are the more people will eventually die, and when you’re an immortal god of death, you know there’s no need to rush. you’ll get them all in the end
*white parent voice* i cant believe kanye and kim named their baby North West!! thats ridiculous!! oh no, its almost 4:30, i need to pick up my kids Mackaylikiah and Ashleighyie from their water polo practice!
My favorite part is that the blog post the photo was taken from detailed this mother’s decision-making process and chose this name because her husband saw it on a road sign on the way home
there was a girl at my school called “zona” cause he parents went on holiday to spain and saw it and thought it was a nice name. IT LITERALLY MEANS ZONE
My auntie knows a family who decided to name their daughter Owen, but they spelled it “Oin” and they made her middle name the first sound that her big sister made which happened to be “Oogok”. her name is literally “Oin Oogok Puscus”
I went to college and took religious studies courses with a girl named Storm Pagan. She never understood why I found that both funny and oddly appropriate, and I never felt like taking the time to explain.
for the love of your future children, look up what a name means in all languages before you saddle you kid with it until they’re old enough to legally change it.
I took latin in middle school. I don’t actually remember much now, but i’m telling you, it was IMPOSSIBLE to look this girl I knew in passing in the eye because her name was Latrina.
Latrina.
(For those of you who have no idea why this is unfortunate and hilarious, ‘latrina’ is one of the latin words for toilet)
Kids I actually went to school with:
Nipponia (Her parents were really enthusiastic about Japan and thought no one would know.)
Foreverina
Twins – Heavyn-Leigh and Eterni-Teigh
Khayrliy (Carly)
MyckEnziey (yes, spelled like that.)
Every last one of them was white n blonde.
You know, I thought growing up as a Niamh in England was bad. I now know that I was blessed, BLESSED, to be given a name that 1) I grew into and now love, and 2) wasn’t just pulled off the nearest road sign and fed through a Scrabble converter.
my friend has two baby cousins, a girl and boy who have “hippy parents”. boy is named Talon. girl is named Valley-Ochre Grace. their last names make it better but i won’t add it.
it seems so strange to me that the only people it is socially acceptable to live with (once you reach a certain stage in life) are sexual partners? like why can’t i live with my best friend? why can’t i raise a child with them? why do i need to have sex with someone in order to live with them? why do we put certain relationships on a pedestal? why don’t we value non-sexual relationships enough? why do life partners always have to be sexual partners?
My grandmother and grandfather more or less adopted my grandmother’s best friend back in the 50s. After my grandfather died (before I was born, back in 1968 or so) they continued to keep house together, platonic best friends, and they hung together until they died, a few months apart, in 2007.
It’s quite recently, as far as I can tell, that living arrangements like that have stopped being regarded as normal.
where a superhero has a friend who is their ride. like even the villains respect it, because the friend is like the most normal and nice person ever
“that’s claire, she drove me here”
*claire waves from a prius*
“will you need a lift back?”
“no, have fun on your date”
the being of interdimensional destruction:. c̗͎̲̲̞͍͚̓̏̑̀̍̎͡l̬̫̭͈̙̥͈̯͈̣͐̓͗͡͞à̗̱̻̱̤̪̳̍̈̓̉̈̾͗͜͡͡ͅi̶̹̙̯͕͈̱̖͗̈͊̉̿̔̒͠r̪̞͉̻̖͔̱̃́̆̽̂͑͂͘͜͟ȩ̴̡̘̻̥͚̣͐̉̏͆͠ i̢͈̣͙̼͒̑̌̃̈́͗̂͂̈́s̷̙̹͚̝͈̟̝̙̈́̇͋̀͋͂̌͘ d̛̻̞̥͇͎̝̰͐̽̒̄̓̂͟ä̴̬̝͈̼̩̭̦͓́̍̑͂̀̀̅̆̆͜͠t͎̼̭͍̜͍͂͌̍̏̚̚͞͡į̴͕̞̺̤̥̟̻̲̽͊̂̔̃͡ņ̴̢͔̹̫̲̮̩̃̈́͛̊̓͡͝g̛̪̗̜̝̹͉̠̞͉͂͂̀̉̽̇͊͢͝͡ ȧ͎̰̜̱̰͛͒̇̋͠g̴̢̞̳͈͇̩͈̻̃̎͑͆̈́̒̀͝ͅa̛̰̲̗̼̗̳̫̩̖͒́͒̔̃ǐ̛̺̗̯̰̳̟̣̓̿̐͛̋͊̕n̶͓̟͚̦̔̎̓̿̏͢͝͝?̵̺̬̜̝̗͖̣̑̏̂͠͠͠
The trio head into the hall and Orpheus peers out the window to the front of the building cautiously. “A dozen more in front and the way they have that vehicle backed up I suspect something lies in wait there too.” He says grimly.
Jaylene returns from the other side of the hall. “Can’t get a clear look at the rear alleyway. We would have a nice choke point to mitigate their number back their but it could also be an easy way to get cornered.” She reports.
“Sister Veida, how familiar are you with this Hab pattern?” Orpheus asks.
“The Colossus pattern is quite common, especially in this system.” She responds. “Every ten floors a catwalk should extend to keep stairwells and auto lifts from becoming too congested.”
Orpheus nods. “We could sneak across there and leave completely unnoticed.”
“Or one of us could take position from above and catch the scum in a crossfire.” Jaylene proposes.
“There is also a subterranean parking deck.” Veida adds.
“Yes, but it is protected by electronic locks and we did not register the vehicle to this building to keep evidence of our staying here to a minimum.” Jaylene says.
Veida nods toward Jaylene. “And I’m certain that served well in delaying your discovery. As part of my duties in recording the history and culture of the peoples of this system I have collected and cataloged a number of technomat data scripts. I am confident that this lock will prove little challenge.”
Orpheus gestures to the stairwell. “Lead on then, Sister. We should take the stairs, though. If they begin to sabotage the building a lift could quickly become a coffin.”
The three descend the bleak stairwell of metal and concrete. The buzzing of inferior light fixtures are a constant as the thumping of heavy boots and the clattering sounds of weapons echo endlessly, announcing their descent.
They reach the bottom without interference and come upon a heavy door with a number bad installed into an otherwise featureless surface. “Most locks are not given a custom sequence in fear of the failure of human memory, or being charged with techno heresy. So the vast majority of these locks,” Veida says as she presses a seemingly random number routine, “are still operating under a preset unlocking rite.” The door swings open obediently and the three hurry through the parking deck.
The trio head into the hall and Orpheus peers out the window to the front of the building cautiously. “A dozen more in front and the way they have that vehicle backed up I suspect something lies in wait there too.” He says grimly.
Jaylene returns from the other side of the hall. “Can’t get a clear look at the rear alleyway. We would have a nice choke point to mitigate their number back their but it could also be an easy way to get cornered.” She reports.
“Sister Veida, how familiar are you with this Hab pattern?” Orpheus asks.
“The Colossus pattern is quite common, especially in this system.” She responds. “Every ten floors a catwalk should extend to keep stairwells and auto lifts from becoming too congested.”
Orpheus nods. “We could sneak across there and leave completely unnoticed.”
“Or one of us could take position from above and catch the scum in a crossfire.” Jaylene proposes.
“There is also a subterranean parking deck.” Veida adds.
“Yes, but it is protected by electronic locks and we did not register the vehicle to this building to keep evidence of our staying here to a minimum.” Jaylene says.
Veida nods toward Jaylene. “And I’m certain that served well in delaying your discovery. As part of my duties in recording the history and culture of the peoples of this system I have collected and cataloged a number of technomat data scripts. I am confident that this lock will prove little challenge.”
Orpheus gestures to the stairwell. “Lead on then, Sister. We should take the stairs, though. If they begin to sabotage the building a lift could quickly become a coffin.”
The three descend the bleak stairwell of metal and concrete. The buzzing of inferior light fixtures are a constant as the thumping of heavy boots and the clattering sounds of weapons echo endlessly, announcing their descent.
They reach the bottom without interference and come upon a heavy door with a number bad installed into an otherwise featureless surface. “Most locks are not given a custom sequence in fear of the failure of human memory, or being charged with techno heresy. So the vast majority of these locks,” Veida says as she presses a seemingly random number routine, “are still operating under a preset unlocking rite.” The door swings open obediently and the three hurry through the parking deck.
As they come upon the exit ramp to the streets above Orpheus motions for them to slow. “Creep up the ramp just enough that you can see them, let’s not expose ourselves any sooner than we must.” The others nod and Veida takes the lead position.
Veida moves up the ramp until her head just comes up to street level. A purifying stream of burning promethium erupts from the end of her flamer as five gangers meet a painful, screaming end.
The other five man squad have just begun to mount a counteroffensive when Jaylene’s combat shotgun matches Veida’s flamer for kills. The furious burst of shotgun blasts perforated the whole area and Jaylene doesn’t let go until the bolt holds open to an empty chamber. “Last magazine.” She declares as she reloads.
Orpheus strides to street level. “Surrender and throw down your weapons and I will show lenience. This is your only opportunity.” Movement is heard inside the vehicle though no surrender is spoken. “They are unrepentant, Sister.”
Veida storms up the length of the ramp to stand on street level and engulfs the vehicle in flames, the promethium easily pours through holes in the armored windows and flows up through the cracks around doors. The vehicle becomes a howling crematorium as the gangers inside perish.
“Jaylene, ready the car, Veida, give me a hand.” Orpheus orders as he walks to the rear of the vehicle. The rear doors hang open and a heavy stubber, scorched and covered with an ashen corpse, sits at the ready. “It’s still operational, this could come in handy.” Orpheus says as he takes up a grip opposite Veida. The two pull it off its mounting with ease and stow it in the trunk of the undercover Arbites cruiser.
As soon as they get moving Jaylene contacts her precinct. “This is Investigator Jaylene Magall, Safehouse Omnibus has been compromised, over twenty summary judgments performed during the escape. Requesting a secure vehicle bay open at precinct 99.”
“Preparing for your arrival as we speak. We just received a report of two improvised armored vehicles on your vicinity running fast and hot, dispatching backup.”
“Negative.” Jaylene orders into the vox system. “Reinforce the precinct perimeter, they’ll be most desperate when our escape is within reach.”
“Understood. Emperor protects you, Investigator.”
Just as the exchange ends two bulky vehicles with armor sheets bolted and welded on appear from a side street. Dark plumes of exhaust flare up as the oversized engines spur the vehicles on to impressive speeds. The window plating folds down and a crowd of shotgun barrels expose themselves, bristling from every open hatch they unleash relentless fire.
The blasts rip across the cruiser and crack and chip at the armored glass, nearing a complete shatter quickly. “I thought you said this thing was rated against small arms fire!” Orpheus bellows.
“It is! For standard ammunition! They must be loaded with manstoppers!” Jaylene retorts.
Veida leans out and blasts a stream of flame which the vehicle quickly evades by tapping the brakes to stay just out of the burning stream. “Damn them all! Can’t they even die with dignity?”
The other vehicle begins picking up considerable speed and Orpheus activates the vox projection array, broadcasting his voice loudly outside the vehicle. “Good, a little closer and I can slit your throats myself.” He growls. The vehicle backs off with a screech and reveals its own compliment of shotgun wielding criminals, blasting out the rear windshield and putting a handful of holes into the hull.
“I’ve driven worse.” Jaylene reassures them.
One of the vehicles pushes their acceleration and flies past the cruiser, opening its rear doors to reveal a Heavy stubber. “Evasive maneuvers!” Jaylene hollers. “Orpheus, pass me your pistol!” Veida shouts over the chorus of shotgun blasts, engine sounds and screeching tires.
Interrogator Letra holds his bolt pistol out, Veida goes to take it but Orpheus won’t let go. “This weapon was made by some of the most skilled hands in the galaxy. If you drop this weapon, we are stopping to pick it up. Understood?”
Veida nods and takes the weapon, firing a single shot which zips just over the barrel of the heavy stubber causing the gunner to hurriedly duck and lose his aim as the heavy weapon sprays ammunition haphazardly across the street, missing the cruiser entirely.
“Emperor be praised.” Veida says under her breath as Jaylene’s driving is able to soften the impact of the ceaseless barrage of shotgun blasts.
Orpheus activates the vox system once more. “You are firing upon an agent of the Emperor’s Holy Inquisition!”
Immediately the vehicle in the rear breaks off and disappears down a side street. The one in front ceases firing but maintains it’s position, indistinct shouting erupts from within. Orpheus joins the inaudible discussion, “I have seen more than twenty of your comrades slain in the past hour, what makes any of you think you will fare better?”
The vehicle slams it’s rear doors shut and flees expediently.
Veida passes the bolt pistol back to its owner. “You can do quite a lot with a few words, Interrogator.”
“Thank you, Sister. All things being equal I would rather rely on your flames or Jaylene’s shotgun than my words but when only words will do it helps to have the best of them.” He replies.
Jaylene pulls into an awaiting vehicle bay and a pair of servitors begin attending to repairs immediately as the three enter the precinct fortress. Jaylene quickly leads them into a hallway and opens a room where a handful of subordinate officers work at data terminals and sift over pict logs.
“I am commandeering these quarters until further notice, if you wish to contest my actions, my name is Investigator Jaylene Magall, you can take it up with Captain Navick.” Jaylene orders. The working officers gather their supplies, salute and leave without a word.
Once the room is empty Jaylene locks the door and takes a seat. “What’s our next move?” She asks.
“Well,” Orpheus says, taking a deep breath and rubbing his neck. “we know which gang is perpetrating these actions, the Breakwater Bonded, and their territory is known to the local enforcers which you have access to, correct?”
Jaylene nods.
“So we know who is doing it, where they are and who is running this operation.” He says pulling the paper found on one of the gangers earlier. “But, after reading this, it is clear they are just hired muscle. Yes they are guilt of their crimes but they only did it for the payout, even if we were to wipe them all from history their employer would find some other criminal retinue to handle the deed.”
“What about the interrogation? What did you learn?” Veida asks.
“The next target is an Imperial temple in the 8th district, 11th block of this stratum of the Hive. They will suspect their operation was compromised which will mean they will either abandon the target, or if the employer is insistent on this target, they will try to act before we can make use of the information.” Orpheus says, pacing to the wall where a map of the local hive sector is displayed.
“We need to defend the temple.” Veida declares adamantly. “If we attempt to make a move on their territory and neglect one of our flanks for even a moment they could easily sneak a small team by to carry out the bombing and then the interrogation was for nothing anyway.”
Jaylene nods. “Of course if we fail on that we get disintegrated by a small atomic bomb.”
Orpheus notes Vieda’s look and elaborates. “The crime in question is the placing and detonating of small atomic devices. The deepest reaches of Williams Breach are populated by mutant laborers who mine radioactive minerals for the creation of atomic macrocannon shells. Somehow this gang’s employer has gotten a hold on some so these bombs are utilizing military-grade atomic material. Not only have these events eroded the morale and faith of the people, opening the door to heretical practices in their desperation but the sites have been left irradiated resulting in widespread illness and much difficulty in rebuilding and forgetting the attack in the first place.”
“All the more reason to ensure this attack fails.” Veida says with determination.
“We’ll need a safehouse.” Jaylene notes. “I don’t have access to anything in the area, that’s all Ecclesiarchy jurisdiction.”
“Or their chamber militant.” Orpheus adds, looking to Veida. “How close are your ties with the Adeptus Sororitas?”
“The closest I have.” Veida says as she seeks contact through a secure vox communicator in the room.
The vox speaker returns with a very familiar, “This is Sister Elise of the Burning Rose, identify yourself.”
“Sister Veida of the Nomadic Word.”
“Your vox signature is unfamiliar, is everything alright?” Elise asks.
“I am on Confragus, on assignment with a member of the Inquisition. Do you have any authority in the Imperial Temple of Williams Breach, 8th district, 11th block, mining level epsilon.” Veida asks.
The sound of static silence hangs in the air for some time before there is a response. “Yes, we have a Sister-initiate who is on watch there as part of her training.” Elise says.
“Could we receive sleeping accommodations nearby?”
“Nonsense, for you we will have the initiate take up a bed elsewhere, her quarters are yours to use as you see fit.”
“Thank you.” Veida says. “The Emperor provides, and may he reward you for your assistance.”
“To assist in his work is reward enough, Sister.” Elise replies.
Jaylene nods to Veida. “Well, that’s good news.”
“I have more.” Orpheus declares. “I have some contacts in the Astra Militarum and have managed to acquire the advice of a demolitions expert. Jaylene, if you can send a copy of the data script from the temple’s construction to this logis-address.” He scribbles a series of numbers on a nearby piece of paper. “Then we can anticipate where the bomb is most likely to be placed.”
Jaylene takes the paper, looking over it carefully and securing it in a pocket of her armor. “It’s a very good start but how do we actually stop this thing?” She asks.
“I can disguise myself as a member of the Ecclesiarchy. I know all the rites and rituals and bear a degree of authority there anyway.” Veida offers. “It will allow us to get as close as possible to those who enter.
“Your armor is distinct.” Orpheus reminds her.
Veida shrugs. “I will shed it then, my faith will protect me.”
“I don’t like the idea of you going unarmored, looking for someone smuggling in a bomb.” Jaylene says.
Orpheus nods. “Agreed, I will find you some armor that you can wear beneath your robes. I’ll gather some surveillance equipment as well. We can sleep in rotation. Two will stay on watch while one sleeps, working on an 8 hour sleep pattern.”
“Veida walks the crowds in the day with you for the first half and me for the second then when she goes to sleep you wake up and we work the night hours.” Jaylene states.
“I’ll man the surveillance pict-feeds during my shifts, Jaylene, you will monitor the feed for your portion of the day shift and walk the floor at night.” Orpheus says.
A silent agreement passes between the three. “Then it is decided.” Orpheus says.
Fourth of the Magic of Tieran worldbuilding posts!
Warlocks | Witches
—
Like witches, the mages of Tieran are born with a natural connection to the aethe, unlike witches however, mages are not as limited in the range of their abilities. There are two categories of casters within magery - wizards and sorcerers.
Wizard politics must get pretty wild. So if a sorceror decided to walk the path of a wizard would the discipline decrease their potential or would they just become a really intensely powerful wizard? Or would it take more than a lifetime to be able to have a sorcerors power with a wizards control?
Fun With Lovecraftian Things Part 8: Pulp Detective/Noir
This was a LOT of fun to do. Very different genre for me but I really enjoyed it. I felt I hit it strong with a few lines, overall it turned out about how I wanted.
Anyway it’s about 2000 words. The first paragraph is free, the rest is below the Read More
Also if you like it and want to read other similar and dissimilar things, look here
She appeared in my office like a ghost, light on her feet like she was levitating. I knew she was bad news, the pretty ones always were. “What’s your problem, lady?” I asked her.
She sat down without ever breaking eye contact with me. It was haunting. “I have an animal problem.” She said very calmly. That was what got me most, her calmness, serene and pale. Calm like a corpse.
I don't know what a Priscilliam is but you wanted an ask so here it is. Tell me the most important things, as much or little as that is.
Priscilliam is (one of) my worldbuilding project! It’s set on post-modern Earth, 100+ years after the Deep Woods (which is literally what it sounds like: a magically forest that started growing and displaced all the water in the Atlantic Ocean) emerged from the Atlantic Ocean and brought with it magic, monsters, and mystery.
The event starts several wars, between humans and humans, humans and monsters, and human and the races that emerged from the Woods (such as elves, dwarves, and orcs) that later becomes known as the Priscilliam War. The only reason a tentative peace was obtained was through the creation of the Priscilliam Councils, which are several councils of five figureheads, normally voted for but occasionally appointed, who help keep the peace. I say tentative for a reason, though: tensions are high and war is always around the corner.
There’s no real plot or story yet, so I’m just letting myself have fun designing the world, especially since I have the chance to put my own unique spin on the classic fantasy/dnd races that everyone loves so much .o.
Sweeeeeeet. Deep woods is such a cool concept. Wow, yeah the possibilities are crazy endless, I can see why it's currently just worldbuilding. I'll have to keep an eye on this one, have fun.
Fun With Lovecraftian Things Part 8: Pulp Detective/Noir
This was a LOT of fun to do. Very different genre for me but I really enjoyed it. I felt I hit it strong with a few lines, overall it turned out about how I wanted.
Anyway it’s about 2000 words. The first paragraph is free, the rest is below the Read More
Also if you like it and want to read other similar and dissimilar things, look here
She appeared in my office like a ghost, light on her feet like she was levitating. I knew she was bad news, the pretty ones always were. “What’s your problem, lady?” I asked her.
She sat down without ever breaking eye contact with me. It was haunting. “I have an animal problem.” She said very calmly. That was what got me most, her calmness, serene and pale. Calm like a corpse.
I wrote into my notepad and passed it to her. “Here’s the number for animal control.” I said. She smirked and took the paper. She asked for a light, which I gave. She set the paper on fire, bold and pretty, the worst kind.
“I can’t go to animal control.” She stated. “Or the police, or the military or any public service.”
“Why not?” I asked, regretting it immediately.
“They would call me crazy.” She said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
I leaned back and thought about showing her the door. Every word she spoke I knew she was danger. Trouble was I always had a fondness for danger. “You think I won’t?”
“You don’t care. A mad woman’s money is as good as a sane one's.” She answered. She had me all figured out. I was trapped and she knew it. Damn her.
“You got me. What’s the job exactly? You want me to kill this animal or find it?” I got out my pad of paper to take down the details but something told me it would be a short note.
She looked at me, or maybe through me, and she spoke as though she was reading some ancient tome. “You can’t kill it and it will certainly find me again. I just want you to find out who is sending it after me.”
I felt like a schoolboy grappling with Shakespeare. “So, what? Track it back to its owner?”
“Precisely.”
I was no boy scout but I had tracked my fair share of game when I managed to get out of the shadows of the city. “Got any tracks to follow?”
“I sure do, back at my place.” On a normal day I would gladly put a bullet in my own foot for a chance to get invited home by a beauty like her. That day my feet felt like they were fitted with cement shoes, maybe I would have been better off if that was the case.
“Lead on.” I said and willed myself to follow, I threw on a heavy coat to cover my yellow belly and rested my hand in my pocket by my trusty .38 Special.
She lived outside of the city, in the hills with the bankers, the gangsters and old money. I thought it strange how the city had more crossed shadows and towering buildings but couldn’t compete with the darkness of those hills.
We arrived at her house, mansion would be more correct. She led me out into the rear garden, only the rich have multiple gardens. “Here they are.” She pointed at some marks in the dirt.
I knelt down in an indentation in the earth, must have had a statue recently removed. The tracks were each about half a foot across and their placement didn’t make any sense. No animal could have a walking pattern like that. I stepped back to try and see which direction it had traveled. That’s when I realized I had been kneeling in part of the footprint. One footprint was at least three feet across, I prayed to God this was a prank.
I shoved my pad of paper in my pocket and pulled a cigarette. “Alright, lady, enough is enough. If those are the tracks of your animal it would have to be bigger than a Cadillac.”
She looked at me with the most casual sense of amusement. “Yes.”
The deadpan delivery of that one word made my blood run so cold I had to light my cigarette just to feel some warmth again. I followed the tracks, what else was I supposed to do? She clearly had the money to pay and I had more than one bill collector giving me the knock at the time. I followed the tracks all around the property; it all seemed to go in one big circle. They came from nowhere and they went nowhere and right about then I wanted to be nowhere too.
I went inside to find her sitting in a chair staring at an unlit fireplace. Was this broad even human? “Look, I don’t know what to tell you. From what I can see this thing just showed up, circled the yard and evaporated. I don’t know if someone is dropping it in like a paratrooper or what but I can’t make heads or tails of those tracks.”
“So what’s the next step?” She asked without looking at me.
I looked around at the grandeur of the place and found it all seemed old. Not old like an antique or an heirloom, old like the inside of a mausoleum. “Does this animal show up at a usual time? If it is being sent by someone they might have a set schedule.”
She didn’t say anything, she just sat there. I thought she didn’t hear me, for a second I thought maybe I didn’t speak at all. “I said—”
“I heard you. I was just listening.”
It’s always nice to be heard but the way she said it, it meant something different. “It would be swell if you could answer me, straight, lady.”
“Your answer approaches.” She smiled at me. I hated it.
I was about to give her what for, I took a deep breath and set myself to let loose. Then I heard it. It was the longest, softest, loudest thud I had ever heard. It sounded like the marching of an army and the stalking of a cat. I couldn’t do anything except listen, my brain had to figure it out, it strained and half killed itself just trying to make sense of the noise.
Slowly it became apparent the sound was circling the house and I could trace it. I started to spin slowly in place, following the sound with my eyes. As the sound passed in front of the windows the thing came into view. It seemed to fade into existence like a fog rolling in. The first pass I thought I was losing it, I blinked and rubbed my eyes, I even pressed up to the windows and squinted to be sure something was there at all.
On the second pass it seemed to be more there, I opened the window and reached out to touch the fog thing. It felt wet, like a fine mist, but it smelled of blood. When I drew my hand back in it had stiffened up like I had just hauled it out of a frozen gutter.
“What the devil is that thing?” I asked like a damn idiot, stumbling backwards and rubbing at my hand to get it to move again.
“Oh the devil has nothing to do with it.” She assured me, as though that was some comfort.
About that time I decided it was time to leave. “Keep your money.” I barked. “I’m getting the hell out of here.” I grabbed at my pistol with my good hand and set out the front door. I hadn’t gone more than three steps when the thing jumped from the back of the house to land in front of me. For how big it was it didn’t shake the ground at all though I wish it had.
I jumped back inside as it lunged at me, jaws open like the gates of Hell itself. Strange kind of luck that it’s mouth was too big to get in the door. Whatever luck that was quickly faded as its tongue snaked out from its mouth after me.
I ran up the stairs like my life depended on it, how fitting. I looked over my shoulder to see the tongue crawling up after me; I stopped counting at five arms. Down the hall. Through the door to my left, down the hall I hear the door ripped off its hinges behind me. Down another hall and into a room, a bedroom. I pushed the dresser in front of the door and collapsed into the corner.
I fumbled with my cigarettes, crushing them in a shaky fist. I threw the crumpled mass to the floor and rested my forehead on the barrel of my gun. Mad banging coursed through the halls as the thing’s tongue searched frantically for me. I leveled the pistol at the door and waited. I wasn’t sure it would do me any good but I wasn’t about to lay down and die without giving it the business.
The wall shuddered as the tongue slammed into the other side. Strange flesh things that mimicked fingers pushed through the cracks around the door. It popped off with a splintering of wood, the dying scream of my hiding place. The dresser didn’t fare much better as the arms furiously broke it down as others reached around it and clawed at the air.
“Come on.” I goaded it, adjusting the grip on my gun. The dresser fell to splinters and I started shooting. I pulled the trigger as fast as I could and heard the clicking of the hammer on spent shells before I realized what was happening. The door frame was painted in deep, red blood speckled with white patches of something truly foul. I heard the tongue slap around down the halls in a wounded panic.
I rested my head back and started to laugh when I heard the soft loud marching of the thing outside. I scrambled to the corner furthest from the window and pointed my gun at it. It climbed up to my floor and pressed its eye to the window. It was like the eye of a fly, no more like a wasp or a hornet, it had more hate.
Each segment reflected a different moment of my life. Times that were, times that could have been, and times that would be. I was drawn in, entrance and ensnared. I searched its eye and came upon a time to come. I saw myself die in some dark corner of a city I’d never seen. I didn’t want to give it the satisfaction of being right so I turned my pistol on myself and pulled the trigger only to be greeted by the click of an empty shell. I threw the gun through the window and into its eye and ran.
I ran for a long time, I eventually fell to my knees on some road between the city and the hills. I stared down at my frozen hand and waited for death to come. It disappointed me. At some point I got back to my feet and wandered back into the city just before dawn. I took every dollar, every bullet and the two suits I owned and stuffed them into a hiking bag. I set my office on fire and went home to burn it down too.
Now the only sleep I get comes in a bottle. Even still I’ll wake up with my death projected inside my eyes like the Devil’s own drive-in. If I stay in one place too long I’ll start to hear it circling me. When I start to see its foot prints then I know it’s time to get the hell out of Dodge. I would check out if I had any confidence it wasn’t going to be there waiting on the other side, so I’ll run for another day more.
As always, thanks for reading and if you have any suggestions for genres you want me to mix with my brand of eldritch horrors then let me know in the most convenient way possible for you. Also if you want to see me continue a story from a previous part let me know and I probably will.
Tags(If you want on or off the list just let me know):
Well here she is, clocking in at about 13 hours of work my Tal'dorei campaign map is finally finished!! There are some mistakes I made that still bother me, but I am extremely happy with how the compass turned out, and I can’t wait to show my players next session :D
Keen to have a map like this for your campaign? I’m working on setting up a new commission sheet so keep an eye out 😏
Wooooooah. That is just incredible. I feel like you pulled that out of an old oak chest you found with a skeleton slumped over it, still in armor. Amazing work.
today’s Novel I Want To Read But Not Write: wilde-esque comedy of manners about a young aristocrat seeking a hobby to occupy him in his Genteel Leisure that takes an abrupt turn for the eldritch in the second act, except
the narrative style stays exactly the same, and
the protagonist reacts to increasingly appalling and monstrous terrors with precisely the same aplomb as he reacts to various Society Mishaps in the first part of the novel