Dantioch And Polux, A Love, Not Of Eros, But Of Brotherhood

Archfey

The Feywild landscape creates a fantastical mirror image of the material plane, echoing its features and magnifying its wonders. The archfey who keep their kingdoms in the Plane of Faerie are likewise echoes of inhabitants of the material plane: jealous rulers, vicious peasants, greedy merchants. They are archetypes made manifest, sometimes even verging on parodies of the folk they represent. These archfey delight in mischief and revelry, but their sense of what is humorous and what is clever does not correspond to that of a mortal. The archfey described below take their entertainment from stealing children, controlling their subjects, and trapping hapless mortals in labyrinths as much as they enjoy riddles, mimicry, and flattery.

The Fallow-Fallen

The Fallow-Fallen embodies the anger of a downtrodden serf. The Fallow-Fallen seeks to feel powerful, so they exert their will over whatever unfortunate beings pass through their demesne. The Fallow-Fallen loves violence and gore more than most of their kin among the archfey, with a special taste for those who look down on others. They command a pack of faerie hounds to chase down trespassers, but a respectful guest may be rewarded with a harvest bounty or a fey steed faster than any mortal horse.

The Thistlewise

The Thistlewise echoes the territorial nature of a solitary druid. The Thistlewise wants nothing more than to be left alone, but they have great knowledge and gifts beyond the ken of most mortals, making them a desirable endpoint of a Feywild pilgrimage. The Thistlewise tangles the mind, misleading and misdirecting creatures who dare disturb them. Their realm is overrun with tangling vines and thorny brambles that form a twisting labyrinth with neither entrance nor exit; escape is virtually impossible without a magical aid. The Thistlewise sees mortals like insects, but from time to time, a rare species might catch their eye and their aid.

The Marioneer

The Marioneer mirrors a grasping chancellor, constantly scheming for control and approval while in service to the whims of a good-natured satyr king. They command a court of puppets, strung up and charmed by them to both entertain their satyr liege and serve the Marioneer’s own desires. The Marioneer cannot keep constant control, but in their immediate presence, fey and mortals alike struggle to retain their sense of self. The Marioneer requires nothing less than absolute deference, but visitors may still garner their favor–as long as they recognize the true power behind the throne.

The Kegling

The Kegling maintains an unusual feature of the Feywild landscape: the ubiquitous tavern. A bawdy and cheerful brawler, the Kegling loves to engage in a physical challenge with their patrons only to turn about and offer a drunken riddle-contest. The Kegling is a masterful host who stands on barroom ceremony, but is over-indulgent. Less overtly sinister than most other archfey, once you’ve met the Kegling they seem ever-present, their tavern appearing on the roadside or in the midst of the Seelie Court. As lord over common knowledge and common sense, information given to the Kegling will be spread around or held in reserve for later blackmail.

The Paper King

The Paper King is no king at all, but the manifest ego of a powerful mage. They are a hoarder of knowledge and memory, particularly the memories of those who visited the Feywild and lost their recollection of those times. The Paper King’s true prize is a vast repository of spells, transcribed from lost spellbooks and tomes that found their way to the Feywild. In fact, any book lost or misplaced eventually finds its way here, to the towering retreat of the Paper King. The Paper King might allow a courageous mortal to peruse the collection, but only at the cost of a few memories of their own.

The Hungerhanded

Born of the greed of the owner of a trading company, the Hungerhanded seeks nothing more than to obtain. The Hungerhanded gives nothing without receiving more in return. They see all mortal passersby as beneath them, simply delivery carts of precious treasures who are unaware of their true purpose. The Hungerhanded will happily provide protection for their little treasure-deliverers, as well as any reward that costs them nothing. The Hungerhanded’s negotiation skills are unparalleled, and they always know when they have the upper hand.

The Autarch

The Autarch is the Feywild’s adaption of a motivational speaker, one whose words are unsettlingly persuasive. The Autarch rules a dominion of followers who each believe they are acting in their own self-interest, self-governing in ways that always seem to benefit the Autarch. Self-deceit is the name of the Autarch’s game; even they themself are convinced that everyone within their domain is acting according to their own nature. Their way, it seems, is simply the best way. Why else would so many people choose to follow this philosophy of self-rule? The people of the Autarch’s realm often speak in the Autarch’s voice, repeating the archfey’s philosophy unthinkingly. The Autarch claims to want nothing but a few moments of a creature’s time; they know that is all they need to win hearts and minds.

The Askew

The Askew exaggerates the features of a traveling minstrel. A performer and pantomimer, they are one of those rare Archfey who make their way to the material plane more often than most. They enjoy the attention, of course, but they also enjoy luring children from their homes and bringing them to the Feywild to serve in their own court for years. Sometimes even decades pass before they are permitted to rejoin their kind, but when they return, they have been made feral by their time in the Askew’s service. The Askew loves nothing, hates nothing, and fears nothing. It wants only companionship and joy, and a mortal who can offer either–even for a brief time–could please it enough to receive a rare boon. A creature who dares disturb its reverie, however, invites a curse upon their head.

Plancescape: The Palace Moon

Hovering beyond the reach of mortals and beneath the notice of gods, this eerily tranquil wasteland awaits those who would explore its mysteries and discover the fate of a vanished pantheon.

Gods die, this is known, as their fossilized bodies are sometimes found floating in the astral sea or interred in great monuments hidden throughout the cosmos. Sometimes they are slain by other gods, or die as part of their own mythology, or shift and reoccur as new deities as the people who they are pledged to go through ideological changes.

This does not explain the absence of the gods that built the palace moon, a demiplane hanging just outside the material realm in much the same way that a regular moon might orbit a celestial body. In its time it was a hanging garden, a lush green paradise where one might lounge in mountain sized castles and observe the goings on of the material plane, basking in riches and radiance and all the splendor their divine might could conjure. Today the moon is a dust-riven wasteland, with its halls and city sized gardens smothered under colorless particulate with those remaining edifices exposed to the air slowly being worn away by time. It is a land ripe for exploration, as the relics of divinity lay scattered among the towering pagodas and basilicas covered with petrified ivory, amounting to not only the treasures of unknown gods but to the flotsam of various celestial courts and clergies born to serve the now absent divinities. It is for this reason that both scholars and terrible warlords choose to make the Palace moon their home, sifting through the rubble of the dead world in the hopes of finding some fossilized trace of the ineffable.

Hooks:

The a powerful druid who’s influence once kept the region stable has gone missing investigating strange omens from a set of ancient megaliths contained within the foundations of an overgrown temple. As tensions between the region’s factions escalate, those who would seek peace reach out to the party to find her and bring her back. After delving the dangerous ruins (and having to overcome some of the druid’s on defenses along with the local critters) they discover her journal. In attempting to stabilize the ruin, the druid activated some kind of portal and pulled something through, after which the party can deduce that whatever it is she summoned dragged her back with it before the portal closed. Their only hope of rescuing the peacekeeper is to retrace her steps, activate the portal and plunge through themselves, surviving the lunar wasteland and get her back, all before war breaks out at home. 

In the light of the full moon, the silver inlaid skull of a particular aasimar possesses the power to teleport those holding it to a graveyard on the moon, the spirit of it’s departed owner desperate to return to the land from which it was banished. A fortune hunting thief has purchased this skull from an occultist, and has been using it to loot the graves of the celestial court and turn a tidy profit. The players might find a few of these objects in the local magic shops, with a chance to trace them back to their source.

Seeking visions of the divine, a group of mystics cast their mind out to the aether and were cursed with visions of the lunar tomb palace. Extracting from this foreboding omen that the true gods of their world were dead, and all others were merely invading presences, they set about forming a heretical order and stirring up no end of trouble, even after their deaths. These followers of the Lunatic’s Canto can be responsible for all manner of blasphemous crimes across the realm, eventually drawing the party into one of their moon mad rituals the way that cultist are wont to do.

Keep reading

Noise Marines - Plan C

I did what I didn't want to do. A valiant servant of the chaos gods sacrificed a critical part of his armour kit to give me something that looks a bit like a speaker for the muzzle of the sonic blaster.

I don't think he minds.

The end result looks just like I hoped. The skull and jaw placement will need some finesse to ensure the grille's not hidden, but I'm surprisingly happy. Also meant some pinning to line it up properly and I'm a sucker for pinning, just a tad more than I'm a sucker for magnets.

While exploring some different shapes and styles for laser defense bastions, I was left with the conundrum of where to put garrisoning infantry stands when the roof is mostly laser. After noodling on it, I struck upon the notion of building plinth to provide conveniently infantry-sized platforms to represent troops occupying the structure.

The layout is taken almost entirely from the official Grimdark Terrain Dominator Prison Complex Xhi build, but I wanted to try and replicate the look of the now discontinued Imperial Bastion.

We also wound up using it as a proof of concept for pre-arranging the components in Blender and exporting to a flat .STL for printing, which worked reasonably well. Some minor artifacts due do to inadequate precision arranging the parts and I'm not sure it's actually that much of a time savings over hand assembly, but the finished product is rock solid and looks great on the tabletop.

Thousand Sons Tactical Squad

I was the Director of Photography on this project as well as the editor. If you enjoy John Wick and The Joker go watch

I'm posting a group project I did for film school. Idk man

I had a really poor depressing moment the other day. I was in such a poor state that for the first time in my life I decided, while sober, that I need to get drunk and high to deal with what I was feeling. My friends passed me while I was on the way to get some drinks at the convenience store. They saw me, for the first time in a really long time, dressed like a boy. And a really gross, depressed, visibly distraught boy.

It was kind of humiliating for me. I put so much effort into my appearance for them, but I didn't have the energy to do it that day and they just happened to see me at the lowest I have been in a very long time. It feels so embarassing. I'm gonna see them tomorrow. I just fuckin know I'm gonna spend at least an hour and a half stressing about my look for the event we're going to. I feel so humiliated.