Deer With A Thorax

long-distance mech pilots don’t need to worry quite so much about traveling light. when you’re walking around in several tons of metal, especially one built to wander, you aren’t quite to the point of needing to choose which of two keepsakes you have room in your bag for— there’s plenty of space for both.

Things are different for interstellar knights.

You see, whether wandering alone or setting off on some quest for their lord, a knight’s only home is their armor. Anything they bring with them, they must carry within that armor, even through battles— and as such, every gram and every cubic centimeter can make the difference between life and death, and every calorie chosen to replace a keepsake can make the difference between survival and starvation. As such, a knight’s inventory is heavily optimized— and so is their armor itself. What matters more, the heating system or the EVA boosters? The extra fuel storage or the emergency release mechanisms? Pick one, and you’ll have no room for the other unless you can cut corners somewhere else. Every single element of a knight’s armor is there because they made the conscious decision to put it there. Every weapon they’ve attached to their shell had to replace some traditional aspect of a life support system. Every inch of their shells are packed full of every system that can fit until it’s tight against the pilot’s skin to leave them bruised whenever they exit their shell.

it doesn’t take long for them to realize which superfluous components are the weakest link.

They start small, at first— often as simple as a haircut to help a tighter helmet fit better. Some try to lose weight, but quickly regret it when they find themselves near starvation on some distant moon. The ones that survive past their first year are the ones that are willing to take things a bit further— the toes on both feet, to make room for a slight jump booster. One of their ribs, perhaps— replaced with a battery that connects to the armor through a cable that winds around bones and muscles. It’s only a matter of time before they do something about those bones and muscles too.

those who have only heard the stories will say that a knight’s armor is their home. Those who have met one, seen them exit their armor and seen just how little is left of the body inside— they will say that a knight’s armor is a part of their body. Integrated into them until they cannot survive without it. Both are wrong. Even some knights cannot pin down the true answer— what they really feel as they connect their armor to the components of it that they have placed inside of them. The best ones do, though. They know it well.

A knight’s armor is not a part of their body. Their body is a part of their armor— their home, to be renovated and optimized as they see fit. To be replaced, improved, amputated and eviscerated so that it can be remade into the glorious works of art that the heroes of the galaxy become as they charge into battle and become a story worth remembering.

As the armor learns to reach into your veins, pulling oxygen from the carbon dioxide you exhale and weaving it back into your blood, the space once taken up by inefficient organic lungs becomes the home of the heating system, warming you from within no matter what part of the void between stars you find yourself in. As it recycles amino acids into proteins again and infuses them back into what tissues remain, you’re free to remove your old digestive organs and find a home for your armor’s main computer, kept safe at the center of your shell. Many knights choose to put their own organic brain down there next to it, incidentally making room for more optical systems in their skulls.

Your armor is no longer simply “a part of you” and you are no longer simply “a part of it.” It is you. You are it. Your bones, its power cells, your organs its systems. You are its brain and its CPU in equal measure and its beautiful exterior plates, painted with the symbols of the lord you serve or simply the cause you stand for, will inspire others to take up arms themselves and let themselves become part of it.

your body, your home, your masterpiece

“Got the morbs” should be a thing.

Cultures/creeds for a gonzo transhuman fantasy setting constructed entirely from repurposed Dungeons & Dragons tropes:

A community of serial reincarnationists under a permanent enchantment that causes them to eventually reappear in a new young adult body with personality and memories intact any time they’re killed, whether through violence, disease or old age. The exact form the new body takes is random, and is as likely to be an animal as a humanoid; their cavalier attitude toward death is tempered by a strong cultural expectation to learn how to live with whatever body you end up with, so it’s not uncommon to encounter - for example - a respected member of the community who currently happens to be an owl. Socially they tend toward agrarianism, though they have no particular objection to urban living; in their ethos, a sprawling city differs from a bird’s nest or a beaver’s dam only in scale.

A mob of undead skeletons obsessed with the transitory nature of existence. Their culture is dominated by short-lived art forms, like sand paintings, improvisational music, and elaborate wooden sculptures which are burned on completion. They’re able to freely swap bones with each other, or replace them with suitably prepared substitutes taken from non-undead skeletons or carved from wood or other dead organic matter, and it’s not uncommon to encounter a skeleton with none of their original bones remaining; pondering the resulting ship-of-Theseus problem with respect to personal identity is regarded as a fun intellectual exercise, but it doesn’t actually bother them. Alone among the creeds, they never directly produce new members; every one of them is a former member of some other creed.

A society devoted to the pursuit of knowledge by transforming life forms through experimental wizardry. They regard experimenting on others - even animals - as horrifyingly unethical, and as a result, each of them uses their own body as a testing ground. Individual members range from mostly human with only a few odd physical quirks, to entities not readily recognisable as life, let alone people. While novel transmutations are always self-directed, they’re willing to perform the most thoroughly tested and proven procedures on others with informed consent, a service that comes in high demand. Likewise, interventions to rescue other members of the creed from experiments gone awry are permitted, though only after careful deliberation - after all, perhaps your neighbour meant to spend a year as a rock!

yknow 1 of the little things i appreciate about kid icarus is how realistically pit’s outfit accommodates his wings

Concept: a JRPG-inspired setting where instead of star signs or tarot arcana or whatnot, bullshit personality typing is based on what elemental attacks you’re weak and/or resistant to.

(”She’s resistant to fire and weak to lightning? Ouch - you know that means major commitment issues.”)

Dont know if you were joking about needing catboy references a couple of weeks back but here ya go

Theres one for sheep too if you need that

the sacred texts.... thank you for bestowing it upon me

Masks by Jym Davis

Last time I wondered if Danish vagabonds, also known as Landevejsriddere (country road knights), live by some sort of code because even though they’re usually drunk they’re always very pleasant and friendly and as it turns out, yes they do. LINK

You can’t just put on a festive hat and push a pram with your earthly belongings and call yourself a vagabond in this country. You have to be mentored by an older vagabond and travel along the vagabond routes for two summers and one winter before you get your vagabond name at an annual ceremony at Hjallerup Marked where all new vagabonds are ”baptized”.

They also have an annual ceremony at Egeskov Marked where they vote on who should be their king for a year and help settle conflicts in vagabond society. They give the title to the vagabond who has been the kindest and best behaved all year.

The vagabonds have rules they live by: no lying, no stealing, no fighting and always be polite. If they catch any of their members breaking the rules they beat them up because it’s important to their survival that outsiders can trust them. They make their living by sharpening knives and scissors or doing manual labor like helping you chop wood, clean up your garden or the like.

That’s why if you see a vagabond you know you’re in safe company no matter how drunk they are. Should you come across one support an old tradition full of rituals and kindness by giving them some coins or a sandwich.

latin phrases worth knowing:

(in case you wanted to know because i fucking love this language) 

ad astra per aspera - to the stars through difficulties 

alis volat propriis - he flies by his own wings 

amantium irae amoris integratio est - the quarrels of lovers are the renewal of love 

ars longa, vita brevis - art is long, life is short 

aut insanity homo, aut versus facit - the fellow is either mad or he is composing verses 

dum spiro spero - while I breathe, I hope 

ense petit placidam sub libertate quietem - with the sword, she seeks peace under liberty 

exigo a me non ut optimus par sim sed ut malis melior - I require myself not to be equal to the best, but to be better than the bad

experiential docet - experience teaches 

helluo librorum - a glutton for books (bookworm) 

in libras libertas - in books, freedom 

littera scripta manet - the written letter lasts 

mens regnum bona possidet - an honest heart is a kingdom in itself 

mirabile dictu - wonderful to say 

nullus est liber tam malus ut non aliqua parte prosit - there is no book so bad that it is not profitable in some part 

omnia iam fient quae posse negabam - everything which I used to say could not happen, will happen now 

poeta nascitur, non fit - the poet is born, not made 

qui dedit benificium taceat; narrat qui accepit - let him who has done a good deed be silent; let him who has received it tell it 

saepe ne utile quidem est scire quid futurum sit - often, it is not advantageous to know what will be 

sedit qui timuit ne non succederet - he who feared he would not succeed sat still 

si vis pacem, para bellum - if you want peace, prepare for war 

struit insidias lacrimis cum feminia plorat - when a woman weeps, she is setting traps with her tears 

sub rosa - under the rose 

trahimir omnes laudis studio - we are led on by our eagerness for praise

urbem latericium invenit, marmoream reliquit - he found the city a city of bricks; he left it a city of marble 

ut incepit fidelis sic permanet - as loyal as she began, so she remains

HEY ARTISTS!

Do you design a lot of characters living in not-modern eras and you’re tired of combing through google for the perfect outfit references? Well I got good news for you kiddo, this website has you covered! Originally @modmad made a post about it, but her link stopped working and I managed to fix it, so here’s a new post. Basically, this is a costume rental website for plays and stage shows and what not, they have outfits for several different decades from medieval to the 1980s. LOOK AT THIS SELECTION:

OPEN ANY CATEGORY AND OH LORDY–

There’s a lot of really specific stuff in here, I design a lot of 1930s characters for my ask blog and with more chapters on the way for the game it belongs to I’m gonna be designing more, and this website is going to be an invaluable reference. I hope this can be useful to my other fellow artists as well! :)

Did you find this helpful? If you’re able, maybe buy me a coffee please? :D