The Vampyr Combine are the backbone of Lemuria, building and maintaining the Lemurian Merchant Aerial, and ensuring a steady supply of goods onto and off of the island. Founded and headed by Vampyr, the Combine was intended to progress Vampyric culture in a modern world, instead of stagnating with a veneration of a forgotten past.
The Combine is a loose confederation of several disparate Lemurian factions, and their respective cultures and traditions have blended into a chaotic, functional mix. Gremlins, Goblins, Vampyr, Fae, and human alike live and work together for mutual gain and defense.
The Privateers may run the Docks, the Assembly the Shipyards, and the Goblins repurpose defunct airships into useable parts in the Scrapyard, but the Merchant Aerial of the Vampyr Combine runs the Ports, bringing materials for the Assembly, materiel for the Privateers, and providing a steady business to the Scrapyards.
Their ships are not flashy, fast, or powerful, but when it comes to rugged dependability and long-term functionality, Combine Merchant Aerials simply cannot be beaten. If a thing can be found by coin or cutpurse, the Combine will find a way to get it. The markets, both Black and Legitimate, have unmatched selections and prices.
The Port District rises sharply up from the pastoral landscape of Lemuria. Massive landing platforms squat atop massive vertical warehouses. Massive Merchant Aerials plow through the local airspace to their joint docking/repair slips atop these incredible feats of engineering. Smaller warehouses can generally handle either one massive Aerial, or up to four smaller ones. The largest can handle up to five mammoth Aerials, or up to forty smaller Aerials.
The massive Towers are arranged in several long, straight rows along broad avenues dedicated solely for the smaller, local air and ground travel, with Commercial Districts popping up in the alleys between towers, perpendicular to the Port Avenues.
Atop the Towers, Combine techs work, live, and breathe. Luxury accomodations for the repair Techs and Merchant Aerial crew alike lie just below the loading/unloading floors, between massive fuel tanks and maintenance bays, and the low, eternal rumble of heavy equipment and the loud squeal of single-man speeders used to traverse the vast distances of the Warehouse itself.
The Symphony of the Aerials.
Below the living and maintenance levels are dozens, if not hundreds, of floors dedicated to nothing less than the storage of the titanic amounts of materials that are either waiting to be sent out on a Merchant Aerial or fresh off a Combine airship waiting to be retrieved by Lemurians in need.
And finally, in the lowest reaches of the Aerial Warehouses, lies the public sectors. Massive doorways that rarely close, measured in stories rather than yards, yawning open into a cavernous honeycomb of docking slips and designated landing spaces serviced by an eternal and chaotic caravan of workers, conveyors, and loaders.
Food service, small stores of quiet necessity, and beds to let on demand are all available here, owned and operated by the owners and operators of the entire massive Warehouse. The availability tends to be limited to bare essentials, but any and everything you might ever need (and much that you wonât) can be found elsewhere in Lemuria if you know where to look and can afford it.
Between the peaks of the warehouses, in the valleys where natural light arrives for only a short time per day, the Portâs commercial district has sprung up.
Built vertically of up to a dozen levels layered haphazardly on top of each other, the Commercial Alleys have risen up between the massive Warehouses. Built directly into the sides of adjacent Warehouse Towers, parking is serviced directly by the Towers. Even the tallest of the Commercial Alleys is dwarfed many times over by the smallest of the Towers.
Mostly lit by neon and harsh artificial lighting, even when the sun is at its zenith, the Commercial Alleys never sleep. There is a constant stream of commerce and life, no matter what time of day it is.
Alleys tend to each have their own personality. Some are lit by neon and garish signs. Others have a more natural look, full of growing things with natural bioluminescence.
Temmasâ Alley appears to be no more or less than a giant, free-roaming zoo, with creatures of every possible type and shape lounging and living more or less as they wish. The crafty old Goblin and his band of misfits take great pains to make their animal guests as comfortable as possible, from the artificial waterfall the splits the middle of the Alley to the large watering hole that runs down the Alleyâs center. Foregoing their culturesâ tendency to tinker with mechanicals, Temmas and his motley crew instead have focused their attention on pampering biologicals.
Qtleskaâs Alley is a natural haven in a city of steel and concrete. Trees, impossibly old and thriving for its location, grow up and around the Towers beside it, cradling shops and inns and restaurants alike in its branches. But the crown jewel of Qtleskaâs is the namesake Qtleskaâs Library. Not of books, but of plants. Flowers beyond number, shrubs and bushes as far as the Alley can stretch. Trees, vines, mosses, and far more, carefully curated and tended by a small resident Gnoll population. Qtleska and his fellow Gnolls are a common sight in the Port, slowly coming and going along their mute pathways, floral raiment in various stages of blooming upon and into their backs. And somehow, despite the heavy traffic near Qtleskaâs Alley, beneath the branches the sounds of airships are somehow muted in this natural oasis amongst the Portâs artifical mountain range.
Entalenâs Alley, meanwhile, is a sharp departure from some of the more natural alleys. Lit by buzzing neon billboards advertising their services, everything is a dull, dark gray. Thin, rickety catwalks criss-cross Alley, and thin walkways along the edges of the Alley service the shops reinforce the feeling of cramped paranoia. Harsh, white spotlights eternally shining down from the ceiling in irregular arcs leave deep shadows between their blasts, while dull, if colorful, light spills from shopfronts, slicing the gloom of Entalenâs into smaller if somehow more intense pools of shadow. The sizzle of frying food is everywhere in this Alley, punctuated by calls of shopkeeps to each other and to prospective clients that hurry from one patch of light to the next, staying together in tight groups if they need to venture down this particular section of the Port.
Robertoâs Alley is softly lit, colored all in white, with smooth, organic curves. Minimalism would be the name of the game, if such a thing would not sound vulgar to the disgustingly wealthy that is Robertoâs Alleyâs clientele. Few things are actually sold here, but when they are, enough money to buy small countries are exchanged. No wares are on display, and far from the hawkers in other alleys, every store here has armed security to keep out anyone until they have proved they have a sufficient bank balance. If you need to ask what sort of things are available here, you will be quietly if efficiently frog-marched out of the Alley and warned not to return on pain of pain, because you clearly cannot afford even a sip of water from the most pitiably pedestrian of the shops here. Those that can afford what resides in Robertoâs, well. They know where to go and whom to talk to. But if youâre reading this it clearly isnât you, so itâs best you move on before security is called.
The Lemurian Goblin Disassembly and the Protean City of Scrap
The Lemurian Goblins are descended from a captive population of Goblins that the Summer Court brought to the island to perform menial tasks they could not trust the captive humans to perform. However, the Goblins were not at all happy with their situation, and helped the human captives plan their uprising, passing notes and plans between groups and individual humans. When the Lemurian Rebellion began, the Goblins were instrumental, killing dozens of high-ranking members of the Court in the opening minutes, interrupting Summer lines of communication, and smuggling weaponry to the various human cells so the Rebellion would have a chance in the first place.
In fact, they were so instrumental to the Rebellion that after Lemuria was freed, the Goblins were given the opportunity to either leave Lemuria and try to pick up their old lives or have first choice of territory on the island. Nearly to the individual, the Goblins chose to stay, and set their sights on an as-yet small junkyard of mostly magical items and structures, along with a few failed first attempts at constructing airships for the mocking humor of the Summer Court overlords.
The City of Scrap
As the Lemurian engineering corps began to kick into overdrive and the first actual airships were made (and crashed), the Goblins laid claim to their corpses, offering to disassemble the wrecks and return what parts the fledgling shipyards needed. In time, wrecks of all kinds were brought to the junkyard, and the Lemurian Goblin Disassemblyâs City of Scrap began to form.
Taking inspiration from the airships that constantly flooded through their demesne, the Lemurian Goblins began putting together airships of their own design out of the random pieces they happened to find lying around. The result were airships that looked like (and sometimes did) fall apart or explode spontaneously, but were incredibly fast.
Very soon, airship races darting through the hills, valleys, and towers of scrap became common, until it became the Lemurian Goblinsâ most popular past-time.
Today the City of Scrap is a massive, sprawling edifice of rust, iron, and engineering. It is under constant evolution, and while it is called a city, the Goblins themselves are more of a semi-nomadic culture within their fiefdom, constantly adapting as new scrap is brought in and disassembled, then either shipped out or reassembled into temporary or semi-permanent structures or vehicles.
The semi-nomadic Lemurian Goblins roam all over the City of Scrap, building and then tearing down temporary accommodations near wherever the next junker is ready for them. There is no such thing as permanence outside of the Smelter Market inside the City of Scrap. The constant flow of salvage operations that finish or are just beginning mean that the city flexes and flows in an organic, almost living shape, if viewed over a long enough timeframe.
Wrecks that may have been a major landmark in the City of Scrap for months or even years might be gone in the relative blink of an eye as the junkers finally make their way to it and methodically take it apart and leave no trace of it ever being there.
Lemurian Goblins operate in familial units that span more than just biology, but through a series of customs and rules that are more often than not made up and flow just like the rest of their culture. Families form, separate, combine, and split seemingly on a whim, and the outsiders having a static family is baffling to the Lemurian Goblins.
About the only permanent structure in the City of Scrap is The Great Smelterâa massive structure designed to take in all kinds of raw scrap and output pure ingots of all kinds of metals, that are then traded with their fellow Lemurians or even outsiders.
All else is subject to constant change, even the borders of the City of Scrap. It is the credo, near to a religion, to the people who live, sleep, and work amongst the dangers of the City.
The orphaned children of a civilization lost to the stars and the destruction of their colony ship, the Vampyr people have no knowledge of where they came from, or those that built or crewed their vessel. All they know is waking up with no memories on a random mudball, in the middle of a warzone.
And so it fell to the Vampyr to develop and create their own culture. Most came together and formed a singular, cohesive vision, adopting local cultures, languages, and traditions.
But for some this was not enough. And to these disgruntled Vampyr, nothing less than ensuring the universe suffered for their fate would do. And so the Legion Vampyrii was born.
Legion Vampyrii
Like the their brethren of the Vampyr Combine, the members of the Legion studied local history, cultures, and traditions. but where the Combine chose to draw inspiration from the mythology of the French Revolution, the Legion's cultural attention was caught by the might and mythology of Imperial Rome.
The Legion has quietly begun recruiting Vampyr of strength and skill, intelligence and virtue. They are incredibly new to the ever-shifting court of magical politics, but strategic alliances with certain Artificial Intelligences has given them leverage and breathing room after certain highly impactful raids on the Fae Courts.
Beyond organizing and briefly engaging in the power struggles that wrack the planet--and just as quickly disengaging--it is not clear what the goals of the Vampyrii are. The Legion has largely dispersed into cells spread across the planet, and reportedly all are working individually towards their as-yet mysterious goals.
Earth for the Earthlings. The 'Verse for the Vampyrii
Reports have arisen, however, of raids on previously hidden interstellar starships that have landed upon Earth. Some ships had been here for some time, others just landed. Most had employed various kinds of stealth technology as alien scientists had landed to observe and study Earth and its inhabitants, employing complex anti-magic countermeasures to evade detection.
However, these researchers are finding themselves on the run over the last decade, as research blinds are flushed out, and their scientists tortured until they reveal the location of the vessels that brought them to the planet.
It is also rumored that the sudden surge of funding to space exploration and space industrialization companies has, behind dozens of layers of shell corporations and legal fictions, the Legion Vampyrii to thank.
To anyone who has ever heard the Legion's pitch, this is entirely unsurprising, as from the beginning the Legion has wanted to spread across the stars, conquering them and establishing a new Roman Empire, with Vampyr holding the reins.
Punishing the universe for daring to shred all of their cultural knowledge in the antimatter explosion that doomed the Vampyr to slowly raining down upon the earth in an annual festival of blood and death that only has a minor chance of seeing new Vampyr emerge from the biopods that brought them to Earth.
So let the universe tremble in anticipation. For if the Legion has anything to say about it, there will not be an intelligent being anywhere in the universe that will not know--and cower before--the words "Vivat Vampyrii!"
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The Vampyr Combine are the backbone of Lemuria, building and maintaining the Lemurian Merchant Aerial, and ensuring a steady supply of goods onto and off of the island. Founded and headed by Vampyr, the Combine was intended to progress Vampyric culture in a modern world, instead of stagnating with a veneration of a forgotten past.
The Combine is a loose confederation of several disparate Lemurian factions, and their respective cultures and traditions have blended into a chaotic, functional mix. Gremlins, Goblins, Vampyr, Fae, and human alike live and work together for mutual gain and defense.
The Privateers may run the Docks, the Assembly the Shipyards, and the Goblins repurpose defunct airships into useable parts in the Scrapyard, but the Merchant Aerial of the Vampyr Combine runs the Ports, bringing materials for the Assembly, materiel for the Privateers, and providing a steady business to the Scrapyards.
Their ships are not flashy, fast, or powerful, but when it comes to rugged dependability and long-term functionality, Combine Merchant Aerials simply cannot be beaten. If a thing can be found by coin or cutpurse, the Combine will find a way to get it. The markets, both Black and Legitimate, have unmatched selections and prices.
The Port District rises sharply up from the pastoral landscape of Lemuria. Massive landing platforms squat atop massive vertical warehouses. Massive Merchant Aerials plow through the local airspace to their joint docking/repair slips atop these incredible feats of engineering. Smaller warehouses can generally handle either one massive Aerial, or up to four smaller ones. The largest can handle up to five mammoth Aerials, or up to forty smaller Aerials.
The massive Towers are arranged in several long, straight rows along broad avenues dedicated solely for the smaller, local air and ground travel, with Commercial Districts popping up in the alleys between towers, perpendicular to the Port Avenues.
Atop the Towers, Combine techs work, live, and breathe. Luxury accomodations for the repair Techs and Merchant Aerial crew alike lie just below the loading/unloading floors, between massive fuel tanks and maintenance bays, and the low, eternal rumble of heavy equipment and the loud squeal of single-man speeders used to traverse the vast distances of the Warehouse itself.
The Symphony of the Aerials.
Below the living and maintenance levels are dozens, if not hundreds, of floors dedicated to nothing less than the storage of the titanic amounts of materials that are either waiting to be sent out on a Merchant Aerial or fresh off a Combine airship waiting to be retrieved by Lemurians in need.
And finally, in the lowest reaches of the Aerial Warehouses, lies the public sectors. Massive doorways that rarely close, measured in stories rather than yards, yawning open into a cavernous honeycomb of docking slips and designated landing spaces serviced by an eternal and chaotic caravan of workers, conveyors, and loaders.
Food service, small stores of quiet necessity, and beds to let on demand are all available here, owned and operated by the owners and operators of the entire massive Warehouse. The availability tends to be limited to bare essentials, but any and everything you might ever need (and much that you wonât) can be found elsewhere in Lemuria if you know where to look and can afford it.
Between the peaks of the warehouses, in the valleys where natural light arrives for only a short time per day, the Portâs commercial district has sprung up.
Built vertically of up to a dozen levels layered haphazardly on top of each other, the Commercial Alleys have risen up between the massive Warehouses. Built directly into the sides of adjacent Warehouse Towers, parking is serviced directly by the Towers. Even the tallest of the Commercial Alleys is dwarfed many times over by the smallest of the Towers.
Mostly lit by neon and harsh artificial lighting, even when the sun is at its zenith, the Commercial Alleys never sleep. There is a constant stream of commerce and life, no matter what time of day it is.
Alleys tend to each have their own personality. Some are lit by neon and garish signs. Others have a more natural look, full of growing things with natural bioluminescence.
Temmasâ Alley appears to be no more or less than a giant, free-roaming zoo, with creatures of every possible type and shape lounging and living more or less as they wish. The crafty old Goblin and his band of misfits take great pains to make their animal guests as comfortable as possible, from the artificial waterfall the splits the middle of the Alley to the large watering hole that runs down the Alleyâs center. Foregoing their culturesâ tendency to tinker with mechanicals, Temmas and his motley crew instead have focused their attention on pampering biologicals.
Qtleskaâs Alley is a natural haven in a city of steel and concrete. Trees, impossibly old and thriving for its location, grow up and around the Towers beside it, cradling shops and inns and restaurants alike in its branches. But the crown jewel of Qtleskaâs is the namesake Qtleskaâs Library. Not of books, but of plants. Flowers beyond number, shrubs and bushes as far as the Alley can stretch. Trees, vines, mosses, and far more, carefully curated and tended by a small resident Gnoll population. Qtleska and his fellow Gnolls are a common sight in the Port, slowly coming and going along their mute pathways, floral raiment in various stages of blooming upon and into their backs. And somehow, despite the heavy traffic near Qtleskaâs Alley, beneath the branches the sounds of airships are somehow muted in this natural oasis amongst the Portâs artifical mountain range.
Entalenâs Alley, meanwhile, is a sharp departure from some of the more natural alleys. Lit by buzzing neon billboards advertising their services, everything is a dull, dark gray. Thin, rickety catwalks criss-cross Alley, and thin walkways along the edges of the Alley service the shops reinforce the feeling of cramped paranoia. Harsh, white spotlights eternally shining down from the ceiling in irregular arcs leave deep shadows between their blasts, while dull, if colorful, light spills from shopfronts, slicing the gloom of Entalenâs into smaller if somehow more intense pools of shadow. The sizzle of frying food is everywhere in this Alley, punctuated by calls of shopkeeps to each other and to prospective clients that hurry from one patch of light to the next, staying together in tight groups if they need to venture down this particular section of the Port.
Robertoâs Alley is softly lit, colored all in white, with smooth, organic curves. Minimalism would be the name of the game, if such a thing would not sound vulgar to the disgustingly wealthy that is Robertoâs Alleyâs clientele. Few things are actually sold here, but when they are, enough money to buy small countries are exchanged. No wares are on display, and far from the hawkers in other alleys, every store here has armed security to keep out anyone until they have proved they have a sufficient bank balance. If you need to ask what sort of things are available here, you will be quietly if efficiently frog-marched out of the Alley and warned not to return on pain of pain, because you clearly cannot afford even a sip of water from the most pitiably pedestrian of the shops here. Those that can afford what resides in Robertoâs, well. They know where to go and whom to talk to. But if youâre reading this it clearly isnât you, so itâs best you move on before security is called.
The Lemurian Goblin Disassembly and the Protean City of Scrap
The Lemurian Goblins are descended from a captive population of Goblins that the Summer Court brought to the island to perform menial tasks they could not trust the captive humans to perform. However, the Goblins were not at all happy with their situation, and helped the human captives plan their uprising, passing notes and plans between groups and individual humans. When the Lemurian Rebellion began, the Goblins were instrumental, killing dozens of high-ranking members of the Court in the opening minutes, interrupting Summer lines of communication, and smuggling weaponry to the various human cells so the Rebellion would have a chance in the first place.
In fact, they were so instrumental to the Rebellion that after Lemuria was freed, the Goblins were given the opportunity to either leave Lemuria and try to pick up their old lives or have first choice of territory on the island. Nearly to the individual, the Goblins chose to stay, and set their sights on an as-yet small junkyard of mostly magical items and structures, along with a few failed first attempts at constructing airships for the mocking humor of the Summer Court overlords.
The City of Scrap
As the Lemurian engineering corps began to kick into overdrive and the first actual airships were made (and crashed), the Goblins laid claim to their corpses, offering to disassemble the wrecks and return what parts the fledgling shipyards needed. In time, wrecks of all kinds were brought to the junkyard, and the Lemurian Goblin Disassemblyâs City of Scrap began to form.
Taking inspiration from the airships that constantly flooded through their demesne, the Lemurian Goblins began putting together airships of their own design out of the random pieces they happened to find lying around. The result were airships that looked like (and sometimes did) fall apart or explode spontaneously, but were incredibly fast.
Very soon, airship races darting through the hills, valleys, and towers of scrap became common, until it became the Lemurian Goblinsâ most popular past-time.
Today the City of Scrap is a massive, sprawling edifice of rust, iron, and engineering. It is under constant evolution, and while it is called a city, the Goblins themselves are more of a semi-nomadic culture within their fiefdom, constantly adapting as new scrap is brought in and disassembled, then either shipped out or reassembled into temporary or semi-permanent structures or vehicles.
The semi-nomadic Lemurian Goblins roam all over the City of Scrap, building and then tearing down temporary accommodations near wherever the next junker is ready for them. There is no such thing as permanence outside of the Smelter Market inside the City of Scrap. The constant flow of salvage operations that finish or are just beginning mean that the city flexes and flows in an organic, almost living shape, if viewed over a long enough timeframe.
Wrecks that may have been a major landmark in the City of Scrap for months or even years might be gone in the relative blink of an eye as the junkers finally make their way to it and methodically take it apart and leave no trace of it ever being there.
Lemurian Goblins operate in familial units that span more than just biology, but through a series of customs and rules that are more often than not made up and flow just like the rest of their culture. Families form, separate, combine, and split seemingly on a whim, and the outsiders having a static family is baffling to the Lemurian Goblins.
About the only permanent structure in the City of Scrap is The Great Smelterâa massive structure designed to take in all kinds of raw scrap and output pure ingots of all kinds of metals, that are then traded with their fellow Lemurians or even outsiders.
All else is subject to constant change, even the borders of the City of Scrap. It is the credo, near to a religion, to the people who live, sleep, and work amongst the dangers of the City.
the sheer amount of control ad agencies and payment providers hold over culture is actually horrifying. if a site gets blacklisted by both, it's just fucking gone unless it's willing to take the risk of using crypto for payments (actually one of the only practical uses for crypto)
if someone so much as sends you a note in something like cashapp or paypal with something remotely sexual in it, you can get your account frozen with the money still inside. it doesn't matter if it was perfectly legal and above-board stuff like hentai or erotica, because the corporations don't like those and that's all that matters
similarly this is why sites are extremely touchy about wording and tags when it comes to anything remotely adjacent to sex. if you use the wrong word and don't change it, years of work or even your entire livelihood can effectively be deleted in seconds
nobody ever talks about this because it's career poison to do it, but porn is basically already "illegal" in the vast majority of cases because if your money touches it, you're operating outside of terms of service and risking some corporate asshole deciding your smut is wretched enough to necessitate the destruction of your finances, and by proxy, your life
[at unicorn fuck club]
Terry Pratchett: in discworld, thereâs a big controversy about dwarf gender
Tolkien: ah yes dwarves are all dudes
Pratchett: see, thatâs the stereotype
Pratchett: but I leverage that to make commentary about-
Tolkien: I will absolutely murder you
Tolkien: dwarves are hideous bearded monstrosities
Tolkien: I donât want any fucking hot dwarves in this
Tolkien: like in that fucking Disney movie
Tolkien: if you put any hot dwarves in this, I will kill you
Pratchett:
Tolkien: I will kill you dead
Terry Pratchett: now weâve had a lot of fun today
Pratchett: but in real life thereâs nothing fun about
Pratchett: [sitting in chair backwards] systems of oppression
Brandon Sanderson: how does magic work in your world, terry?
Pratchett: it doesn't
Sanderson:
Sanderson: what
Pratchett: it's all in your head
Pratchett: you know, like in real life
Sanderson:
Brandon Sanderson: so i came up with these 3 laws of magic
Sanderson: in the universe of cosmere, magic abides by these very specific principles
Sanderson: it's very important for world building
Pratchett: oh i'm not really interested in all that
Sanderson:
Sanderson: are you sure you're at the right club?
Sanderson: in the world of cosmere, there's 12 essential principles of magic that work according to the 8 discourses of the 4 balances
Sanderson: i'd say more, but it really involves a lot of math
Sanderson: so how's magic work in your world?
Tolkien: well, gandalf makes some very pretty fireworks
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Current Mood: Wanting to participate in a Play-By-Post Pokemon School Roleplay because I'm 4 months late getting into Pokemon Scarlet.
I may have put some thought into the educational structure (Technology, Pokemon, Arts, Nature, and Research tracks (Not exhaustive or finalized). With an optional Psionics course for students who have some talent), and how the individual tracks could cross over for careers we all know from the games.
Also people of any age can go to the school (with full scholarships available on request, fully paid for by the Pokemon League for any who apply), *but* they cannot use any Pokemon from outside the Academy for classes or coursework. Everyone starts on an even playing field. Other Pokemon can be brought, but are strictly kept away from coursework.
Technology and Pokemon come together for Pokemon Nursing. Pokemon and Arts comes together for Contest focus. Nature and Pokemon for Ranger focus. Nature and Arts for culinarians. Pokemon and Research for Pokemon Professorship. a focus on Pokemon could be the course of a Competitive Battler--or for a Breeder. Pokemon and either Arts. Technology, Pokemon, and Research gives you a Pokedex specialist.
Education judged not in years studied but by merit, with 8 levels of education, each roughly equivalent to a Badge in any League region (though the school is much harder and has a completion time of years, not days weeks or months). Completion of all 8 levels grants automatic Pokemon League membership, with optional post-graduate degrees that confer a level of prestige equivalent to League Championships.
Probably 1-2 tracks for graduation, but if you want 3 or more that's post-graduate.
Everyone has to take some basic Nature courses, which are exercise to make sure you can keep hiking, basic camping techniques (how to spot a good campsite), etc
......I may have given some thought as to the setting. a giant flying school that's basically an educational cruise ship that makes a circuit of Pokemon League regions so there's some hands-on cultural and linguistic education to go with the academic work.
I'd just repurpose the SS Anne but I want a BIG school. I'm envisioning like a flying city.
Pokemon has super high technology. no reason they couldn't have floating cities.
Important information! Insurance coverage decisions are made by medically ignorant bean-counters. Until we can dismantle the whole shitty system, know how to scare them into submission.
[Image Description: Text:
Medical Hack:
So, your doctor ordered a test or treatment and your insurance company denied it. That is a typical cost saving method.
Okay, here is what you do:
Call the insurance company and tell them you want to speak with the âHIPPA Compliance/Privacy Officerâ (By federal law, they have to have one)
Then ask them for Names as well as Credentials of every person Accessing Your Record to make that decision of denial. By law you have a Right to that informantion.
They will almost always Reverse the Decision very shortly rather than admit that the committee is made of low paid H.S. Graduates, looking at all âcriteria words,â making the decision to deny your care. Even in the rare case it is made by medical personel, it is unlikely that it is made by a board cerified doctor in that specialty and they Do Not Want You to Know This!
Any refusal should be reported to the U.S. Office of Civil Rights (OCR.gov) as a HIPPA violation.
Description ends]
bad takes EVEN from left on jks game saying âyou MUST be okay with this game because other things are WORSEâ. folks protest how and when they can. for instance chuck is vegetarian when i see MEATLESS MONDAY buds i dont say âonly one day a week dosent matter YOURE DOING IT WRONGâ
i say 'thanks for helping bud'. devils constantly snarl: âcurious you dislike this small thing BUT YOU ARE FINE WITH THIS THING THAT IS INESCAPABLE IN MODERN SOCIETY?â yes bud that is called existence. seeing some on left side trotting out this point over a game is disappointing.
but that is besides the point really. there is such an obsession with PRACTICALITY and WHAT IS THE MOST UTILITARIAN WAY TO HAVE EFFECTIVE PROTEST that these buds are forgetting: they are talking about someone elses innate personal belief not a logically targeted DISPLAY of morals
telling a bud âyour opinion is not effective protest so dont voice itâ is RIDICULOUS move. do you expect others to say: âyoure right. now im okay with this game my thoughts and feelings were entirely utilitarian and theory based?' BUDS THIS ISNT A CHESS MOVE ITS A PERSONAL CHOICE
if someone dislikes game they have the RIGHT NOT TO PLAY IT and proclaim why. if they feel different about you because YOU play it thats not some innate form of âharassmentâ its expression of their belief. you exist with other sentient beings and their separate thoughts sorry bud
this is so obvious. if you saw someone in your neighborhood walkin around picking up trash you wouldnt yell âWHERE THE HECK WERE YOU ON THE WEEKEND WHEN THERES THE MOST TRASH? THIS IS INEFFECTIVE YOU ARE WRONG FOR DOING THIS ON WEEKDAYSâ. youd say: thanks for doing your part
and yet when it comes SPECIFICALLY to trans buds, so many (even on left side) are falling over themselves to tell trans buds âjust play the game, its silly of you to care and your feelings dont matter because they are ineffective protestâ and to that i say âheck off'
your existence is not measured by how effective you are as a living protest. your opinions are not ranked by whether they can crumble a conglomerate. the act of loudly BEING YOURSELF alone proves love. for you, for your buds, and for others who are afraid to be loud themselves
unfortunately i do not think it is accident that even some left wing buds subconsciously view trans protest as a form of performance (whether they realize it or not) and OTHER protest as an expression of sincere belief. there is a long way to trot on this one
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The sun was just beginning to rise beyond the endless waves of tall grass as they set up camp. The forcefield emitters were just beginning to flicker from their startup white to their operational lavender when the twang of the guitar rang out across the prairie. A fiddle soon joined its voice to its larger cousin, and a deep basso belting out words to old, familiar songs stomped its boots over the instruments twinning their way through the air.
Yuna stretched, and glanced up as the sun finally cleared the horizon, and began its long trek across the sky. It had been a long nightâs travel, but they had finally stopped for the day, and she was looking forward to getting some rest.
She looked out over the herd, and smiled contentedly. Five hundred cybernetic beasts, all currently settling down to rest and recharge for the next nightâs travel. There was some soft, gravelly lowing between them as they settled into the morning sunlight. Flashes of color darted between the blades of long grass, and the groupâs quartet of dogs emerged from the grass.
A brother/sister team of Border Collies, an Australian Shepherd, and a Dachsund that thought he was a Great Dane made a beeline for the fire, and as one politely sat on their haunches, their gazes intently fixed on the giant cookpot bubbling over the fire.
It was a quiet life on the road, Yuna mused to herself as she finally descended from her mountâs saddle. One of the border colliesâ ears flicked at her as her boots slammed into the ground, but his gaze remained fix on the cooking stew.
âHey you,â Yuna felt her exhausted body relax just a little as her wifeâs voice whispered into her ear. A cold, metal arm wrapped itself around Yunaâs waist, and a chin came to rest on her shoulders. âMissed you today.â
Yuna laughed, and slowly turned, looking down into her wifeâs cloudy eyes. âNot as much as I missed you.â She deliberately leaned forward and placed her lips on the other womanâs forehead, then kissed her nose, and finally tasted her lips. They were soft and welcoming and enthusiastic.
Teyr broke the kiss after a long moment with a giggle. âYou taste like trail dust,â she teased, darting back towards the cookfire. She made it two steps before Yuna caught up with her and lifted her off of her feet. Teyr let out a delighted squeal and pounded at her partnerâs legs with her feet.
âGet off me, you brute!â she cried out in mock protest. âAt least take a sonic shower before you accost me and have your way with me!â She squealed again as Yuna hefted her and threw her over her shoulder. âIf you donât put me down this instant, why, Iâllââ She stopped talking as Yuna dumped her down onto the ground, and dust flew everywhere.
Yuna crouched down next to her wife, grinning slyly. âYouâll do what?â she asked devilishly.
Teyr laughed and cupped Yunaâs face with both hands. âIâll have to let you ravish me, I guess.â She leaned in and settled in for a long, satisfying kiss. When she pulled away It was her turn for a crooked grin. âAlas, you let me down. I guess Iâll just have to settle for ravishing you instead.â
Yunaâs mouth opened to reply but before she could a voice cut through the music. âGet a room!â The pair turned to see the newcomer, a kid that couldnât be more than fifteen, despite their declaration of majority.
The kid quailed under their scrutiny, suddenly nervous. Their fingers played with the massive stirring spoon in their hands nervously, and held it against their chest like a protective totem. The kid, Clara, had clearly been on the run when they had been passing through town, and Yuna had seen enough to want to get them far away as fast as possible.
Their fingernails were now a bright and glaring pink, and their inexpertly applied makeup and second-hand skirt were both worn with the nervousness of novelty. Confidence and skill would come with time. Behind Clara, the musicians continued to play and sing. Next town they hit, theyâd get Clara some proper clothing, but until then the ill-fitting clothespieces found in everyone elseâs travelsacks would have to do.
Teyr climbed to her feet, and took the spoon from the clearly horrified child. âIf youâre going to step into the arena of humor with us,â she said gently, âYouâre going to need to be more confident about it. Yuna doesnât pull her punches.â Teyr cast a reproving glance at Yuna, who straightened up with a devilish grin across her face. âYou had a good start, though.â
Clara looked down at their feet and nodded, eyes clouding and on the verge of tears. Yuna, suddenly actually feeling like a brute, cleared her throat. âItâs been a long day for me, Clara. Do you think that you could take care of Sparky for me, while I take a load off, or are you too busy watching Sturm and Drang?â At the sound of their names, the Border Colliesâ heads whipped around.
All else suddenly forgotten, Claraâs eyes widened, and she looked first at Yuna, then at Teyr. âDoes she mean it?â Clara asked quietly, taking a step to put Teyr between Yuna and themselves.
âI think she does,â Teyr said gently, wrapping an arm around the kidâs shoulders, and giving their head a quick peck. She rubbed Claraâs arm reassuringly, then pushed the kid toward Yunaâs mount.
Clara eyed Yuna nervously for a moment, then tried to dart past Yuna, but couldnât escape unscathed. Yuna grinned as she ruffled the kidâs hair, then went down to sit down next to the fire. A cold bottle of beer was pressed into one hand, and a hot bowl of stew into the other. âEat!â Teyr commanded, rustling her own skirts imperiously as she gave the stew a final stir, then sat down next to her wife. âWe donât get a lot of time together.â
It was true, obviously. Clara was part of the advance team. They woke every morning with the sun, and took the supply wagons out all day to find the next campsite. Yuna and the other riders woke up as the sun fell, and drove their herd all night to reach camp, to let them recharge their batteries once the sun rose. They had maybe an hour before the wagon would start rolling across the prairie for the day.
Somewhere, someone had pulled out a harmonica, and the throuple were singing folk tunes again. Yuna took a long pull on her beer and smiled as Teyr settled her head on Yunaâs shoulder. âI love you, you know,â Teyr said quietly. Yuna paused, her cheeks bulging with a mouthful of stew. Teyr had a devilish grin on her face. âOh, so youâre not going to say it back, are you?â Yuna glared at her as she chewed her food. âOh my stars, youâre not the woman I thought I knew!â She reeled backwards dramatically, the back of her hand pressed against her forehead as she rose to her feet and backed away from the fire.
Yuna swallowed, glanced at her mount, and saw that Clara was carefully but eagerly taking care of her mechanical mount. Then she upended her beer, and drained it in one gulp. Setting aside her bowl, Yuna rose, her hands forming fists. âWho said you could walk away from me?â Yuna asked teasingly, stalking towards her wife.
âOh my land,â Teyr said, turning on her heel and fleeing across the prairie, the long grass whipping at her skirts. She cast a laughing glance over her shoulder, and ran.
Yuna leapt forward, and the chase was on. Hers was a grim run, full of purpose and determination in the pursuit. The laughter of her partner spurred her on, but she was always just out of reach, no matter how much speed Yuna put on. But no matter how sore and tired she was, she was determined and she knew eventually she would catch the vision of loveliness that ran before her.
The wagons were late in setting out that morning, and the dogs ate well from food that had been left forgotten.
Tella Damyit is the human representative to the Vampyr Combineâs Gang of Three. A Brilliant engineer, Tella runs both security and the engineering wings of the Combine. There are many that underestimate this short wheelchair user, but several crushed bones, a tonguelashing, and occasionally being beaten into the ground later they soon learn to respect and fear her.
A multiversal refugee from a Z-class world, Tella led what was left of her city-state to this universe after it was overrun by a massive siege of zombies. For nearly twenty years, the sound of her wheels on the city-stateâs walls had been a comforting, if sometimes anxiety-inducing, sound. The barking of her orders, and her fingers on the trigger turned the tide of many a siege.
Forever an engineer, Tella built a custom zombie-crushing wheelchair, inspired by monster trucks, with massive wheels, an armored scoop protecting her legs, and all kinds of zombie blasting, burning, slicing, dicing, and crushing goodies built in. In the end, her merciful decision to extend safe harbor to a flight of dragons in her city was her downfall, as a scourch of zombie dragons soon swept out of the sky and destroyed the city-state in their endless pursuit of dragon-flesh.
Down but never out, Tella led one last, fateful charge through an incoming siege of zombies, leading her people out of the city in a final, desperate bid for freedom. Almost all of the cityâs population died in that fateful assault, but for every one of them that were bit down, they bought the rest just that much more time.
In the end, out of a city of ten thousand, barely four hundred escaped their world to ours. Tella has arranged permanent funding for every one of them and all of their descendants, and jobs for anyone willing and able to work.
The voice and iron will that held a city of thousands together in the face of impossible odds make her a force of nature within the Lemurian Port District, earning her fear, respect, and vitriol in near even measure. Yet as stern as she can be, she also has a reputation for her sense of fair play, justice, and loyalty.
With the higher quality parts and technology she found in Lemuria, she has fashioned for herself a series of hover chairs for her use along with more normative wheeled variants, brimming with weapnry and obscure gadgetry.
Together with her wife, Nelfa, she lives quite happily in a massive mansion on the edges of the Port District. While Tella helps run the Vampyr Combine, Nelfa happily plays the role of happy homemaker, sniper, and exotic weapons tester for Tellaâs cutting-edge engineers.
For others, their mansion might remain largely empty, but instead it is filled with the laughter of children, crayon scribbling on the walls, and spraypaint art on some of the harder to reach areas of the house. An informal orphanage, Tella and Nelfa never turn away a child in need, using a part of their vast wealth to ensure that these children never have to fear hunger, exposure, or lack of healthcare ever again, and wage a private war on homelessness for the children on the streets of Lemuria.
Known throughout the Port District for her legendary drinking and bar brawling exploits, she is stern but fair to everyone who has given her their trust. When Tellaâs chair comes through the front door of a drinking establishment, there are many that quietly leave out the back, aware of exactly what is about to transpire. However, Tella uses her vast wealth to pay off the bar tabs and essentially make all drinks free for the rest of the night. However, sooner or later a friendly Brawl will break out, with Tella at the center, and gods help anyone that gets in her path. However, Tella is careful not to seriously injure anyone, and makes note of anyone that actually seriously injures anyone else in this fight. Injuries in a Tella fight are always anonymously covered, and the person that did the injuring finds themselves mysteriously out of work in the Port District for quite some time.
As a result, Tellaâs Professional Brawling League, as it has come to be called, has become something of a sport in the Port District with written and unwritten rules, scoring, judges, and seasonal prizes. At first the prizes were a line of credit at several local taverns, but after the second season, the League received a mysteriously wealthy benefactor and the entire sport turned professional with uniforms, sponsorships, judges, scoring, leaderboards, and giant trophies.
The Vampyr Combine are the backbone of Lemuria, building and maintaining the Lemurian Merchant Aerial, and ensuring a steady supply of goods onto and off of the island. Founded and headed by Vampyr, the Combine was intended to progress Vampyric culture in a modern world, instead of stagnating with a veneration of a forgotten past.
The Combine is a loose confederation of several disparate Lemurian factions, and their respective cultures and traditions have blended into a chaotic, functional mix. Gremlins, Goblins, Vampyr, Fae, and human alike live and work together for mutual gain and defense.
The Privateers may run the Docks, the Assembly the Shipyards, and the Goblins repurpose defunct airships into useable parts in the Scrapyard, but the Merchant Aerial of the Vampyr Combine runs the Ports, bringing materials for the Assembly, materiel for the Privateers, and providing a steady business to the Scrapyards.
Their ships are not flashy, fast, or powerful, but when it comes to rugged dependability and long-term functionality, Combine Merchant Aerials simply cannot be beaten. If a thing can be found by coin or cutpurse, the Combine will find a way to get it. The markets, both Black and Legitimate, have unmatched selections and prices.
The Port District rises sharply up from the pastoral landscape of Lemuria. Massive landing platforms squat atop massive vertical warehouses. Massive Merchant Aerials plow through the local airspace to their joint docking/repair slips atop these incredible feats of engineering. Smaller warehouses can generally handle either one massive Aerial, or up to four smaller ones. The largest can handle up to five mammoth Aerials, or up to forty smaller Aerials.
The massive Towers are arranged in several long, straight rows along broad avenues dedicated solely for the smaller, local air and ground travel, with Commercial Districts popping up in the alleys between towers, perpendicular to the Port Avenues.
Atop the Towers, Combine techs work, live, and breathe. Luxury accomodations for the repair Techs and Merchant Aerial crew alike lie just below the loading/unloading floors, between massive fuel tanks and maintenance bays, and the low, eternal rumble of heavy equipment and the loud squeal of single-man speeders used to traverse the vast distances of the Warehouse itself.
The Symphony of the Aerials.
Below the living and maintenance levels are dozens, if not hundreds, of floors dedicated to nothing less than the storage of the titanic amounts of materials that are either waiting to be sent out on a Merchant Aerial or fresh off a Combine airship waiting to be retrieved by Lemurians in need.
And finally, in the lowest reaches of the Aerial Warehouses, lies the public sectors. Massive doorways that rarely close, measured in stories rather than yards, yawning open into a cavernous honeycomb of docking slips and designated landing spaces serviced by an eternal and chaotic caravan of workers, conveyors, and loaders.
Food service, small stores of quiet necessity, and beds to let on demand are all available here, owned and operated by the owners and operators of the entire massive Warehouse. The availability tends to be limited to bare essentials, but any and everything you might ever need (and much that you wonât) can be found elsewhere in Lemuria if you know where to look and can afford it.
Between the peaks of the warehouses, in the valleys where natural light arrives for only a short time per day, the Portâs commercial district has sprung up.
Built vertically of up to a dozen levels layered haphazardly on top of each other, the Commercial Alleys have risen up between the massive Warehouses. Built directly into the sides of adjacent Warehouse Towers, parking is serviced directly by the Towers. Even the tallest of the Commercial Alleys is dwarfed many times over by the smallest of the Towers.
Mostly lit by neon and harsh artificial lighting, even when the sun is at its zenith, the Commercial Alleys never sleep. There is a constant stream of commerce and life, no matter what time of day it is.
Alleys tend to each have their own personality. Some are lit by neon and garish signs. Others have a more natural look, full of growing things with natural bioluminescence.
Temmasâ Alley appears to be no more or less than a giant, free-roaming zoo, with creatures of every possible type and shape lounging and living more or less as they wish. The crafty old Goblin and his band of misfits take great pains to make their animal guests as comfortable as possible, from the artificial waterfall the splits the middle of the Alley to the large watering hole that runs down the Alleyâs center. Foregoing their culturesâ tendency to tinker with mechanicals, Temmas and his motley crew instead have focused their attention on pampering biologicals.
Qtleskaâs Alley is a natural haven in a city of steel and concrete. Trees, impossibly old and thriving for its location, grow up and around the Towers beside it, cradling shops and inns and restaurants alike in its branches. But the crown jewel of Qtleskaâs is the namesake Qtleskaâs Library. Not of books, but of plants. Flowers beyond number, shrubs and bushes as far as the Alley can stretch. Trees, vines, mosses, and far more, carefully curated and tended by a small resident Gnoll population. Qtleska and his fellow Gnolls are a common sight in the Port, slowly coming and going along their mute pathways, floral raiment in various stages of blooming upon and into their backs. And somehow, despite the heavy traffic near Qtleskaâs Alley, beneath the branches the sounds of airships are somehow muted in this natural oasis amongst the Portâs artifical mountain range.
Entalenâs Alley, meanwhile, is a sharp departure from some of the more natural alleys. Lit by buzzing neon billboards advertising their services, everything is a dull, dark gray. Thin, rickety catwalks criss-cross Alley, and thin walkways along the edges of the Alley service the shops reinforce the feeling of cramped paranoia. Harsh, white spotlights eternally shining down from the ceiling in irregular arcs leave deep shadows between their blasts, while dull, if colorful, light spills from shopfronts, slicing the gloom of Entalenâs into smaller if somehow more intense pools of shadow. The sizzle of frying food is everywhere in this Alley, punctuated by calls of shopkeeps to each other and to prospective clients that hurry from one patch of light to the next, staying together in tight groups if they need to venture down this particular section of the Port.
Robertoâs Alley is softly lit, colored all in white, with smooth, organic curves. Minimalism would be the name of the game, if such a thing would not sound vulgar to the disgustingly wealthy that is Robertoâs Alleyâs clientele. Few things are actually sold here, but when they are, enough money to buy small countries are exchanged. No wares are on display, and far from the hawkers in other alleys, every store here has armed security to keep out anyone until they have proved they have a sufficient bank balance. If you need to ask what sort of things are available here, you will be quietly if efficiently frog-marched out of the Alley and warned not to return on pain of pain, because you clearly cannot afford even a sip of water from the most pitiably pedestrian of the shops here. Those that can afford what resides in Robertoâs, well. They know where to go and whom to talk to. But if youâre reading this it clearly isnât you, so itâs best you move on before security is called.
Edward Lee: bro i got some big news
Mary SanGiovanni: we're doing a collaboration
Poe:
Poe: you and edward?
SanGiovanni: yes
Lee: it's gonna be totally eldritch bro
Lee: so eldritch bro
Lee: i was thinking bro
Lee: what if cthulhu had titties
SanGiovanni: yeah! exactly
SanGiovanni: they would be HUGE
Lee: you know it bro
Lee: like
Lee: [pantomiming breasts] like this big
Lee: like a D cup
SanGiovanni: oh yeah like at least a D cup
Lee: bro
Lee: what do you mean
Lee: "at least"
SanGiovanni: they'd probably be bigger i mean
Lee: bro
Lee: bro you mean like
Lee: a double D?
SanGiovanni: yeah exactly
Lee: those exist bro?
Lee: i mean i heard legends
SanGiovanni: oh yeah they go way up
SanGiovanni: like cthulhu would probably wear a
SanGiovanni:
SanGiovanni: well cthulhu is like a godzilla-sized squid god soooo
SanGiovanni: maybe like an F?
Lee: bro you can't write F cup no one's gonna believe that bro
SanGiovanni: no no people will believe it
Lee: oh yeah sure bro
Lee: whatever you say bro
Lee: [imagining an F cup breast]
Lee: our cthulhu is gonna be full of big unnaturals
SanGiovanni: you mean cuz cthulhu's tits would be like esoteric horrors beyond time and space
Lee: no i mean like
Lee: cthulhu gets implants
Lee: bro just imagine them
Lee: big
SanGiovanni: yes
Lee: supple
SanGiovanni: yes
Lee: non-euclidian
SanGiovanni: yes
What can I say of the Faer Folk? Never will you meet a more fair, fearsome, awesome, awful, wonderful, and terrible people.
You will never meet a more dangerous people.
There are many kinds of Fae in the world, and precious few of those have been recorded in history or myth. And those that have have taken great pains to ensure their history, personality, weaknesses, and accomplishments are muddled and muddied to ensure their prey can not fight back effectively against them.
For the prey of the Fae is man.
If youâve read the modern fairy tales, all youâve read is the passing fancy of a human at best, and actively malicious Fae disinformation at worst.
Etymology:
The Word âFaerieâ derives its roots from the Latin fata, meaning âthe Fates,â via Old French âFaie,â or someone that was skilled in magic, herblore, and knower of Names and the suffix â-erieâ which describes a group, collective, or type of practice. Or, together, a group or collective skilled in the practice of magic.
Geographic Origin:
All Fae by definition originate from or near the European continent. Some of the strongest factions and sub-factions originate from Germany, France, England, Ireland, Greece, and Scandinavia. They are not the only magical creatures in the world, though they are the largest, and the word âFaeâ is often used as a catch-all for all magical creatures in the world, despite the fact that only those from Europe are technically Fae.
However, they are not the only magical creatures nor people in the world, and while generally magical peoples are referred to by the catch-all Fae because of their geocultural significance in my part of the world, they are not, by any stretch of the imagination, the only extant magical peoples.
However, after European Colonization efforts, the Fae led a systematic extermination effort against all of their potential rivals, to varying degrees of success. Djinn, spirits, and guides from outside Europe still remain, but their influence is overshadowed and remains impacted by the effects of European colonialism.
In particular, the magical peoples of the Americas were nearly extinguished. Some still remain in scattered pockets, still hounded and hunted by Christendom and Fae alike, spoken of in whispers by the people to whom they had been influencing before Europeans and Fae arrived on their shores. The knowledge of their existence can be jealously hoarded by the non-magical people they and their legends grew around.
Indeed, while some of the American magical peoples are experiencing a kind of minor reinvigoration in recent years, they take care not to advertise their presence for the most part, somey preferring to remain in the shadows so they do not get targetted again, others have chosen to re-emerge and declare their continued survival in acts of rebellious defiance in an attempt to keep their ways, knowledge, and language(s) alive.
Africa, the Middle East, Asia, and the Oceanic Islands remain havens for their native magical peoples, who still remain and, while guarded, are nowhere near as secretive as the remaining American magical peoples.
Behavioral Patterns
Fae, speaking of the magical peoples and creatures from Europe, are predators in the main. While there are some non-predatory Fae, those have mostly been killed off or warped by the others until only the predatory Fae remain.
The Fae are not human, and if interacting with them, it is vitally important that this is kept in the foreground of your mind. They are, first and foremost, predators. Any percieved weakness will be jumped upon. Any debt--real, imagined, percieved, or purchased/acquired--will be weaponized to its fullest (and worst) effects.
Humans are their prey, their domesticated livestock, walking snacks to be consumed at their leisure, left to roam in a pasture the size of a planet to proliferate and breed to ensure that they will never go hungry. If a thing exists, it exists for the Fae. Gifts, unless explicitly negotiated, are not gifts. Due to the long life of the Fae, they are more of a long-term rental item, to be reclaimed upon the recieverâs death, paid for with essence of life until that point has arrived.
Fae, by and large, are incredibly proud, and can often be thwarted by exploiting their pride. But because of their pride, if they have been thwarted, they will not forget and they do not forgive. They will remember the insult, and pay it back, with interest.
They do not generally appreciate their food outsmarting them.
Types of Fae
In the main, there only a few types of Fae that have survived to the present day, largely separated by their food source(s). All Fae feed off the life essence of humanity, but their specific (or preferred) diet varies. It is important to note, as well, that these are general groups, and any kind of Fae can be found with any other kind of Fae or on their own.
Theological Fae
Theological Fae feed off of the power of human Belief. The term âTheological Faeâ has stuck because, while it is not just the power of belief in a higher power (or in the Fae themselves), they can also feed off of the belief in other things. Within Theological Fae, the three main branches are the Religious Fae--who have posed as and/or use the belief in a higher being as a food source--Philosophical Fae--who embody and embrace the meandering branches of human philosophy--and the Celebrae--who feed off of the human belief in and devotion to Nobility and those with fame. Some Celebrae are famous themselves and feed off of people adoring them, and others are merely hangers-on, and passively feed on the adoration of their host.
While the Theological/Philosophical Fae were once the pre-eminent Fae, their numbers and potency has declined in recent years as humanity has slowly lost interest in the Fae and has begun approaching (but has by no means reached) parity, technology for magic, with the Fae.
Note: While it is true that many of the Religious Fae have posed as gods or god-like beings (see the Pantheonic Fae in particular), this does not, in itself rule out the existence of a higher power or powers. Indeed, the Fae themselves, including many Religious Fae, have their own religious beliefs--they just canât feed off each other.
Emotional Fae
Emotional Fae prefer the taste of human emotions as their source of nutrition. The more powerful and the rawer the emotion the better. The Emotional Fae are currently the most powerful type of Fae on the whole, largely divided into two main camps--the Summer and Winter Courts. At one point, there were hundreds, if not thousands of Courts, but over time they all died out, absorbed each other, or killed each other off. Indeed, what is now the Summer Court includes what remains of the Spring and Autumn Courts, absorbed in one of many power plays.
the Summer Court believes in unapologetic excess in attempting to cultivate and harvest the emotions of humanity. Different factions of the Summer Court have entire cities as their demesne, and carefully cultivate their herds of humanity to ensure a steady food supply.
And when it is time for the harvest, the Barrow King, the most powerful and dangerous of them all, rides out from the Underhill and leads his Court in a time of wild harvesting and hunting. Entire cities and countries have been pulled below to be seasoned, aged, and properly cultivated in horrific ways to bring out the best and purest forms of emotion.
The Summer Court are creatures of shadow and deception, subtlety and spycraft.But while this is their preferred modus operandi, they are also capable of tremendous violence, and often come to victory by their sheer numbers, discounting even the power of many of their members.
More than any other kind of Fae, beware the Summer Court of the Fae. If you suspect that you are in one of their cities they are patiently raising for harvest., run. For if the Summer Court does not Harvest you, the Winter Court might exterminate you.
The Winter Court is based out of the martial factories of the North Pole, producing the most potent magics and equipement the world has ever seen. The Sanâta (Atlantean for âGreat Generalâ) leads her Court with a frozen iron fist, with her husband Krampus at her side. The Last Atlantean, the Winter Queen has never forgiven the Barrow King or the Summer Court for their role in the destruction of Atlantis, and has sworn their destruction.
But do not mistake Winterâs sworn mission for a suitable ally against the Summer Court. Cold and implacable, inevitable as a glacier, as harsh as a polar vortex, unforgiving as a winter storm, Winter does not care about humanity beyond their being a food source for Summer. Indeed, stated doctrine for the Winter Court for the last several centuries has been to wipe out any known field of man the Summer Court has planted.
And this generally means wiping out population centers of humanity.
There are few things that match the sheer power of a Winter Court blitzkrieg, capable of reducing a thriving metropolis to untouched wilderness in the course of a day--all signs of humanity and the Summer Court extinguished with contempt. But for all their stopping power, they cannot hope to survive in the face of an extended war with the Summer Courtâs extended, if decentralized, power.
And so they bide their time, starving every Summer Fae they can find, exposing and....eliminating human collaborators with prejudice, undermining their foe and building their own power as they wait for the day that finally they can take their revenge, at last, for that single day and night of misfortune.
National Fae
After the 20th century, there are not many National Fae left. Most were wiped as they clashed alongside their humans in wars of attrition that weakened them significantly. Those that were remained were largely overwhelmed by the other Fae, sensing weakness and jumping at the opportunity to remove their rivals. National Fae were Fae that thrived off of the belief in and subscription to national identities.
The last major force of National Fae that remain, the Kingdom (formerly Empire) of Avalon, watches over England and the United Kingdom, guarding its borders as best it can. King Oberon, Queen Titania, and their heir, the Morrigan la Fae, rule over an unruly court, spurred to ever more chaotic heights by Oberonâs son, Puck.
While the National Fae are on the decline, the Kingdom of Avalon remains a powerhouse even as it wanes, and the Morriganâs human husband, Merlyn, is one of the major power that keeps the other Fae at bay.
Although this has not prevented a rivalry with the Nordic Pantheon, specifically with the death goddess Hela, from forming. Indeed, the Arthurian Crusades are the stuff of legend, and Helaâs second, one Arthur Pendragon, has never forgotten the wrongs he believes the Morrigan la Fae and Merlyn have done against him that forced him to his current allegiance.
WildFae
A catch-all termfor Fae that do not belong to an organized group, coalition, nation, or Court. There are some that use the term to denote a lower-functioning kind of Fae, but in traditional and common parlance, the WildFae are merely unaffiliated Fae that choose to live their lives alone and away from the politics of the larger groups.
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