#szero

I needed a break during yesterday's stream and mentioned having so many OCs I could draw someone none of the viewers had seen before.

And then it snowballed into me just talking about random OCs of mine for a while, complete with doodles.

ON A HILL IN THE SOUTHERN BORDERLANDS, a hermit lives in seclusion from the world. Haunted by memories of warfare and lost friends, he fears the dangers of connection. However, after years of such isolation, Taerus Galva is visited by a mysterious hawk-spirit that's apparently been watching him. The hawk warned Taerus of an approaching conflict, and that his leadership would soon be needed to save lives. Unable to ignore this calling, he heads north to the lands of Virpresque.

After securing passage on a cargo ship to Goldsands Harbour, Taerus ventures into the wilds, where the hawk's instructions cease. Uncertain of where to go, Taerus spends several weeks in a small farming village, where he works odd-jobs to help out. He quickly gains their respect as he helps assemble a new meeting hall, though he must often gently decline the pining of one youthful village girl, Winnowa.

One morning, Taerus awoke to the smell of burning. He rushed to the village center to find the meeting hall in flames, with red-robed figures chanting outside. With a blast of thunderous energy, he blew past the strangers to save those trapped inside. As he prepared to fight off the robed ones, they instead sacrificed themselves to add to the flames. Taerus is able to rescue the villagers inside, though he couldn't help but notice that Winnowa was not present amongst the survivors.

...

OUTSIDE THE RECTORY OF GOLDSANDS HARBOUR, a hooded figure knocks on the gate. A halfling watchman questions the visitor, who produces a note from a scholarly master granting him access. Watchman Eracik the watchman then welcomes the fiery-hued male into the fortified Rectory. Shakan Bake is led to the library, the largest in the region, and spends several hours scouring writings of ancient lore and legend. However, he grows frustrated as he begins to suspect what he seeks cannot be found in books.

Eracik, flattered by the genasi, offers one of the Rectories meager dormitory rooms in the levels below. It is getting late and close to the changing of the guards, however, and so the watchman quickly shuttles the visitor to his quarters, locking the door behind him. A sense of discomfort keeps Shakan awake, and he eventually uses his daggers to pick the lock after hearing some activity outside.

Sneaking into the shadowy hall, Shakan finds two thugs whispering anxiously. They finally notice him and move to attack. The genasi is able to hold them off with his whirling blades and tries to escape back into his room. When they break their way in, however, the tables are quickly turned as Shakan unleashes a torrent of flame that fills the small space. While his attackers burn alive, a glowing Shakan sends another pair of goons running with a fierce warning.

As the fire starts to spread, Shakan makes a quick exit, stopping to grab some tomes from the library on the way out. Seeing how once again attention only leads to trouble, the genasi cools his flames and sets out again, looking for the answers he fears are already lost.

...

IN A BACK ALLEY OF FORT INDOMINUS, two figures wishing to avoid attention meet. A figured in veiled purple robes greets Vax Shadowsworn, as he is in need of someone with skills many consider unseemly. The half-elf is intrigued, especially when they offer a "hall pass" for any future legal entanglements. Vax agrees to steal a holy relic from an upstart priest whose faith to the old ways troubles his new client, who implies he serves the ruler of Virpresque, Duchess Üllans.

That night, Vax is casing the church where he notices two armed guards at the entrance. He makes his way to a nearby tavern, the Leaning Fountain, where he hopes to learn more about his target. He gathers that many seem to admire the cleric's work, as he is a symbol of hope in an increasingly fearful world.

Vax uses his illusionist skills to cover his entrance into the church, where he encounters the cleric himself, Olibod. The dwarf is welcoming at the late hour, but is not fooled by the thief's misdirections. Vax seemingly agrees to leave, but suddenly launches at the altar with three illusory mimcs in tow. In a final desperate maneuver, Olibod erects a wall of fire to stop the half-drow but fails. With the cleric begging him to stop, Vax teleports into the night with the church's holy relic in hand.

The client is thrilled not only with the theft but also the news the church has burned down. He offers Vax a signet bearing the mark of Duchess Üllans and the promise of a larger job at Timberfall Outpost.

Across the Stag Lands, people go about their daily lives. For some, their day begins before the sun has risen, getting up early to tend to their crops and livestock. Many others make their means by working as business owners, street artisans, or in roles designed to serve the Dukes. Beyond those that live within the confines of civilization, many wild tribes and nomadic clans live by their own ancient laws. And beyond even them, the mystical Hyldrown hide within the deepest woods, living in harmony with the living earth. Each day, the sun and moon dance in the sky, and the Stag Mountain watches over all.

Amongst these varied peoples and races, a small number of individuals have unknowingly taken the first steps on a connected series of paths. Are they following this heading of their own volition, or does destiny guide their way? Regardless, the winds of a gathering storm have begun to blow these heroes, villains, and companions towards a conflict that will threaten the very existence of history and the Stag Lands themselves.

...

IN THE BLACKTAIL MOUNTAINS, a goliath makes his way down from his ancestral home. His tribe was eradicated by a powerful lich, who turned the dead against him in a cruel display of power. The only survivor, Rucker carries the skulls of those he loved around his neck along with a handful of other remnants from his former life, including the shield of an enlightened paladin he met just before the arrival of the lich.

As he follows the directions of some ancient Way Stones down the mountain, Rucker is ambushed by brigands. Though they claim to only be after his goods, the goliath stands his ground and is beset by bow and sword. It quickly became clear they were outmatched, though, as an aura of menace shrouded the goliath in darkness, sending the thieves fleeing in fear. The goliath warned the leader to remember his mercy in letting them escape with their lives.

As night fell and exhaustion set in, Rucker found a kindly innkeeper closing up shop. After briefly startling the older man, named Balan, the goliath offered his services in finishing chores and cleaning up in exchange for a bed. Balan also offered warm for, though the goliath could not stay up to chat with the old man as he fell asleep for what felt like the first time in months.

...

IN THE HYLDWOODS, an orphan halfling struggles to chase after a taunting elf. The Hyldrown elf, Alandra, questions the halfling's convictions. Willow Bumblefoot, who was raised by Wild-Wevir raiders, does not enjoy games and taps into his well of innate magic, transforming into a wolf to catch up.

Later in the day, Alandra congratulates the halfling on his cleverness, but is interrupted by a charging saber-toothed tiger. Willow once again transforms into a wolf to fight but is quickly overpowered by the stronger beast. As the tiger transforms into another elf, Alandra chides his humbled ward for always being swayed by his temper and not considering alternatives to fighting.

That night around the fire, Willow admits to not having had any lucid dreams despite his training. While his adopted Hyldrown tribe grumbles, Alandra offers to take him on a dream-quest. Willow accepts, and enters a vision where he and four other animals witness the Stag God being engulfed by a cackling thunderstorm. As the maelstrom consumed the group, Willow awakens howling as a wolf, having wild shaped mid-vision. A shaken Alandra sends Willow out from the hidden forests to seek answers to this apparent summoning from the powers beyond.

Not too long ago, a wealthy farmer once lived at the base of Blacktail Mountain, to the east of the Stag. The farm was blessed with fertile lands for growing wheat, and his herd of sheep was large and healthy, though he worked hard every day to keep it so. His wife was quiet and supportive, and their son was destined to be King of all the Stag Lands, many said, for he was handsome, clever, and good natured.

The farmer, hearing these rumous, pushed the boy relentlessly to excel, sometimes a bit too hard for the wife’s tastes. According to her, all the son sought was his father’s love, while he toiled and worked in the fields all day.

Late one winters night, closer to morning than midnight, the farmer and his family awoke to hear the bleating of a sheep dying in the night. By the time he made it outside, all that was left was a bloody splash in the snow. Hopefully this is not wolves, for they like to hunt in the same spot, the farmer thought. And so the farmer set up a fence, to keep out whatever was attacking his sheep.

But just a few nights later, the farmer once again was jolted awake by the sound of two crying sheep. The farmer, furious his previous plan hadn’t worked, set up burning pyres to scare away the nocturnal beast. He slept by the door just in case he needed to rush out.

However, fire did not stop the monster, as a few days on three sheep were taken in the night just before moon had set. The farmer wasn’t nearly fast enough, and didn’t even catch a glimpse of this infernal sheep-gobbler. I must protect my herd, for they are my wellbeing, the farmer thought with concern.

Finally, he decided to wait outside in a tree stand, where he could watch over his flock. His son insisted he come with him, but the farmer refused his aid, for though his son was well liked he was not very capable in a fight. I will not fall asleep, he repeated, but as the moon crossed the sky, exhaustion overtook him as the moon approached the horizon.

Only because he was outside did he manage to wake up quickly enough after the sheep’s cries to see a large, hairy shape retreating to the woods. How could this beast sneak by me! thought the farmer. And so he roared in anger, and without bothering to put on his coat, charged with his pitchfork into the mountains where the beasts track led.

For several days, the farmer did his best to track the beast who was killing his flock. But he was no woodsman, and as he climbed farther into the foothills, he soon found himself lost in a blizzard without a coat. Every now and then, he would hear a voice calling his name from where he came. It is my wife, or son, their voice calling me to come home in the wind, he thought. Yet he pressed forward, his anger keeping him warm.

Finally, he caught up to the beast outside of his cave, where bones of animals mixed with man. The farmer, ruled by adrenaline, charged at the monster, thrusting with his pitchfork. Somehow, he was able to strike a lucky bow as the monster charged him, and it fell dead against his implement. As the adrenaline wore off, the farmer realized that night was falling, and he had no meat or shelter.

And so the farmer skinned the beast and cooked the heart, eating it for nourishment. The village will be so impressed with my trophy, he mused as he wrapped the bloody pelt around himself to keep warm. However, it took him many more days to get back, for he had travelled far. With no food and no shelter, the man wasted away, his body growing gaunt beneath the bloodied hide of the beast.

He reached a point where he recognized a river that fed his farm, and he hooted with joy. But his happiness was short-lived, for in the snow in front of him was his son, curled in a ball in the snow. His must have been the cries I heard as I pursued the beast, he must have followed me. He wailed in sorrow, bemoaning over his lost future. The farmer used his claws to dig his son out. And crying and moaning carried the body back to his farm, following the moon to the West.

Just as he had made it to the front door, it sprang open, and light poured out as his wife stood there with a butcher’s knife raised. She had heard the bellows of the monster, and prayed it would not come for her. However, she had seen the beast coming down from the hill, carrying the body of her husband or her son, and decided to defend herself.

As she stared out her front door, she saw a sorry creature, it’s mouth ringed with blood, it’s matted and filthy fur falling out in tufts, it’s sunken eyes barely visible in it’s face, horrid human-like noises coming from it’s hanging jaw. In its claws was her son, frozen and blue as ice. Not wanting to give it a chance to respond, she began plunging the knife again and again into the creature’s chest, listening to its death rattle with glee as she avenged the death of her foolish son for chasing after her husband’s approval in the snow.

Many, many years ago, before Virpresque had crashed into the eastern shores of Kjollingor, the Wevir peoples lived in harmony with the land, including the magical Hyldrown races. This was a world where the Wevir were still new to magic, and slow to understand its power.

The Hyldrown showed the Wevir many things, including introducing them to the sentient trees of the forest. Back then, the great trees could walk and move, and they happily gave their gifts to the Wevir, such as wood, fruit, and nuts. 

The most important of these gifts was that of fire- for fire lives within the wood of trees. The easiest way to release the flames was for trees to rub their fingers together. When they did, they produced magical flames could be shaped, burned for days on end, and stored for future use. The trees would willingly give their special fire away, but only if asked politely and if they promised to use the fire only for warmth and cooking, never for fighting.

One day, a Wevir wizard was running through the forest, trying to escape from a demon whose dungeon he had entered. As he fled, he came to a copse of trees and asked them to help him hide. And so the largest maple tree spread his bark and let the wizard hide inside his trunk. Inside, the wizard saw the true power of the tree’s fire, and grew covetous of it. 

Once the demon had returned to his dungeon, the wizard slyly asked to spend the night amongst the trees, just in case. The trees readily agreed, and soon all were asleep. However, the wizard was only faking, and as the trees snored he broke off their fingers from the lowest branches he could reach.

With these magical branches, the wizard returned the demons lair, and used the magical fire to destroy the demon and reap the rewards therein. He studied the fire, and began to share the secrets of this fire magic. When the trees awoke and discovered this betrayal, they bellowed out and refused from that day forward to willingly help any Wevirs, as they could not be trusted. 

And so the trees now hold their arms high up to the sky, so their fingers can’t be broken off; they refuse to move for people, which is why they are rooted into the earth and must be chopped down; and why their flames only burn for a short while, because the trees refuse to share their magic anymore with the “savages” of the Stag Lands. 

Long ago, as the natural order was still being straightened out, the queen of the rats sought to ensure her eldest daughter would marry a powerful husband, who’d keep her safe comfortable and protect her from predators. And so she set out to arrange a marriage to the mightiest being in the world.

After some thought and contemplation, she decided that the Sun was the the most suitable choice for marriage, and so she approached the sun and asked for him to take her daughters hand. “Oh, how you humble me,” said the Sun with a chuckle as he looked down at this rat, “Despite my size and ability to provide warmth and life, I am not the mightiest! For a simple cloud can block my light.”

The rat queen then turned to a particularly large and fluffy cumulus cloud and asked for him to take care of his daughter. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” mumbled the cloud, hiding his disgust, “For though I am large and can cover the sky, I am not who you seek! For the wind can move me with almost no effort at all.”

The rat queen then called in a loud voice to the air, asking for it to sweep her daughter away to a better life. “You are far too kind,” wheezed the wind, trying to blow past this tiny creature, “For while I can rage in a tempest, I am not all powerful! For I will never be able to move the mighty Stag Mountain.”

Finally, the rat queen, exhausted and frustrated, climbed the Stag Mountain and called out to its peak and demanded he take her daughter under his care. The Stag God, having watched this rat’s persistence and bravery in the face of the world’s scorn for the small, emerged from behind the clouds to greet the queen.

“Oh Your Highness, you underestimate yourself. For rats are truly the mightiest- able to squeeze through the tiniest of spaces, enjoy both summer and winter’s extremes, make a feast of any scraps, and possessing the hardiness to withstand plague, disease, and hunts that wipe out entire other races. The rats, despite their size, are truly the mightiest for your reign will never end. I dip my antlers to you.”

Never before so honored by anyone, let alone the Stag himself, the rat queen felt truly mighty and powerful. She quickly returned to her kingdom underground and assured her daughter their children were destined for greatness, and from the sewers and swamps of the land no one would ever underestimate the influence of the rats.

Long ago, the mighty Tiger King was wintering in his grand throne room. Despite his castles’ powerful magicks and masterful design, a chilly draft could still be felt in the main hall. The cold air descending from the Stag Mountain could be felt year round, but in winter it was downright oppressive. With his claws biting deep into the throne, the king growled at his majordomo for his warmest, most ornate blanket to grace his person. 

The majordomo fell back as quickly and respectfully as he could, not wishing to appear as fearful or weak before the king. He found many blankets- some lined with auroch fur, some enchanted with fire’s warmth, and others that had been ripped from conquered castles.

The majordomo finally returned with a sprawling quilt, engraved with gold and silver lacing, depicting his conquests across the Stag Lands. The king tilted his head with curiosity, ordering the majordomo and his other servants to lift the blanket high for his inspection. 

The longer he stared, though, the more displeased the king became- though it depicted his victories, the visage of his former enemies roused his great anger. As he recalled one goliath’s insults from high in the mountains, he stood up and swiped away their face with his razor-sharp claws. Looking on, he saw a Wevir shafolk who’d attempted to curse him, and quickly stabbed and ripped her face out from the quilt. His blood now boiling, he continued to deface the very memory of these challenges from his quilt.

After several minutes of ripping, shredding, and biting, the quilt and his servants lay at his feet: the quilt in tatters, the blood soaking into the hungry fabric. The king smiled, having sated his anger for now. His dominance over all others reaffirmed, the king again reclined in his mighty throne, alone with his thoughts. He shivered, as a drafty wind blew through the hall.

18. Do I use sarcasm


sometimes? my current friends are too sweet to even try and mock i have to censor myself around them, im sometimes concerned that even saying ‘oh my god’ is a step too far

19. What am I listening to right now


Blue Blood - Galileo Galilei

20. First thing I notice in new person


hm i dont really know? maybe if they seem confident or insecure?

61. What was the last lie I told?


i revise english after school with friends but last week i just wasn’t feeling it so I said i had to go home and let my dog out (which is true really). I thought i got away with it but today when we were discussing when to next meet up my friend said ‘oh do you have to let your dog out again?’ in a jokey way but i broke out in a cold sweat nonetheless

63. Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens?