Moving Wb To A Separate Blog

So y’all know the classic edge trope of “my blade cannot be sheathed until it has tasted blood”? What if a magic sword that has that requirement, except it’s sort of inverted. A sword that, instead of being inhabited by an evil spirit which once awakened cannot be lulled back to sleep except by blood sacrifice, was inhabited by a benevolent spirit who would not allow the sword to be drawn unless bloodshed were the only possible solution. A sword whose power could never be misused because it would only allow itself to be used in situations where it was justified. What about a Paladin who spends their entire journey fighting with a sheathed sword, incapacitating but never killing or maiming. The party believes that the Paladin has taken an oath of no killing, until they face the big villain. And it is in that moment, and that moment alone, that the sword will allow itself to be drawn.

Idk, this image set my mindwheels a-turning.

But do y’all see the vision?

The Fathomless Tomb; From the collection of John Heldefson, Library of Tarbrind.

"Grey stone and vast tunnels. A presence which lurks the corridors, hunting and voracious. An Illogical web of utter darkness. A fathomless tomb." -Excerpt from Thresholds by Scholar Fareiar Brands, Library of Tarbrind

The secluded chapel, fathomless tomb, the lost cathedral, or catacombs of the war, this incredible location goes by many names. Endless halls of rough grey stone twist beneath the Dragonspine Mountains, branching with clusters of innumerable chambers. There is no living memory of it's construction or true location, and no written record yet found of it's creators. To call the place a tomb or even catacomb is a disgrace to the sheer vastness of it's unknown depths.

Few have ever wandered it's halls, and fewer yet have returned to tell tales of the unfathomable darkness within. Some wanderers speak of beautiful vaults and chambers, echoing with their volume. Others mutter of a hungering presence that stalks the halls, unseeable, unmeasurable, inescapable, and unfightable. Some tell of twisting corridors who's shape betrays the wanderer's eyes, forming a illogical, twisting web of unending corridors. Some will tell you they were lost for years in the hungering depths, with only a few day's worth of food. They might tell you of their time as dead men walking in a tomb who refuses to give them rest. Perhaps if you look carefully enough, you will see something broken in their eyes.

Regardless of some of the more far-fetched stories, the accounts agree on many things. Upon finding an entrance, something far easier said than done, one finds himself on a dark corridor carved roughly from grey stone, resembling a mineshaft more than anything else. In my own search, I located a long-abandoned mineshaft some fifty miles due west of Tarbrind, near the ruins of Illimar, on the foothills of the Dragonspine. The location no longer exists, else I would provide further detail. Should one choose to continue their journey into the darkness, they will eventually come across the first chamber. Accounts vary as to how long it takes, from several hours to only a few minutes, but in every story, and indeed in my own experience, the first chamber remains constant.

An immense cathedral opens before the intrepid, and perhaps, foolish, explorer. Carved stone columns six feet in diameter march the length of the room in two rows, twelve on each side. The room is illuminated solely by a shaft of sunlight filtering from a single hole centered over what might be considered an altar at the far end of the room. Small natural gemstones embedded in the grey stone reflect this light, casting pins of light around the chamber. From the seventh column onward are carven stone benches, enough to seat some five hundred people. At the end of the room is a raised platform holding an altar and a pulpit of sorts, overshadowed by a huge statue. The colossal figure of carven stone depicts a hooded, robed man, a sword in his right hand, and two tablets of stone in his left. His face is partly obscured by the hood, but an expression of something between anger and resolution can be seen. Partly obscured by heavy shadows, feathered black wings lie partly folded behind the figure's back. Both they and the cloak seem to be carved of some darker stone than the rest of the scene.

It has been noted by my colleges that the presentation of the statue closely resembles that of the traditional reading card known by the folk name of "The Judgement", and while their clothing and posture is remarkably similar, one cannot help but notice the lack of wings, and the absence of the tablets in the latter depiction. As such, I cannot persuade myself to delve too deeply into the connection.

The walls of the chamber are covered in carvings of what are assumed to be historical events. The vast majority are of unknown times and places, but some are recognizable, such as the split of the great empire, the shattering, the great plagues that swept the land shortly after, and the coronations of all rulers in recorded history, including the most recent. There are no empty spaces on the wall, and some carvings depict events as recent as only a decade ago. Some believe this indicates the end of the world is near, while others believe that the room simply grows longer on it's own. Others still deny that there is any change, and that people are simply applying their knowledge to a assortment of otherwise meaningless carvings.

Perhaps the greatest feature of the great chamber, and perhaps entire the tomb itself is the great wind-organ constructed into the rear wall. Innumerable tubes scale the chamber, presumably extending to the surface, although their location has never been found. The organ endlessly plays a melancholy tune which seems to lament the very nature of it's surroundings. The organ projects a haunting melody throughout the wandering halls without respite, and gently serenades the ones who lie in rest. One can often feel the music more that they hear it, as many of the notes are far below human hearing. This quality lends the organ another purpose. The sheer power of the deepest notes provide the sole reliable method of finding your way back to the main chamber. May the gods of old help you should you wander outside of it's range.

Beyond this main room, which some consider to be the center, or nexus of the tomb, cartography and navigation become difficult at best. The halls and lesser chambers have a terrible habit of shifting themselves around. The catacombs themselves seem more or less unremarkable. The majority of the graves here are simple slots cut into the walls. Most have a stone cover, sometimes carved with the likeness of the resident, but none have the names or burial dates of which have always been customary in both the east and west kingdoms.

If you wander long enough, you may find yourself in the tombs of what is assumed to be nobles or great people. These tombs reside in small rooms, usually with four to six slots on the left and right walls. These slots hold a single, simple stone sarcophagus. at the far wall, there is a much larger slot carved into the wall, which holds a statue and a thick pile of partially burnt candles. The statue is different for almost every chamber, but almost always depicts a larger than life winged figure of any gender kneeling in a position of weeping or great mourning. The candles in these rooms are one of the most important details. Implications of how exactly these came to be aside, explorers use these candles for themself, but also as markers. If you enter a chamber with a great number of broken-off candle stubs, you can rest a while, and be sure the area is relatively stable, because a good number of people have found the room before you. If you enter one with no broken candles, be wary. You may be the first to set foot in this room, and you may very well be the last.

Wandering the tombs provides no gain whatsoever aside from the incredible and unknown sights within. Grave robbers do not return from their expeditions, and wanderers and explorers alike leave the tombs with a strange tendency to disappear. There are a great number of tales of wanderers returning home, only to hear the drone of the great organ in the wind, or to walk through a seemingly inconspicuous door which disappears the moment it is out of view, never to be seen again. There are frighteningly few first-hand accounts of this phenomena, which would ordinarily invoke my skepticism. I was, however, am unfortunate witness to one of these happenings during an interview with one Alexander Hoffson, who, by his own account, visited the tomb on seven separate occasions over the past twelve years. It was by his advice that I was myself able to locate an entrance. Upon the conclusion of our conversation, he walked out of a side door near the stairs on the second floor of the Dancing Crow tavern. When I looked back in that direction, I realized that no such door could be there, as it was an exterior wall. The door itself had entirely vanished as well. To my knowledge, he remains missing to this day.

End note.

Scribe Guild east branch, Tarbrind East, Guild Narrow, By the hand of Viliar Scottson, Royal Scribe. Transcript direct from subject, Year of our King 1377, 5th of Noct, Words of John Heldefson, Field Scholar, Library of Tarbrind.

Statements Compiled for further commercial works by client. Box 1173. Long Live The King

NEED HELP WRITING? (a masterlist)

I have likely not added many that I've reblogged to this list. Please feel free to roam my blog and/or ask/message me to add something you'd like to see on this list!

Synonym Lists

Look by @writers-potion

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Tips & Tricks

5 Tips for Creating Intimidating Antagonists by @writingwithfolklore

How To (Realistically) Make a Habit of Writing by @byoldervine

Let's Talk About Misdirection by @deception-united

Tips to Improve Character Voice by @tanaor

Stephen King's Top 20 Rules for Writers posted by @toocoolformedschool

Fun Things to Add to a Fight Scene (Hand to Hand Edition) by @illarian-rambling

Questions I Ask My Beta Readers by @burntoutdaydreamer

Skip Google for Research by @s-n-arly

Breaking Writing Rules Right: Don't Write Direct Dialogue by @septemberercfawkes

Databases/Resources

International Clothing

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Too Ashamed of Writing To Write by @writingquestionsanswered

"Said" is Beautiful by @blue-eyed-author

it sucks so bad that 'lightning magic' in every media is just some pathetic little strands of electricity. i wanna see some LIGHTNING. show me a magic setting where lightning magic lights up a room like the sun, and the bolt is only visible as an afterimage burned into your vision. I wanna see someone cast lightning and have the thunder rattling the room and shaking everyone to their core. i want lightning magic to be a split second blast of so much power it leaves everyone's senses reeling. c'mon guys don't you know what real lightning looks like? we can be doing so much better than this.

When writing emotionally reserved characters:

Show your character's struggles with holding in emotions. Just because your character won't let themself go in public, doesn't mean they don't struggle holding everything in.

Find a motive. Pride and/or consideration for those around them can make emotionally reserved people hold back more than would be considered good for them. There are other reasons too, perhaps the initial cause and the reason now are different, but try to give them a reason.

Show side-effects. Everything you bottled up shows itself in another way, whether it's physical or mental. This can be long- and short-term, depending on the severity of the emotions.

Give them coping mechanisms. Everyone who wishes not to show certain emotions has a trick or two to keep themselves in check. Taking a sip of water, not looking people in the eyes, clenching their fists, breathing just a bit too deeply.

Write subconscious signs that they give off, which close friends or family might pick on. Just because these characters want to keep their emotions to themselves, doesn't mean they don't give off signs. Some manage to keep said signs well hidden from those closest to them, but it's more common for environment to pick up on something at the very least.

Not quite as cool as pirating, but its a lot easier! Stick it to em!

"In nature, our sacred creed, Honor the rot that feeds the seed. Praise to life that springs from stone, From death to breath, from flesh to bone.

Glory to roots that delve so deep, To rivers that run on mountains steep. Honor the deep where crawlers roam, Bless the soil, our toil, our life, our home.

Praise the worms that break the clay, Where maggots dance and life decay For corpse lays down, and death takes hold, And in the rot, new life unfolds.

Blessed be the fallen wood, In crumbling mold, the world has stood. In dance of birth, decay, rebirth Praise, O Man, the living earth."

When people say, “nature is my religion” are they talking about flies that feed on shit, maggots in decomposing corpses, lionesses with stained teeth and mouths full of blood? Are they talking about floods and fires and things from which we should always run? Are they talking about carcasses, rot, death?

Or do they just mean “this particular copse of benign trees is my religion”

*turns to hiking buddy*

you are hungry in the woods. are you eating moss or bug first

I am eating the big delectable USDA beef hamburger I brought with me

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you're welcome