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dyrwoodan · 4 years

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! spoilers for dos2 but mainly lohse’s quest ahead, jic.

haven’t played dos2 in a couple of days because i got to the nameless isle and i feel the pressure of incoming choices so i’m kind of avoiding it. i mean the fucking jahan guy reminded me several times to kill lohse if she comes close to the ascension and not gonna lie friends i am terrified of what’s gonna happen lmao i don’t want to kill her but he keeps saying it cryptically like i absolutely Will Have To. also i don’t really want to be the divine but all the companions are kind of on board so i’m just.. well you can all fight it out i will just wait here on the shore, collect shells, watch the waves...

#fern.txt #i know that's not an option but i Wish it was #i imagine that's what elearyc IS doing right now because i'm not playing the game and making any progress in the story #ughhhhhhhhh i want to play the game but also i don't want to play the game #whatever fine. i want to get somewhere. i will make it my mission today to be done with that part.#i don't know why am i being like this lmao it's just a game #but a game.............. that grew on me................#listen i sank like 60 hours into it already it's Bound to be something more to me at this point #also lohse.......... that part of her personal quest in cloisterwood........... Killed me

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eatthedivine · 5 years

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“Come on, D-, Lohse. I’m not losing anyone else. Not today.”

#Almithera #godwoken #elven godowken #Lohse #dos2 #my art #the cloisterwood was a fucking scare huh guys #height difference?#height difference

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camelliagwerm · 4 years

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The Witch in Cloisterwood possessing Nala was 100% the scariest thing to happen today in DOS2 because Nala has a huge fuck off physical armor pool and around 2000hp, with a ton of self sustain that would quite frankly have killed the rest of them if she had gotten a go.

I think I built my tank too well, guys.

#harper.txt #dos2 blogging #oc: nala

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anneway-nitheliniel · 7 years

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Cause and Effect

“They do not speak to me anymore!”

Ifan took a surprised step back from the two bears, when their growls turned from inquisitive to threatening. He had his hands stretched out, palms upwards, as if the animals were able to identify this gesture of submission. But it seemed he was rather startled by his inability to understand their threat than by the threat itself.

“They say, it is their honey and we cannot have … Wait, why would they not speak to you?”

Sebille shot a puzzled look at Ifan, who only shrugged and continued backing away, until he had reached Lohse and Fane. Sebille in return approached the two beasts, trying to figure out, what was happening here.

“And all the bees are dead,” she interpreted for the sake of her friends. Turning towards them, she found her own confusion mirrored in Lohse’s face, Fane’s being unreadable for obvious reasons. Ifan, however, furrowed his forehead in irritation.

“Did I kill the bees then, too?” he pressed between clenched teeth, anger, exasperation as well as a deeply felt guilt mingling in his expression. “How could I trust a person who created a weapon as terrible as the death fog? Why did I convince her to fight her grieve? Instead, I should have let her choke on it!”

He was not being exactly fair to himself. Had their encounter with the sourceress proceeded according to Ifan’s wishes, Hannag would indeed have choked, but from his hands around her throat. Sebille grimaced at his words. Afraid he would, eventually, come to regret another unnecessary death, she had thrown in all her weight to convince him not to kill the woman. In afterthought, she had trouble following her own reasoning. She only remembered Ifan’s initial surprise at her words, followed by his earnest declaration of trust in her, followed by the awful pain in his eyes, when Hannag’s lecture in how to fully master their source had resulted in the death of all animals in the Cloisterwood.

“I could just tattoo the word ‘mass murderer’ into my skin.”

Ifan’s angrily hissed words made her wince, not sure whether he referred to her tattoos deliberately or by chance.

“A number of reasons could account for this perplexing phenomenon,” Fane interrupted Ifan’s self-chastising, falling into what the others had termed his lecture-voice and instantly making Lohse and Sebille role their eyes.

“First, there is climate change. I have noted that the atmosphere in Rivellon has both become warmer as well as more humid since my demise. I cannot, of course, speak more specifically since I have neither the equipment nor the time for more detailed analysis, but I assure you I am rather relieved this new physical form does not suffer from mosquito bites.”

“Which brings me to the next hypothesis: competition over food or being food. The bees may have died of hunger, because some other animal has taken over their food source. Or, some other animal is a predator to bees and has eaten them. The first hypothesis we can safely abandon, since the hives are still filled with the honey those two bears are not wont to share. As to the second hypothesis, I can only give the same answer as before: no equipment, no time. It would, however, take a large amount of predators like birds or other insects to annihilate a swarm of bees in so short a time. I thus suppose it is save to assume that we would have noticed the attack.”

A bony finger for each hypothesis punctuated Fane’s words. He had succeeded in drawing Lohse’s and also Ifan’s attention, both listening with amazed concentration to his remarks. Meanwhile, Sebille had moved away from the bears towards a male corps lying on the forest ground close to the bee hives. She crouched and ran a hand over the body, trying to discern what had caused its death.

“Finally, and connected to the abandoned hypothesis of starvation, is that of poisoning. The Driftwood fields are only a short flight away and who can say what those smelly barbarians use for fertilizing their crops? Since I have taken no samples and also certainly do not wish to do so, I must guess from the odour and would assume guano, but I will not rule out something even more unsavoury.”

Wrapping up his lecture, Fane turned to Ifan.

“Summing up, I must advise against any rash conclusions. Any of the said hypotheses, also including your unhappy exchange of source against souls with Hannag, may account for the bees’ disappearance. Nature is rarely mono-causal and man, even though one would like to suspect otherwise, is not in the centre of all evil. Thus, neither are you and I rest my case.”

“Or,” Sebille’s voice filled the ensuing silence, “the simple explanation is that the bees have been eaten by the bears.”

The elf still crouched next to the dead man’s body but was no longer alone. A silvery glistening and opaque figure had joined her and was looking sadly at its own body. Sebille cocked her head as if listening and they could see a relieved smile spread gradually over her face. The ghost turned his attention towards her, clearly appalled by her lacking sense of propriety in the face of his death.

“This unlucky man here had the brilliant idea to complement his otherwise dismal diet with sweet, sweet honey. The bees, rather irritated by his attempted theft, attacked and stung him, causing his death and their own. The bears then ate the bees. Case not rested, but closed.”

When she had finished, Sebille’s smile had evolved from relieved to smug. She wiped her hands clean in the grass before getting up and returning to the other three.

“Anyone can just ask the dead,” Fane complained, feeling slighted. The elf only winked at him.

“It’s called pragmatism!” ---

“Fane, thank you!”

Ifan’s strong hand fell on Fane’s bony shoulder, forcing the undead to turn around.

“Whatever for?”

“Convincing me that the bees’ disappearance had natural causes. That was a kind thing to do and I appreciate it.”

Fane took a moment to answer, struggling to understand.

“But I was wrong!” he finally exclaimed, still reproaching himself for overlooking the simplest answer to the mystery. Ifan’s initial grin grew into a chuckle.

“Yes, you were. Or better, you were just not right. But that is besides the point, my friend!”

And with these words, a very bewildered Fane found himself being pulled into a bear hug that made his bones crack. Though he felt greatly relieved not to be reliant on breathing, he also found the unexpected display of sentiment more comforting, than he would ever admit even to himself.

#dos 2 #divinity original sin 2 #fane #ifan ben-mezd #sebille #Lohse #fane as environmentalist

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faneposting-my-beloved · 1 year

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Vermil Masterpost (for my and your reference)

Full name: Vermil (Vermillion) Irloux

Race: Human

Tags: MYSTIC, OUTLAW

Class: Witch (Scoundrel x Necromancy)

Talents: Ingenious, Thrifty, The Pawn

Origin instrument: Tambura

[TH link]

Who is Vermil Irloux?

Born to a poor fisher couple, Vermil was the youngest child and the only one to survive till adulthood. He spent his childhood getting into places he shouldn't, and making friends with people he ought not to talk with. He was blessed, or rather cursed, with the gift of Source -and he learned this thanks to his childhood sweetheart - Alice. An heiress to a once-powerful Sourcerer lineage that once manned the Abbey in Cloisterwood.

As for Vermil's closest family; he used to have a brother who also was his best friend up to the ripe years of adolescence. They were troublemakers both, wandering unbeaten paths and listening to the stories told by their witch friend. One day Alice told them the tale of Bloodmoon Island. She shared a secret that her family swore to protect and isolate ever since an incident compromised the area to demonic influence. In her tale, she briefly mentioned of a passageway between the ruined cloister and the island in the middle of a lake but warned repeatedly to not even get near.

The boys didn't listen. One fateful day the brothers made a brave trek to the isle of horrors and paid for it dearly.

They were attacked by demons. Panicked, the fleet-footed younger brother turned away and ran. His brother followed but was seized by a monster. Vermil looked over his shoulder...and disappeared into the tunnel, running as fast as he could to the other side. He sealed the entrance, dooming his brother to certain death.

After he returned home, alone, he sold a story of the two being attacked by a savage bear. The grieving parents had no means to rile up the villagers for a revenge hunt, and so they resigned to their son's fate. Alice, however, was not so easily fooled.

Ever since then, Vermil lived in terrible shame. Two years after the incident, he left for Arx, abandoning his more-than-a-best friend.

The big city came to him as a shock, and maybe even for the better because he could throw himself into the mad current of its life right away and bury his sins deep. He wanted to study at Arxian University but found himself unable to afford the tuition. An unexpected benefactor came to his aid face came to his rescue, at a blood price. A wealthy matron fancied the youth, and not only did she offer him to pay for his education, but she took him in. All he had to do to repay this generosity, was a bit of dirty work...and then some. Vermil agreed, how could he not? It was this relationship that got him entangled in the unscrupulous underbelly of Arx, where he stole and killed for his mistress' personal gain. And, ultimately, his gain too. Since then, he got to enjoy living in a bourgeoisie estate with all of his needs and wants taken care of - all for the cost of becoming a noblewoman's lover. But all the alcohol and drudanae couldn't erase his guilt completely.

Vermil tried to do better, letting the studies swallow him whole, and he graduated with honors, only to find himself, for a lack of a better word, jobless and undesirable in the invidious halls of Arx's offices and academia. Naturally, he could ask his mighty patron to intervene, but it was a matter of pride and an attempt to escape dependency. So, he started his own business. In search of something to do, he dug deep into the secrets harboured by the City of the Divine. He delved into the dark arts, getting more in tune with his own Sourcery. Vermil always had an affinity for the perceivable but unseen - thus his illicit business revolved around ghost-summoning for the rich and sentimental. At first, he did so under the keen eye and approving side-grin of his mistress, but in truth, he quietly was putting away funds to finally set himself free of that woman. He owed her a lot, but loyalty was not one of those things. Then she died quickly and suddenly, without his contribution. The bourgeoisie cannibalised the deceased woman's wealth and Vermil ended up homeless and alone. He had made a name for himself, but without an influential patron overhead, it was riskier to do business among the increasing surveillance of the Magisters.

Life went on in the Divine's City, and Vermil continued his existence in the shadows and on the fringes of society, until that one day when a famous songstress ravaged Source-fueled havoc during a performance on Outlook Hill.

It just so happened to be the same exact day when his own hand slipped and the ghosts he summoned broke free to terrorise the peaceful citizens shopping in Merchant's Square.

He was arrested, collared and sent to Fort Joy - but his story is far from over.

Trivia

Vermil's astral sign is the Phoenix

The surname he uses - Irloux - belonged to his deceased patron

His parents had a thing for unusual names - Vermillion is his actual name. His brother was named Exsanguine after being born sickly and weak - he also prefers shortened 'Exsan'

Vermil and Tarquin both studied at Arx University, Tarquin being his senior. Their relationship then was complicated at best.

#oc:vermil #finally

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