The Curse Of Hope
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Danny is in another universe. He had a reason, but he doesn’t remember anymore. He can only stare, horrified and disgusted, at the sickest city spirit he’s ever seen. Shivering and swaying with every step, core exposed, and ectoplasm leaking from wounds that are decades old. A ratty blanket was thrown over their shoulders, barely hiding the spirit’s pale grey skin and protruding black bones.
The spirit didn’t even sense him until he reached out to touch its wispy shoulders. The spirit flinched, clutching at the dozens of trinkets hanging from their neck and tucking in on themselves like they were expecting a blow.
“Oh, shit,” He swore, floating back a few feet, hands in the air, to show he meant no harm. “I’m sorry. I promise, I’m not here to steal from you.” The spirit shivered again and rolled a pearl necklace in between their fingers. A nervous habit. “Uh, I like that pocket watch? It’s very nice.”
That got their attention. They peeked at Danny, and he saw that more tattered cloth was covering their eyes, blending in with the stringy hair that reached the ground. Their blanket fluttered weakly, revealing hundreds of thousands of tiny marks etched into their skin. Scars, really. Scars that wrote out curse after curse onto the spirit’s very being. They burned with evil intent, and even reached inside the spirit’s body and wrapped around their core.
Occasionally, blinding specks of color raced across their body, temporarily erasing the writing, but it always returned quickly. He watched, a little detached, as one particular line rewrote itself across their rough forearm, drawing fresh ectoplasm like someone was writing it with a thin knife.
“Are you…alright?” Danny stuttered. A stupid question.
The spirit cocked its head. He couldn’t see their eyes, but he felt their burning gaze as they pondered the question.
“The pain of others becomes mine own.” They rasped. “The lights of the city dim as rotten wealth clogs mine veins. Magicks long forgotten have eaten mine skins, pulled mine cloak, and darkened mine skies. Helios has refused to grace mine doorstep, and the seasons of the Earth have revoked their kindness.”
Danny held his breath. It felt like he was the one with the exposed core, not the spirit.
The spirit shivered once more. “Tell mine soul, little lamb. How could this Forsaken City know peace, when it was long since ripped from mine hands?”
Shit, he needed Frostbite. And maybe Clockwork. Now.
-Or-
Danny meets the spirit of Gotham City. The villains and rogues that have plagued the city for decades are literal curses that are taking quite the toll on Gotham, and honestly, Danny isn’t sure how much longer they can hold out. The heroes seem to be doing some help, and are probably the reason Gotham made it this far, but the poor city needs help from the Realms if they want to get better.
Luckily, Danny can provide that help.
But only if he could get Gotham to leave their city behind. Because recovery is going to take a very long time.
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Bad news guys (gn), turns out peafowl melt in the sun
Didn't even make it all the way out the door
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Hey Cinderghost,
How are you holding up? Was the clan in a rough state once you were founded? Is the area good for herb gathering?
- Cowmilk
Cinderghost brushes aside the various dried herbs dangling in the medicine cat den to paw through records, humming sweetly.
Authors note: I referenced Hedgewitch's Field Guide by Solio Thompson. It is just a little book that comes with an oracle deck and I adjusted some things to make it more clangen The identifying factors are real. As is the fact that the sticky sweet liquid has been used in plant medicine to make a gargle to ease sore throats and stomach ulcers (but cats cant taste sweet lol). Almost all mallow is edible, but please be careful if you are foraging! -Albee
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Ketheric: Your relationship with the chosen of Bhaal had better not fuck everything up.
Gortash: I don't know what you're talking about.
Ketheric: saw you leaving their room.
Gortash: so?
Ketheric: your notes are covered with their name and doodles of them.
Gortash: that doesn't mean anything.
Ketheric: you are literally sitting in their lap right this second
Gortash: circumstantial evidence.
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Stuck is where I feel in place, a feeling I'll embrace.
The home inside my head has a bed for me, that no one will ever get the chance to see.
// Real Friends
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Here have this wip featuring some of The Notes I wrote at 2am for when I get around to Digitalising it (if not then oh well lol)
Update: I got Around to it
Also here’s the ref I used:
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