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Literature
Flower Dragons
Flower Dragons
STATS
STR: 4
DEX: 25
CON: 10
INT: 6
WIS: 15
CHA: 15
HP: 30
Size: tiny (30- 90 cm)
AC: 24
Alignment Possibilities: CE, NE, CN, TN, CG, NG
Attacks
Bite: +8 1d8 dmg
2 claw: +9 1d6 dmg
Flower dragons can be almost anywhere flowers are, though they are most frequently seen in tropical areas where the largest and most brilliantly coloured flowers are found. They come in as many varieties as there are species of flower, each vareity patterned after the type of flower they prefer to live in. They can often be found nestled in growths of beds of their preferred flower, basking in the sunlight that filters through the leaves. They draw most of their energy from this sunlight, absorbing it through their scales and supplementing it by eating some of the insects that are lured in by the flower's scent and a scent they produce themselves. The tend to be sedentary during the day, flying either to play or to hunt moths in the early morning and the evening. They will pursue larger prey i
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Literature
Porcelain Homunculus
The porcelain homunculus looks like a large, painted porcelain doll. Height can range from 6" to human sized to even larger. It is usually clothed in the kind of lacy frills a rich child might dress their dolls in, though that depends on the maker. Some will have a large windup key on their backs, and in order to activate them that key must be wound. Once activated, however, the homunculus will continue with whatever task it has been set to complete- some act as servants ans assistants while others may attempt to dissuade the PCs from proceeding further. They have an intense bond of affection and attachment to their maker.
The porcelain homunculus will display personality, and if so inclined it will have conversations with nearby humanoids  it does not see as threats. However, its features (being made of china and painted) don't actually move when it speaks, and it maintains the same expression constantly. Its movement (stiff and jointed) only adds to a general uncanny effect. Thi
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Literature
Lessons on Being Whole
Strange how I fit into you
there's a distance erased with the greatest of ease.

       -Vienna Teng, Eric's Song
1.
In a world of puzzle pieces
dumped out of the box and scattered on the floor,
colour and pattern align for a brief instant
and two pieces snap together.
One edge fits.
Their place on the box-cover still unknown
but wherever it is, it is together.
2.
A white-striped fish
teases through the hair of a mermaid with her head buried in the sand.
The blades she keeps in that upwards cascade
don't touch him.
The poison she uses when she's scared-
as dearly known to him as his own skin.
He will dwell in her hair forever if she will have him
combing out the tangles she can't reach.
He feels safe there, buried in her curls
and her fronds.
3.
The floor is littered with discarded
chests, brightly painted but still opaque.
Locked.
The keys long-gone.
Inside each an angel-devil pounds on the lid of its painted prison-
fortress became coffin.
But occasionally,
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Literature
Orc Creation Story
It is likely prudent to note a few things here for an audience probably less familiar with the Orcish culture than I have become thanks to Evelyn Minalin and her family. The Orcs of the Minalin Islands are the only recorded monotheist society in the Homeplane. They worship a being called Cai, whom they believe is omnipresent and transcendent in one, and who is often represented in story as a corporal being. They offer the appearance of a pantheon through the worship of many different faces of Cai, as they believe that this being is unknowable in its entirety, but though they might give different faces different names they maintain a careful awareness that all of these figures are simply facets of the same being.
Though some Orcs can write and they are well aware of the existence of the written language they have no script of their own and use it only for keeping records. Their collective memory is preserved entirely through oral tradition, through the telling of short, deceptively s
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Literature
Prayer
I'm an awful pen-pal.
Yet patient as love my correspondents wait
the weeks, months (last time it was a year) it takes for me to come around
and remember to write.
They have other things to worry about
but never begrudge me my pages of rambling,
constant requests for help
my sestina (re-written from the copy burned into my subconscious) always with the same six words:
fear, doubt, skepticism, apology, self-deprication and gratitude.
They never begrudge me middle-of-the-night chicken scratch on the back of a greasy napkin
drunken scribblings on a paper answering machine
soaked with tonight's tearful intoxicant.
They never begrudge me my constant questioning
- rhetorical, I know they're too busy to write back -
my childish probing
my cycles of arrogance and self-doubt.
They know how much I need it.
They know the comfort I get
from the incense-sweet perfume
worn by my redheaded
- flickering -
postman.
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Literature
Hibernation
The last, panicked autumn scrabblings end
end with bare trees
and closed doors
and closed books.
I have gorged my mind
mauled a few papers
and trotted off fat and fuzzy
to curl up in a warm, redbrick cave.
But my hibernation isn't really sleep
I paint the walls of my cave with pictures
of Tamriel
of Middle-Earth
I paint rings and swords and dragons.
And lit by glittering, heavy branches,
I plod my way through a book or two
and dream of spring.
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Literature
A Skyrim Love Song in Two Parts
1: A Plea to Mara
You sent a stranger to ease a lover's pain.
A stranger who's mind and heart are stranger to himself.
"We all wish we had her problems."
Right. They're easy to understand.
Just a choice.
Easier for two men to become one
than for one man to become two.
I wish someone could write me a poem to give to him.
I wish he liked poetry.
If he did, I could write it myself.
I'm content to be your stranger-
but does that mean that you will never send one to me?
2: Due Thanks
He didn't understand why we were helping two lost ghosts find each other
on the snowy hills in the middle of the night.
But he never questioned me.
An Orc follows to the death.
So we did.
Four became two.
The greatest challenge an Orc can ever face is his own, Malacath-condemned fear.
So beneath the winter moons I did as he bade.
I went where the challenge was greatest
and fear lay thick on my tongue
and I shyed like a foal from long-anticipated rejection.
But I went where the challenge was greatest
and I retur
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Literature
Angel
They say that angels are made of the light that filters through the thinnest clouds and shyly caresses the fading night. That the light is wrapped in the softest down the sky has to offer, a womb of white feathers drifting on the edge of the pink and golden dawn. They say that the embryo nestled within breathes in swansong and the morning lullabies whispered to drowsing moths and the secret singing of a choirboy's first love. When it's time, they say the zephyrs breathe life into paper-thin lungs and the drifting womb becomes a cradle and the baby angel luxuriates in the pale sun of a soft spring day.
It only makes sense that such delicate creatures would bruise easily. How could something made of love and sunshine and music stand to stray beyond the clouds of dawn where it was born? Naturally if they felt fear they would fear the ground that has so much less give to it than the surface of a cloud. It only makes sense that, tumbling from the heights of the clouds to sprawl unconscious
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PBAJ by KeyboardFish PBAJ :iconkeyboardfish:KeyboardFish 3 4
Literature
A Lover Stands in the Ruins of Shalott
I saw your face in the fragments of the mirror
fragments scattered on the floor of a hidden room
in the dark grey stone of remote Shalott.
I kept my back to the window.
I knew the corpse that lies in bobbing boat below
I've beat the heart that glides, still now, down the rippling stream.
It was a different man who killed her, but I see him in your reflection.
To turn around and look you in the eye
would hang me on the golden cord that binds us to God.
Her curse is my inheritance.
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Literature
View from the Post
Drumbeats
Bound hands-
searing.
I broke the chain
now I'm feeling it.
Every drumbeat
My sight spins-
fading.
You-
they made you watch.
Your eyes cry my tears.
Stop-
No-
Don't cry.
They'll think you sympathize.
I try to tell you
but only your name
makes it
past my lips.
I stop caring.
Head heavy
sight fading
anchored to your eyes.
I hope it's you
who cuts me down
when it's
over.
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Literature
Trans*
M/F
It's not a pair of boxes you can check.
It's one box
and that box is filled with the ocean.
Dodging and weaving and waving, wind-torn
"Chain it down? You could sooner swallow it."
Sloshing out over straining cardboard edges
to pool on the floor
or make rainbows
or reflect the stars.
For some, the wind blows straight onward.
Irre-cis-tably in one direction.
They know where they started
and where they'll (probably) land.
What safe harbour they will seek.
Some throw their map over the side
"Useless things, always printed the same and
hardly accurate to all cases"

and breathe in the breeze.
And for some, we woke up in toy boats
Disoriented - "I don't recognize this geography"
No control over where we begin
which way the wind blows.
Blown across a cartesian cartography of Xs and Ys
by a wind that is as harsh and unchanging as blue eyes or brown
and always blowing in our faces.
We control only our destinations.
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Literature
A Warning from the King's Herbalist
With all due respect- My Lord is an idiot.
Naturally he is due every gilded pleasure, every lily and petal-bright eye that takes his fancy-
He knows that, and has thereby filled his garden with hemlock.
Oh, they prune nicely, wide-hipped roses and doe-eyed, doll's-eye thistles, every sort of shoot the Earth has bloomed to be picked and plucked and spoilt - even stripped of its flowers - by his hand.
Exquisite.
I wonder what masochistic pleasure he takes in night's shade, in bracken hearts, in bathing with the Black Locust and filling his bed with monkshood and wolfsbane while the strangler pushes roots into his skin.
I hear she is called Bella Donna.
How appropriate.
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Literature
Familiar
The dying embers of a tiny campfire glowed a dull red in the darkness. The breeze that rustled through the trees wafted a tendril of smoke from the smouldering coals, carrying it across the tiny camp before unmaking it in the light of the crescent moon, and reached back into the ashes for another. The embers flared when the breeze stroked them, and the glow cast its soft light on the curve of a young halfling's cheek. Curled in on herself like a baby, her head pillowed on a long patchwork coat that served as blanket and pillow in one, she smiled as the cedar smoke coloured her dreams.
A wolf pillowed her head in the curve of the little halfling's waist, and her green eyes reflected the embers' dim illumination. She didn't need the light to see the shadowed clearing, or the movement of the trees that sheltered them. The slivers of moonlight that passed through the leaves were enough to light her vigil. Though those green eyes were still, and the wolf's shaggy form was unmoving where she
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Literature
A Final Offering to a Would-Be Lover
There isn't much more I can give you than this.
I know you want more, I can't-
I can't.
I would die for you.
Isn't that enough?
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Literature
The Elf
She stands wooden, leafy boughs raised in worship of the sun
- her tumble of sweet-scented petals caressed by scarlet butterflies –
and rustles in a whispered ecstasy as she shivers in the forest's breath.
She stands and is loved by the light as it kisses her leaves.
All around her, grass and shadows sway in time
to her unspoken, unsung – but not unheard – melodies.
Silence broken – she has spoken in a first-cry melody.
Crackling, curling branches part and bare a tiny face to the sun.
That soft little face that cries to the air the start of a time, a life-time.
With a tiny call that frightens away the placid butterflies,
gentle fingers push away the last of a sheltering womb of leaves
and the old, musty forest shares its breath.
The tree-daughter is on her feet almost before she catches her breath
and when she does she fills the forest with much sweeter melodies.
Her eyes are sunflowers, her hair is morning mist as it rests upon the leaves.
She rests upon a branch a
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Favourites

League of Avenging Gentlemen by Alassa League of Avenging Gentlemen :iconalassa:Alassa 3,374 358
Literature
Semi-cursed Ring of Apparent Death
When sleeping, unconscious, disabled or dying, the wearer shows no sign of life anymore. Breathing and pulse have become imperceptible, the body no longer seems to react to stimuli (no eye-reflex movements), and any loss of blood by wounds diminishes. There are no other death-related phenomena that apply to the wearer of the ring than these.
A heal-check of at least 22 lets a character recognise the situation as a trickery.
If disabled (not dying), the wearer remains fully conscious and can think, feel, hear, smell, taste and see (in the case of the latter, if he thinks in time to keep his eyes open), but cannot move a muscle. This doesn't mean he can't act anymore (silenced/stilled spells and the like are still an option). The Will Save DC to negate this effect is 22.
If dying, the wearer has a bigger chance to stabilise by himself: 25% instead of only 10%. A heal-check to stabilise the wearer has only a DC of 12 anymore.
Other heal checks and magical healing work
:iconBATTLEFAIRIES:BATTLEFAIRIES
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Literature
Doors for Dungeons
Doors
-glowing geometric lines on door
-door is stone face on hinges
-sign on door
-numbers or symbols or pictographs on door
-bas relief on door
-strange shape or size
-painting on door, mosaic on door
-silver moons and stars, silver inlaid lines on door
-strange knocker
-door hidden by illusion when closed
-rusty iron door
-ornate dorrframe stands out from wall
-neo classical frieze above door, pilasters flank door
-metal rivits, thick iron bands
-ornate wood frame of weaved tree roots
-slides to side, into ceiling or floor
-turnstile door
-drawbridge door
-talisman door requires ring, amulet talisman to be worn to open
-unusual stone material (jade, colored marble, colored crystal, obsidian)
-unusual metal material (silver, gold, brass)
-barred window in door
-automatic opening door (magic, opens as living creature approaches, closes again later)
-door creaks loudly when opened
:iconMistgod:Mistgod
:iconmistgod:Mistgod 6 0
Literature
Passage of Severe Winds
Passage of Severe Winds
This is a 150 foot long tube like passage (like the inside of a cylinder) that is ten feet in diameter.  The walls are made of exceedingly smooth worked stone.  The passage ends at  ten foot high bas relief of a monstrous face.  The mouth of the stone face is puckered, its lips forming a round “O” shaped hole about two feet in diameter.  
The passage is an elaborate magical obstacle.  Twenty feet into the passage, the PCs will encounter a light wind issuing from the stone face ahead.  Each successive twenty feet further into the passage, the wind issuing from the stone face gets stronger.  
0 to 20 feet in = light wind 10 mph
21 to 40 feet in = moderate wind 11 to 20 mph
41 to 60 feet in = strong wind 21 to 30 mph
61 to 80 feet in = severe wind 31 to 50 mph
91 to 100 feet in = windstorm 51 to 74 mph
101 to 150 feet in = hurricane 75 to 174 mph
See the Dungeon Masters Guide (3.5edition) page 95 for the effects o
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Literature
Living Pit
Living Pit
A living pit is a strange amorphous grey colored ooze of huge size that has the ability to glide through stone, just as an earth elemental does.  The ooze has a ten foot opening at its top which it uses to feed on living creatures.  The Living Pit moves along just under the floor of a dungeon with only its feeding orifice visible.  The ooze always keeps its feeding orifice open along a dungeon floor, constantly seeking food.  The feeding orifice looks identical to a natural hole in the floor or opening to a fifteen foot deep pit.  PCs must make a spot check or search check of DC25 to notice that something is unusual about the pit.  
The living pit detects its prey within sixty feet by tremor sense.  It then attacks by moving underneath a living creature or person so that they must succeed on a DC25 reflex save or tumble into the feeding orifice and fall into the “pit,” which is actually the stomach of the ooze.  
The pit wa
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Corgi and fairy by sandara Corgi and fairy :iconsandara:sandara 15,269 733
Literature
Tapestry/Painting Doorway
Tapestry/Painting Doorway
This is a large magical tapestry (or painting) that depicts a shadow filled doorway.  It is actually a portal that allows passage through the wall it hangs on.  The side of the wall opposite the tapestry appears featureless but can be passed through as if it is an illusionary wall (to return back to the side where the tapestry hangs).  The tapestry may be taken down, causing the wall to become inert stone again.  The tapestry may then be stored somewhere else.  Only stone walls specially prepared with a specific type of invisible wizard mark will allow the tapestry to function.  There are usually hooks embedded in the rock for hanging the tapestry on the wall.  The tapestry emits an strong conjuration and abjuration magic that can be temporarily suppressed with a dispel magic spell vs. DC20.
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Literature
Turnstile Door
Turnstile Door
This is a rotating door made of metal or stone, consisting of two panels attached perpendicular to one another around a central axis or pivot.  The spaces between the panels form four triangular shaped spaces, roughly five feet in diameter.  A medium sized person can push on a panel and cause the door to rotate around the central axis until they can step out onto the other side of the wall.  
When first encountered, the turnstile door appears to be a triangular niche in the wall.  PCs may notice the crack or space between the turnstile door and the wall.  Often the turnstile door will only rotate in one direction.  This is a nice device to force PCs to enter a chamber one at a time (once each round).  The turnstile door is mechanical, not magical and has the same stats as an ordinary door made of the same material.
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Dungeons and Dolls by Cheesedemon88 Dungeons and Dolls :iconcheesedemon88:Cheesedemon88 8 23 Flower Dragon Bouquet by The-SixthLeafClover Flower Dragon Bouquet :iconthe-sixthleafclover:The-SixthLeafClover 7,400 458 Colours of Time by AnnMarieBone Colours of Time :iconannmariebone:AnnMarieBone 1,180 113 St. George and the Dragon by Agrifex St. George and the Dragon :iconagrifex:Agrifex 16 21 Prevail by Bluoxyde Prevail :iconbluoxyde:Bluoxyde 2,729 102
Literature
Portrait of Glory
Portrait of Glory
This is a magical painting which can be found hanging on a wall somewhere in Golfo's labyrinth.  Normally, the painting is nothing more than an image of grey nothingness.  The image changes to become a beautiful and flattering portrait image of any person approaching within thirty feet (typically meaning when a person enters the room in which the portrait hangs).  If more than one person approaches the painting at the same instant, one person is randomly selected to become the subject of the image.  Once the person depicted is no longer within range of the painting, the image changes, shifting to depict another standing near or becoming blank again if no one is within its magical range.  If more than one of these paintings hangs in a chamber, each painting will depict a different person.  If only one person enters a room with multiple portraits of glory, each painting will depict only that one person (in various glorious poses).  The paintings seem exquisitely crafted
:iconMistgod:Mistgod
:iconmistgod:Mistgod 4 9
Literature
Target
Salt breeze kisses at his cheek.  
It isn't the way she does it, slow and soft and sweet, but it doesn't bother him.  She's focused on other things right now.  
He'd best leave her to it.
"Correct angle."
Never had anyone order me around, but that's fine.
That's just fine.

He sets the stock deeper into a shoulder pock-marked with bruises, grit, camo paint, bite marks.  They've had an interesting time of it.  Whole firefights have erupted, echoed, died away in the ghost streets beneath their feet.  
"Standby for next target."
The scope fizzes, sharpens with his will and his target.
Never had a target worth firing at.  Just ghosts on the radar; fleeting, disparaging.
She shifts beside him, spotter's 'scope whirring.  Sea breeze is caressing her hair, fresh off the sea wall and the harbour where the devils wait behind their sandbags.
"Figure behind cover, corner of the town hall.  Nine hundred seventy eight meters."
He follows the
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KeyboardFish
Alex
Canada
So, hi. I'm Alex, I'm an eighteen-year-old transguy who develops worlds and characters with his girlfriend and close friends as a method of entertainment. If asked why I write I probably wouldn't be able to tell you- it's a simple fact of my life that I'm going to write things fairly frequently. I figure the more frequently I do it the better I will get, and having a *chance* at a wider audience might motivate me to write more often and better.

Enjoy my verbal fantasy diarrhea. Sometimes it's violent, sometimes it's smutty, sometimes it's sad, and sometimes it's squishy. Sometimes it's all of those at once. Most of it is medieval fantasy, but not all of it is.

Some of it will be rather terrible poetry. Especially sestinas- all of my sestinas are the same but I write the damn things anyway. You can deal.
Interests

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:iconthemoormaiden:
TheMoorMaiden Featured By Owner Jun 14, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Happy Birthday! :)
Reply
:iconbattlefairies:
BATTLEFAIRIES Featured By Owner Feb 27, 2013
... And thank you for watching me, by the way!
Reply
:iconkeyboardfish:
KeyboardFish Featured By Owner Feb 27, 2013
^_^ my pleasure!
Reply
:iconbattlefairies:
BATTLEFAIRIES Featured By Owner Feb 26, 2013
Hi and thanks for dropping by! I read your horoscope today ([link]), and it said something about Vlad Dracula and El Chupacabra being in town for a commercial shoot (some kind of hair conditioner) until the end of the week.
Be advised that the open call for blood donation in the newspaper is NOT what it looks like!
Hope this helps, and thanks again for adding something of mine to one of your collections!
I'm also glad it got me to notice your rare talent. What I've read so far is very nearly magic to my eyes. Please do carry on the good work!
Reply
:iconkeyboardfish:
KeyboardFish Featured By Owner Feb 26, 2013
Wow, thanks a ton! ^^ I'm glad you're enjoying it.
Reply
:iconwhy-not-green:
why-not-green Featured By Owner Jan 20, 2013
I spy with my little eye an Alex!
Reply
:iconhobbittzu:
Hobbittzu Featured By Owner Jan 17, 2013
Thanks for the favorite on my recently painted mini. :)
Reply
:iconkeyboardfish:
KeyboardFish Featured By Owner Jan 17, 2013
No problem!
Reply
:icontixielix:
TixieLix Featured By Owner Dec 27, 2012  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thanks for the fave on my Link!
Reply
:iconkeyboardfish:
KeyboardFish Featured By Owner Dec 27, 2012
Well deserved, it's gorgeous!
Reply
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