stone cave

not even bards

Takes place in a 5e campaign with several level 8/9 characters. The players had just navigated an invisible sky-high wall and found what it was hiding behind it, which the DM was explaining. 

DM: So you enter this—this portal type deal, and you find yourself standing in a, in a 20-foot diameter stone cave stretching forward into darkness, with smooth walls and a— 

Fighter and Rogue, simultaneously and at the top of their lungs:

Originally posted by viktors-agape


Chauvet Cave, located in southern France, is a cave that contatin the earliest—and best preserved cave paintings in the world. The images are from the Upper Paleolithic period and are at least 37 000 years old, but aside from the intricate paintings, the cave was also discovered to contain the fossilized remains of various extinct animals and plants.

One of the larger cave painting sites, Chauvet Cave is embedded into limestone cliffs and the sheer quantity of paintings and artwork is in itself spectacular, nevermind the size and quality of the pictures (which are themselves remarkable). What the images depict is also unique compared to other finds of this nature. As opposed to specifically painting typical herbivores (likely the quarry of prehistoric human hunters), the cave also depicts predatory animals as well, such as cave lions, panthers, bears, and hyenas. All told, there are at least 13 different species depicted in the paintins, including rhinoceroses. These images do not exist outside of context, however, and many of them depict complex scenes or interaction between species and other artistic and more abstract depictions (such as red ochre reliefs of hands, and other lines and dashes).

Chauvet Cave recently re-entered the public eye just this past March when a researchers recently claimed that the cave depicts various volcanic eruptions and that such paintings are the first time humans recorded and depicted those eruptions in history. Splashes of red ochre and what appears to be an impromptu dive into deeply abstract imagery (a notable departure from some fairly realistic animals) would seem to support this hypothesis.

The cave is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, but unfortunately has been off limits to the public since 1994. As with the caves in Lascaux, frequent human activity inside the cave slowly cultivated a species of mould which could have damaged the paintings. A replica was opened to the public in April, 2015.


Setting: 5e, we are a group of do-gooders that represent the vast and conquering Empire that took in our abstract and not-so-common-via-race peoples. We are representatives of them as well.

We are currently going into deep and twisty stone caves and labyrinths to save a group of nobles and passengers who were mysteriously abducted by a random earth cult. We have come to an end with three rows of cells that contain some of these prisoners. Down a hallway nearby is a guard room that contains two half-Orcs and an actual Orc.

Goliath fighter (me): I don’t care about that hallway, I charge into the room with the cells and start beating down the doors to free the prisoners!

DM: The guards are beginning to stir and asking what is going on outside (unaware of our presence.)

Our raccoon gunslinger (yes, a literal raccoon who walks on two feet, who is also an actual child): I roll deception to name drop (some important name we heard earlier) and tell the guards we were meant to be here and to stay inside their room.

DM: Okay roll.

Raccoon’s player: *rolls a 19*

DM: The guards begin to peek out of the door to see who said that to see a raccoon standing in the hallway.

Our characters continue to free the people, which causes the orcs to stir and start to come out of the room.

Raccoon’s player, bellowing: “Stay in your room!”

DM: Roll an intimidate check.

Raccoon’s player: *natural 20* *bellowing voice* “DID I STUTTER?!”

DM: The 7-foot-something tall orcs, still peeking out, are now confused and also terrified. The Orc takes the door and slowly closes it shut.

Me, the Goliath fighter’s player who actually has training in intimidate: “WAT”


Oweynagat, also called “The Cave of Cats” is a kistvaen which serves as a portal to the Otherworld in Irish folklore and from which various destructive creatures emerge during Samhain (pronounced SAH-win, the Gaelic festival marking the end of the summer harvest season and one of the progenitors to our modern celebrations of Halloween). It is located at Rathcroghan, a complex of archaeological sites in Ireland and typically just called the Cruachan.

One such creature is the Ellen Trechen, some kind of 3-headed monster that supposedly rampaged across the country and was killed by Irish mythological hero Amergin. Other creatures include flocks of small red birds that wither every plant they touch, and a herd of pigs with similar powers.

Though perhaps the most famous creature is The Morrigan (also known as Morrigu, or “the Phantom Queen”). It’s unclear on what exactly she is, but often times she’s believed to be a manifestation of the Gaelic goddess of the Earth and Sovereignty. Other times she’s one third of a triumvirate of beings that are both three individuals and one whole. In most cases though, she’s simply an omen of doom and death, particularly in battle, and often appears as a crow, with one singular exception. On Samhain she emerges from the Oweynagat in a flaming chariot pulled by a one-legged chestnut-coloured horse and a company of creatures, often the kinds already mentioned above.

Cameron Crowe said Harry reminded him of David Bowie without the fragility- David Bowie crossed with your sister’s great boyfriend who is still in school- a great student of the aesthetic but not so guarded. That description is who David Jones was before he became immersed in the persona of David Bowie. Why is this fandom so caught up in Harry’s refusal to discuss politics or who he may or may not be fucking when there are fascinating musical insights like this we could be discussing?


Star washed limestone guides you

across cruel grikes and scrabbling scree.

Loaded steps pilot your conscience,

stale pelt draped and gore painted

to the cleansing of a simple fire,

hearty bowl and sleepy semi-silence,

save only the gnarly crackle and spit

of two tired minds flame searching,

wandering through cavernous pasts.

You return to this rock hideaway,

immoveable, prehistoric home;

tricked into the wild dreaming of

fire parades and heartbeat percussion.

This space denies the refreshment

of new petrichor and nimbostrata;

a transient hearth dies out; reminder

of how ancient we have now become;

you sweet refuge, old soul shelter.

Written by The Silicon Tribesman