winding towers

Region Generator

“What, my homeland? Oh, don’t get me started! Where should I begin?”
Follow the directions below to generate the outline of a marvellous, far-away land, and interpret as you see fit.

Geography and Climate (Roll 1d12):
1. A layer of earth and moss scraped across bedrock
2. Dry soil heaped in ever shifting dunes
3. Rocky shores and chilly wind
4. Towering mountains
5. Great climbing hills and sloping valleys
6. Plains stretching beyond the horizon
7. Lowlands pocked with lakes and rivers
8. Fire spewing fissures
9. Deep canyons and deeper caves
10. Dripping forests
11. Scrubby tundra
12. Rugged, tangled evergreens

History (Roll 2d6):
2 -4. Passed from warlord to warlord
5 - 6. Total isolation
7. A slow cultural takeover
8 - 10. Unwavering religious dogmatism
11-12. An unending tug-of-war between factions

Noteworthy Animal (Roll 2d6; if either die shows 1 the creatures are especially large; a 6 means they are prolific; doubles means they are magical in some way):
2 -4. Slinking carnivores
5 - 6. Soaring creatures
7. Stampeding herds
8 - 10. Chattering, dexterous beasts
11-12. Glittering insects

Current Events (Roll 2d6; doubles means there is active conflict):
2. A very valuable natural resource has been found there recently
3-4. A new religion has taken root
5-6. Natural disasters have been common in recent years
7. A benevolent leader has united the people
8-9. A contagious disease is ravaging the population
10-11. Industry has increased recently
12. A religious crusade is beginning

Local Cultures (Roll 1d12 1d4 times):
1. A large people
2. A posh people
3. A nature loving people
4. A diminutive people
5. A warlike people
6. An industrious people
7. A water-dwelling people
8. A reclusive people
9. A festive people
10. A socialist people
11. An oppressed people
12. An ancient people

Sights Worth Seeing (roll 1d12)
1. Vampire falls
2. The Sinkhole
3. The Dead Kahn’s Temple
4. The Stepping Stones
5. The Giant’s Teapot
6. The Green Vortex
7. The Harvest Festival
8. March of the Dead
9. Sunrise Pass
10. Mushroom Hole
11. The Church Below the Earth
12. The Crimson Rain Ceremony

“Neith’s Arrow” Part I

A Nesryn Faliq Fan Fiction

Synopsis: Nesryn and Sartaq have returned to The Tavan Mountains after the War. Along with the surviving rukhin, they are rebuilding their home, lives and are learning how to come back from the darkness of war, together. 

Part Two 

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Webtoons?

ok so I’ve been going on a webtoon rampage lately so I’m wondering is there anyone else in this lonely world who reads:

  • One Last God Kubera
  • Tower of God
  • Divine/Godly Bells
  • The Flow
    Black Haze
  • God of High School***
  • unTouchable***
  • Automata***
  • The Gamer***
  • City of the Dead Sorcerer***
  • Abide in the Wind***
  • Gepetto***
  • Oh, My God!***
  • Dal-Sez***

Recs are also welcome!

(Huh, they really like “god” in their names….)

edit: I’m adding *** to the webtoons I don’t follow anymore.

“Neith’s Arrow” Part II

A Nesryn Faliq Fan Fiction 

[Part I]

    An inch of snow already blanketed the uncovered floors of the aerie. The giant curtains they drew and bolted into the stone rippled and groaned as the winter storm ravaged through their mountains. Nesryn Faliq sat beside Borte in the hall, their toes outstretched to the fire. They tucked a wool blanket around themselves and huddled together to share body heat.

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IMAGINE: Zombie Apocalypse!Tom AU

I MAY MAKE THIS INTO A SERIES! IF IT’S LIKED ENOUGH IT’LL HAPPEN! BUT FOR NOW THERE WILL ONLY BE ONE MORE PART CONFIRMED!

Warnings: Lots of death mentions!!!!!, blood, family death mention, swearing, gun use

Words: 2465

Prompt: I watched the walking dead lol

THE MONSTERS AMONG US

   The world surrounding you was silent besides the crunch of dead leaves under your feet as you walked. The forest was still today. The brisk autumn air chilling your bones, running shivers up your spine. Next to you was Georgia, an amber haired teen who had some how survived the last year by herself inside of a gas station. She held a large dew-drenched map in her bony hands, the colours of it reminded you of your old bedroom. Pink and green and any pastel colour. When the world was sweet and innocent. When you were sweet and innocent. In your hands was a beloved shotgun your father shoved at you just before he died.

   Death was a common thing nowadays.

   It started with a virus. A simple cold- at least that’s what everyone thought at first. It turned into something more disastrous, monstrous, perfectly evil. When the high fever broke and the vomiting was gone the world was hungry; hungry for brains, flesh, human meat. Anything that had to do with blood.

   And the world just took and took and took anything it could grab its hands on. Cities were destroyed. Families wiped off the board. Sunlight didn’t feel so warm anymore, and neither did the sound of music. Every thing now was either dreary, dark, or dead. You wished you were dead. You didn’t want to see the carnage anymore. You didn’t want to hear the screams of innocent people in the distance, how your heart wrenched to help them but you knew better. Helping people would get you killed in a gruesome way that you couldn’t dream of, never wanted to dream of. But there was something that pushed you to stay alive.

   It was like a video game your brother played in the basement. But only this was reality and there were no do-overs, no second life’s, no restarts. Once you’re dead you belong to them. You don’t even remember anything and neither does anyone else when you turn, but you all have the same instinct for blood, flesh, and brain.

   You watched it happen your younger brother, how he was one of the first to go. Later, as it got worse and the world was slowly tearing apart, your mother caught it. Six hours and then she was one of them. Six hours and the person who you loved and cherished was gone. It’s been two years since their deaths.

   You hadn’t had the chance to see it happen to your father if there was even anything left of him. You were stupid enough to convince him to join a group, thought it would be safer, that you could start a new family. You thought you could trust them. You were so stupid, so, so stupid. And your stupidity got your father killed, the only family you had left.

   The group had ditched you to save their own skins when a swarm of the dead came in. He gave his life for yours, along with his stolen shotgun. It weighed heavy in your hands, a broken promise to a girl from her daddy that he’ll always protect her.

   You clenched your jaw in anger, feeling tears pricking your eyes. You blinked to keep them away. Be strong, be fearless, and move on, you chanted to yourself. Some days, the mantra was the only thing that got you out of your sleeping bag.

   “Uh..” Georgia’s voice filled your thoughts. You stopped walking, fingers clenching around the shotgun as you faced her.

   “Uh?” You pushed with raised eyebrows.

   “I think… I think we’re lost.” Her voice was small.

   You tried your hardest not to snap at her.

   It’s been two days since the both of you’ve eaten. It’s been two days since Georgia decided if the both of you took a shortcut through the woods it would lead to a suburban area. Food, there was a promise of food.  Your stomach gurgled at the thought. Another broken promise.

   “What do you mean you think we’re lost,” You growled through clenched teeth.

   She looked to you, fear flashing in her hollow green eyes. “I-I don’t know where we are…”

   You opened your mouth to yell at her, to let out the pent anger that had been raging inside of you for days. But it wasn’t worth it. Half the forest would hear you if you did, and that would create some unwanted friends. A strong blow of wind pushed through the trees, they groaned and swayed side to side as if they were waving. The air promised winter. Winter was more deadly than the dead.

   “Georgia, Georgie, sweetie.” You began. “How long have we been lost for?”

   “A few hours.”

   “What?!” It came out louder than it was supposed to. You winced, your hands hot on the gun and eyes immediately darting to the trees around you for any sudden movements.

   Georgia’s voice cracked as she spoke in a whisper, “I.. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want you to get angry.”

   You scoffed. “Me? Angry? I’m upset now because we’ve wasted more time when we could be eating. Georgia… we’re gonna starve if we don’t find food. Please tell me you realize that, right?”

   “I get, (Y/N)! I get that we’re lost! I get that we haven’t eaten for days!” She screamed. “Don’t treat me like a kid!”

   Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, no.

   “Shut up,” You whisper-yelled grabbing her wrists tightly.

   “(Y/N), let go of me!” She yelled, slapping your shoulder as you continued the death grip on her wrist.

   “Shut up, Georgia. Shut! Up!” You pulled her in close, faces inches apart.

   You could smell her breath, something that was surprisingly minty fresh. You squinted at her mouth, noticing that when she opened to whine that there was a piece of white gum on her back molars. You gasped.

   “Are you stealing my gum?”

   “No!” Was her first answer. “Yes.” Was her second answer after you squeezed her wrist again, digging your nails into her grimy skin.

   “What did I tell you about-”

   She interrupted you, her body going still. “(Y/N)…”

   “Hey, don-”

   From behind you, a groan sounded. Everything in your body locked up, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. The groan came again, this time longer and more urging. Your throat became dry as you whipped around. In front of you were ten maybe twelve of dead corpses shuffling towards you and Georgia.

   “We’re fucked,” Georgia said after catching her breath.

   You froze in fear, watching them inch closer. You could smell the decaying bodies on the wind that whipped your hair around your face. You stared at them as Georgia tugged on your arms, screaming your name and telling you that you had to go.

   They were close, and your scent was the only thing on their minds. If they even had minds. Your chest heaved up and down as your breathing rapidly changed. Georgia was right, you were fucked. And you were going to bed dead in a moment if you didn’t move. But there was something entrancing about the dead. Hw they moved, how their heads cocked to the side at every sound.

   The sound of a gunshot rang beside your ear. You jumped out of your haze, hands instinctively raising and covering your left ear. You twisted in shock, leaves and wet dirt spewing about your feet. Georgia held the shotgun, her face clenched in such fury and fear that you knew she was gonna fire again. Without a second thought you grabbed the shotgun from her hands, then her wrist, and then you ran.

   Stupid, stupid, stupid. Firing a gun in the valley would welcome more dead. Not only that but you used ammo, precious ammo that you’ve been saving for something important. If you hadn’t stalled you wouldn’t be in this situation.

           Running, you felt like that was the only thing you knew. Under your feet, you felt your sneakers suck against the mud from the past days of rain. Icy wind kissed your flushed cheeks. You pushed harder, hearing more moans coming from behind you. How they kept up, you didn’t know. It only made you run faster despite the piercing in your lungs created. Alive, stay alive.

   “(Y/N)!” Georgia called your attention. You skidded to a stop to see her turning down a hill, her hair vanishing out of sight. For a moment your heart leapt in fear for her but she called out for you again, “We can lose them at the river!”

   With a sharp glance, you stare down the dead that had multiplied in numbers. The river. Your father’s voice echoed through your head, run. With a grunt you took off after Georgia, leaving the walking dead behind you. As you went your scarred hands slapped and scrapped against trees and sometimes hit the cold, wet ground, as you tried to keep balance. There was no room for error.

   The hill was steep, full of trees and overturned leaves from where your companion had run. You followed her footsteps, eventually finding yourself alone at the bottom of the valley, a thick, strong current river inches before your toes. If you hadn’t slowed down you would’ve been in the frigid water and been swept away to who knows where. Hypothermia and you’re dead.

   An eery silence filled your ears. There was no groaning from the dead, no calling from Georgia, just the wind caressing against the towering trees. You took a moment to watch the orange and deep red crinkled leaves twirl through the air, most of them landing either around you or in the grey twisting river.

   “Georgia?!” You dared to call out. You heard your voice laced with terror and discomfort echo throughout the valley. A few crows flew out of the tops of the forest around you. They cawed, filling in the silence. “Georgia..?”

   You continued walking, deciding to walk down the river until you could find a safe way to cross. You wished to your lucky stars that there would be an abandoned bridge or a sturdy log that would allow you to find the other side of the river. And once you did find a safe passage, your next mission would be finding Georgia.

   You stuffed your shaking, mud covered hands into your stiff pockets, the fingerless gloves with pulled strands did nothing to keep the chill off your brittle bones. The pit in your stomach grew larger the longer you walked, the hours that passed, the more by groaning you heard and avoided, taking different paths. Georgia not only had the map, but she also had most of the food as you decided to carry the sleeping bags and weapons. If neither of you found each other by nightfall, you would both be royally fucked.

   It was now nightfall, and your bones ached with each step. You didn’t dare to call out for Georgia anymore, but you continued to look for the amber headed girl. In the dusk light, you watched your breath curl from your lips. A warning that it would be a long night and that winter was coming.

   Hours later when the sun was gone and the moon took place in the starlit sky you were wrapped in two sleeping bags, huddled up on a thick branch of a gnarled oak tree. For the last half an hour you’ve been dozing off, head leaning against the bark, rope tied around your waist you didn’t fall off halfway through the night. You woke up to the sound of rustling, which made your eyes snap open and body go rigid.

   Completely silent, you shifted to be able to see what was going on below you. Before climbing up the tree you had set a string full of garbage you found littered throughout the forest in a five-metre circle around the tree. A trip wire, something you learned from the group you were with a while back. With shallow breaths you held onto the large hunting knife you’d taken from a corpse last week. It had come in handy for close range attacks if you were brave enough.

   Then you saw it. The flash of clothing beneath the moonlight. There was greasy hair, amber and a dark chestnut, both shimmering so bright. Your breath fell short when you saw that it was Georgia and that she was limping and being supported by another person not too far from you. You couldn’t tell if she was conscious or not. You exchanged the knife for the shotgun, your oily forehead softening with fear. You pushed past it, knowing you’ll never forgive yourself if you didn’t jump down to save your companions ass.

   So you did. You left your pack in the tree, shotgun clutched under your armpit as you jumped to the ground, then leaned against the bark for shadow cover. You waited, waited to see if Georgia and who ever it was would stumble over the line of string garbage. You waited.

   The sound of clanging and muttered curses was like music to your ears. They were in front of you, on the ground. It was a man, you noticed a familiar accent as he cursed the god that reigned in the sky. But there was no sound from Georgia, not even a soft whimper as she hit the muddy ground. You walked forward, squaring your shoulders as the muzzle of the gun was pointed towards the stranger’s head. You cocked it, the moonlight pushing through the trees, cutting shapes and patterns across his face. He twisted his body to see who was pointing the gun at him. His eyes, hollow but filling with fear, started from the ground, then dragged up to your shadowed face.

   You could see every curve of his face, the way his mouth was agape at the sight of the gun, how his left cheekbone was covered in mud and a few spots of blood. Just like you, he was grimy, hair greasy, clothing reeked.

   He was quite handsome, to say the least.

   You didn’t have time to think about that. Maybe in another life, where everything was normal and you were happy. Where you didn’t run for a living. Where you smelt like flowers or wore fresh clothes, or actually smiled. Smiled like he did just then when the moonlight shifted across your face.

   “You must be (Y/N).”


tagged: @midtownhoe , @hufflepuffholland , @suit-lady, @homecunnings, @hollandaised, @tomsh0lland, @softspidey, @quacksonbitches, @sixtiesholland, @thebucckybarnes, @tbholland