Discussion in 'Your Bijou Blogette' started by cosmofex, Dec 16, 2018.
this is where i natter on and you guys can enjoy or not as you will
goddddd i forgot how bad the pacing was in early naruto, and i forgot how fuckin HARD the opening themes went
pretty sure "no boy no cry" was my favorite non-english language songs out there for a loooong time
HOOOO I FORGOT I HAD THIS
ok so from here on, im gonna actually use this.
TODAYS THING: imma tell you guys about Maggie
Maggie is an oc ive been building for the past 4 years. she was born the son of a prince in the far north of Fantasy Kievan Rus. her father basically was in charge of a border outpost that no one thought would ever run into any trouble, it was basically just for show. Maggie (who wasn't aware that she was trans yet) had a decent enough childhood, up until she didn't. One day, the Fantasy Mongols swept through Fantasy Kiev, but unlike what happened to real far north Kievan Rus, the Fantasy Mongols drove the entire race of steppe trolls out of the steppe and into the far north. the mass exodus of trolls had the terrifying effect of creating a troll army twenty times the population of the border fort, desperate to get shelter before the winter came and killed their families. when Maggie's dad panicked and denied the trolls entry to the town, the trolls quite politely rammed down the gates and came in anyways. They moved the troops in, but didn't kill anyone who didn't fight since they really just wanted their families to be safe, not riches or power. Unfortunately, the entire army Maggie's dad led fought, as well as all her family. Maggie herself had been trying on a maids spare dress, so was caught by surprise and mistaken for a maid. Then her family was executed. She watched. It was... not good for her mental health. She developed severe PTSD, social and general anxiety, and selective mutism derived from the social anxiety. A Very Very Not Good Day. So she lives like this now, hidden in the kitchens as a maid, terrified that if she ever speaks again she will be found and killed.
it's not all bad though! but that's spoilers for later. just know that her struggles in the story are about overcoming what has already happened, not about more happening to her.
TODAYS THING: imma tell you guys about Fyruss
Fyruss is short for FantasY RUSSia, which is based off of 13th century Novgorod Republic. The Novgorod Republic was a city-state that was nominally under the control of Kievan Rus, but in all manners that mattered was its own country. It was ruled by an assembly of "princes," who were a group of elected officials or officials invited from neighboring states. Fyruss differs from the Novgorod Republic in a couple of key ways, but by far the most important is the presence of magic and non-human sentient beings. The magic is too complex to delve into outside of its own post. As for the non-humans, the ones important to Fyruss are brought from Slavic folklore and mythology, and while the gods are an enigma as always, the lesser beings are very much there. Things tend to go down different historically if magical beings, nature spirits, and magic spells get thrown in the mix. The fates of some change, the attitudes of others shift, and by this point in the development of civilization the only real similarities are the generalities. A country of the north, split between the steppe and the taiga, exploring north and east, subjugating natives where they can and drawing borders where they can't. Far to the east, tribes band together under one man for the first time in centuries, if ever, and millions of soldiers ride west, changing the world wherever they pass, driving refugees before them. Refugees band together to seek shelter and aid. In Novgorod, the helpless refugees flee west and south. In Fyruss, the displaced but still dangerous horde flees north and west.
In Fyruss, a small border fort becomes the nexus for a story of change and recovery.
Today i have some PREHISTORY!!! This is the story of Maggie's world, and how the Thousand Kinds of Man were born, including the trolls.
Long ago, before writing, before farming, before metals, when homo sapiens was not the only "man", a tribe of northmen, later called neanderthals, gathered. They had watched the southman come into the floodplain below the moraine, watched their clever hands shape tools, watched their clever mouths speak the sounds of nature, watched their clever children become more clever than their parents. They had watched the southmen recover from illnesses that the northmen had never seen, and they had watched the southmen tame wolves and wildcats. In a flash of insight, an elder realized that the northmen were watching death. The clever southmen ate ravenously to feed their cleverness. they bred faster, learned faster, ate more. When the food was gone, they would move on, just like the northmen. When the northmen moved on, they had to stay where the scorching sun didn't make them ill. When the southmen moved on, they would move wherever they wanted. Death would not come for the northmen now, but the elder knew in his frail bones that one day the clever southmen would come for the chill valleys and mountains where the northmen lived. They would bring their cleverness, their beasts, their illnesses, and their hunger. And he knew that the northmen would die, because while the northmen could be clever too, they could not use their cleverness to change themselves or the world around them.
So the elder spoke with other elders, consulted shamans and scouts, and tried to find a way for the northmen to change, to survive. After years of argument, discussion, and prayer, a consensus was reached. If the minds of the northmen could not match the minds of the southmen, then the northmen would have to make sure that the southmen could not match the bodies of the northmen. The shamans of every tribe that could be gathered met with every elder of those tribes, and they began their work. They combined every ounce of cleverness that the northmen could bear to craft a ritual, a spell, a prayer begging the spirits of the world to help them. The ritual was a cry for help, asking for someone, somewhere, to change the northmen enough that the northmen could change themselves. To cry for help from spirits, one must be a spirit oneself, and so on that night two hundred elders gave their life, left their families and their tribes, and went forth in the afterlife to beg.
Nine months later, northmen were born different.
They were called shiftlings, for shift they did. Infants learning to crawl grew extra arms over their first months. Teething babes grew hardy little tusks, and used them to chew on bark and bones. Toddlers exchanged their extra arms for extra legs, and learned not just to run, but to gallop. Children gave up their extra limbs and grew long, slender tails to grab and swing through branches. Adolescents grew horns and fangs, and playfully fought over carcasses of rabbits and rats. No two shiftlings were the same, or grew the same way. No shiftling held its new form longer than they really needed it.
The southmen returned years later, and they saw the shiftlings. They called them ogre and goblin, fairy and troll, demon and monster. They feared them, loved them, but above all else they left them alone, and the shiftlings survived where in another world they would have perished. Shiftlings moved into the mountains while Southman moved into the valleys, and where there were not mountains and valleys, Shiftlings dug deep burrows and lived underground while Southman lived on the surface. They took the names that Southman gave them, and wore them as a badge of honor, that they had survived to be given these names. The tribes, and eventually clans and nations, of shiftlings took these names as the name of their group. The isolated nature of Shiftling tribes within larger groups of Southman slowly gave rise to ethnicities, and eventually subspecies. Some subspecies lost some abilities, while others lost others, and eventually the wild changes slowly died away. The Shiftlings born of northmen joined with the clever Southmen where borders clashed, and so they met as neighbors often do, and they fought and talked and traded and loved. Within a few dozen generations, both died out entirely, replaced by their children, and so were born the Thousand Kinds Of Man.
One kind of man, known as human, lost the ability to change physically. Their minds were as clever as those of the Southmen, but with the foresight and imagination of the Shiftlings. They quickly took over the lowlands and valleys of the Southmen, and came to dominate the lands.
One kind of man, known as trolls, lost the ability to change rapidly. The changes were just as varied as those of the Shiftlings, but slowed to a crawl. No more did shifts happen in a month, instead taking a year of daily desiring. Each further change took longer than the last, leading to Trolls being incredibly varied, but not amorphous in the manner of Shiftling.
Merascent is the continent Fyruss is situated on. It looks pretty similar to modern Eurasia from a distance or if you squint pretty hard, but due to the influence of magic and magical beasties there's a lot of differences between Eurasia and the Magical EuRASian ContinENT. For starters, the coasts aren't quite where they're supposed to be. They aren't too terribly far off either, but don't go trying to moor a boat on one with a map of the other. The mountains like to move around too, which tends to happen when a good tenth of any given mountain range is actually sleepy giants of some species or other. The forests are much, much bigger. Sure there's just as much steppe and desert and grassland and marsh as on Eurasia, but on Merascent the forest is tended by innumerable guardians, and trees certainly don't get smaller with age. Birch growing to the size of sequoia is pretty common in the parts untouched by any of the Thousand Kinds of Man. That kind of "bigger". As for fauna, if there's a legend about it it exists somewhere, but it usually goes by about sixteen seperate names depending on who you ask and where you ask it, and it's basically guaranteed to be way less spooky or evil than the legends make it out to be. Vampires vastly prefer wine or berry juice to blood for one, but if you startle one in a back alley and it spills its mug all over it's nice doublet, cranberry juice and blood look awfully similar. Repeat this experience ad nauseum throughout recorded history and you get Dracula. The monsters really don't give a hoot about sucking blood or stealing kids or eating virgins. Not any more than humans do, anyways.
Overall, Merascent is the Eurasia that folklore and mythology sold us, minus some nasty rumors and fantasy racism. This is the world that Fyruss grew out of.
the rawest line ive ever heard, and it comes at ass am from a homestuck rp featuring, among other things, gay robotics, space zombies, and mandatory tentacle sex. i fucking love this world we live in where the realest shit gets said, and i mourn that such a miniscule percentage of the population will get to read it
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