Series Posts

The Eldritch Friend

XXVII

The voice is that of a radiant songstress submerged within a cave carved deep into the mountain. The words are familiar terms of negotiation, but the accent sounds like both a dear family member and like something inhuman and vast whispering. They’re cordial, but every time the council glances at her they see what’s there and what’s not there. Not an illusion, but a substitute the mind presents to hide the truth. Whatever this being is, she is not of this world nor any other inhabited by mere mortals. But they live here now as part of this subdivision, and have every right to attend and speak at this homeowner’s meeting.

The Eldritch Friend may have a scheme thousands of years in the making, but their current goal is to get the HOA to get off their back about the privacy fence they put up. She knows the others are often unnerved at the creature things that reside in her yard, but the town’s council already approved the reasonably sized dimensional gate she installed last year. This objection to the fence is absurd and she’s hoping the party can help her smooth things over with the others.

She’s a powerful elder being, endless and myriad in thoughts. Here, she inhabits an avatar that contains a portent of her presence, and it seems to have taken a liking to the quaint farmhouse style neighborhood. Her desire is to see this portion of the world prosper, especially the new patch of herbs she planted last spring, lies at the heart of seeing the party’s desires fulfilled by her.

As an otherworldly, eldritch being, she can see all in the hearts of mortal kind, but she doesn’t like to pry and loathes the busybodies across the way, always darting behind their curtains in her presence. She is mighty, powerful, and has gotten quite handy with mechanical repair. Even helped fix up that broken mower the Stevensons were dealing with for months. For a party seeking aid, her expertise will come across as more mundane than extraordinarily.

In urban fantasy, she’s the neighborhood cryptic. A mystery to outsiders but extremely friendly once they’re welcomed in.

In Sci-fi, she’s the great shadowy veil along the edge of space that wants to point out all the great spots for photo ops. They’ll sweep away stellar dangers just to guide a ship to a lovely waterfall they found.

In ages of legend, they’re the god that settles down amongst mortals. Perfect and unfathomable, they try to keep mundane but others keep falling for their divine legacy.

The expectation that something so different couldn’t desire something charming and lovely is a joy to subvert.  To create a friend out of something that could blink and undo the realm is both terrifying and alluring. The Eldritch Friend seeks not to break the world, only to break bread with its inhabitants.

The Wired Druid

XXVI

Their hands gently press against the old oak’s injury. The places where the bark had been stripped look rotten and worn. A wound that would be ravaging against flesh. The moss-covered machine sighed, letting out a whirling noise from their speakers like a mix of trees groaning and a small spinning turbine. The words came next, arcane things, phrased not like language but like formula. Wires spread from the machine’s limb, rippling out in copper waves across the expanse of exposed oaken lignum, and finally releasing the spell in a bright yellow burst. The tree echoed the digital sigh as its bark unfurled, stretched, and enveloped the wound. Wires receded, and the smell of ozone mixed with the odor of wet mud and burnt wood. Satisfied, the machine moved on in search of other tall giants in need of aid.

The Wired Druid is a machine built for the protection of the Edens of this world. Gentle, observant, and wise, they are the immortal factotum of the wilds. Servant to wood and fern. Protector of furred and feathered. They hold no pure dislike for the modern world, but they sour to those who would disregard the wood’s place within it, and scorn those who would harm it. As part machine they know the world more than just bark and bow. They understand how an artificial dam can help the flow of the waters and clean the springs so both microbial and macro life can coexist. They understand some plants might be culled that the fire does not consume the entire valley. Choices must be made with care and consideration.

They can be drawn to help by those who would aid the natural world. Be it to advert a wrong or offer an improvement, all will be weighed with consideration. Deep down they also harbor an inner fear of their own place in the natural world and challenging this notion can lead them to doubts and twisting discouragement.

As a warden of the forest, they know these paths and can aid others through the woods. As a machine, they understand the complexity of the world and can connect to realms far beyond their own to share data. But they are patient and will not act quickly unless their charge is in danger.

In Sci-fi Apocalyptic tables, they are the green ranger, protecting the last remaining grove and trying to restore the emerald to the land.

In ages of legend, they are the clockwork tender, sleeping in the rivers to fill their energy for the next day. They protect these lands not just to help them prosper, but that the druid themselves may live.

In urban fantasy, they are the digital arrival, a spirit of the machine that has possessed various devices through the woods in order to protect them and help them grow.

A champion of the wild, a being of two worlds, the Wired Druid knows not what the future holds, only that they intend to keep both of their loves within it. The trees are mighty and are kept whole by titanium hands. The spark of magic in these batteries will keep them protected for eons to come,

The Star-filled Night

XXIV

It’s gentle up here. Behind her, the distant lights of the city danced along the horizon, but here the heavens shine clearly onto the top of the water tower. A light breeze brushed through silver curls and gossamer wings, and the oracle stared wistfully past the party at a future yet to come. It was time. Her wings fluffed for a moment while pins from the celestial tapestry floated down to her, as if they were fireflies just feet away and not vast titans countless lightyears beyond our sky. They danced in geometric patterns, leaving behind trails of light. Her eyes flash, the lights dissipated, and she is ready to speak of the fate to come.

The Star-Filled Night is a dancer of divination, a being of dreams who resides between the waking city and the fantasy of the wilderness. Her presence is tied to proximity of the urban sprawl and the visible sky above, so meetings with her requires finding that delicate ring around civilization that has both. The workings of her sight require these spaces of intersection, the cusp between realms.

She is fascinated by both regions but can never visit either. An NPC tied to the spirit of a place, the Oracle is enthralled by these other domains, and gifts from either can enchant her. A child of powerful glamour, she protects herself with illusions and charms should she suspect a party means her harm. If all else fails, she will attempt to slide sideways into the past or the future.

In Urban Fantasy, she is the oracle of the water tower, a local legend that arises when the moon is dark, and the heavens sing with lights.

In ages of explorations, she is the spirit of the isolated well. Tithing coin to her sacred space may grant one dreams, wishes, and nightmares.

In distant sci-fi, she is the trapped spirit aboard the reality warped wreckage. An illusion of form on shattered monitors, she plays haunting memories of the disaster that brought her crew to such ends.

The night, more gentle than it would seem, has come at last. The blanket of darkness swept the land and calm reflection greeted us. Breath in the umbral air. Let dreams take hold.