|Oktavia, the world-warping chaos-slinging spunkmaster that serves as a deity of all that is spacey and unpredictable in my Pathfinder Campaign Setting, The Realm of Eos.|
As great as DeviantArt is, I'm primarily active on tumblr. My blog Dragon with Goggles is a source of tips, tricks and art for tabletop role-playing games such as Pathfinder or Dungeons and Dragons. Mixed in are Magic: The Gathering posts (especially around spoiler season for a new block) and general funny internet humor, as well as articles harboring equality and gender awareness/acceptance. If these things appeal to you at all, check me out here!
I am the resident dabbler-of-sorts of a small down in Indiana. Once, I traversed the crowded streets of Metro-Atlanta, but have since dispersed to a life in the north much better suited for my tastes. It is here I spend my days working as an automation operator with a wonderful wife by my side. Currently I casually work with digital art, usually scenery or symbolography, though I consider my strength to be in writing.
One of my greatest hobbies is spending time with friends and family around the game table, creating stories through the avenues of Pathfinder and similar games. While I enjoy all aspects of hosting and playing such games, I usually find myself hosting more than playing, and thus have recently taken it upon myself to record the ideas that come forth when crafting the worlds and scenarios for my friends to take part in. These stories and ideas have accumulated into a project that I am breathing life into, the Realms of Eos (ee-ohs), a broad and diverse world that features a vast array of places for adventure, as well as new cosmic beings known as Primordials and Aspects who can be chosen by players in lieu of a traditional deity.
Artwork and literature pertaining to Eos will likely be the features of my time here, so if that interests you at all, keep a look out!
I bid you a joyful farewell, and please, do enjoy yourself whilst you rest here in my little corner of the unknowably vast web.
William, a.k.a. "Goggles"
There they were. Seven of them, hovering just feet over the ground, circling around the corpse like starved vultures, their crazed eyes darting from the rot to each other. None of them dared dive into the feast, knowing that the first to give in often became part of the meal for the rest. Such was the nature of this place. Such was Hell.
Their crimson skin and glowing eyes caused them to stand out amidst the land of darkness. The whole of the flat plain was charred like a great firestorm passed, only blackened skeletons of trees giving feature to the landscape. A forest that never actually held life, I imagine. It was simply always like this, always smoldering. It was a place devoid of hope, devoid of mercy, devoid of change. But not for much longer.
I sit upon my extinguished steed, like a statue, the devils flapping about yards away, oblivious. I pat her on the side of the neck, calming her nerves- though I didn't know if she had any, nor had I given it much thought. Carefully and silently, my hand goes to my side, sifting beneath my cloak and retrieving an exotically curved blade. I grip the hilt and whisper a command, and the blade shimmers and takes a new form, a longbow with a string of glistening gold, shimmering in the soft glow of my own form. I take a breath- for I had never wielded a weapon like this in my life, though the knowledge of a huntress courses through my mind as I draw the string. An arrow similar in composition to the string materializes as I pull back, the arrowhead wickedly branching into three hooked tips; a translucent arrow held back with a translucent hand. I hold my breath.
Finally, one of the imps dives in for a morsel of the corpse. The others cackle, likely demeaning it in their hideous tongue before ripping him apart, but I strike before they get the chance. A golden trident-shaped arrow pierces the skull of the foolish imp, and the cackling ceases.
"Hyah!" I shout, kicking my steed into action. It lets out an unearthly whinny, sparks flying from its flint hooves as it charges at my quarry, ichorous green flames lighting the way as I knock the next arrow, glancing to the closest imp through the slit in my mask. I release the call to death, and it answers, the imp falling to the ground. By now the remaining five have caught on, and they begin to flee. One by one, they fly in different directions. One by one, they fall. Two remain, far ahead of me now, side by side. I lower the bow and draw an angular, carved metal rod. It takes one second to draw, two more to follow the arc of their flight, and not quite one more to whisper the command. A mighty blast of electricity leaps from the rod, striking them both. Only ashes remain, lost as part of the immortal layer of black dust that covers the ground.
I reach up and remove my mask, carved from the remains of my enemies. I pull back the hood of my cloak, the spoils of my infernal crusade. My breaths are heavy, and though I have only the image of a heart, I feel it pounding in my chest, an unwelcome chill sending shivers down my spine.
What am I becoming? This place is changing me. A battle won without a word or remark, death dealt with no mercy and surgical extraction. I am becoming cruel. Though, is it truly cruelty to deliver swift end to these evil creatures? I don't have the answer, and while it doesn't feel wrong, it feels... off. Strange and otherworldly.
I look at the sky, knowing that nothing will look back other than darkness. I keep telling myself they will come, that I'll be saved and whisked back away to my friends and my purpose, but this place siphons the hope from me with every passing moment. No soul has ever escaped Hell in all the eons, so why should I be and different? I'm nobody. I'm nothing.
I throw the mask to the ground at full force in disgust, yelling out to the void. My steed remains unfettered. This is ridiculous, this stupid reason for killing me and pulling me down here. Aspect of Chaos? Orcs in Kaladonia? Why even bother with such asinine lies and just admit they wanted another soul for the furnace? It's been the same since I could remember. I never expected to amount to anything. I knew I was different; I've hated it sometimes. All my ego, losing myself in my work, it's what kept me together at the end of the day. In the end, though, it never really helped the feeling that I was useless go away, it just kept it at bay. My constant drive to keep moving just so I wouldn't have to stand still and think kept me from being wanted, from love, from having friends-
My head lifts. My friends, the ones who risked their lives for me on more than one occasion. The only ones who really knew me for who I was, and still stuck around. Frame, Serein, Gyria... I hope they were alright, and that they'd be alright.
A spark of confidence swells within me. They got as far as they did- I got as far as I did- because we were strong. We were powerful. I take the mask and put it back on, only a white line visible where my spectral form can be seen through the mask. I start to trot away when I see a flash of red nearby. A devil had survived and was flying away, thinking himself spared. I'm on him again in an instant, this time leaping off my steed and pinning him to the ground with my trident, careful not to kill him this time. He shrieks and babbles, speaking in languages I understand, begging for mercy. Beneath the mask, I smirk.
"I need you to send a message, imp," I say. It catches his attention. "Tell the Pit Fiend that looks over this layer that I'm coming for it, and to savor it's last moments."
I strip my visage of my mask, grinning with unabated determination. "Tell it that the Aspect of Chaos is coming to kill it. This layer will be mine."
Go big or go home, and I'm done looking for a way out.