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About Literature / Hobbyist Core Member William22/Male/United States Group :iconthegentsofjustice: TheGentsOfJustice
 
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Deviant for 7 Years
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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!

Art Involvement Status

Collaborations - Friends Only by SweetDukeRequests - Friends Only by SweetDukeGifts - Friends Only by SweetDukeKiribans - Ask Me by SweetDukeTrades - Ask Me by SweetDukeNo Commissions by SweetDuke

I'm considering designing some new Prestige Classes for Pathfinder. What kind of base class would you like to see a specialized class built around? 

40%
2 deviants said Ranged Fighter (Bows, crossbows, throwing knives, etc)
20%
1 deviant said Melee Fighter (Swords, Axes, Fists, etc)
20%
1 deviant said Arcane Spellcaster (Damage and reality-bending utility spells)
20%
1 deviant said Something unique! (explain in comments)
0%
No deviants said Stealth Fighter (Daggers, darts, Sneak Attack Bonus Damage)
0%
No deviants said Divine Spellcaster (Holy/Unholy damage and healing/utility spells)
0%
No deviants said Tank (Tower shields, heavy armor, damage reduction)
0%
No deviants said Glass Cannon (low health and defenses, ridiculous damage output)

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SirCaptainGoggles
William
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
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.

Cheers,

William, a.k.a. "Goggles"
Interests
Oh my God.

I've just finished individually deleting all of the previous journals on my account here. For those of you who didn't know, the most journal entry before The Long Journey was from 2012, the ones before that dating back to 2009. Ever wanted to know what it's like to look back to what you were thinking back when you were 15? Spoilers: it ain't pretty.

This is an official apology to anyone who had to deal with me in my adolescence. I don't know how I was even remotely tolerable. I've never seen a greater testament to how much I've changed over the years. While normally I'm rather neutral about my lifestyle these days, fully aware that I've got plenty of things right but there are plenty more things to improve on, my eyes have been opened to just how much I've grown. It's a good feeling, knowing I've come this far.

That being said, those tremendous monuments to my stereotypically edgy teenager persona, complete with all of the things I thought were cool and funny, have been removed forever, to which I have no regrets. I'm a much different person than I was before, a man rather than a child. A clean slate is what I need.

A good day to all of you, and a happy Independence Day.

- William

Activity


    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. 


Ashes
A short story (emphasis on short) about my Pathfinder character Tok on her being trapped in Hell. Spoiler, it's not a fun place. I tried a bit of a new writing style with this one, as well as seeing what a normally excitable and undeterred character turns into when being surrounded by darkness and despair for an extended period of time. I really like the result.

(c) Will Davis, a.k.a. SirCaptainGoggles
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Go Team Valor by SirCaptainGoggles
Go Team Valor
A simple wallpaper I made for myself, thought I'd share.

Humble in Victory
Graceful in Defeat

Go Team Valor!

Team Valor © The Pokemon Company / Niantic 2016
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It was dark. Not the kind of chilling, uneasy darkness that you can't see anything in, the kind that sets your teeth grinding with tension and makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. It was an empty darkness, where you know that you're alone in the nothingness, and that anything you do within is without meaning or substance. Absence. Stagnation. Constancy. The perfect cage for me, a creature of constant motion and intoxicating change. I am Oktavia. I am the Aspect of Chaos.

I floated there- no, not floating. More like simply existing. Reality did not apply here, there was nothing here except for me, like a small space of the Void conveniently conjured up just for my sake. I'd be flattered if I wasn't so annoyed. Movement was free, but useless and soundless. Maybe this is what a vestige feels like, I thought to myself, the words in my head serving as the only sound I could hear. The only other sensation I could get was through the minds of others; specifically, a select few that I had managed to establish a link with. The little storm-mage Adwen had been kind enough to establish a bond with me as his deity- the poor kid- and through him and a rather entertaining series of events, I had sent them on their way to the Hills Asunder, where planar links were especially easy to establish and maintain. They would find a way to some cultist camp with ease, no doubt, and be traversing the Transient Planes to my prison. Wherever that was.

I shuddered slightly, smiling a little, remembering the euphoria of planar travel. The beings that travel from plane to plane have experiences as varied as those taking the journey. Mine was one of the most exquisite bliss; I always admired the artistic tapestry holding the fabric of reality together, the impossibly complex dimensional barriers that so casually gave way for me to step from one universe and into another. Perhaps others walked with wracked nerves, anxious about undetermined destinations and the denizens that the next plane held, but such things were never a concern to me, even back when I was a mortal. I've got to be there when they traverse, I thought to myself, grinning wider with unabated anticipation. It had been far too long.

Dwelling upon such nice thoughts had lured me into making the mistake of smiling, which soon turned into grimacing. Pain echoed through me, like water flowing over stones, each steam of agony splitting and splintering into a thousand more. My breath caught jarringly, and I yelled out in suffering, my voice lost in the nothingness. Suspended without feeling sometimes caused me to forget how damaged my physical body was, and the shock of it all coming back sent my mind reeling with the events that landed me here in the first place. I closed my eyes and forced myself into slow, calm breaths. Remembering my betrayal was sure to distract me from the pain- or at least the physical pain.

--

"Hellooo?" I half-asked half-shouted as I walked into the ostentatious main hall of the shadow mansion, having to yell over the creaking of the massive shadewood doors. I wasn't worried about it; I have a specialty in being loud, and I've wandered into the Shadow King's abode multiple times like this before. He didn't really appreciate it, but he had to deal with it. It was part of our agreement.

I walked up the spread out double staircase to the next floor and barged through another set of doors, these a bit better kept than the ones at the front entrance, but no less loud. "Hey, your shadowy highness!" The jest in my voice was strong as the toothy grin on my face. There was good reason to be happy; for once, so many things were going right. As I rushed into the room, I saw him there, sitting in that massive armchair of his, reading a scroll probably more ancient than the mortal nations or something grandiose like that. He always had to show off about how old he was around me, the youngest of the Powers That Be. I took a couple quick steps into the air, hovering to look over the scroll at his disproportionately long face. It was the nature of the Primordials to have tall, emaciated forms, towering about ten feet tall. They had two sets of eyes and two sets of limbs, a second pair of shoulders protruding from their back just below the first and legs that splintered at the hips into doubles. For them, it appeared somewhat natural, if not intimidating. Those outlandish proportions would look downright silly on anything else. Being the Primordial of Shadow, his physical form was a solid black, barely textured enough for light to give depth to his angular form, spike-like protrusions denoting his shoulders, elbows, and other major joints. The tendrils that could be considered hair on his flat head were pulled straight back, flipping out slightly below his shoulders, and his entire body seemed to give off a grey mist. All of this I was more than used to; we've worked together countless times over the years, which has resulted in a reluctant acceptance of each other's quirks. Despite the "purely business" relationship we have, I always seemed to relax around him. He had a lot of power and influence that he wanted to exert, and I needed power to use to my advantage on the Material Plane. Our alliance was established soon after I ascended, and now some of our plans are finally coming to fruition.

"Hey!" I shout, looking at him over his scroll. "They took it like a thief to gold. The underground of Kaladonia is going to be shaking up real soon!" I land next to him, leaning on his end table with an air of confidence, closing my eyes as I wave my hand. "I had to take the form of an orc for them to trust me, but once they did, oh man, you should've seen the look in their eyes! Pretty soon they'll be making weapons, armor, war engines, all in your na-- "

My words were cut off with a cutting hand around my neck.

My eyes shot open, meeting all four of his, swirling with deep shadowy purple, filled with rage. He lifted me into the air, standing now, scroll folded up in his spare hands. My feet dangled beneath me, though gravity didn't really hurt me while I was floating. It was the sharpness of his clawlike fingers that was giving me concern. "H-hey, there, Kingman," I managed to choke out. "What's got your panties in a wad?" There was a flippantness in my voice, but I couldn't work up a grin to match it. In all the disagreements and arguments we've had, he had threatened to hurt me many a time, but he had never laid a finger on me until now. Something serious was going on.

He pulled me close, and all I could see was his face, inches from mine. "WHERE ARE THE SHARDS?!?" His voice bellowed and screeched, echoing off every wall like they were metal rather than wood.

"The... shards?" I coughed. I didn't have to breathe to live, but I had to deal with the typical bodily repercussions if I didn't, so it was something I tried to make a habit of, and he was making it very difficult. "Like the -ack- elemental shards? Why don't you ask the Primordials?"

I expected an answer, but instead I felt his needle-like fingers dig into my neck. My eyes went wide as I screamed in pain and surprise. This wasn't an intimidation attempt. It was an act of aggression.

My realization came a second too late. Before I could conjure up the power of my true form, another spike of pain wracked my body, but the horror that set in was enough to make it feel like a pinprick at the time. I managed to look down in time to see the sharp end of an ornate rod sprout from the center of my chest, having been thrust through my torso from behind. I could sense it's effects instantly; partially, it gave off sinister necromancy auras, the kind that keeps something alive without giving it healing. The other magical aura was that of abjuration, more specifically, that which I detested the most: planar binding. In an instant, I realized what he was trying to do, and how he was doing it.

I shrieked with another bolt of indescribable pain as a black claw tore out a large chunk of my left abdomen. Flesh and cloth tore with equal ease beneath his strike. I didn't bleed. Instead, the hole in my skin revealed a starry night, endless stars and galaxies amongst a multicolored backdrop of nebulae and cosmological gasses. I was a living paradox- a being of flesh and thought, but also a representation, the whole of existence made manifest. I was Space, in concept and form. He knew it too, that if anything managed to kill me, that the stars would go out. Everything that existed would die with me. That's why he needed to keep me alive. This way I'd just want to die.

I gasped for breath in shock. The pain was more than anything I'd experienced before, and there were no words that could describe its magnitude. Death would have been a sweet, sweet release, but half out of obligation and half in defiance I kept myself together. Though I couldn't speak, the Shadow King grasped my face, pulling me back up to him, having let me go when the rod impaled me. "You will tell me," he said in a strange, deep, multi-voiced tone. "I will make you."

--

It was more than I expected of myself to have held out this long. His patience had grown thin, and he had gone to the Material Plane to start his machinations without his precious artifacts. He'd be back when he needed them most, but I will be long gone by then.

My form was more fleshless starlight than skin now, only patches of my face, chest and legs remained. Three particularly colorful and bright galaxies swirled where three of my eyes used to be. The suffering I was experiencing was more than they could imagine, or even experience, so I wouldn't bother them with it. They didn't have to know.

--

A sound, finally! The sound of chains unraveling and falling to the ground resonated through the deprived empty space where I had resided for so long. I coalesced my power as breaks in the darkness appeared, and as the chains broke and fell away, I floated out of my prison, fully-formed and in all my glory, celestial arms shining with blazing starlight. It was all an illusion, of course, but it was what they needed to see, my mortal saviors. No one needed to see me as I was, broken and frail. Even as such, my power was returning quickly.

A burst of power surged through me as I led my newfound friends through the portal they came from, discovering that the Shadow King's decadent mansion was reduced to dust. I couldn't help but laugh as I saw an elder thing- some Qlippoth old god whose existence was too ancient to name- ravaging the plane. As much as I wanted to watch its reign of destruction, I opened a planar rift to the Abyss so it could go home, a luxury I certainly envied.

Turning to the ragtag group of adventurers who had been the key to my freedom, I knew that I had to reward them somehow. Indeed, for some of them, promises of rewards were the only thing that lured them to her in the first place. Some boons were easy, such as maturing the wings of the young tiefling and bestowing the reign of flame upon her flight. Others were more difficult, like the goblin who only needed his worg to be happy, or the strange catfolk who wandered along with the others, riddled with indecision and uncertainty. Regardless, she personally crafted a reward for each of them and sent them on their way. They would be the end of the Shadow King, using the tools he sought against him. Oh, the irony. She enjoyed it so much.

--

There I stood in the sky, high enough to see the curvature of the plane and the craterization the elder thing had caused earlier. The sky was a constant turmoil of writhing black storm clouds that never held an actual storm. Today, I would fix that. My star-lined lips curved into a smile, despite the pain it brought, the rod in my chest buzzing with energy. There was only one person who could help me in this state, and there was only one way to draw her here.

Imbalance. Sweet, glorious tilting of the scales. Destruction without constraint. Freedom without constraint.

Chaos.

"See you soon, sister."

The sky rumbled. Lightning struck and fire scorched. The world of shadow was illuminated with annihilation.
Unbound
A short story around Oktavia, the Aspect of Chaos as she struggles with an unfortunate turn of events concering the Shadow King. A summarization of things that happened in a recent Pathfinder arc.

Oktavia, the Shadow King, and the Realms of Eos © William, a.k.a. SirCaptainGoggles
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Fear is an interesting thing, I've come to realize. I encounter it more these days than I had in seasons past, but I had never been a stranger to the idea. I know just about every flavor of fear, both by seeing it in others and experiencing it myself. Doing the things that I do, seeing the things that I've seen, it's no wonder. I've been on the brink of death more times than I can count.

--

"Fall back!" I shouted as loud as I could over the clamor of battle, stepping out of a ring of blades that had erupted out of the earth to meet me. This was the climax of my first real mission, and the harsh reality of the situation had begun to set in. We were being overwhelmed. Two allies had gone into the fray with me, a woman who channeled the strength (and stubbornness) of the dragon and a devil who specialized in mind-magic. As I retreated from the heavily armored and, to my surprise, equally intelligent hobgoblin before me, I realized that the dragoness was being surrounded by similarly potent adversaries, and the devil had already fallen, a veritable army of pitiless primal beings striking down from their barricaded abode with blade and bow. They were coming for me next, and my lightly armored frame had already taken some severe hits. That was when it started to set in: fear. Not the fear of failure, for we had already failed, but the fear of death, of this critical miscalculation being the last thing I did. It was that fear that sprung me into action. I withdrew, my speed too much for their attacks to get through. The massive war-carriage that we rode in on was still close by, and I dove into the driver's seat to whip the horned beast into motion. As we careened towards the hobgoblin fortress in a wide, desperate arc, I slid to the back of the carriage and managed to grab the unconscious spell-slinging devil from the ground, pulling him into the back of the cart as we rumbled away. Luckily, I kept him from bleeding out, and as we recovered from the battle we devised plans to infiltrate the fortress, and soon after discovered that our dragon-like friend was still alive. Still, it was a humbling event that I will likely never forget.

--

(to be continued)
What They Don't See (WIP)
A short story about a rouge recounting frightening experiences as he goes about a daily task. Still in progress.
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I'm considering designing some new Prestige Classes for Pathfinder. What kind of base class would you like to see a specialized class built around?
40%
2 deviants said Ranged Fighter (Bows, crossbows, throwing knives, etc)
20%
1 deviant said Melee Fighter (Swords, Axes, Fists, etc)
20%
1 deviant said Arcane Spellcaster (Damage and reality-bending utility spells)
20%
1 deviant said Something unique! (explain in comments)
0%
No deviants said Stealth Fighter (Daggers, darts, Sneak Attack Bonus Damage)
0%
No deviants said Divine Spellcaster (Holy/Unholy damage and healing/utility spells)
0%
No deviants said Tank (Tower shields, heavy armor, damage reduction)
0%
No deviants said Glass Cannon (low health and defenses, ridiculous damage output)

Comments


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:iconrigrena:
Rigrena Featured By Owner Jul 4, 2016  Professional Digital Artist
thanks for the watch <3
Reply
:iconsircaptaingoggles:
SirCaptainGoggles Featured By Owner Jul 4, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Of course! :D
Reply
:iconwolfthewerehog:
Wolfthewerehog Featured By Owner Mar 27, 2014
Love your icon and the Diglett thing. I laughed
Reply
:iconsircaptaingoggles:
SirCaptainGoggles Featured By Owner Mar 28, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Heheh, thanks!
(They always seem to brighten my day too)
Reply
:iconwolfthewerehog:
Wolfthewerehog Featured By Owner Mar 28, 2014
Yesh. I have a feeling, and i would do this to. If you ever met Slender man, you would draw him a smiley face. I know i would
Reply
:iconhills-to-sky:
Hills-to-Sky Featured By Owner Mar 25, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Looking forward to meeting you at :iconredridge-high:!
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:iconlimit-vanitas:
Limit-Vanitas Featured By Owner Aug 21, 2013  Student Interface Designer
BRO YOU ON
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:iconeirasenam:
EiraSenam Featured By Owner Feb 9, 2013  Student Digital Artist
Thanks for the fav :)
Reply
:iconsircaptaingoggles:
SirCaptainGoggles Featured By Owner Feb 9, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
No prob :D
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