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Published by: Gayly Dreadful
Info Your one stop shop for all things gay and dreadful and sometimes gayly dreadful. He/Him. 🍅approved. Co-host @ScarredPodcast terry@gaylydreadful.com
Duration 85 Minutes / director Matthew Pope / USA / Score 28 vote / Blood on Her Name is a movie starring Bethany Anne Lind, Will Patton, and Elisabeth Röhm. A woman's panicked decision to cover up an accidental killing spins out of control when her conscience demands she return the dead man's body / Crime. Blood on Her namen. Blood on her name film. So a bully gets a taste of their own medicine? Sounds good. Blood on Her named. New metal breed m. 
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Blood on her name trailer. Blood on her name fantasia. Is it just me, or is he just nothing like what Jennifer Niven described in the book. 
Blood on Her name. Blood on Her name index. David Dastmalchian was in The Dark Knight, Belko Experiment, Prisoners, Bird Box and Gotham. He is type cast to play unhinged, psychologically unstable, criminally insane characters which he does expertly. I look forward to seeing his talent in more varied performances with characters hopefully outside his usual template.
Blood on her name full movie. Blood on her name streaming. Slasher is the best genre ever. It's dumb, it's very dumb, but it's sooo much more entertaining than anything else. Blood on her name release date. Blood on her name rotten tomatoes. Blood on her name watch. Albums 2019 WARNER MUSIC JAPAN INC. 26-06-2019 Bloodline 01 We Refuse Her Name In Blood 04:34 Writer: Ikepy / Composers: DAIKI 02 Let It Die 03:37 Writer: Ikepy - Jamil Kazmi / Composers: DAIKI 03 Darkside 03:51 Writer: Ikepy - J. a. k. / Composers: DAIKI 04 Power 03:45 05 Last Day 03:46 06 Gasolines 03:53 Writer: Ikepy / Composers: makoto 07 Katana Access the complete album info (16 songs) 2018 WARNER MUSIC JAPAN INC. 04-04-2018 POWER DARK 03:29 Writer: Ikepy - J. / Composers: DAIKI - TJ Savior 03:35 Writer: J. - makoto / Composers: DAIKI - makoto MASK 02:28 Writer: J. - makoto / Composers: DAIKI KINGSLAVE 03:49 IDENTICAL 03:50 Writer: Ikepy - J. / Composers: DAIKI - makoto Access the complete album info (11 songs) 2017 WARNER MUSIC JAPAN INC. 18-08-2017 LIVE! BAKEMONO (Live) 03:20 Composers: DAIKI White Lies (Live) 04:14 Super Loud (Live) 02:33 Composers: DAIKI - Eiji - Maki - TJ From The Ashes (Live) 03:33 Free Me (Live) 04:02 LAST DAY (Live) 04:06 Wasted (Live) 04:26 Composers: DAIKI - Eiji - Maki - makoto - TJ Access the complete album info (13 songs) 17-05-2017 FROM THE ASHES Wasted Writer: Ikepy - J. / Composers: DAIKI - Eiji Ichikawa - Maki - makoto - TJ CALLING 03:55 Writer: Ikepy - J. / Composers: DAIKI - Eiji Ichikawa - Maki Super Loud 02:06 Writer: Ikepy - J. / Composers: DAIKI - Eiji Ichikawa - Maki - TJ From the Ashes 03:03 Answer 04:40 Writer: Ikepy - J. / Composers: DAIKI - Eiji Ichikawa 2016 WARNER MUSIC JAPAN INC. 14-09-2016 BAKEMONO Free Me Redemption 04:24 All This Pain 03:08 Writer: Ikepy - Jamil Kazmi / Composers: makoto Cut It Out 03:24 Bakemono 02:51 Wasting Away 04:13 Writer: Jamil Kazmi - makoto / Composers: DAIKI - makoto Access the complete album info (14 songs) Singles 21-06-2019 14-06-2019 Her Name in Blood 03:40 Writer: Christopher Travis Jr. Aiken - Jake Kiley - Jason Cruz - Jordan Lieberman - Robert Ramos 07-06-2019 30-03-2018 09-03-2018 19-04-2017 From The Ashes Writer: Ikepy - J. / Composers: DAIKI - Eiji Ichikawa - Maki - TJ.
Blood on her name vertical. "So, what's your deal? " Such simple words, yet they changed the summer break of 1992 forever. They say you always remember your first love. I'm not sure how true it is for others, but I do. For all the wrong reasons. I was a lonely kid. After my parents' death, I'd lived with an uncle and aunt. Now, they weren't bad people, but they never wanted kids, especially not a teenager in the middle of puberty. I guess we were all happy in our own ways when I proposed that I'd live on my own a few years later. They provided me with enough money to scrape by, and so I moved into a small apartment complex at the edge of town. It was Thursday evening, one week into summer break when I first saw her. Memory is a strange thing. So much of my life is nothing but vague blurs and half-guesses. Yet, I remember this evening as vividly as if it happened yesterday. For the past few days, I'd wasted away inside my apartment. Eating microwaved meals, watching TV, and reading books. Eventually, the heat and the stuffy air of the small one-room place drove me outside. I didn't have a destination in mind; I just wanted to go on a simple walk. The day had been hot, but now that the sun was setting, the air was comfortably mild. I walked along the small path that led around the complex, and before long, I settled down on a bench. I leaned back and watched as the deep red sky slowly turned dark. The sounds of the town had quieted down. The bustle of people and cars was replaced by cicadas and the chirping of a lonely bird nearby. I inhaled the evening air deeply before I took out my small notebook and scribbled down a few awkward lines. I had aspirations of becoming a poet one day, but of course, all I wrote was terrible. I was sixteen after all. I'd just jotted down another pretentious musing about the night sky when I noticed her. She was riding on a simple, old skateboard, speeding down the path towards me. She wore dark shorts and an equally dark long-sleeved shirt. It seemed to be far too big for her delicate frame. Her short auburn hair was waving in the slight evening breeze. A hint of a smile played around the corners of her mouth as her big brown eyes stared at the night sky above. She didn't talk to me that night, didn't even acknowledge me. She sped past me, leaving me staring after her, mouth agape. It felt like I sat there for hours, thinking about her. I guess I secretly hoped she'd return and ride past me once more. Eventually, I gave up and returned back to my small apartment. I couldn't stop thinking about her, much less sleep. Skater Girl, I came to call her. In my mind, I conjured up stories of how the two of us would get to know each other and fall in love, knowing even at my age how silly it all was. I think when my parents died, something broke inside of me. Some essential part that makes you a normal, functioning human being. Something that could never be fixed, and that drove me away from people and society as a whole. Skater Girl changed it all. From the first time I'd seen her, I was driven back to that same bench every evening. She wasn't there every day, but every other and that was enough for me. I never mustered up the courage to call out to her, and it was more than a week before she finally acknowledged me. "So, what's your deal? " she called out to me from afar and stopped a meter in front of me. "Oh, eh, I'm writing, " I blurted out, holding up my notebook. "Well, what are you writing about? " "N-nothing really, just poems and silly things. " "Wanna show me? " she asked, pushing herself closer to me. My eyes grew wide in embarrassment. That whole damned notebook was filled with lines about her auburn hair and her deep brown eyes. In a panic, I tried to quickly close and hide it, but it slipped from my hands, falling to the ground in front of me. She giggled at that. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard. "Guess that's a no, " she said, still laughing, and a moment later, she pushed herself onwards. "Wait, " I wanted to call out, but my voice had all but ceased functioning. From that day on, the two of us started to talk more often. It was never more than a few lines at a time, but this tad bit of interaction was enough for me. "Can I read one of your poems? " she asked me one day. "No way, they are all terrible. " I answered, holding up my hands as if to block her. "Well, once you write a good one, be sure to let me read it! " she called out over her shoulder as she rode away. A few days later, she greeted me with the same, warm smile that always made me blush. "Still terrible? " she asked in a joking manner. I nodded, and when I looked at her, I saw a huge dark bruise on her thigh. "Guess I'm not the only one who's terrible at what they're doing, " I replied similarly joking, thinking she'd crashed down with her board. For a moment, she eyed me questioningly before she realized what I was looking at. She quickly put her hand over the bruise as if trying to hide it. There was a hint of something else on her usually happy face. She was quiet for a few seconds staring off into the distance before she smiled at me again. "Seems like we have something in common then. " --- These small interactions soon became the most important part of my lonely summer break. Nothing ever happened at the apartment complex. It was mostly populated by the old, those forgotten by society and a few more sinister figures. I'd returned from the library a few days later, borrowing a massive stack of books about poetry, when something actually did happen. There was a commotion in front of the complex. I hurried over to the group that had gathered and pushed myself to the front. A group of police officers dragged a cursing, middle-aged man to their police car. I’d seen the man before, often lingering around the complex, his eyes wild and dangerous. The people around me talked and whispered to one another. Between the dozens of voices, I was only able to make out a few bits and pieces: A public disturbance. Her again. Domestic violence. Someone must've called the police, and the man seemed to be furious. He was furious, struggling against the grip of the officers and rambling on incoherently. For a moment his hate filled eyes wandered over the onlookers, and I almost cringed back when they came to rest on me. I caught the word bitch multiple time, but not much more before they threw him into the back of the police car. I watched the whole ordeal, curious as I was, but a day after I'd already forgotten about it. It wasn't important. The only important thing for me was spending time with Skater Girl. --- Half a week passed before I saw her again. She was still wearing the same sloppy clothes, and her hair looked as wild as always. She smiled at me as she approached me. "Any luck yet? " she asked, giggling. "None, " I said, shaking my head. "You know, you spend an awful lot of time on something you aren't good at. " I shrugged. "Guess I'm enjoying it. " Well, I was kind of enjoying, but I was really only out here because of her, something I couldn't admit, of course. "Hey, " she interrupted my thoughts, "you wanna to give this a try? " She picked up the board and held it out towards me. I stared at her, taken aback, but found myself nodding. I awkwardly got on the board and pushed myself forward. "Hey, this is pretty-! " The word easy never left my lips as I lost my balance, fell onto my hands, and propelled the board forward. I was greeted by bursting laughter from Skater Girl. "Oh my god, " she pressed out, "you really are terrible! " I stumbled to my feet and gave her a weak smile before I went to get the board. She was still laughing when I handed it to her, but she wasn't mocking me, and soon I started to laugh as well. "Alright, I'll teach you, " she said with a big smile. My face felt hot all of a sudden, and I felt my heart pounding heavily in my chest. "Sure, " was all I could say. For the next half hour, she tried her best to teach me the basics, but it was futile. I fell down half a dozen times, scraping up my knees in the process. I was content to keep going, but she finally took the board from me. "This is hopeless, " she giggled, shaking her head. I sighed and sat down on the bench again, and for the first time, she joined me. For a while, neither of us spoke. "Do you ever look up at the sky? " she suddenly asked. "Sure, what are you-? " "No, I mean, do you ever really look? At the stars! Aren't they beautiful? You know, " she started in a voice quieter than usual, "sometimes I wonder what it's like up there. To be a star in the sky, you know? " For a moment, I looked away from her and up at the sky, at the countless stars above us. I saw that she, too, was looking up with her wide, deep eyes. There was a sad smile on her face, and she appeared to be deep in thought. For a moment, I thought she'd start to cry. "Life's strange, isn't it? " she finally asked, turning back towards me. I was too surprised to say anything. "Maybe you should write about that! " "What do you mean? " "Life, the stars, the sky, everything! There's beauty everywhere, even in all the small things around us. " I was just staring at her. "What are you staring at, weirdo? " she asked, now laughing again. "Oh, sorry, I was, " but I broke up, awkwardly turning away from her. "I was joking! " Then she got up and stepped back onto her board. "Come on, follow me! " With that, she led me down a small path, away from the complex and to a small hill. "So, why do you sit outside all day writing terrible poems? " As I sat down next to her, I was quiet for a while. Then I opened up about everything. I told her I was out there because of her. I'd wanted to see her again and even that most of my poems were about her. She listened without interrupting me, her hands gently caressing the grass. "You know, you really ARE a weirdo! " she said, looking at me. Her eyes seemed like endless pools. I gave her a weak, embarrassed smile, but before I could do anything else, she leaned over and kissed me. It was an awkward, sloppy kiss, but it felt amazing. When our lips parted, I must've had the biggest grin on my face. I leaned back on the grass, wishing that this evening would never end. We kept sitting on that small hill for what must've been hours. We didn't talk much, we just sat there next to each other. I don't know when, but at one point I found her hand holding onto mine. All the while, she stared up at the stars with her big, brown eyes. "It's gotten late, " she finally mumbled and got up. I nodded. It had to be almost midnight. She put the board down and then slowly pushed herself forward. "Hey, hold up, Skater-" I started but broke up in an instant, embarrassed. "Rebecca, " she said. "Stephen, I live down in apartment 7. 05, so if you want to come by, " my voice trailed off. She giggled and took my hand as she rode on the skateboard next to me. As we made our way around the complex, I felt her holding onto my hand harder, almost clutching it. The smile had vanished from her face. It was replaced by worry and apprehension. "What's wrong? " I asked, but all she did was shake her head. "Life, I guess. " Before I could ask her what she meant, she kissed me once more. "Thanks for tonight, Stephen, " she said before she hurried away. I was left standing there, speechless. She'd already opened the door when I saw that her board was still on the ground next to me. "Hey, your board! " I called out, but she'd already vanished. Once I was inside myself I contemplated hurrying after her, but then I decided that I'd take the board with me and hand it to her tomorrow. Back in my apartment, I couldn't sleep. My teenage brain was too active, too confused. Was that what love was like, what it did to you? My eyes wandered to the board again and again. What should I say to her when I saw her the next time? Should I tell her I was in love with her? What about the board? God, everything had been so perfect tonight, and now it all seemed so complicated. I tried to sleep, but I was just lying there, throwing myself this and that way as minutes turned to hours. Her face was all I could see in my mind. Rebecca - even her name was beautiful. Then I heard something. It was quiet, a rattle, a turning of a doorknob, then silence again. It was followed by some sort of... clicking? I lay in bed and listened. Had to be some neighbor. Probably someone who was out drinking and forgot how their door worked. Somehow though, it was too close, too audible. I slid out from under the blanket, got out of bed, and tiptoed through my small apartment. There it was again: click, clack, quiet rustling. Once I was at the front door, I listened intently. There was another sound, and suddenly my front door popped open. Standing in front of me was a giant beast of a man. For a second, he was as surprised as I was. Then he grinned. "You little fucker, " he pressed out in a whisper before he stormed at me. He was holding something big and blunt in his hand. It became a blur as he hurled it at me. It was pure, dumb luck that whatever he'd been holding missed me and crashed against the wall next to me. Another curse, this one more audible. Once the initial shock passed, I turned to run. My flight-or-fight response was all flight. I stumbled forward to get away from whoever this madman was. I'd barely taken a few steps before a large hand reached out and covered my mouth. Another soon followed, taking hold of my body. "Where do you think you're going? " the man whispered into my ear. His voice was deep, yet strangely scrawny. There was a hint of a giggle behind each of his words. Where. Do. You. Think. You're. Going. He was enjoying this. The hand over my mouth pressed down hard, making it impossible for me to scream. The man's breath was hot and heavy on my neck, stank of alcohol and tobacco. His massive body was soaked in sweat. I felt a bulging, wet stomach pressed against my back. I'd have gagged if my mouth hadn't been covered. "You made a big mistake, you little shit. " This time there was no joy in his voice; there was nothing but cold, hard rage. Worst of all, I had no freaking clue who this guy was or why he was here. I was shoved forward. For a moment, he let go of my body, and I was struggling, squirming under the hand covering my mouth. I tried to get away, but he was so much stronger than me. I tried to scream, but all that escaped my mouth was a quiet, inaudible yelp. Then his hand returned, this time going for my crotch. Pain shot through my whole body as he began to squeeze. "Was it fun? Did you enjoy touching her? " What the hell was he talking about? I shuffled my feet, tried to press my legs together to get him off me, but it was futile. "You shouldn't have done it, shouldn't have. Oh, but you won't ever do it again. " As his giant paw of a hand closed, I was nothing but pain and panic. Then I felt something hot between my legs. For a moment, I thought he'd ripped and torn something apart before I realized that I must've peed myself. His hand jerked away. "What the fuck, " the man called out in disgust, and in that short moment, I bit down on his hand as hard as I could. There was another scream, this one short and strangely high-pitched. A moment later, I was free, stumbling away from the man. The few meters between me and the front door felt like the longest distance I ever had to cross in my entire life. "Oh no, you won't! " he yelled, and I heard his heavy footsteps as he rushed after me. One more meter. I was outside. The hallway. Down, just go down, I told myself. I opened my mouth to scream, but it was too late. Once more, his giant hand covered my mouth. "I'm going to enjoy cutting you up! " he laughed into my ear as he dragged me backward. Someone, please someone, I pleaded as the tears streamed from my eyes. It was no use. No one was coming. No one. I struggled once more. It was a last surge of energy before I gave up exhausted. Futility took over. This was it. This guy, whoever he was, was going to kill me. And then it happened. Gravity's hold over me stopped, and I was thrown up into the air. For a blink of an eye, I was entirely weightless. Before I could understand what was happening, I crashed down again. There was a sickening crunch below me, and a moment later, the hands holding onto me let go. I pulled the man's heavy arms off me and crawled away from him. That's when I saw it. Skater Girl's board. The wondrous coincidence was cut short by a groan from the man behind me. That’s when I ran. I didn't get far before I stumbled into one of my neighbors. The old man started to belittle me about the ruckus I was causing at this time of the night, but when he saw the state I was in, he knew something wasn't right. It wasn't long before the police arrived. The man was still there, still on the floor of my apartment, the skateboard he'd tripped on still next to him. He was knocked out cold. It was the next day that I learned who the man was and why he'd come to my apartment. And that day, I also learned a lot more about Skater Girl, about Rebecca. The man who'd appeared at my doorstep had been the boyfriend of Rebecca's mother. Joe, that's what I think his name was, was an abusive, drug-addicted piece of shit. He was the type who preyed on weak women, precisely like Rebecca's mom. A woman who had her own share of problems and a habit of taking to the bottle. It had been too dark that night, but when I saw the picture, I knew that it was the guy who'd been taken in by police half a week ago. Neighbors had called the police after yet another fight between him and Rebecca's mom. Scared as she was of him, she refused to give a statement and eventually Joe was released. Once he was out, he wanted revenge. It didn’t matter against whom. That night, he returned, flipped out, and murdered Rebecca's mother in cold blood. After that, he'd waited for Rebecca... That's when he'd seen me with her, and that's why he came after me. Once he was done with Rebecca. I don't remember how I made through the weeks and months following her death. Life was nothing but vague blurs, apathy, and depression. It was later that the statements and rumors of neighbors painted a fuller picture for me. Joe had come after Rebecca's mother, but soon he'd been more interested in her teenage daughter. No one knew, of course, but many had their suspicions about what happened during those nights when her mom had passed out from drinking. Rebecca hadn't been the manic pixie dream girl I came to call Skater Girl. She wasn't a mysterious and dreamy girl, no, she'd been a troubled, torn and abused soul. She was so at wonder with the outside world because her own was filled with nothing but terror. I still remember her eyes when she stared at the stars. I'd never realized that it was desperation and hope that filled them. Those few words she'd said that night, what it would be like to be a star in the sky... The moment I knew everything, it was so obvious, and I realized how dumb and ignorant I'd been. I never bothered to ask who Rebecca really was or what was going on in her mind. Instead, I'd made her into Skater Girl. Not a real person, but the cute and mysterious girl of my dreams. A girl who did nothing but ride her board in the evenings, wore but ill-fitting oversized clothes and stared at the night sky. I often wonder what must've happened that night. What Joe must've done to her before he came to me. And sometimes, during those worst nights, when the guilt eats away at me, I wonder what would've happened if I'd gone after her. If I'd decided to return her board then and there. It's been so long since then, yet I still think about her. The skateboard, her skateboard; it’s still with me. A memory of this lonely summer break, of things that might have been and an endless number of regrets. I still sit outside during those mild summer nights. Just a lonely guy sitting on a bench in a park writing his poems. They're still terrible; rambling messes about life, the sky, the stars, and of course, auburn hair. With each passing year, though, I feel that they get a little less terrible. I hope that one day, I can finally get one of them right. After all those years, her words still ring in my ears as if it had been yesterday. "Well, once you write a good one, be sure to let me read it! " Sure, Rebecca, I will. x X.
I totally am going to see this
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What are you? BLIND? That made the whole movie worth it XD. Patrons are awesome, and are one of the coolest parts of playing a Warlock. As a DM, I think it’s important to have a unique, specific goal that the patron is trying to achieve in making a pact--one that the Warlock may or may not buy into. Not only does this make your Fiendlock different from every other cultist to Asmodeus, but it gives you a clearer sense of factions and plotlines in your game world. On the other hand, why should Warlocks get all the fun? The idea of a “patron”--a powerful NPC that makes a deal with player characters--is far more broadly applicable than the sheer mechanics of “cast Eldritch Blast” and “have invocations. ” A patron/PC relationship can be added to the mechanics of any class to give it a unique flavor and bring new factions into your game. With that in mind, here are some specific patrons for various pacts, as well as ideas for integrating them for warlocks and non-warlock alike. FIEND Ordenzamor, the Endless Hunger ”Come a little closer, mortal, so that we may speak properly. I promise you: I don’t bite. ” Chained to the bottom of a pit, bone-thin and red-eyed, this snarling demon seeks only to devour--and wants to find a mortal willing to help. A clever, vicious glabrezu who was once a prized fighter of Demagorgon, Ordenzamor enjoyed the game of being summoned to the Material Realm and tricking or murdering those foolish enough to summon him. This continued for centuries until he was summoned by a mysterious archmage, more powerful than any he had met before. Instead of using him or freeing him, however, she merely imprisoned him within her tower with high-level magic. She came every few days to question him about the Abyss, then every few weeks. And then, abruptly, she never returned. The rest of the tower fell into decay over centuries, but Ordenzamor survived due to his high constitution. All that time he has hungered, his clever mind trapped in a starving body. When adventurers come across him, he seeks to devour souls and may attack them on sight--but if they survive, he is still lucid enough to see the value in making pacts. Pact of the Blade: Ordenzamor himself infuses the blade, consuming the souls of his victims. No matter the form, the blade never tarnishes, and the blood of its victims seems to be sucked into the metal itself. Pact of the Tome: Offerings can be made to the book itself; when Ordenzamor wishes to communicate with the Warlock, a toothy maw appears on one of the pages and speaks. Pact of the Chain: A lesser servant of Ordenzamor joins the warlock, constantly hungering. Anything this familiar consumes is sent directly to Ordenzamor's own stomach. Other possible classes: anyone who might be tempted into making a pact to obtain a powerful magic weapon at a price. No Warlock levels required. Mydianchlarus, the Record Keeper ”Your assignment begins tomorrow. If you have any concerns or comments, feel free to address them to Mortal Resources and allow five to six business years for processing. It’s a pleasure to have you aboard. ” Mydianchlarus is an ultroloth, the ultimate bookkeeper of the Lower Planes. Maintaining a plane-spanning mercenary company, Mydianchlarus' men can be sold to the highest bidder. Warlocks of Mydianchlarus gain their knowledge and power according to a strict payout system; perform the jobs that the company tasks you with, and eventually you receive payment in the form of new spells and abilities. Refuse, or do the job poorly, and you are no longer allowed to take a Warlock level until your situation has been rectified. Warlocks of Mydianchlarus rarely report to him directly; instead, they deal with lower yugoloths in the HR and contractor-handling departments. Pact of the Tome: A strict ledger in which the warlock lists expenses and tasks completed, and through which instructions are received in clear, unambiguous language. Pact of the Blade: A standard, unassuming weapon appears in hand. Each time the warlock summons a weapon, it appears slightly different--two longswords might have different hilts, styles, ages, or length of blade, and different serial numbers on the bottom. Every time, they’re actually requisitioning a different one from the company’s armory. Pact of the Chain: A lesser entity of the Mydianchlarus' organization is sent to monitor the warlock's progress, either as part of a probationary period or random performance reviews. GREAT OLD ONE Caiphon, The Dream Whisperer, That Which Calls from the Stars ”Our reports indicate similar images from independent sources around the nation. A violet star, whispers beneath their consciousness. Promises of wealth, power, knowledge in return for finding these ‘seeds. ’ So far, nobody has died or suffered from reporting these dreams. But we’re not as worried about those who came to us with their concerns. What I fear most is the people who listened. ” -Watchmaster General’s Report, 743 ABG, addressed to the Ars Arcanum of Eramor. Letter discarded before arrival. Nobody has ever seen Caiphon up close; the closest they get is seeing a purple star in the skies of their dreams as they stand out on an open field. Should a warlock gain enough knowledge to actually be worthy of Caiphon's attention, their dreams shift to the purple planet itself; a place of infinite pain, an endless sea of violet gelatin that clings to their feet like quicksand. Horrid creatures and objects of all types rise out of the mush, each screaming its own tune in an endless cacophony. These sounds make up Caiphon's voice, which resonates through the entire planet when you're on its body. When Caiphon wishes to speak more directly, the warlock is brought into a war zone between these strange creatures, with random people and animals stopping to deliver commands before returning to their endless carnage. What does Caiphon want? It whispers in the dreams of many at once, seeming to demand penance or sacrifice. Those that are swayed by the promises of blood and strength perform rituals and are often rewarded with purple seeds to spread across the world. Those who refuse are hunted down and corrupted by the purple goo, becoming part of Caiphon’s growing body on the planet. Caiphon seeks to extend its reach to all the planes in existence, gradually corrupting them all with its purple seeds. All minds and memories belong to Caiphon, in the end. Pact of the Tome: A dream journal--that is, a journal that appears even in the warlock’s dreams, containing images and sensations from Caiphon. Pact of the Blade: A twisted weapon that seems to glisten with a purple sheen. When it strikes a critical hit, a distant scream can be heard. Pact of the Chain: A tiny creature corrupted by Caiphon’s slimy essence is committed to the warlock’s goals. When it reforms, slime twists up from the ground to create its body. Other possible classes: Anyone. My take on Caiphon originally came from wanting to play a bog-standard farm-boy Champion Fighter with the WEIRDEST horror-mystery plotline. Good for anyone who just wants to get strange. Acamar, The Endless Eternal, That Which Came Before "If you're reading this, then it means you're here for a reason. Our Lord’s endless designs have brought you to this place, and my death will have been vindicated after all. Note these words carefully then destroy this stone. 7134 Eramor Kingsway. Rusted blade. Homecoming. Falling crown. Traveling Cloak. Rajan Suul. Seek the leaping crow. “ -Scrawled in blood deep within an underground cave long since overrun by ankhegs. Introduction translated from an archaic form of Dwarvish, popular about seven hundred years ago. Code words written in modern Common. Nobody knows where Acamar came from or why; some say it was the god before the gods, while others knew it as the elemental chaos itself. Either way, Acamar's arcane foresight was second to none; it could see thousands of years into the future, setting in motion plans that would not come to fruition for centuries. Through this, it evaded destruction from other entities. Eventually, it took all the might of every god in the pantheon to overcome Acamar's powers and slay it once and for all, eradicating it from the world. But this, too, was foreseen. Thousands of years later, the chain of events set into motion by Acamar's foresight still continues. Warlocks find hidden tomes of knowledge at precisely the moment where they are most vulnerable, and continue along the path. While it is said that Acamar can be wrong on a small, day-to-day scale, nobody has yet been able to prove so definitively. Warlocks continue to find obscure spells and knowledge in seemingly random locations--written in claw marks on a stone wall, a piece of parchment in a long-lost scroll case, within the bowels of a slain beast--indicating that they are still part of Acamar's designs. Acamar cannot be killed, because it is already dead. Its plans--to be returned to life and consume the world--seem as inevitable as entropy itself, but players might find themselves facing off and trying to break the cycle. Pact of the Tome: A seemingly random book from a local library, with bits and pieces scribbled upon it from ages past, prophecies that only become apparent in hindsight. As the PCs progress, more pages are found in the same style around the world, and can be bound into the book. Pact of the Chain: Ancient knowledge has provided the warlock with a forbidden manner of casting Find Familiar; their spirit is one that has not been awoken in centuries, but may be just as clueless about Acamar’s goals as anybody else. Other possible classes: Divination Wizard, Aberrant Mind Sorcerer, anything Psionic. Really, anybody who wants an explanation for “learning” new class features can use Acamar. ARCHFEY This, perhaps, is where pacts should absolutely go beyond mere Warlocks. Several classes have a ton of Feywild flavor; Glamour Bards, Dreams Druid, Wild Soul Barbarians, Oath of Ancients Paladins, Eldritch Knights and Enchantment Wizards to name but a few. Roselie, Lady of Gardens ”It was impossible not to fall in love with her. Straw-colored curls fell down to frame an impossible delicate face, with eyes bluer than a midday stream that seemed to pierce into your very soul. Where she walked, grass grew beneath her feet. Where she drew her fingers, flowers blossomed. Birds chirped and honeybees buzzed, and I knew at any moment she could say the word and every creature in her garden could eat me alive. ” Roselie is an Archfey of the Summer Court, representing growth and nature and freedom above all. Though sweet and kind as summer, she understands little about the mortal world. She seeks, above all else, to share the seeds of her garden with the world and to receive new plants from all over. Her warlocks tend to be in tune with nature and admirers of natural beauty--others are desperately in love with her, and hope to win her affection by showing her the greatest beauty that the Prime Material has to offer. Pact of the Tome: A book in which the PC can press flowers and other plants they come across in their travels, and document the life they see. Pact of the Blade: A scythe, kukri, or shears. To grow, some limbs must be pruned. Pact of the Chain: A ditzy fey familiar joins the PC, fascinated by every aspect of the Material Plane and liable to get them in trouble. See: Toot-toot from the Dresden Files. Other possible classes: Druids and Nature Clerics come to mind, as well as nature-themed Fighters or Rangers. Mab, Queen of Air and Darkness, Mistress of the Winter Court “I only ventured once into the Court of the Unseelie, to meet with the Queen herself. I knelt before her, shivering despite my cloak, begging for power as the beautiful bone-white fey watched me in their ball gowns and suits. She ordered me to stand and face her, and I did. It is impossible to do her appearance justice. I wanted to grab her and take her right there, but I also wanted to run screaming and cover my neck. She was delicate as a sculpture of ice, and forceful as a raging blizzard. I accepted her power and now serve her will, but I will never go back. Not because I’m afraid of dying, but because I’m afraid I might never leave. ” Where the Summer Court represents the playful, wild side of the Fey, the Winter Court marks the other half of nature: predation and survival. As Mistress of the Winter Court, Mab is as beautiful as she as deadly, with porcelain, snow-white skin and coal-black eyes. She demands service to the Court and a loyalty to the ideals of Winter. The Winter Knight takes many forms, but Mab expects strength above all. Pact of the Tome: A spellbook written entirely in Sylvan, this book is always icy-cold to the touch. Pact of the Blade: Winterbrand, a blade made entirely of exquisitely-carved ice. Pact of the Chain: A small spirit of the Winter Court joins as the Warlock’s vassal. Consider taking the Tomb of Levistus invocation. Alternatively, consider using Mab as a Hexblade patron, reflavoring the Hexblade’s Curse as an icy hex. Cone of Cold and Shield fit right in, as well. Taryn Eversong, Knight of the Silver Lyre ”It has been thirty-four years since I visited the satyr in the Wyldlands of the Fey, seeking skills beyond mortal limits. And though I play and play and play, I can still hear his song, rumbling in my chest like an old friend. ” A gorgeous, shirtless satyr of the Wyldfae who always strums a glimmering lyre, Taryn is known as one of the greatest artists in all the realms. Singer, musicians, poets and artists seeking beauty in the Feywild often petition him to enhance their skills, and he is more than happy to oblige. He delights in patronizing artists and seeing their reputations grow, using their power and renown in his own attempts to secure a high position in one of the Fae Courts. Pact of the Tome: A songbook full of Taryn's greatest hits, covered in scores of music and half-finished lyrics for the PC to toy around with. Pact of the Blade: A curved, silver blade that doubles as a tuning fork; it hums a pure tone as it swings, and breaks out into a gorgeous harmony upon striking with a critical hit. Pact of the Chain: A tiny fey backup singer joins your party. Enough said. Other possible classes: I mean, Bards. Every kind of Bard. Glamour Bard, specifically, but every kind of Bard. CELESTIAL I don’t have specific ideas for pacts for these guys. But they’re still damn fun. Adiel, the Gambler ”If I’m being honest, I’ve had about enough of devotees singing praises to Bahamut. I mean, we get it. Honor. Law. Striking down evil wherever it is found. Here’s the tricky bit: every evil worth striking is perceptive enough to see those guys coming. That’s why I chose you. ” Among all the other angels, Adiel is singled out as being a bit of a daredevil. The others are Lawful Good to a fault, seeking those who can spread their message of peace and goodness though worship of deities. Adiel has spent time on the mortal world, however, and knows firsthand that things are more complicated. As a result, he has struck a deal with the PC whom he knows to be flawed, and sometimes willing to walk the riskiest path--more important, someone who does not loudly worship the ideals of his god. He has taken a gamble on you to achieve some purpose, and can only hope that his warlock follows through. Adiel appears as an impossibly handsome, winged, dark-skinned man in white robes. By his nature, he can only have limited interaction with his chosen mortal so as to avoid drawing attention to them--both from his god and from others. As a result, he tends to communicate in short bursts during dreams, guiding the path but never outright sharing his goals with anybody. Sparklefoot, the Unicorn of Redemption ”Oh, man, looks like you're in a tight spot. Those knots around your wrist are top-notch. These thugs aren’t messing around, huh? I'd tell them where the contraband is, if you want to live. What do you mean the boss didn't tell you? That's not--ouch, yeah, that looked like it hurt. Good thing you don't need your pinkie, right? At least, that's what you told poor old Mrs. Broadwell when you were shaking her down for fifteen silver last week. Oh, they're jumping right to kneecaps. I’ve got good and bad news. Bad news, they're starting to believe you don't know where the shipment went. Good news, the constables will be here in about ten minutes to pick up your corpse. ”Now, maybe I can help with that. How's about we make a deal? " A glorious unicorn that leaves rainbows in its wake, Sparklefoot seeks evildoers in their darkest moments. She makes a deal with them right before death, strongarming them into accepting the path of righteousness in exchange for magical powers. Some of these criminals and lowlives accept, and are subsequently indebted to Sparklefoot, who commands them to do good and heal. Warlocks of Sparklefoot find themselves adhering to tenets of healing and honesty despite their natural inclinations. Additionally, once every year the warlock must attend to a specific quest from Sparklefoot without question. Over time, these warlocks might find themselves beginning to see Sparklefoot’s way of approaching the world. Others rebuke the gifts given, only to realize that Sparklefoot has more leverage on them than they might think. Thanks for reading, and I hope this can be helpful for your own games! If you liked this, you may enjoy some of my other work: Philosophy/Theory of Conjuration | Illusion | Enchantment Alternative Afterlife The Draconic Pantheon The Order of Tarnished Silver Magehaven, the City of Refuge Detritus: The Plane of Refuse.
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