Haunted by a fantasy world where "adventurer" is handled in the same way as "assassin" in John Wick. An ifykyk secondary economy running on gold coins where everyone knows each other but no one acknowledges the elephant in the room because we have manners about our weird-ass line of deadly desperate dangerous work.

Rolling into town, looking immaculate. Checking into the Inn. Not an inn, or the coaching house, or the traveler's hostel. The Inn. The one that takes my ridiculous oversized coin and says that my room is ready, and will I need to visit the Smith today? Perhaps a meeting with the Vintner? Shall I send up the Gourmand?

"Good afternoon, Master Whicke," the Smith says, putting aside the barrel scraper he's been working on to flip a switch beside the forge. Racks of tenpenny nails and trowels and hammers fold back to reveal the glittering points and edges of a score of swords and axes and spearpoints lit with the flicker of finely-tuned enchantments. "Shall we tour what's new?"

"What sort of occasion are we hosting, Master Whicke?" The Vintner asks, pocketing the coin with a sigh. "A funeral," you say.

"Ah, well perhaps something light to start, then," she says selecting a straight-walled flask that glitters with contained starlight, proof against the touch of the undead. " And something for remembrance," she plucks a small crock of something evil-smelling and phosphorescent. "And then something to really bring down the house." She gingerly selects a double ampoule of energetic looking jellies.

The Gourmand carefully runs his knife through the salted flank of a cockatrice with a pursing of the lips. "So many neglect trail rations, Master Whicke, and it is their shame. Paired with goldenwheat pancakes and carrion honey, a mouthful of cockatrice--properly seasoned of course--will keep the mummy rot at bay, even post-exposure. I have been given to indicate by the Management that your current escapade may make such information useful to you. I will of course wrap your purchases exceedingly carefully. Rot will be your constant companion in the Black Pyramid."

There's something here.

[image description: A tiny robot in yellow and red stands in a desolate land, nothing but dirt surrounding it. Text reads, “8, O.R.B.O.T., the small god of TINY ROBOTS”]

• • • • •

He is not a new god, for all that many would treat him as such.  He has been with us since the very earliest machines, when tinkers would stack wheels and simple boxes and press them into children’s hands.  He grows more sophisticated year upon year, but no more powerful, for he does not yearn for power; he has allowed ownership of drones and nanotechnology to pass into other hands, hands which may be less gentle than his own rounded pinchers, but which hunger for new things to hold.

He is happy with what he has and with what he is, and understands a lesson that many newer gods have yet to learn: he understands that to expand his portfolio is to change himself to fit it, and to become something other than he is.  But he has no desire to be other than he is, nor dreams of power.  He is powerful enough in the dreams of children both young and old.

He has saved the world a million times in their hands.  Has been a towering behemoth who crushes buildings beneath his mighty treads, and a bead of living metal rolling through the veins of an unwell mother, chasing illness aside. He has been hero and villain, monster and mechanist, and he will be all those things again and again until the human heart has no more need for a friendly automaton, until the human eye ceases to seek a friendly face in the inanimate. Until that day, he is content to serve as himself, and to seek for nothing larger, for nothing larger could ever be as kind.

His domain is small and limited and merciful.  In ORBOT’s name we gather.

Amen.

[ID: Martha Wells reading from her book All Systems Red, with robots - mechanical contraptions, some aerial and some with huge treads - surrounding her, positioned to look like they're listening attentively. Text reads "Martha Wells reading to the search and rescue robots at the TEES (Texas A&M University Engineering Experiment Station) Center for Robot-Assisted Search and Rescue (CRASAR)."]

Can we all take a moment to appreciate this photo from Martha Wells's website

He is not a new god, for all that many would treat him as such.  He has been with us since the very earliest machines, when tinkers would stack wheels and simple boxes and press them into children’s hands.  He grows more sophisticated year upon year, but no more powerful, for he does not yearn for power; he has allowed ownership of drones and nanotechnology to pass into other hands, hands which may be less gentle than his own rounded pinchers, but which hunger for new things to hold.

He is happy with what he has and with what he is, and understands a lesson that many newer gods have yet to learn: he understands that to expand his portfolio is to change himself to fit it, and to become something other than he is.  But he has no desire to be other than he is, nor dreams of power.  He is powerful enough in the dreams of children both young and old.

He has saved the world a million times in their hands.  Has been a towering behemoth who crushes buildings beneath his mighty treads, and a bead of living metal rolling through the veins of an unwell mother, chasing illness aside. He has been hero and villain, monster and mechanist, and he will be all those things again and again until the human heart has no more need for a friendly automaton, until the human eye ceases to seek a friendly face in the inanimate. Until that day, he is content to serve as himself, and to seek for nothing larger, for nothing larger could ever be as kind.

His domain is small and limited and merciful.  In ORBOT’s name we gather.

Amen.

……………………………

Artist Lee Moyer (The Doom That Came to Atlantic City, Starstruck) and author Seanan McGuire (Middlegame, Every Heart a Doorway) have joined forces to bring you icons and stories of the small deities who manage our modern world, from the God of Social Distancing to the God of Finding a Parking Space.

Join in each week on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a guide to the many tiny divinities:

Tumblr: https://smallgodseries.tumblr.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/smallgodseries

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/smallgodseries/

Homepage: http://www.smallgodseries.com/

Creature Pack by Alexander Trufanov

Not at all my usual fair on this blog, but when I saw these I had a vivid vision of me in 2nd grade, trying to write a story about robot dinosaurs. I hope this artwork takes you back to a similar feeling of childlike wonder.

Crabboting

mini plague doctor plush ($12.50)

He is not a new god, for all that many would treat him as such.  He has been with us since the very earliest machines, when tinkers would stack wheels and simple boxes and press them into children’s hands.  He grows more sophisticated year upon year, but no more powerful, for he does not yearn for power; he has allowed ownership of drones and nanotechnology to pass into other hands, hands which may be less gentle than his own rounded pinchers, but which hunger for new things to hold.

He is happy with what he has and with what he is, and understands a lesson that many newer gods have yet to learn: he understands that to expand his portfolio is to change himself to fit it, and to become something other than he is.  But he has no desire to be other than he is, nor dreams of power.  He is powerful enough in the dreams of children both young and old.

He has saved the world a million times in their hands.  Has been a towering behemoth who crushes buildings beneath his mighty treads, and a bead of living metal rolling through the veins of an unwell mother, chasing illness aside. He has been hero and villain, monster and mechanist, and he will be all those things again and again until the human heart has no more need for a friendly automaton, until the human eye ceases to seek a friendly face in the inanimate. Until that day, he is content to serve as himself, and to seek for nothing larger, for nothing larger could ever be as kind.

His domain is small and limited and merciful.  In ORBOT’s name we gather.

Amen.

……………………………

Artist Lee Moyer (The Doom That Came to Atlantic City, Starstruck) and author Seanan McGuire (Middlegame, Every Heart a Doorway) have joined forces to bring you icons and stories of the small deities who manage our modern world, from the God of Social Distancing to the God of Finding a Parking Space.

Join in each week on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a guide to the many tiny divinities:

Tumblr: https://smallgodseries.tumblr.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/smallgodseries

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/smallgodseries/

Homepage: http://www.smallgodseries.com/

I’m so mad because this worked

help me roger

Reblogging myself because

Originally posted by gifs-for-the-masses

Reblogging myself because… what was that? Five minutes?

O_O

………my friend has made me curious

help me roger

Update: after I reblogged this someone messaged me offering me tickets to the sold out Hausu screening with a Q&A and autograph session with the director

These never work for me, but here’s to trying.

lets see if this works

I will see if this works

Counting on ya Roger

I don’t have high hopes but it’s worth a shot…

Ailsie, Messenger of the Machine

Plush Beetles

Frisk Wolfie Customs on Etsy

This year’s edition of Mandalorian Easter Eggs :)

Finally I trusted my own style <3

Getting my polycule ISO9001 certified

Buying a pride flag out of the McMaster-Carr catalog

March of Robots takes to the skies! Or at least the sooty vaulted caverns of a Forgeworld. It scans the Noosphere and the Manifold for Scrapcode, it's Plasma Pistol armed and ready.

I am super excited to present you all with the first preview for the Huntsman’s Codex of Adventuring Heroics and Villainy!

This is a set of variant options for the Armorer Artificer subclass set forth in Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything, and will be appearing as part of the first chapter — new character options.

The rules presented here are still rough around the edges and in need of fine tuning. If you use them in your campaign, please feel free to message me your thoughts on them!

what do you meant this is a “Himalayan Salt Lamp?” it’s clearly a magical stone of some kind. clearly. 

It’s magic includes Yummy Taste and Glow

lick