Recent posts
#71
Tower of Art / Re: [Writing] Pax Draconica 2 ...
Last post by Starcat5 - January 31, 2026, 01:03:16 AMAre we sure Terry here isn't part Cubi? 
That is to say he isn't, but he and Lord Daryil would get along like fire and gasoline.
That is to say he isn't, but he and Lord Daryil would get along like fire and gasoline.
#72
Jayhawk HQ / Re: [I.G.C. Chapter 05]
Last post by Starcat5 - January 30, 2026, 07:27:35 PM05-08 - Wrong kind of head in the basket
Executing an executioner's axe. That is a new one.
Executing an executioner's axe. That is a new one.
#73
DHS Comix / Re: 2026-28-01 - [Heretic Volu...
Last post by ProfesseurRenard - January 29, 2026, 01:14:00 PMQuote from: Tapewolf on January 29, 2026, 04:17:33 AMQuote from: ProfesseurRenard on January 28, 2026, 07:27:35 PMPage 5
Excellent question, Cecilia. Whatever Lord Frost's answer is, I somehow doubt it will cast him in a sympathetic light.
"He refuses to worship Me as the one true god."
Christ, I miss the 'applaud' button!
#74
DHS Comix / Re: 2026-28-01 - [Heretic Volu...
Last post by Tapewolf - January 29, 2026, 04:17:33 AMQuote from: ProfesseurRenard on January 28, 2026, 07:27:35 PMPage 5
Excellent question, Cecilia. Whatever Lord Frost's answer is, I somehow doubt it will cast him in a sympathetic light.
"He refuses to worship Me as the one true god."
#75
DHS Comix / 2026-28-01 - [Heretic Volume 6...
Last post by ProfesseurRenard - January 28, 2026, 07:27:35 PMPage 5
Excellent question, Cecilia. Whatever Lord Frost's answer is, I somehow doubt it will cast him in a sympathetic light.
Excellent question, Cecilia. Whatever Lord Frost's answer is, I somehow doubt it will cast him in a sympathetic light.
#76
Jayhawk HQ / Re: [Xer 2 Chapter 3]
Last post by ProfesseurRenard - January 28, 2026, 07:16:12 PM03-08 - The heels and gloves are explained, mostly
Does anyone else hear the sound of DADT-defenders' heads exploding?
Does anyone else hear the sound of DADT-defenders' heads exploding?
#77
Tower of Art / [Writing] Pax Draconica 2 - Ch...
Last post by Tapewolf - January 28, 2026, 10:04:43 AMChapter 14 - Bishop
"So," Lord Terror said. "I hear you have resolved the problem of the Chosen One. I am indebted to you, Sir Fardon. I shall have to decide how best to reward you."
"Had it not been a fellow dragon, I might not have treated it with such urgency. But in that case, it is likely you could have solved the problem yourself."
"There were other options," Terry admitted. "As I'm sure you're aware. But you have saved me from having to use them, and greatly complicating my life thereby.
"Now, this Falnar... he is still in the cave?"
"For now," Fardon said. "The Order are looking at how to move him to a place more convenient for their needs, but... Well, their temple was not designed with dragons in mind. But we have put up notices declaring the cave off-limits in your name, and the Order have posted their own guards to deter Hunters or others seeking to fulfil the Earl's bounty. One of my staff has checked Falnar over. He is a little underfed, for obvious reasons, but does not seem to have any other maladies. Not bad-looking, either..."
"Has he been getting a balanced diet?" Terry asked. "Dragons are omnivorous. What has he been eating, if he has been stuck in that cave for centuries? Dragons who eat only meat can become confused and dangerous..."
"Fish, mostly." Fardon said. "There's an underground river where he was getting his water from, and a reasonable amount of fish as well. At night he has also been making discreet sorties, eating foliage and the occasional goat from the mountains. That's given him vegetables, red meat and kept his flight muscles in trim, though as mentioned, he is a little scrawny for a dragon of his size."
"If I am to have dragons within the capital, I will need infrastructure for them," Terry mused. "I will need to hire medics from dragon-friendly regions, and soon. If Falnar will come here, I will see to it that he is checked over by my personal physician."
"Having at least one resident dragon in the capital will be useful," Fardon said. "It may entice others to visit, at least."
"Indeed," Terry said. "But I don't want to seem too eager, or some will suspect that I am trying to draw them all out so they can be slain en masse. Or that even if my goals are noble, that Hunters may try to take advantage of it.
"But come," he added. "It will shortly be time to eat. We can continue this discussion on the morrow, after I have seen the Chosen One for myself."
This time, there was no assassination attempt, but Fardon and Terry were joined by the Bishop of St. Palver's cathedral, and Lady Silver of Atlantia. Fardon and the Hunter politely ignored each other, with the dragon making a show of devouring his meat as daintily as possible.
Terry had eschewed his robe and was back to wearing just a catsuit, with a utility belt around his waist like Fardon's neck-bag. The Bishop was struggling to conceal his disdain for his lord's sense of dress, and kept glancing at the stiletto-heeled boots that the furre wore.
"Your lordship," the snow leopard began, breaking the silence. "At the risk of discussing the dragon in the room..." Terry and Fardon both glanced at her, and she looked down at her plate. "Forgive me, the elephant in the room..." she amended. "I would like to make it clear that yesterday's... incident was in no way sanctioned by Atlantia," she said, glancing at the plastered patch of wall where the rocket had struck home. "I and my staff are here purely to discuss trade, and not to stoke old grudges. I am, however, curious as to what fate awaits those responsible."
"I have not decided," Terry admitted. "For defying my program of reform and reconciliation, for attempting the murder of a diplomat... For such treachery, a public execution would not be unexpected."
"Yes," the Bishop growled, putting down his wine-glass with a clatter. "And since I doubt our guests have seen how such things are done here, our illustrious Lord Terror presides over them. Wearing..."
"Wearing what I please to wear, as your sovereign lord," Terry replied silkily.
"But it is not appropriate to such a solemn occasion!" the Bishop protested angrily. "It is an affront to the moral code that the Church has strived for! Would you wear a clown suit whilst hanging a man?!"
"If such was their last request, absolutely," Terry responded.
"But is not done!" The Bishop snapped. "It borders on cruelty, if, when a criminal is put to death, the official who takes their very life does so while wearing a rubber skirt and high heels!
"It is scandalous when one is sent to the guillotine, for them to have their last moments on Eyrth be sullied by the sight of you, watching them die, as you stand there dressed like a who-"
The Bishop stopped abruptly and clapped a hand over his mouth.
Lord Terror stood up immediately, his expression inscrutable. As Fardon and Silver both watched, he clapped his rubber-gloved hands three times and a servant appeared at one of the doors, clutching a transparent blue pig.
The servant glanced questioningly at his ruler. Lord Terror pointed at the Bishop, who scowled furiously as the pig was brought to him. With an expression of poorly-suppressed rage, he dropped a gold coin into the plastic animal's back.
Fardon glanced at Terry with a look of confusion, and the Hunter seemed equally bewildered.
"I do not care what is said behind my back," Terry said, glancing back at them. "But to my face is another matter entirely. Such a direct insult to my authority cannot stand!
"Now, my predecessor strung up all who insulted him, or were even suspected of doing so... But I have found that fines are much more humane, much more proportionate. And also profitable. A small price to pay for calling your sovereign a whore, eh, Bishop?"
"Yes, my lord," the Bishop grated.
Terry beckoned the servant over, rummaged in his belt pack and dropped a coin into the slot himself.
"Even a whore must lead by example," he added, with the clink of a second gold piece.
"Now," the furre said, sitting back down, and setting aside his plate as the servant left, bearing away the pig-shaped swear jar. "Now... I believe we were discussing the fate of the miscreants who so rudely interrupted last night's banquet. As I have said, my natural inclination was to terminate them, but even 'Lord Terror' can be merciful."
"It is not necessary to slay them on my account," Fardon said. "After all, they did not succeed in their attempt. I do not wish this unfortunate incident to derail things where Atlantia is concerned," he said, glancing briefly at Lady Silver. "Violence begets more violence, after all."
"Well said," the snow leopard replied.
"It is my hope," Fardon continued, "That in the fullness of time, Atlantia may eventually cease their feud with dragonkind, and become known as a hub of technology. This century, and many of those before it, Atlantia has had an ill reputation among dragonkind. I do not think it is controversial to say that it has long been thought of as a place of terror, exporting hatred and fear of our kind. But this does not always need to be the case, and I would long to see it become instead known for exporting wonders.
"Lord Terror tells me that Atlantia has been reconsidering its policies in that regard," Fardon said, eyeing Lady Silver significantly. "If this is so, it will not be in any of our interests to disrupt that process. It should be encouraged, rather."
"And if that were to bear fruit," the snow leopard replied, "Would Taria be willing to trade with Atlantia, knowing what we have done in the past?"
"It would take time," Fardon admitted. "Many would find that a bitter pill to swallow, for dragons are long-lived and most know at least one person who has been taken from us by the past actions of Hunters. But we are practical creatures. If it will lead to a better tomorrow, most of us would be willing to set aside their grudges and let the past be the past. After all, most of the instigators are dust by now, and slaying others in a misguided attempt at vengeance solves nothing. As I said, violence begets violence, and nothing will change if we don't try."
Fiskul the Devourer lay next to one of the trucks from their convoy, playing a video game upon a hand-held device about the size of a cupboard door. The gas-plasma display showed a crude dragon sprite dropping bombs upon a row of blocky houses, and the irony that they were enacting a dragon rampage was not lost on Fiskul. Shortly afterwards, the battery warning appeared and they set the game aside.
"Fisk?" a voice called. The Devourer turned to see Fardon coming in to land, with a strange figure riding upon his back.
"Fardon!" Fiskul called eagerly. "Are things well?"
"They are," the brown dragon replied, setting down to land. "This is Lord Terror. He would much like to meet you."
"Greetings, your darkness," Terry called out, descending from Fardon's neck. "I cannot stay long, but I wished to make your acquaintance. Hmm, I should probably have asked what the best way to address you is."
"I'm easy," Fiskul said. "As long as you're not trying to cut my head off, burn me alive inside my own home or murder my friends, we're good."
"And as long as you're not here to devour my realm, just as I'm getting the hang of things, I see no reason to try," Terry smiled. "So, uh, not that I doubt Sir Fardon, but... Well..."
"You want a demonstration, right?" Fiskul looked amused. "Most people do, and I can't blame them."
So saying, the Devourer placed a wooden pallet against a wall of the parking lot, and opened their mouth to inhale. Terry winced at the sight, fronds of void that seemed to show stars inside it licked around their maw, and then shot forwards into a stream of flames gone horribly wrong. The pallet disintegrated along with surface layer of the wall.
"Oops," Fiskul said. "I'm out of practice."
Terry stared dumbly at the wall for a few moments, and then shook his head.
"To hear it is one thing," he said slowly. "But to see it... I hope I do not have to see this again. I see now why you kept hidden. And I fear what might have happened if the assassins had succeeded against Fardon..."
"I hear you are of dragonkind," Fiskul said in Dracolingua. "I do not ask for proof since he says that you are not yet ready to show your true form, but I would like to hear this from you. A fellow dragon is unlikely to wish harm on a visiting diplomat."
"It is true," Terry said, replying in the same tongue. "I hatched in Parovar, some 1100 years past. I fled when their empire fell, and have been wandering the world ever since. Sometimes as a dragon, sometimes as you see me now. I have decided to settle here, and try to make it a better place for all. An alliance with Lord Varl will greatly aid that project."
"And the shiny clothes?" Fiskul asked.
"Ah, yes," Terry grinned wickedly, and rubbed his gloved hands together. "That is one reason I have stayed as a furre for so long."
"So," Lord Terror said. "I hear you have resolved the problem of the Chosen One. I am indebted to you, Sir Fardon. I shall have to decide how best to reward you."
"Had it not been a fellow dragon, I might not have treated it with such urgency. But in that case, it is likely you could have solved the problem yourself."
"There were other options," Terry admitted. "As I'm sure you're aware. But you have saved me from having to use them, and greatly complicating my life thereby.
"Now, this Falnar... he is still in the cave?"
"For now," Fardon said. "The Order are looking at how to move him to a place more convenient for their needs, but... Well, their temple was not designed with dragons in mind. But we have put up notices declaring the cave off-limits in your name, and the Order have posted their own guards to deter Hunters or others seeking to fulfil the Earl's bounty. One of my staff has checked Falnar over. He is a little underfed, for obvious reasons, but does not seem to have any other maladies. Not bad-looking, either..."
"Has he been getting a balanced diet?" Terry asked. "Dragons are omnivorous. What has he been eating, if he has been stuck in that cave for centuries? Dragons who eat only meat can become confused and dangerous..."
"Fish, mostly." Fardon said. "There's an underground river where he was getting his water from, and a reasonable amount of fish as well. At night he has also been making discreet sorties, eating foliage and the occasional goat from the mountains. That's given him vegetables, red meat and kept his flight muscles in trim, though as mentioned, he is a little scrawny for a dragon of his size."
"If I am to have dragons within the capital, I will need infrastructure for them," Terry mused. "I will need to hire medics from dragon-friendly regions, and soon. If Falnar will come here, I will see to it that he is checked over by my personal physician."
"Having at least one resident dragon in the capital will be useful," Fardon said. "It may entice others to visit, at least."
"Indeed," Terry said. "But I don't want to seem too eager, or some will suspect that I am trying to draw them all out so they can be slain en masse. Or that even if my goals are noble, that Hunters may try to take advantage of it.
"But come," he added. "It will shortly be time to eat. We can continue this discussion on the morrow, after I have seen the Chosen One for myself."
* * *
This time, there was no assassination attempt, but Fardon and Terry were joined by the Bishop of St. Palver's cathedral, and Lady Silver of Atlantia. Fardon and the Hunter politely ignored each other, with the dragon making a show of devouring his meat as daintily as possible.
Terry had eschewed his robe and was back to wearing just a catsuit, with a utility belt around his waist like Fardon's neck-bag. The Bishop was struggling to conceal his disdain for his lord's sense of dress, and kept glancing at the stiletto-heeled boots that the furre wore.
"Your lordship," the snow leopard began, breaking the silence. "At the risk of discussing the dragon in the room..." Terry and Fardon both glanced at her, and she looked down at her plate. "Forgive me, the elephant in the room..." she amended. "I would like to make it clear that yesterday's... incident was in no way sanctioned by Atlantia," she said, glancing at the plastered patch of wall where the rocket had struck home. "I and my staff are here purely to discuss trade, and not to stoke old grudges. I am, however, curious as to what fate awaits those responsible."
"I have not decided," Terry admitted. "For defying my program of reform and reconciliation, for attempting the murder of a diplomat... For such treachery, a public execution would not be unexpected."
"Yes," the Bishop growled, putting down his wine-glass with a clatter. "And since I doubt our guests have seen how such things are done here, our illustrious Lord Terror presides over them. Wearing..."
"Wearing what I please to wear, as your sovereign lord," Terry replied silkily.
"But it is not appropriate to such a solemn occasion!" the Bishop protested angrily. "It is an affront to the moral code that the Church has strived for! Would you wear a clown suit whilst hanging a man?!"
"If such was their last request, absolutely," Terry responded.
"But is not done!" The Bishop snapped. "It borders on cruelty, if, when a criminal is put to death, the official who takes their very life does so while wearing a rubber skirt and high heels!
"It is scandalous when one is sent to the guillotine, for them to have their last moments on Eyrth be sullied by the sight of you, watching them die, as you stand there dressed like a who-"
The Bishop stopped abruptly and clapped a hand over his mouth.
Lord Terror stood up immediately, his expression inscrutable. As Fardon and Silver both watched, he clapped his rubber-gloved hands three times and a servant appeared at one of the doors, clutching a transparent blue pig.
The servant glanced questioningly at his ruler. Lord Terror pointed at the Bishop, who scowled furiously as the pig was brought to him. With an expression of poorly-suppressed rage, he dropped a gold coin into the plastic animal's back.
Fardon glanced at Terry with a look of confusion, and the Hunter seemed equally bewildered.
"I do not care what is said behind my back," Terry said, glancing back at them. "But to my face is another matter entirely. Such a direct insult to my authority cannot stand!
"Now, my predecessor strung up all who insulted him, or were even suspected of doing so... But I have found that fines are much more humane, much more proportionate. And also profitable. A small price to pay for calling your sovereign a whore, eh, Bishop?"
"Yes, my lord," the Bishop grated.
Terry beckoned the servant over, rummaged in his belt pack and dropped a coin into the slot himself.
"Even a whore must lead by example," he added, with the clink of a second gold piece.
"Now," the furre said, sitting back down, and setting aside his plate as the servant left, bearing away the pig-shaped swear jar. "Now... I believe we were discussing the fate of the miscreants who so rudely interrupted last night's banquet. As I have said, my natural inclination was to terminate them, but even 'Lord Terror' can be merciful."
"It is not necessary to slay them on my account," Fardon said. "After all, they did not succeed in their attempt. I do not wish this unfortunate incident to derail things where Atlantia is concerned," he said, glancing briefly at Lady Silver. "Violence begets more violence, after all."
"Well said," the snow leopard replied.
"It is my hope," Fardon continued, "That in the fullness of time, Atlantia may eventually cease their feud with dragonkind, and become known as a hub of technology. This century, and many of those before it, Atlantia has had an ill reputation among dragonkind. I do not think it is controversial to say that it has long been thought of as a place of terror, exporting hatred and fear of our kind. But this does not always need to be the case, and I would long to see it become instead known for exporting wonders.
"Lord Terror tells me that Atlantia has been reconsidering its policies in that regard," Fardon said, eyeing Lady Silver significantly. "If this is so, it will not be in any of our interests to disrupt that process. It should be encouraged, rather."
"And if that were to bear fruit," the snow leopard replied, "Would Taria be willing to trade with Atlantia, knowing what we have done in the past?"
"It would take time," Fardon admitted. "Many would find that a bitter pill to swallow, for dragons are long-lived and most know at least one person who has been taken from us by the past actions of Hunters. But we are practical creatures. If it will lead to a better tomorrow, most of us would be willing to set aside their grudges and let the past be the past. After all, most of the instigators are dust by now, and slaying others in a misguided attempt at vengeance solves nothing. As I said, violence begets violence, and nothing will change if we don't try."
* * *
Fiskul the Devourer lay next to one of the trucks from their convoy, playing a video game upon a hand-held device about the size of a cupboard door. The gas-plasma display showed a crude dragon sprite dropping bombs upon a row of blocky houses, and the irony that they were enacting a dragon rampage was not lost on Fiskul. Shortly afterwards, the battery warning appeared and they set the game aside.
"Fisk?" a voice called. The Devourer turned to see Fardon coming in to land, with a strange figure riding upon his back.
"Fardon!" Fiskul called eagerly. "Are things well?"
"They are," the brown dragon replied, setting down to land. "This is Lord Terror. He would much like to meet you."
"Greetings, your darkness," Terry called out, descending from Fardon's neck. "I cannot stay long, but I wished to make your acquaintance. Hmm, I should probably have asked what the best way to address you is."
"I'm easy," Fiskul said. "As long as you're not trying to cut my head off, burn me alive inside my own home or murder my friends, we're good."
"And as long as you're not here to devour my realm, just as I'm getting the hang of things, I see no reason to try," Terry smiled. "So, uh, not that I doubt Sir Fardon, but... Well..."
"You want a demonstration, right?" Fiskul looked amused. "Most people do, and I can't blame them."
So saying, the Devourer placed a wooden pallet against a wall of the parking lot, and opened their mouth to inhale. Terry winced at the sight, fronds of void that seemed to show stars inside it licked around their maw, and then shot forwards into a stream of flames gone horribly wrong. The pallet disintegrated along with surface layer of the wall.
"Oops," Fiskul said. "I'm out of practice."
Terry stared dumbly at the wall for a few moments, and then shook his head.
"To hear it is one thing," he said slowly. "But to see it... I hope I do not have to see this again. I see now why you kept hidden. And I fear what might have happened if the assassins had succeeded against Fardon..."
"I hear you are of dragonkind," Fiskul said in Dracolingua. "I do not ask for proof since he says that you are not yet ready to show your true form, but I would like to hear this from you. A fellow dragon is unlikely to wish harm on a visiting diplomat."
"It is true," Terry said, replying in the same tongue. "I hatched in Parovar, some 1100 years past. I fled when their empire fell, and have been wandering the world ever since. Sometimes as a dragon, sometimes as you see me now. I have decided to settle here, and try to make it a better place for all. An alliance with Lord Varl will greatly aid that project."
"And the shiny clothes?" Fiskul asked.
"Ah, yes," Terry grinned wickedly, and rubbed his gloved hands together. "That is one reason I have stayed as a furre for so long."
#78
DHS Comix / Re: MHV 1.27.26: 'When the Hig...
Last post by Tapewolf - January 28, 2026, 04:44:53 AMQuote from: Anders71 on January 27, 2026, 11:58:29 AMhim
Thanks. This exercise is clearly stretching Sven's patience.
#79
Jayhawk HQ / Re: [Pax Draconica Chapter 2]
Last post by ProfesseurRenard - January 27, 2026, 07:20:22 PM02-09 - Explanations
Now we've got Fardon's side of the story. Let's hope Mermul can give a good account of how his being over the murder scene was pure happenstance.
Now we've got Fardon's side of the story. Let's hope Mermul can give a good account of how his being over the murder scene was pure happenstance.
#80
DHS Comix / Re: MHV 1.27.26: 'When the Hig...
Last post by Anders71 - January 27, 2026, 11:58:29 AMQuote from: Tapewolf on January 27, 2026, 10:30:55 AMQuote from: Anders71 on January 27, 2026, 10:01:59 AMThat face though
That FAAACE
Whatever that was supposed to be, it's geoblocked here.
him