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Barasha, a Grazer, sat at her glass table, looking over at her guests. She adjusted her talking notes in her two hands, and shifted on her four hefty legs. She focused her thin eyes at the camera. "Today on the Chit Chat, I have two popular guests, born and raised right here on Twain. You know them from their social medias, please welcome, Clara and Jean Clemens!"

Barasha stood up, flourishing her hand at the two juvenile human females. The two girls stood and gave a slight bow.

"Thank you for having us Barasha." Clara said as she sat back down.

Barasha bowed her head in reply. "The pleasure is ours here at the studio. I'm going to cut to the cud, everyone wants to know. When are you two going to take mates? The line of Sam rests in your loins, and neither of your older siblings have mated yet. Do you two worry about this?"

Jean turned red and giggled.

Clara nodded and composed herself. "Well, we're both still young. We, well I am planning on doing secondary school still. Maybe after I finish schooling, get a career going, I might settle down."

Barasha looked over at the holocameras. "Interesting. Your primary focus isn't on building up families right away."

Clara shook her head. "No, Barasha. Humans, I guess can have a lot of children, but they haven't been anywhere near as prolific or birth oriented as Grazers tend to be for over a few hundred years."

Barasha pointed to a spot above her head. "These are populations of Clowder species. Here, the Grazers you can plainly see, ever trending upward. But here, humans, you can see a massive drop. Your species is still overcoming an interstellar civil war, your numbers are quite low. Don't you feel a duty to your species to reproduce?"

Jean took a breath and spoke up. "Our audience knows us from our socials, they know we love our family and help them in any occasion we can. We love the Clowder, and everyone here. Yes, humans have dwindled, but we are bouncing back. Duty however, it isn't just made manifest in how much we procreate, but what we do with the rest of our lives. Yes, I do hope to have kids one day. Hell, I would love bunches, but I don't just want to be known as a brood mare. I want to have a positive impact, help people, be something on my own before I have someone dependent on me."

Barasha moved her hand, adjusting the projected image. It was a recording of the two

Please bear with me. This is a long post because my search has already been long (and unfruitful)...

Please recommend me more music similar to pre-2013 Alkonost with female vocalist Alyona Pelevina. For example, one song (of many) that shows her vocal talents, in my opinion, is Alkonost - Thought-Trees.

Before recommending, please see the music I already own below.

I own the full Alkonost discography and I like every song they have ever released, including with Ksenia Pobuzhanskaya, who I also admire). I also have a lot of other folk (pagan, and similar) metal music including Adorned Brood, Arkona, Arven, Butterfly Temple, Cruachan, Dalriada, Einherjer, Fejd, Gwydion, Heidevolk, Kalevala, Lumsk, Manegarm, Metsatoll, Myrkgrav, Northland, Otyg, Pagan Reign, Skalmold, Skyforger, Svartsot, Trollfest and Waylander. I like most of those groups, but not all of those are female-fronted, and none include what I am asking about here in regard to Alyona Pelevina's operatic vocals.

I also already have the music of these excellent female-fronted bands:

• After Forever
• Amaranthe
• Amberian Dawn
• Arch Enemy
• Arkona
• Avatarium
• Baby Metal
• Battle Beast
• Beyond The Black
• Delain
• Diabulus In Musica
• Draconian
• Epica
• Evanescence
• Eyes set to kill
• Frozen Crown
• Girlschool
• Halestorm
• Imperial Age
• In This Moment
• Jinjer
• Kobra and the Lotus
• Lacuna Coil
• Leaves' Eyes
• Nemesea
• Nightwish
• Otep
• Powerwolf
• Risha
• Sirenia
• Stream of Passion
• The Agonist
• The Gathering
• Theatre of Tragedy
• Trees of Eternity
• Tristania
• Unleash the Archers
• Walls of jericho
• Within Temptation
• Xandria

In all of that music, I have not found much that is similar to pre-2013 Alkonost with Alyona Pelevina in my opinion, because of its more operatic style vocals. In my opinion, Alkonost did more to maximize the blending and inclusion of operatic style vocals with folk metal than any other band I know of has done.

I'm beginning to think I am searching for something that does not exist (except for the music Alkonost has already recorded with Alyona Pelevina).

I know we have some very talented female metal singers including (to name just a few) Floor Jansen, Tarja Turunen and Simone Simons. But even those who have classical training do not sing in the style of Alyona Pelevina along with a folk metal musical style similar to ГРАЙ (GRAI) or Alkonost.

Can anyone recommend anything new to me that fit

You can call me Father Grey, or Padre Grey. Awhile ago I began to share some of my stories from my years as an Exorcist. The clues of this case finally began to come together, painting a picture of the demonic activity at work around us. If you recognize me or my nickname I ask you to please keep it private. If you are new to this tale you can begin your journey here.

...

Exorcism is not a field solely rooted in the metaphysical or the supernatural. It is also intimately human. It is the crossroads between human lives and deep, ancient darkness which lurks in the oldest roots of creation. We stand in a perpetual fray between these two worlds, in places carved out by magnificent and heinous actions before history was ever written. Even the lasting knowledge and imprint of these events left on the human soul could not be expressed in its fullness, coming instead through epic tales written by ancient man at the edge of history. Tales of the diverse goodness of creation, the temptation for us to place ourselves in a fundamentally unattainable station, and great cosmic warfare which spanned the divisions and borders of reality. The inquiry into these first principles is, in the end, the study of only one thing: evil.

Evil does not sleep. It is always brooding, always lurking in the dark. It may lie undisturbed for ages, but it does not sleep. It waits, patiently and dutifully. Our duty, a charge we accept freely, is to take action when it finally strikes. There are rules governing its action, fundamental principles built into reality. Over time we come to know and understand them, at least on some level, but they still remain mysterious. We see through a glass, darkly.

One truth, perhaps the most persistent, is that evil cannot abide someone to peer into its depths and yet continue to live outside its grasp. Many people can be clutched tightly and pulled in, losing themselves to the abyss - fair game. Others, however, have to be led in. Such a person may be greatly impacted by evil, even move into a whirlpool of its influence after witnessing it, but so long as they live without being fully in its grasp they are a liability - one with more power than they realize.

When Ezra witnessed the murder of her parents at such a young age, a murder put into action by a man who was supposed to be a successor to the Apostles and committed by a man who was supposed to

"Ah, a new resident has arrived! Welcome, welcome. You... no... I did not misspeak, you are a new Resident, not a traveler. No travelers ever come to Melantholep, only new residents. The big question being who are you going to make friends with, and who is going to have to stab you in the throat. I went with the Consortium of Very Important People (tm), and quickly rose through the ranks. You know that I myself am a rather important king in these parts. What? No. Don't listen to Baurl, he died three years ago and has been an absolute liar ever since... what do you mean who is Baurl?" - The Dane, Gregos, of The Fortress that is Definitely not a City

DISCOVERY

Having freshly arrived in Melantholep, your best bet is to quickly get off this wretched layer as fast as your feet can carry you. There will be no other warning, no other attempt at warning you about what lies here.

When first landing on the layer you'll be greeted with a blue sun shining endlessly in the sky casting its lovely light on the sparkling heights of the Golden Spire, to the shimmering waters of the Sea of Blood. Melantholep is a place where one would almost be comfortable to stay a while. Taking the blue sun aside, you would not be too far off to think that you were actually just on the Material plane in a temperate albeit a little sparsely populated with the local flora being just too few to make it seem appropriate. In fact, if it weren't for the fact that there are screaming hordes in the distance, the place you've landed seems pretty nice.

After the dangers of Pandemonium, and seeing the horrors of Vallashan, this stop is somewhere to relax and take a saunter around.

While travelling from The Fortress that is Definitely Not a City to The City that is Definitely Not a Fortress, you can take in the beauty of the Golden Spire. Being the highest point in the layer, the Spire is the home of the scuttling Chole Dragons, if you squint your eyes really hard you can almost make out their writhing bodies in the numerous caves. As you continue your journey you'll pass the Epic Battle, if you wish, take up a sword and slaughter your enemies and bathe in their blood for the all father. No one will force your hand, except for Hilda who if she says to kill Hilthar the gibbering although gentle idiot he is, swing that sword and take off his head, it's the only logical thing to do.

Now that you're thinking of it, that sun is getting little too bright, maybe there's some merit in taking a re

Nite

Church of Cairro

24 Years After YFC

The congregation had done their best to continue the celebration of Teryn and Kriggary’s wedding.

Though the conversation had turned far from the wedding of the happy couple.

Sellenia searched through the group of people for Soardoria, and as she searched, she quickly gave in to her panic.

“Soardoira, where are you?” Sellenia called out in her mind.

Soardoria answered her almost immediately, “Out back. With my mom.”

Sellenia slipped out as best she could and found a distraught Queen Shaldoria with her daughter.

“Mom, please,” Soardoria protested.

“Originally this wasn’t up for debate! All I wanted was for you to come back, take a mate to lay a few heirs and then I had little issue with you living with Sellenia,” Queen Shaldoria turned to Sellenia as she approached, “That was before that Ethereal Niteling showed up.”

“Does that really still count as a Niteling?” Sellenia asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I do not know what that was!” Queen Shaldoria shouted, clearly shaken, her eyes still wide with shock and fear.

Sellenia was unsure what to say, as she had never seen such a thing herself. Nor had she ever seen Queen Shaldoria as frightened as she was now.

Soardoria turned to Sellenia, “Mom’s… scared.”

“Soardoria!” Queen Shaldoria snapped, “How dare you!”

“Are you not?!” Soardoria shouted, “I’m scared!” she

DURING THE NIGHT of March 13-14, the Nautilus resumed its southward heading. Once it was abreast of Cape Horn, I thought it would strike west of the cape, make for Pacific seas, and complete its tour of the world. It did nothing of the sort and kept moving toward the southernmost regions. So where was it bound? The pole? That was insanity. I was beginning to think that the captain’s recklessness more than justified Ned Land’s worst fears.

For a good while the Canadian had said nothing more to me about his escape plans. He had become less sociable, almost sullen. I could see how heavily this protracted imprisonment was weighing on him. I could feel the anger building in him. Whenever he encountered the captain, his eyes would flicker with dark fire, and I was in constant dread that his natural vehemence would cause him to do something rash.

That day, March 14, he and Conseil managed to find me in my stateroom. I asked them the purpose of their visit.

“To put a simple question to you, sir,” the Canadian answered me.

“Go on, Ned.”

“How many men do you think are on board the Nautilus?”

“I’m unable to say, my friend.”

“It seems to me,” Ned Land went on, “that it wouldn’t take much of a crew to run a ship like this one.”

“Correct,” I replied. “Under existing conditions some ten men at the most should be enough to operate it.”

“All right,” the Canadian said, “then why should there be any more than that?”

“Why?” I answered.

I stared at Ned Land, whose motives were easy to guess.

“Because,” I said, “if I can trust my hunches, if I truly understand the captain’s way of life, his Nautilus isn’t simply a ship. It’s meant to be a refuge for people like its commander, people who have severed all ties with the shore.”

“Perhaps,” Conseil said, “but in a nutshell, the Nautilus can hold only a certain number of men, so couldn’t master estimate their maximum?”

“How, Conseil?”

“By calculating it. Master is familiar with the ship’s capacity, hence the amount of air it contains; on the other hand, master knows how much air each man consumes in the act of breathing, and he can compare this data with the fact that the Nautilus must rise to the surface every twenty-four hours . . .”

Conseil didn’t finish his sentence, but I could easily see what he was driving at.

“I follow you,” I said. “But while they’re simple to do, such calculations can give only a very uncertain figure.”

“No problem,” the Canadian went on insistently.

“Then here’s how to calculate it,” I r

Lure Mimicry- predator mimics vital resources

“Accipitridae pueri might easily be glorified. Curled up to look small and frail, its wings resemble expensive clothing (often adorned with jewellery from prior victims) and its cries sound like whimpers of fear. Human predators sensing easy prey quickly find the tables turned- although any idea of ‘justice’ fades on seeing the fate of those good Samaritans unlucky enough to hear its cries.”

Sexual Signal Mimicry- predator mimics mating behaviour.

“Despite many poetic descriptions of succubi and sirens, the real Tarsiidae venus in no way resembles a beautiful woman. Seen clearly, its odd proportion, distorted features, fleshy “clothing” and near-random speech make it visibly inhuman. But, of course, that’s not where it hunts. In a nightclub, under strobe lights and pounding music, to an observer 5 shots in? It passes well enough to feed.”

Mimesis- predator mimics a harmless or easily overlooked part of the environment

“Panthera stragulum’s extreme flexibility and shiny black skin provide a very different kind of camouflage from the forests and savannahs of its brethren. Mimicking a pile of garbage, it is sedate and patient, waiting for the perfect time to strike. Luckily for it, those same parts of the city where trash may be ignored for weeks are often the same parts where people ignore screaming.”

Mutualistic mimicry- predator mimics a symbiotic or helpful species.

“As well as the standard worker, soldier and queen, Bathyergidae proditor has a unique ‘lure’ role. Their catlike mewing will rarely get more than a smile from adults. But a child might run off to pet the kitty. While usually a guardian will intervene, not all are fast or attentive enough. And even a single toddler has enough meat to feed the hive for months.”

Brood Parasitism- predator’s offspring mimic host offspring

“A terrifying exemplar of evolution’s ingenuity, Platycryptus miraculum’s glowing body echoes stories of angels. It moves through certain areas, inclining it to hosts likely to consider a mysterious pregnancy a miracle, to oppose abortion and mistrust doctors, and to want a home birth. As well as safety, this means the family will likely crowd around the mother during ‘birth’- providing the swarm an easy meal when the eggs finally hatch.”

Prey Mimicry- predator mimics a member of the prey species

“Like T. venus, Inachus tibicines doesn’t significantly resemble a 10 year old in a rain

Part II here for you all.

Sorry about the split, Reddit just being difficult I’m afraid.

I hope you enjoy this much shorter second part.

“DAD!!DADADADADADAD!!!”

David’s eye flew open with a pained grunt as J’aal landed on him with what felt like the force of a tank, stocking in one hand and the other tugging on the fur of Kato’s shoulder.

“Hnnnggghhh! M-moooorrrrrnng” David yawned, blinking blearily at the clock beside the bed, the numbers showing it was already six in the morning. Glancing over J’aal’s shoulder he saw the girls padding in, whispering between each other and no less eager to show off their “loot”, though trying to appear somewhat aloof, owing to being at that delightful age of being “too cool” to be overly excited about “such childish stuff”.

Lifting himself up on his hands, David scooted back so his back was pressed against the headboard of the hotel bed, his stripped pyjamas making him look like a messy-haired rendition of the 1950s stereotype.

Patting the blankets, he was delighted to see his daughters follow their brother’s example and scramble up onto the bed.

Kato, by now fully awake, reached down her side of the bed as Sarah and Thorn (both carrying their own stockings) came in as well, climbing onto the bed too, Sarah tucking herself beside Kato and Thorn squeezing David into the middle of the bed as she perched precariously on the edge, a situation soon rectified by David sitting himself on Kato’s right leg and Thorn’s left, allowing everyone to fit, albeit a little tightly, even on the Shil sized bed.

Once everyone was settled and more or less comfortable, David gestured at J’aal, “Alright, everyone takes one thing out of their stocking at time alright? Everyone gets a turn. J’aal, why don’t you go first as you arrived first?”

With a squeak of delight, the lilac skinned boy dug a hand into his stocking to pull out a large chocolate Santa, another family tradition passed on by David’s parents.

One by one everyone took their items out of their stockings, the unpacking going by surprisingly quickly. Kato and Thorn seemed utterly delighted by the tradition, constantly trying to peer into or feel up their stockings as they waited for their turns. Each stocking did contain some traditional items, the big four being chocolate Santa’s, a packet of chocolate coins (modelled on the pre-integration New Zealand currency), a Terry’s chocolate orange and a set of funny socks. David noticed Kato’s ea

First|Last|Next

[Hello again, I'm happy to bring you another installment in When Deathworlders Chat. If you would like to support me you can do so on Patreon and Subscribestar. For more reading, you can check out my previous short story. If you'd like to be notified when I post please follow this link to subscribe.

As always, your comments and feedback are greatly appreciated, and I hope to hear from you soon. And if you'd like to join our discussion, you can hop onto our Discord.]

Serra followed a step behind Lisril, her stomach churning. It had been a long time since she’d had the dubious pleasure of seeing Iiandere. Not since she’d resigned her post in the military so, she had insisted to herself, she could study with the surgeons.

They hadn’t started on excellent terms and had parted on terrible ones. The fact was, Iiandere hated her, and the sentiment was neither entirely one-sided nor entirely unfounded.

But, as an inquisitor, the woman was beyond reproach, and Serra was only a witness, not even really married to Alex. So Iiandere’s fidelity wasn’t at issue.

Serra sighed.

“Stop your whining,” Lisril said, “you’ve already got Alex twisting himself up in knots.”

“Sorry,” she said, “Captain.”

“I’m not your Captain anymore,” Lisril said, “but since you’re feeling contrite, I expect the next time you see him, you’ll wear a smile, tell him all is well, and mean it.”

“Of course.” Wasn’t that always the way of it? Lisril, the Captain, the very image of chivalry, womanly, nearly to a fault, and she and Iiandere, her lieutenants, nipping at her heels. Competing for her attention.

“Good,” Lisril said, “he’s not like other men. Reticent to display his own pain and sorrow but quite sensitive to ours. You must be especially attentive and doubly careful in your stoicism.”

Serra bowed her head. “Yes,” she said, “I’ll do so.”

Lisril stopped in front of the inquisitor’s office and tu

Hi! hope you're doing great and safe. WARNING HERE! I had to split this post in two because of characters limit, I honestly couldn't find a way to put this in less words. I'll post both parts today, because otherwise, you won't get to understand the point.

-------------------------------------------

The theory that I'd like to present here, comes from a simple premise, Ned's dream about the tower of joy is not an exact account of the events, but neither is it a fever dream like Jaime's, because unlike that dream, Ned's, it’s an "old dream". In other words, it’s not the first time that he has dreamed it, therefore, it’s not a fantasy induced by the milk of the poppy or by the recent trauma he experienced. However, we should interpret and "translate" the dream to understand what it is really about, because it is MUCH more than what it seems.

Before we begin, there are a couple of things to keep in mind.

At first sight, there are some huge red flags, which make one suspect about the accuracy of the dream. For example, Dustin arrives at the tower on a stallion, which is clearly not the right horse to ride in the mountains I’ll talk about more red flags while we analyze the dream.

The next thing to keep in mind are our first victims words "We Remember", all the information we need to understand the dream, is in AGoT, in the chapters of Ned, Cat, Bran and the prologue.

So, let's start with the dream:

>“He dreamt an old dream, of three knights in white cloaks, and a tower long fallen**,** and Lyanna in her bed of blood.”

This is an old dream that he dreamt before, as I already mentioned, but what is interesting here in this paragraph, is how the scenario is presented, because, as I will try to prove, the dream it’s actually about three episodes, or rather, three different stories: the 3 knights, the tower, Lyanna's death, and those three episodes, join in this dream that is not only about Lyanna, but the Starks.

Let's continue with the dream:

>In the dream his friends rode with him, as they had in life. Proud Martyn Cassel, Jory’s father; faithful Theo Wull; Ethan Glover, who had been Brandon’s squire; Ser Mark Ryswell, soft of speech and gentle of heart; the crannogman, Howland Reed; Lord Dustin on his great red stallion. Ned had known their faces as well as he knew his own once, but the years leech at a man’s memories, even those he has vowed never to forget. In the dream they were only shadows, g

The School was on fire, it was not my fault.

Well it wasn't MY fault, but it was my human roommate's experiment to harness void fire as a way to fuel starships fault, he made what can be described as "An engine that gorges on the energy of life to propel shit forward at half the fuel consumption rate, and no waste to boot".

His name is Yun, and this human will be the focus of this story. Yun is a human, and even by his race's standards he was, weird. He wasn't a bad guy though, those who were close to him know he just likes to mess with things, as all humans do.

Anyway it took about 5 months for me and him to find a school we could attend, and this school sadly housed and taught to the Arakdei, a race of what humans called "Arachne" which were described as human women with spider lower halves. Well the Arakdei were not a warmongering species, in fact they were just super prideful, their silk is worth 3 times it's weight in the galactic equivalent to Gold. Arakdei silk was used to adorn the most elite of galactic society. It was a miracle material that fashion designers all over the galaxy would murder and assassinate each other just to work with such material.

Yun and I lived in a huge room that was made for Arakdei students, and Yun immediately climbed up the ladder of the Bunkbed and proclaimed "I claim top bunk in the name of me" as he began to unpack, I took the bottom bunk as Yun jumped down, rolled and went out the door shouting "I wanna see the Arakdei!!" to which my horrors would fill my mind as I followed him, I knew he would get into trouble, but on the first day, PLEASE NO FIRE.

Yun was walking without a care towards the "Fashion Class" facilities and I was cowering behind as I moved between cover to cover, after all I was a prey species. Yun looked through window and saw Arakdei spinning silk into capes, handkerchiefs, even simple shirts. Yun had that look in his eyes, I knew that before he tried his hand at engineering he tried making prosthetics, and before that he tried making guns, and before that he tried making MRE's, all of which failed, but he had that look in his eyes that would always follow with him showing complete interest in, fashion.

Yun spent nearly 2 days studying Arakdei fashion, and then he studied my species fashion, and then his own race, and then the Velenites, and then the Kriegan, and his eyes were lit up the entire time. He then ordered a human sewing machine and long rolls of cloth.

Yun used the storage room in

G'day everybody!

Like many of you, I thoroughly enjoyed Farfener's story about everybody's favourite basitin lovebirds, Sieg and Marien. This story here is an idea I had floating around for a while, but it was reading Sieg and Marien that gave me the motivation I needed to actually write it, so I of course must thank Farfener for that!

So, this is the first part of a story set approximately 17 years prior to the events of the comic, and will tell the tale of how Jade Adelaide became the basitin king. Expect action, intrigue, romance, and rebellion! The first three chapters are ready to go, and will be posted shortly after this part (after editing and formatting are complete). I am anticipating 20+ chapters, possibly more.

I must thank Farfener again for allowing me use of one of his characters for a small cameo.

Thanks also goes to Dogfoxxo, aka. "Spear", for his editing prowess.

Enjoy!

===

Mud.

It is told, by those who have experienced the unpleasantries of war, that there are three types of soldier, and in each you will find a different answer as to its most damnable aspect. For Basitins whose first battle is upon them, those with peaked ears and bristling fur, they are so often inclined to walk away with the sheer terror of the experience weighed so heavily in their mind. Fear of their own mortality so readily laid bare as their comrades and enemies fall. Fear, it seems, is perhaps the most primal of instincts.

Then come those who have seen battles that one may count on a single hand, though no more. By now, those that have survived have steeled their hearts, and found that bravery comes quickly when there is little else that a soldier may rely upon. With fear conquered, that which comes next is disgust. Not at the sights or sounds, though those surely bear mention in the tales that the old veterans tell. No, not the sights of the maimed and slain, nor their screams, but merely the smell. The smell of charred flesh, or burnt fur, of the putrid rot that sets in mere hours after the conclusion of hostilities. It hovers over the scene, they say, never leaving until the last corpse is buried or burned. Those who survive are known to spend hour after hour bathing, scrubbing their fur until they bleed in a vain attempt to rid themselves of the stench of death. Even then, the memory remains.

That is, until such a memory is pushed to the farthest reaches of the mind. This is where the veterans of dozens of battles find themselves. For them, ther

I don't want to step on anybody's toes here, but the amount of non-dad jokes here in this subreddit really annoys me. First of all, dad jokes CAN be NSFW, it clearly says so in the sub rules. Secondly, it doesn't automatically make it a dad joke if it's from a conversation between you and your child. Most importantly, the jokes that your CHILDREN tell YOU are not dad jokes. The point of a dad joke is that it's so cheesy only a dad who's trying to be funny would make such a joke. That's it. They are stupid plays on words, lame puns and so on. There has to be a clever pun or wordplay for it to be considered a dad joke.

Again, to all the fellow dads, I apologise if I'm sounding too harsh. But I just needed to get it off my chest.

Audio Verson

GMBinder Version

"A light too bright for us to comprehend, a power that seems never to end, and grace and kindness no one can deserve; the Platinum Dragon still calls me a friend. I had never felt so safe and afraid than when he first spoke to me." - Galadinab Ancient Gold Dragon

Introduction

Having studied all of the metallic dragons, it was only a matter of time before I started looking into Bahamut. While I researched Tiamat for necessity, Bahamut's story was a pleasure. I spent the better part of a year not only speaking to the kind-hearted dragons around him but even taking an audience with him during this time. So many misconceptions of dragons exist, and Bahamut is no stranger to these. While I can only do my part to speak the truth, it was a blessing to have such a safe assignment.

Origins

Bahamut is thought to have been the father of all metallic dragons as he is the only platinum dragon. The truth is that Bahamut is the last of the now-extinct line of metallic Platinum Dragons. Two other lineages of metallic dragons also died away with time while the modern 5 remain.

His ascension was primarily due to him playing such a pivotal role in both culture and leadership of early metallic dragons, as their society wasn't always so benevolent. Banding together with other dragons of his kind to stop the schemes of Tiamat is what caused his ascension and continues to be one of his primary goals.

Physiology

Identifying Bahamut

Bahamut is easily recognized by his reflective metallic scales and the conical horns directly behind his head in his dragon form. Despite him being the only remaining dragon of his kind, he was a unique dragon among his kin as well. Bahamut has a catlike body structure like all dragons, but unlike more modern dragons, his front legs are noticeably longer than his hind legs. His head is conical and sports many large and sharp teeth, being descendant from reptilian carnivores. Notably, his tail is longer than most dragons in proportion, and the last 10% splits into 2 independently prehensile ends.

He often takes the shape of an elderly human dressed in a platinum robe accompanied by 7 yellow canaries, his 7 most trusted and cherished dragon friends. All seven of

The nurse asked the rabbit, “what is your blood type?”

“I am probably a type O” said the rabbit.

The doctor says it terminal.

Alot of great jokes get posted here! However just because you have a joke, doesn't mean it's a dad joke.

THIS IS NOT ABOUT NSFW, THIS IS ABOUT LONG JOKES, BLONDE JOKES, SEXUAL JOKES, KNOCK KNOCK JOKES, POLITICAL JOKES, ETC BEING POSTED IN A DAD JOKE SUB

Try telling these sexual jokes that get posted here, to your kid and see how your spouse likes it.. if that goes well, Try telling one of your friends kid about your sex life being like Coca cola, first it was normal, than light and now zero , and see if the parents are OK with you telling their kid the "dad joke"

I'm not even referencing the NSFW, I'm saying Dad jokes are corny, and sometimes painful, not sexual

So check out r/jokes for all types of jokes

r/unclejokes for dirty jokes

r/3amjokes for real weird and alot of OC

r/cleandadjokes If your really sick of seeing not dad jokes in r/dadjokes

Punchline !

Edit: this is not a post about NSFW , This is about jokes, knock knock jokes, blonde jokes, political jokes etc being posted in a dad joke sub

Edit 2: don't touch the thermostat

Do your worst!

How the hell am I suppose to know when it’s raining in Sweden?

Mathematical puns makes me number

We told her she can lean on us for support. Although, we are going to have to change her driver's license, her height is going down by a foot. I don't want to go too far out on a limb here but it better not be a hack job.

Ants don’t even have the concept fathers, let alone a good dad joke. Keep r/ants out of my r/dadjokes.

But no, seriously. I understand rule 7 is great to have intelligent discussion, but sometimes it feels like 1 in 10 posts here is someone getting upset about the jokes on this sub. Let the mods deal with it, they regulate the sub.

They were cooked in Greece.

He lost May

Two muffins are in an oven, one muffin looks at the other and says "is it just me, or is it hot in here?"

Then the other muffin says "AHH, TALKING MUFFIN!!!"

Don't you know a good pun is its own reword?

For context I'm a Refuse Driver (Garbage man) & today I was on food waste. After I'd tipped I was checking the wagon for any defects when I spotted a lone pea balanced on the lifts.

I said "hey look, an escaPEA"

No one near me but it didn't half make me laugh for a good hour or so!

Edit: I can't believe how much this has blown up. Thank you everyone I've had a blast reading through the replies 😂

I'm surprised it hasn't decade.

Now that I listen to albums, I hardly ever leave the house.