#UMBERLEE WHEN I CATCH YOU—

[pursuitseternal]

🌊 “𝓡𝓮𝓼𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽, 𝓑𝓮𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓭:” 🌊

Gale (Act 3) x f!Reader | E | 2 K

Summary: The Wavemother’s Robe carries a magic to its creation, one that Gale is most eager to unlock with his beloved, beautiful and resplendent by the sea

CW: Magic smut, beach sex, praise kink, post act 3 romance, outdoor sex, semi-public sex, magic in the “bedroom,” creampie, vaginal sex

Ao3 Link | Baldur’s Gate Masterlist

🎨 by @2leavespothos on BlueSky

“Night is a magical time to swim, my love. Starlit and romantic, and yet the dangers of not being able to see the tides are nothing to shake a stick at,” Gale gives you that smug smirk, even as he pulls you headlong down the docks. Stars glitter, your heartbeat racing at their brightness, the memories of your time spent in the Outer Plane still fresh in your mind from the other night.

But tonight is for mortal pleasures. Very wet ones, you laugh. Over your arm, the Wavemother’s Robe hangs, its barely-there weight only tangible as the scales of the armor seem to hum as you approach the sea.

The winds have been calm, and the sea is quieter than it was earlier today when you had paid your final visit to the Wavemother’s House.

When you got armor, the special prize for aiding those Servants… now it shimmers and seems to glow the closer you get to the secluded beach beside the seaside temple to Umberlee. “Hells, my Wizard. Can’t you just… Misty Step us where you plan to take me?” you huff, his hand pulling you closer to the soft rushing of waves on the shore.

“Now, such a hurried approach leaves much to be desired, my love. It is the ripe anticipation that will yield such delicious fruits…”

“Yeah, yeah,” you tease, reaching to flick your finger into his upper arm even as you giggle. “I love walking with you too, my love,” your voice murmurs, the sudden shift from teasing to sultry makes Gale miss a step down the way to the beach, his precious hands catching him on the rail just in time.

You call his name, your arms reaching to grab his middle, a tangle of limbs precariously close to tumbling down the stairs. But all it does is end with you in his arms, looking up into warm brown eyes and that scruffed, gorgeous face, all of it framed by the stars. “Gale—” you half-giggle, half-purr as he cups your cheek in the cradle of his palm.

“No more distractions, my love. No more detours. Or else we may miss the window to try out this new Robe for ourselves, hmm?”

Mmmm, you love it when he does this. When the academic tone turns to a low rumble, when the pedantic tone drops to a purr.

“The tides are just right, and there isn’t a fisherman in sight, which makes for perfect conditions for testing out this robe’s abilities, just the two of us…” his voice takes that sweet warm rumble as he continues, “and away from the prying eyes and listening ears of camp.”

His warm hand stays braced at your lower back, sliding down to palm your ass as he leads you to the sheltered beach. He murmurs your name, “Gods, I’ve been thinking about seeing you in this armor all day.” His thick lips twist in that smug smirk as he bites his lip. Looking like he stares at the most beautiful, most desirable sight in all Torril. That’s how he gazes at you now. And everyday. His goddess long forgotten. Now there is only you reflected back in the wet shine of his rich dark eyes.

It steals your breath, and he knows better than to wait on a reply when you’re this swept off your feet.

You manage a strangled, breathy laugh as your feet sink into the recently warm sand, and you pull your shoes off. Sand tickles your toes as each step draws you to the water’s edge. Gale stops in his tracks near a cluster of boulders, setting down the armor. “And now to disrobe before we try this Robe,” he chuckles, starlight catching in his eyes. His magic hands are quick, pulling off his own clothing first to bare that sculpted, tanned chest. Before you even have time to register it, he’s completely naked in the moonlight.

And already hard.

“Hells,” you breathe, watching his hand reach to start lazily stroking himself, your dress already half bunched at your middle as you pause.

“Go on then, don’t stand on ceremony for me,” he croons, chuckling and stroking.

You don’t need anymore encouragement, tugging the fabric off over your head and step out of your panties. Setting it all on that boulder, you take the Robe, its fabric seems to glow not with the starlight, but with the sparkling glitters that come from the waves that lap around your bare ankles.

Gale’s smug smile only deepens, those lines at his eyes and in his forehead creasing distinctly as he draws close to take the armor and open it for you, bunching it at its collar to slide it down your smooth body.

The fabric tingles, rippling on your skin, wriggling with magic as if… it was alive. Its blue scales shimmer, resplendent, you had called them, even as Gale had assured you, your beauty outstripped such a physical object. Even one that is this magical.

His warm body pulls up behind you, cockhead prodding at your ass every now and then as he slinks the armor… if you could call it that… over your head.

“You know, I was reading about this fine Robe today, curiosity piqued when I saw it. I wanted to know its magic and not just how it hypnotizes me with that deep cut of the collar, that high swoop at the tops of your supple thighs…”

You don’t need to turn to know a half-lidded gaze that bores down at you, the rolling depths of his tone enough to make you shiver. His hand slides the fabric down, smoothing the small scalloped plated fabric over your back. Skilled hands linger over your ass, the tips of his fingers sliding to the aforementioned thigh slits as they brush your skin there.

Warm lips caress the soft spans beneath your ear, and then he whispers. “You know how this Robe was made? These are no ordinary links of silver chain, my love. These are the scales of the Wavemother’s most beloved fish. Its death a great tragedy, this Robe birthed from its memory, a relic of the creature’s power and beautiful magic.”

His grip tightens suddenly on your hips, pulling your ass flush to him. You gasp, not wholly recalling his tale as you feel the press of his cock grinding on your ass.

“A creature of unparalleled beauty, the jewel of the sea…” his voice rumbles in your ear, his beard scratching and tickling the sensitive flesh of your neck. “A rare thing of beauty. Like you, my love,” his lips brush your neck, and a wanton moan slips from your mouth.

“Gale,” you breathe, eyes sliding shut to focus on the sensation of his mouth on your skin.

Waves lap higher at your ankles, your feet sinking deliciously slowly into the sand. Your head gets light with his brushing kisses and murmuring voice.

“There is yet a more wonderful secret about this Robe, however,” he’s crooning right against the whorls of your ear, sending shivers like rivulets of ice cold rain down your spine. And you just hum in response. “The moment… this garment… touches the water…”

His words are slow. Measured. And you can tell he’s waiting for something. A magical moment, perfectly timed and concocted for your pleasure.

His style of seduction, you’re coming to know about him.

A single wave kisses the fabric, making it stick to your flesh… a second skin that ripples up your every nerve with a burst of magic so pleasurable, a whimper slides off your tongue. “Hells, what was that?” you sigh, shuddering to feel Gale’s warm body pressing up behind you hard. Insistent. His hand pushing away the back panel of the Robe to bare your skin, the velvet skin of his cock slots perfectly into the groove of your ass.

The water-magic caresses your whole body now. It moves like ripples on the surface, emanating from the points where the scales touch the sea.

“Close your eyes,” comes that rough-whispered command in your ear. It always makes you shiver. Always makes you moan for him. Your body obeys him in a flash, hands pressed to the boulder beside you to brace on something, anything, as he ruts against you in earnest now. “Can you feel it? The magic of the Robe, the way the sea’s power trickles in your nerves now?”

Even with his voice strained, his hips thrusting against your ass, leave it to your beloved Wizard to teach you the magic of this gown. You huff half a laugh that dissolves into another whimper as he pushes your chest to the slippery rock and pries your legs apart.

“Focus on the magic, the way these scales shimmer against your skin, and I’ll,” he chuckles as he presses the blunted head of his cock to your own soaked folds, “focus on making you feel a different sensation, wave after wave of pleasure to drown you in.”

Gale pushes inside you, and just as his cockhead bottoms out inside your cunt, a wave sweeps up to your knees.

Filled to bursting from within, magic tingling over your from without, you constantly clench around him. Cool waters lick higher up to your knees, but the spray of the gentle sea tonight already has the Robe damp over your whole body. Heat coils in your belly, the fabric alive on your skin. A maelstrom of sensations caress you, flowing down your spine, stoppered by the heat of your coupling. But its nothing compared right now to the feeling of him fucking inside you.

Those crashing waves of pressure, that rising tide of bliss he’s conjuring in your belly drowns you entirely. Every thrust drags him over your nerves, a sweet heat to contrast the cool kiss of sea spray.

You voice pants and whines with each thrust. His own groan matches yours as he slides a hand up your thigh. You know he feels it too, the Wavemother’s magic, as his hand slides under the sopping scales to find your clit with expert precision.

“You, my love, my beloved,” he chuffs in your ear, rich praises penetrating deep into your soul, “are resplendent. Ravishing…”

His voice is thick in his throat, husky as it breaks in time with every slap of his hips against your ass.

“…prepossessing…”

You feel your walls flutter as he pushes against you harder, the Robe now soaked and quivering with its own magical life over your whole body, save where Gale pounds into you. Erratic and hard, he chases his release as you can feel your own orgasm gathering, a tempest in your belly and cunt.

He groans in your ear, tongue pilfering the depths of his vocabulary to praise you. The bigger the words, the tighter his balls were, readying to spill into you…

“Gale… I…” you heave, rocking back against his thrusts to take them deep into you, the waves of your pleasure, the waves of the sea, both swell as one crest of salt water lifts to crash on the rock, spraying you in water.

The Robe undulates, its magic bathing your body as every scale comes to life, the tremors of pleasure racing through you. You scream for him, your peak sweeping you away, arousal gushing down your damp legs, walls clenching to match his sloppy, wet-slapping thrusts.

Your name on his lips, and you can feel the burst of heat, cum coating your insides, as he spurts with long, relieved groans. Yet another wet thing to run between your legs, but this, this was your favorite.

Mouth hanging slack, you hear your wanton cries bouncing strangely off the water. “Gale… hells how did you… know this Robe would feel so…”

Out of breath, drowned in pleasure, he huffs a laugh. “If you say magical, I will call you… pulchritudinous which we have discussed as too gregarious a word for your beauty for when I’m balls deep inside you. Just to freshen your memory.” His teases tickle the back of your neck, his hips punctuating the final observation with a hard, deep thrust inside your clenched, overstimulated walls.

Pouting, you turn your head slightly with puckered lips he wastes no time in tasting on his skilled tongue. “So, you like the fruits of my research, do you, my love?”

His hand sweeps up to caress your neck, warm fingers dancing over your sweat-damp, sea-sprayed skin. And you sigh, managing a nod, still savoring the little after-waves of bliss, the Wavemother’s blessing stealing your air with its resplendency indeed.

For @redisbetterr 🌹

[honourablejester]

D&D Deity Spotlight: Deep Sashelas

Deep Sashelas, sometimes known just as Sashelas, is the elven deity of the sea, seafaring, and knowledge. Sashelas is called the Knowledgeable One. His awareness of all lore, not only that about the sea, is seemingly limitless. He is especially beloved by sea elves, dolphins, and elf sages.

Most of Sashelas's most devoted followers are sea elves, as are his priests. Many seafarers toss offerings of gold and jewels overboard, beseeching Sashelas to calm storms or provide favorable winds, and he is inclined to aid them even if they aren't fully dedicated to his worship. His sea elf priests often lurk in the water beneath ships when these offerings are made. They catch the treasures as they sink and use them to decorate Sashelas's underwater shrines, to purchase items from coastal merchants that can't be manufactured underwater, and to bribe dragon turtles into their service. Ceremonies honoring Sashelas are held underwater at times of uncommonly high tides or during electrical storms, when flashes of lightning above the waves provide illumination to the calmer realm below the surface.

Sea of Knowledge: Over time, much of the world sinks to the depths of the oceans and is thought to be lost forever, but it isn't lost to everyone. Sashelas gleans much about the world above the waves from that which sinks beneath them: every shipwreck, every offering, and the wealth and knowledge of every seaside city swallowed by a giant wave are added to Sashelas's ever-expanding library of lore. Knowledge that has disappeared from the surface world might still be known to the priests of Sashelas, gained through communion with their god. Messengers who never reached their destination, ships filled with scrolls from an ancient library, scholars whose works were lost at sea-all of these add to Sashelas's storehouse.

Away from the open sea, many lagoons, reefs, and grottoes have shrines devoted to Sashelas. Many come in reverence to bathe in the waters in the hope of receiving visions from the god, since it is known that Sashelas is fond of sharing knowledge with those who are true seekers. Scholars, monks, and clerics visit these elaborately decorated seaside temples, immersing themselves in the blessed waters and looking for enlightenment.

Because the god also dispenses lore through dreams and reveries of memory, many artists and poets worship Sashelas. They seek his creative insight by spending time floating on the waves, then return to shore to write down or sketch out the gifts bequeathed to them.

--- Mordenkainen’s Tome of Foes (2018)

People who’ve been around me a while might recognise some influence from Sashelas on Immara, my homebrew ocean deity, although she has a bit more of a Lovecraftian bent. But the ocean as inspiration, as repository of lost knowledge, as something mysterious, I love all of that.

See, one of my issues with the Forgotten Realms is, if you want to play an oceanic tempest cleric, but you want your god to not be evil, you have some issues. At least in 5e, where a lot of the gods only get stub entries, and if you want some lore to work from, your options are pretty much Umberlee or, well, Deep Sashelas. Not that I hate Umberlee, actually, I might talk about her as well later, but Umberlee definitely falls into the ocean as a cruel thing that needs to be appeased model, similar to Talona as goddess of disease, so if you wanted something less fraught, the ocean as a living thing that is not exclusively hostile, your options are a bit limited. But there is Deep Sashelas!

Now, the fact that he is a specifically elven deity, and the majority of his worshippers are specifically stated to be elven, might be a bit tricky. But it also does make sense? Sea elves can breathe underwater and live in the ocean, so it makes sense that the ocean would seem less inherently hostile to them, and that they’d have more contact with its gentler deities, whereas landbound peoples, who are much more at its mercy, would have more experience of its crueller representatives. But at the same time, in our world, our very much landbound peoples who very much cannot breathe underwater still managed to develop a whole range of relationships with the sea over the expanse of our experiences with it, so it does still somewhat irk me that, in the Forgotten Realms, you have to be an elf to have anything but the most hostile relationship with something so vast and varied and majestic.

Which. Kind of a sidebar. My feelings regarding popular concepts of the ocean and its representation in fantasy deities, let me show you them. Anyway.

Deep Sashelas does, as it happens, interact favourably with non-sea elves, even if they ‘aren’t fully dedicated to his worship’, mostly sailors, seafarers, scholars, artists and poets, so it’s still fully reasonable for a non-sea elf to worship and even represent him, if you’re not particularly feeling a sea-elf character. And I do enjoy both the fully underwater shrines decorated with offered treasures, as well as the coastal grottos and lagoons where the main act of reverence is just to go swimming. To be in contact with and commune with the ocean itself, and thus with its deity.

I also adore the element of shipwrecks full of lost knowledge, cities lost to tidal waves. Sashelas is still a sea god. He does still take, he is still dangerous. He is a deity of knowledge, but in some ways he’s a deity of stolen knowledge, that which is forcibly taken to his realm. ‘Messengers who never reached their destination’. He’s a god of drowned knowledge. He’s not as blunt about it as Umberlee, whose priests carry the severed hands of the drowned as holy objects, but it is still there. If you can’t breathe underwater, Sashelas might not always be as helpful to you as you might hope. And if your ship full of knowledge happens to sink, well, he’ll be delighted to collect what you have offered.

I do enjoy him. I also enjoy how he and Umberlee intersect and diverge, two deities of the same seas, who reflect different faces to the world, but perhaps have a lot more in common than it might initially appear.

[almightyramtha]

I wanna talk about my Tav Vaana and so I'm gonna.

This post I made ages ago was not (JUST) a joke about sexy fish worshippers

But rather, this is actually true to her backstory!

Vaana had a bit of a "Dolly Parton sees the sex workers on the side of the street" moment with the temple of Umberlee workers. The village she grew up in in Cormyr was particularly religiously tolerant bc of the composition of its populace being generations removed refugees from a land that didn't accept anyone outside of Mystra worshiping studied wizards as full citizens. (Non-magic users were second class and everyone else, sorcerers and religious folk alike were banished (that's Halruaa for you...)). Even the few Sharrans in town were an open secret, if anything. Kept to themselves outside of times of crisis, but people kept an attitude of, "EH. They're not hurting anyone." (They were eventually booted when the war with Sembia broke out in 1485 DR upon finding that the oft enemy and neighboring Sembia was secretly now a vassal state for modern Netherese Shar worshipers. I ABSOLUTELY DIGRESS THOUGH.)

Anyway, after attending a funeral for a local at the temple, six-year-old Vaana set her sights on becoming a cleric for the temple. The only problem was, they only accepted magic users as members due to the demands of ship life as passengers, and for strength tempering Umberlee's often capricious behavior. No problem though. She's young. There's time to either learn some magic and attend one of the many in-demand magic tutoring groups in the area OR if she's lucky (and wow does a six-year-old ever dream they're lucky) she might have a bit of sorcerer blood in her. Of course, none of her family going back generations ever seemed to be magically inclined, most likely coming out of Halruaa as the "magicless second class citizens" class, ethically or morally against the regime of Netherese transplants once their rule became law.

But she could dream and pray idly, and beg the temple to let her sweep the grounds in the mean time while she saved up pocket money for cheap spell books and waited for puberty, as seemed to be the case in the area as the average time to blossom forth as a sorcerer.

So she waited.

Her family had no money for wizarding classes, and her self-taught puffs of smoke on better days were nothing close to catching a more benevolent tutor's eye.

And she waited.

And nothing happened.

She was no sorcerer, and an even less practiced hand at any spells.

By this time that childhood dream was looking harder and harder to grasp. Her ideal self, in her [baby] heart, the stone-faced agent of Umberlee out on a ship, managing the goddess' wiles, and sailor's tempers was fast eroding.

Not only could she perform no magic, but her temperament had never exactly hardened up. She was meek, quiet, kind. The exact opposite of the stern and confident women of the temple, and the kind despised by Umberlee herself.

What good would she do out on the sea? Pushed around as easily by the sailors as the waves? It would have been irresponsible of the temple ardents to allow her out on their behalf regardless of her desire.

So, her dream dashed, hope lost, she continued to sweep the grounds out of habit, hoping to come upon a new calling. One less driven by the fanciful eye of her child-self.

[zenosyneee]

The Spawn and the Siren

Chapter 4: The Devil you don't remember.

Astarion does some self-reflection as he lays out his plans, the siren meets her butler... and the party becomes acquainted with a cunning devil that seems to already know Zenosyne...

This is my first attempt at a multi chapter fanfiction in a very long time.

Some weeks had passed following the events at Ethel’s cottage, and Zenosyne found herself heartbroken at what she had seen of who she was. Still, she longed to learn so much more about herself. The revelations imparted to her left more questions in her mind than they had answered. Who was Raphael? Who was the pale, otherworldly woman she had called sister? Why was her mind burdened with the overwhelming allure of blood and death?

Like so many times before, she found herself in her siren form, laying in the river as it ran over her like a baptism washing away whatever sins of the day that she had committed. Her skin was cold, and the icy waters made her feel alive and grounded when her mind would pull her to dark places. Lazily her tail swayed back and forth as it pulled the water along in its wake. Her arms were crossed out in front of her as she laid on her stomach. Her head rested firmly in her forearms as the little parasite wiggled in her mind with power.

There was still the matter of her bloodlust. She pondered over the guilt that gnawed in her mind over what she had been wont to do over the past few weeks. When her secrets began to unravel before herself and the members of the party, and she realized that silent powers were hidden in her siren form, she used them as a shield against her fears. Unsuspecting goblins and other enemies would find themselves entranced up until the moment she would strike- each time she became more and more creative with her deadly fury, savoring the chase. Her blade tasted blood at every chance she could find. And while the others did what they had to in order to survive, she lay there in the water trying to quiet the loud voice in her head that berated her and demeaned her. She found no comfort in who she was finding herself to be. Neither did the others that she traveled with.

Then, there was still the matter of Astarion to reckon with. Following her near-demise Astarion had carried her back to the camp until she found the strength within her to walk again. The others had seen as much as she had in her dreams as they looked into the hag’s mirror, and their trust in her wavered. Very few sirens still existed, and what few did still live remained in hiding beneath the dark oceans. They remained ever loyal to Umberlee and to themselves alone, finding no allies on the surface. Astarion had teased her at first about it.

“Such a rare catch you are, little fish!” He had said in that melodic, seductive tone of his that pulled at Zenosyne’s mind even in her sleep. “Aren’t we lucky to have found you. Now, you know my secret, and I know your’s!”

He was of course referring to what had been revealed the day that Gandrel had announced he was searching for the vampire spawn Astarion. The way that Zenosyne had, without missing a beat, nodded and played along with the ruse had shocked him. She’d unquestioningly protected his identity- and then protected his life that day. It was the first moment in his life, he recalled, that he felt as though someone other than himself was watching his back. That was the moment he realized he did not want to have to go without that ever again. If the siren was willing to stick her neck out for him, he would play that card for as long as he could. It had been a knee-jerk reaction from years of survival at the hands of Cazador. Yet, the longer he thought about it- the more he felt like her demonstration of care had meant even more to him that he wanted to acknowledge.

I’m not a details person, Astarion thought to himself, …But I can enjoy this, can’t I? I don’t see why I can’t enjoy it. I deserve it, after all. I’m owed something for myself after all these years of misery and hells.

“You seem to be the only one making light of this discovery.” She replied, unable to hold back the quiet sigh that danced on the edge of being a laugh.

“Darling, I don’t care what you are, or where you came from, when you’ve proven to be such a formidable adversary to our foes.” He had remained on the word darling for a moment- he knew that she had taken notice of his suggestive pet names- small hints at his master plan. She was falling hard.

“And what’s more” he went on, “It’s always a pleasure to see a siren ensnare her prey so close- at a distance most mortals could only dream of and live to tell the tale.” One of his pale, dexterous hands reaching up to grasp at the air in front of him- just close enough to her face to keep her eyes busy as she absorbed his words like a sponge.

“Some people would call me a monster.” She said plainly, her eyes betrayed her reticence to accept his praise.

“Some people would call me a monster.” He echoed.

His simple statement left Zenosyne open mouthed- ready for her rebuttal. She found none. He was right. He was, by definition, like her. Monstrous.

“That gives me an unreasonable feeling of...?” She struggled to find the words that might describe the feeling that made her shoulders relax, and her breath release from their tight grip within her lungs. At her genuine shift in demeanor, she thought she saw a hint of something change in his eyes- as if he were faltering. His sure and arrogant smirk cracked for a split second, but whatever she saw- or thought that she saw disappeared just as soon as it had come.

“I feel like…”

“Feeling… understood?” He asked. His voice was a little lower this time. There were less theatrics behind his stance now. His arms fell slightly under an invisible weight. The truth was, he was very good at what he did. He could lead someone on and seduce them into doing whatever he wanted. It took a little poise and tweaks here and there to appease the individual in question, but the game remained largely the same. However, it would work often enough and quickly- so that all of it was over by morning, and he could move on to the next one. There were few facades he had to maintain for this amount of time. He tried desperately not to get to know the people that he…

No, no stop it now. Astarion thought to himself.

“I think so.” She said, even quieter. She reached out to him instinctively, as if to find some kind of comfort. She didn’t expect him to flinch at her advancement- and when she saw it, she let her arms fall quickly, her hands grasping each other in front of her.

“Thank you.” She said quickly, turning away from him. “That means more to me than I can say, truly.”

Her mind snapped back into the present, and the cold water suddenly felt a little warmer. Her face lifted from it’s daydream to meet the eyes of a terrifying, quite ugly creature.

“Your excellence!” it said.

She screamed. It was the small butler she had seen in the dream she had while under the hag’s spell. His tall hat smelled of the hells- like he had just come from the inside of a hot, raging volcano.

“No, no, your unholiness, please! Don’t be alarmed! I bring you gifts!” He bowed low, his voice excited. “A small piece of your most wonderful inheritance.”

“Inheritance? Are you the…”

“Sceleritas Vel, my lady. Your butler, humbly at your service as I have always been, and always will be!”

A red cloak appeared suddenly in his outstretched hands, his face still downturned in reverence at her shocked expression.

“Tell me who I am!” She demanded. She wasted no time in getting to the point. She wanted answers.

“No, no, my lady I’m afraid I cannot do that. That is not for me to reveal, not for me to say!” A hint of nervousness was in his voice now. He feared what she might do.

“But know, my lady, that your actions have not gone unnoticed by your father. He is most pleased with the fearsome initiative you have taken of late!” The excitement in Sceleritas Vel’s voice began to rise up again.

“Initiative? I wouldn’t call it initiative. I’ve been unable to… stop myself.” She said, her brows raising together in concern.

“Because you cannot hide from who you are destined to be- who you have always been destined to become!” He said, his encouragement would have been very motivational, if it were used for the right purpose. As it was- his words were bittersweet to Zenosyne and twisted with evil she could not ignore.

“What CAN you tell me?!” She shouted, grabbing at his jacket collar. She shook him with fury in her eyes and bared her teeth. She felt her gums in her mouth give way a little- and it almost felt like a relief when the long, needle like teeth pushed their way through. Her grimace widened to an unnatural size- what was once a pair of rosy cheeks was now all sharp and curved fangs, overlapping and horrifyingly sharp. Her lips were something in between a wicked smile and a forceful display of rage- and where her nose had been, a scaly nose-like feature flared with sharp breaths.

“I… No! No, My lady please, do not unleash your anger at me! I have and always will live to-”

Startled by her own growls, Zenosyne let go of Sceleritas. With a gasp her face quickly eased back into the one she had come to know up until that point. She had never become a monster like that before. Not insofar as she just had. She had literally changed her form again- into a creature worse than she’d seen in her own twisted nightmares.

She stood up, her tail turning into legs. Slipping her beaded skirt back on with shaking hands she hastily strode in the direction of the campsite. She watched as her companions went about their own business.

Shadowheart was gently and absently petting scratch as she read a book. Gale was reading as well, but much more intently. His eyes scanned old pages that crinkled loudly under his touch. Wyll rested with eyes that slowly blinked away sleep- trying to remain awake at the fireside while Karlach put up her tent.

Just as Zenosyne entered the clearing where the others sat around restlessly, the sound of flames burst from the ground- a place where she’d not ever seen them come from before. She jumped and let out a shriek that caught the attention of the others. Wyll had already drawn a blade from his side- Astarion remaining low in his instinctive prowl. Karlach bolted upright and made no hesitation in picking up her greataxe. Lae��zel was even quicker to assume an offensive stance.

“A devil!” Karlach shouted, knowing right away what was coming.

Yet instead of the flaming, fearsome creature they were all anticipating rising out of the fires and smoke, a tall and proud figure of a man stood before them. His navy doublet pristinely kept and his hair neatly combed to rest with careful control at his shoulders. His expression was one of amusement.

“Well, well, well” He said, very slowly. “…What’s better than the devil you don’t know….?”

Painfully, Zenosyne waited for him to do something. Her heart pounded and she looked to the others, who seemed just as confused as she.

“The devil you do.” He finished.

Before any more could be said, Karlach cut the tension in the air with resolution in her voice- “He’s not some friendly face, despite what he’s making you think” Karlach said, “Don’t trust him. They’re all like that. Devious fuckers.”

“… And what about the devil I can’t quite… remember? Are you another infernal butler?” She asked.

“Hah! Don’t flatter yourself, little mermaid!” He laughed heartily. “Allow me to introduce myself to you once again, sweet Zenosyne.”

The well-kept human looking devil bowed his head and shoulders ever so slightly, as if to show respect but not inferiority.

“Lord Raphael. Son of Mephistopheles.”

“Oh, hells!” Karlach shouted in rage.

“Precisely!” Raphael said with a smile. “But you, Lady Zenosyne, have always had better taste for where you rest than can be afforded out here in the wilds. Allow me to bring us to a more… comfortable place to discuss the matters at hand.”

Just as he had appeared before them, so did they all suddenly appear in a beautifully decorated dining hall. The hall was rounded, columns all around them leading the way in three directions from the large, circular marble dining table that stood prominently in the center of the room. A fire flickered atop an immensely large painting of Raphael himself that was framed in the finest gold money- or, souls- could buy.

“The House of Hope. A most luxurious place in which you formerly loved to spend time.” He said, hands extended to urge Zenosyne to turn around. There was an endless feast of the finest, most beautiful foods she had seen until now.

She chuckled. One thing that she knew about herself- if anything, was that she had an insatiable sweet tooth. Before he could invite her to indulge herself in the exquisite options laid out before them she reached out to one of the little towers that held the small, rich chocolate cakes and popped it in her mouth.

“Don’t restrain yourself on my behalf, please, help yourself.” Raphael teased.

She reached for another, and with her other hand began to sort through the decadent desserts assorted on a silver tray nearby as well.

“We’re in the hells.” Karlach said, a bit of relief in her voice from the eased pain in her chest. Her engine felt a little less hot here.

“I’d know the stench anywhere.” Wyll confirmed, “And the… company.” He sneered. Judgement on his face as he watched Zenosyne dig into the delicious food without hesitation.

“And, ah… how exactly do you know our companion here, if she doesn’t know you?” Astarion spoke up, inserting himself into the conversation.

Raphael turned slowly to the now concerned looking vampire spawn. Zenosyne looked at Astarion out of the corner of her eye as she chewed the overly sweet cake. Astarion’s eyes were wider than she’d seen them before, almost a look of vulnerability. He looked almost childlike when the devil scoffed at him. Then, he recollected himself and sneered back.

“You have a bit of a problem, don’t you, little mermaid?” Raphael asked pointedly, “Yet another resident within your mind. One uninvited guest that won’t leave your brain.”

“You know it?” She asked, her mouth still full of the sticky icing.

He chuckled, “I do. If you… wanted help… you know, you used to come to me for help…” Raphael started.

“Don’t” Karlach interrupted, and Wyll looked at Karlach in silent agreement. His nod said all that he was thinking. There was no trust for this devil among her companions.

Raphael looked at Zenosyne, the dark green locs that fell in soft waves down to her waist swayed with her alluring siren’s magic. To be certain, Raphael mused, she would not have been some extraordinary beauty if she were just another woman. What made her beautiful was a combination of her magic, her easy and soft voice, and the way she knew just how to look into one’s eyes as if the world started and stopped in their gaze. It was enough to make mortals feel something between being needed and wanted. This was the draw of a siren.

Raphael was lost for a moment, thinking about how she had looked at him with those eyes not so long ago in the soft glow of the caverns of the hells. She had come to him, using every charm she had to convince him to help her to escape the temple of Bhaal she called her prison. He heard her pleading voice in his mind again, her small, soft hands resting on his chest as she pleaded. She rested her head there, nestling into him.

“I cannot stay here, with him. I need to go up there. I need to see Faerun for myself.” She cried gently into Raphael’s arms, salty tears falling from her black lashes. “My father would have me live and die down here. What if I don’t want it?” She went on.

“You poor, sweet thing.” He had said, finally pulling her from his chest. “My precious little siren. I would deny you nothing in this world.”

Raphael blinked away the memory.

“I… don’t know If I am willing to take a deal with a devil.” Zenosyne said.

It was a far cry from the pleading girl he once knew. She had no idea.

“I will be here, Zenosyne. Just as I always have been. And when you realize you need me, you will return.” He said.

And suddenly, they were back in their camp.

“My cake!” She cried out, her hands now empty. “Well, shit.”

[bruinescence]

@intothewildsea cont.

Usually, her morning walks along the shore were uneventful. No one came to that part of the beach, as it was a bit out of the way, but that suited Niamh just fine. It was easier to slip into her sealskin and swim whenever she liked when people weren't poking around, though this particular morning she hadn't brought her seal coat with her. When she spotted a figure on the beach, she hesitated for a moment. It took her a few minutes to recognize the creature - a kelpie - and she realized that it seemed to be in distress. She hurried over to it, hoping to help. She certainly hadn't expected the kelpie to shapeshift into an elf. She let out a bit of a startled noise, then realized she was being a little rude. She reached out to help him sit up. "Close enough," she said. "Are you all right?" She reached up and tugged off her shawl, moving to wrap it around his shoulders. "You'll catch cold. Here." The shawl was a bit small for him, but it was better than nothing, at least.

While it wasn't his idea to spend much of the past day or more bobbing aimless and exhausted through the waves of the Baldurian sea, that had simply been the reality of his situation after the incident aboard the submarine in its flight from an imploding Iron Throne. His party- absent now, though hopefully back in the boarding area they'd set off from with their dwarven helmsman, had risked their lives to rescue the prisoners trapped several leagues under the sea and Enver Gortash's hold. It was only once the submerged ship began to take on water at a higher altitude did the druid not only offer, but force his way out into the cold of the sea to help patch the side of the submarine damaged by the abandoned prison's blast. Summoned vines stitched the breach he found quickly, and though his stab at a kelpie was still a work in progress- he'd wild shaped into one to avoid having to re-enter the vessel and risk it taking on more seawater.

Unfortunately for kelpies, they lacked the means to hold onto a speeding submarine. It didn't help they were so far down that he had to spend most of his energy making the journey to the surface without breaking concentration on the shape as well. By the time he'd surfaced, Halsin needed to bob around for a bit and rest. He couldn't have been but a few miles off the coast, but however far out he was- the sea eventually carried him back to shore some days later.

He supposed he ought be grateful the maiden found him over a patrolling guard since a bed in the local prison was the last thing he needed at the moment. Lucky she did not scream at the sight of him in such a precarious position either and attract a guard from elsewhere. Another little shake of his head accompanied the ball of his palm as he continued in vain to flush the sand out of his eyelashes with a grind or two. It was only after he felt the softness of a shawl much too small for him draped over what bits of his shoulders it could manage that he tilted his head back and regarded her with one open eye, the other- still crusted shut with salt and the like. A sheepish smile crept upon him, and he minded the position of his free arm where he'd tucked it somewhat in front of him to offer a meager hope at modesty.

"Never better. Mayhaps I'll even take up circle of the land druidry after this ordeal for it is good to feel it beneath me again." A soft grimace followed as he pressed his palm to the ground and pushed off, a shaky attempt at rising to his feet again delayed til now but well in order. "My, you are kind to care about an old druid catching cold. But I don't suppose you are as equipped as I to grow fur." Halsin nodded, glad for the momentary softness regardless. "Are you out for a morning walk? I thought that I might encounter a maiden of Umberlee closer to shore, but you are all I've come across. Rather you are all that's come across me, I should say."

[rinasaurusrex]

Holy Shit, D&D Y'all.

We dungeoned our dragons so hard today y'all

We had an extra long session to make up for being off two weeks, and OH MY GOD, EVERYTHING HAPPENED SO MUCH. brace yourselves, word dump is coming.

So we escorted Aubreck Drallion, the new councilman who we just salvaged a bunch of promissory notes and deeds from a sinking ship for, to Seaton so he could cash out the notes and pay us our 10% (10,000 gp!). Poppy, the little orphan girl we accidentally adopted the last time we were in Seaton, said she wanted to come along with us. Since we were, y'know, acting as security for the councilman and his moderate fortune on this trip, Bree tried to say that we'd take Poppy another time and leave her back with Eda, who's been looking after her and the two boys we'd found her with, Jack and Oscar. Their parents were apparently in Deadwater prison so they were on the street. We had brought all three of them back to Saltmarsh for Eda to look after last time we were in Seaton.

Well we get everything ready and head out on the road, and when we go to make camp the first night... we find Poppy stowed away in the wagon. Apparently she found a Ring of Invisibility and used that to sneak away and hide in our supplies.

So Bree gives her a come-to-Jesus talk about how when we say something's dangerous we mean it, etc., etc. but now it's too far down the road to take her back so we press on. We get to Seaton without issue. Drallion heads off to deal with his business, and we've got the day in Seaton to do what we want.

Now, the last time we were in Seaton, Bael-lys took exceptional dislike to the head of the Deadwater prison. So the first thing he wants us to do is go kill this guy. Which we did manage to talk him down from open murder because Shamys was like "Well, first of all, I feel like this is not the type of guy you just challenge to a fair fight. There are quieter ways to kill someone like that. But also we're in town so Mr. Drallion can get the money and pay us, and murdering the head of the prison seems like it would prevent that business from happening."

......... and then Poppy fucking ran away.

Shamys noticed first and took off after her, which shouldn't have been a problem catching up to a 6 year old as a Tabaxi rogue but the kid fucking disappeared. We had taken her ring away, so we thought she couldn't be turning invisible, but she was just fucking gone. Most of us kept searching for a few hours. Meanwhile Bael-lys decided to go deal with the head of Deadwater whose name I can't remember. Since he didn't want to get us all in trouble for murder, he decided to just.... go get some horse laxatives and stop by the bar where the guy stopped for a drink every night after work. Lucky for him, the elf lady who runs the bar at the Magnificent Mizzen is into Bael-lys, and she doesn't much care for the Deadwater guy, so he was able to convince her to help him slip the laxatives into a drink. Everything went off excellently for him.

Anyway, it gets dark and we still haven't found Poppy. What we did find were some posters for a pair of missing boys... who looked an awful lot like Jack and Oscar... the boys whose parents were supposed to be in prison, leaving them abandoned... but before we could look into that more, there was a huge flash of light from the Temple of Procan, which was where Drallion had gone when we got to town. So we run for the temple and find a whole bunch of dead clerics, an expended Glyph of Warding, and Poppy hiding under the altar. She was pretty shaken up, said she'd snuck in to hide a token of Umberlee in the temple (worship of Umberlee isn't allowed in Seaton so she doesn't have a temple, Poppy said she thought Umberlee would like her hiding a token in Procan's temple because Procan would hate it). Poppy said she was hiding and there was a fight, then the bright light, then it was quiet... We didn't have long to check around beyond confirming that fortunately Drallion was not among the dead. Then the city guard showed up and shooed us off, fortunately they didn't think we were involved.

So we go get rooms at an inn and in the morning check out more about the missing boys poster.

And uhhhhhhhhh turns out the boys we knew as Jack and Oscar, whose parents were in Deadwater and likely dead, leaving them abandoned... were actually Luke and Ezra, whose parents were very much alive and free and looking for them. So Bree comes back and questions Poppy...

... and then shit got REALLY fucked up.

Poppy didn't really have an answer about Jack and Oscar, and then she decided it was time to drop the ruse... She turned into Xendros. Then Arnot the Huge. Then Keladek. And then finally into Gellan Primewater.

POPPY WAS GELLAN GODDAMN PRIMEWATER

THE ENTIRE FUCKING TIME

HE WAS NEVER IN FUCKING PRISON

FUCK US SIDEWAYS

Anyway, we get into a fight. He has a crazy high AC so few of our attacks hit, and those that do he practically laughs off the damage. Shamys, who doesn't know who this guy is or what's going on does get ready to bolt, but the "fight" only goes on for two rounds before Primewater gets tired of toying with us and disappears. Fun fact: Counterspell did not stop him from disappearing, however he did. Which can only be a good thing, tbh. If he'd actually attacked, we'd probably have been fucked. But he did apparently steal a spear from the Temple of Procan, and he's still interested in the trident that Yara has, wherever she is... so that's not at all worrying. Totally fine. Definitely not gonna be a problem.

We pack up and head back to Saltmarsh in a hurry. Bree goes to see if Poppy is actually still with Eda. She wasn't. So that's not good. She also checked on Jack and Oscar, trying to see if they were actually Luke and Ezra. They didn't recognize the names... but we also found they didn't remember anything before meeting Poppy. So we were pretty sure their memories were modified... Also Eda confessed that Poppy was a very inquisitive child, and particularly liked asking Eda about her job on the town council...

Bael-lys went to check on Xendros, since we're now also super suspicious of her since that was one of the forms Primewater appeared in. Xendros was waiting outside her shop for him, already knowing what had happened in the creepy way that she does. She swore that she was real and was not Primewater, and what she gave to prove it was FINALLY EXPLAINING HOW SHE CREEPILY KNOWS WHAT WE'VE BEEN UP TO ALL THE TIME apparently it's thanks to the sword Bael-lys has that Xendros had enchanted and apparently put a little extra moxie on that lets her keep tabs on us... But she also agreed to help with the boys and checked them over and undid the spells on them.

Guess what, they were Luke and Ezra, the missing boys from Seaton. Once the magic on them was dispelled, they didn't know where they were or how they'd got there, and were incredibly confused. Eda arranged to go to Seaton to settle everything and check on the Primewater situation.

Well, at this point Shamys goes with Drallion to settle our payment, we each get a nice 2,100 gp, and settle down for the night.

Bael-lys has a weird dream, first about his father's death and then this weird ghosty thing causing trouble for his mother. So he wakes up and immediately decides he needs to go home to the Dreadwood and see what's up. He goes to the Seagrove and meets our new party member, Hans. He'd actually been sent by Bael-lys's stick-up-the-ass brother to come get him, because there was trouble with their mother.

So we pack up in a whirlwind yet again and hit the road to the Dreadwood. We ran into a random old man asking for directions on the road, and after the shit with Primewater the party is SUPER SUSPICIOUS of everyone and Bael-lys for some reason demanded to search the old man's bag? So the old man gave him the bag and fucking ran away, thinking he was being robbed??? it was a Time™.

We make it to the Dreadwood, fight off a surprisingly large pack of hobgoblins, and get escorted??? To a palace???? Because Bael-lys is a fucking prince????????????? what is going on.

EVERYTHING IS HAPPENING SO MUCH Y'ALL. EVERYTHING.

[rollforpersuasion]

The idiots go to Saltmarsh pt. 3

Sept. 16

Talia, brushing the remnants of spoiled potatoes off her pants, positions herself in the center of the boat once more. This time she choses the worn deck as her stage rather than the now suspiciously decrepit looking barrels. Calling to Umberlee, a goddess of the sea, she raises her arms to the sky. 

Using Minor Illusion she focuses on what she imagines the goddess might look like and begins to pray. 

Her voice raises and those hustling around her cringe expecting her to call upon another dark and unknown spirit. Instead they hear the name of Umberlee roll from her lips. A face appears above them in the dark clouds, illuminated by the flashing bolts of lightning and the sailors gasp at the wisps in the darkness. (Rolls an 18). 

“Look upon her face as she smiles upon us,” Talia yells. 

“Umberlee is with us!” A sailor cheers. “Umberlee is here! Go lads, go!”

Illyria mentally runs through a checklist of things she could be doing to justify getting herself soaking wet in the rain. Eventually she decides to peer into the night and attempt to perceive if they should steer the boat in one direction or another. (Perception check is 10) 

“You can do this, you were born to do this,” Illyria whispers to herself. “Ugh. It’s dark as shit out here.” Slowly she pans her head searching for any indication of land or a safe harbor. Unsurprisingly she fails to locate a haven.

Len’s back aches due to her frequent rough descents from the mast’s ladder toward the deck. She eyes the still furrowed sail with sheer determination before biting her cheek and reaching for the crossbow nestled at her side. 

An idea comes to her, almost as if it were whispered into her ear. A dramatic and inventive solution that she normally would need to be drunk to come up with.

Using nimble fingers she ties a rope onto the end of an arrow and loads it into the crossbow. Aiming at the crow’s nest she taps the trigger. The arrow whizzes through the air and disappears into the night. The crow’s nest remains unpenetrated. No rope is dangling to give her easy access to its unreachable heights.

“FUCK!” Len screams before refastening the crossbow to her side.

The ship tosses again in the waves and Cleis, upon hearing Len’s scream, eyes the still furled mainsail. 

Cleis is many things. A mathematician is not one of them. However, she thinks if she can just reach far enough she might be able to summon up a little magic to help. 

She ties a rope around her waist and quickly fastens the other end to the railing at the edge of the quarter deck. Leaning into the night she tips precariously over the deck below and raises her hand toward the sail. Green magic swirls through her skin once more and she casts Mage Hand toward the rope keeping the sail fastened. 

She tenses feeling the powerful magic surge through her when she hears Illyria exclaim from somewhere underneath her.

“I’m an excellent sand crafter!” Illyria says with glee as she leans closer to Len. “How much do you have? I can build entire homes out of sand you know. Seats, art, beds, anything really as long as I have the right sand. There are so many different types and all are used for different aspects of sculpting.”

Len holds up her hands as if estimating the size of the bag of sand she carries with her everywhere and begins suggesting different things Illyria could carve from it. 

Shaking her head Cleis focuses once more and urges the hand to move toward the rigging.

Illyria is holding up her fingers naming all sorts of sand she’s excelled at utilizing in a quick build when a spectral hand appears above them, slicing through the storm toward the rope. It grips the slick, woven latch and tugs. Cleis is shaking with effort and with a final pull the sail unfurls. The wind catches the cloth and the ship rights.

Talia is inspiring the crew with her prayer, Len and Illyria are still discussing the wisdom of bringing a bag of sand with one everywhere one goes and the crew are running this way and that pulling on ropes and bailing water. 

“Well done!” Captain Stormbreaker cheers. Cleis breathes a sigh of relief, unties herself and clasps the captain’s hand. “I think we might actually pull through this!” Almost as if in mockery of her optimism a swell hits the back of the ship causing all on deck to lurch in the sudden chaos. The ship sharply tips and all are tossed overboard. 

Those who survive the impromptu baptism claw their way to the surface, but the ship is nowhere in sight. 

A wave rises far above their heads and begins to rush toward them. 

Cleis takes a deep breath, Illyria teleports to her side and wraps her arms around her, squeezing the precious air from her now burning lungs. Talia mutters to the great old ones and takes a sharp breath, bracing for the impact. Len panics, glancing this why and that in the darkness when she nearly faints in relief upon seeing a white feathery head emerge nearby. Using the precious seconds she has before she’s more than likely drowned she grabs the flailing, honking body with a firm grip. 

Everything goes dark

TBC

[dicedungeons-and-dragons]

Waylan’s Sabbatical (2/?)

A chunk of writing following our party NPC (and my Son) as he breaks away from the party. Our campaign uses names of places from various fandoms for fun but they have no real relation to the source material. (We also call the Raven Queen Nara because of some hasty Wiki reading)

It takes him two weeks of making his way across Oshime before he finds himself on one of Vonda’s ships heading to Okren. It’s a long trip and during it he learns more about sailing than he ever really cared to learn, and by the time they arrive he’s even more ready to be left on his own. Waylan ventures into the nearest port town and gets himself a map of the land, a history book, and what he hopes are enough rations and potions so that he can head out into the bordering forests for a while. 

From the map he learns that the immediate thirty or so miles are considered mostly safe, with the worst things one’s likely to come across large bears and mountain lions. He can handle both with a few bolts of flame. But past that boundary is the Dark Forest, crawling with monsters that few can face and all fear. Heroes have been hired to go into the woods to try and clear a path so that the king can reclaim the old castle, but few have come back out and none of the survivors were able to set eyes on the ruined castle. 

The history book has some light to shed on that. Waylan reads it as he camps in the safer sections of the woods. About two hundred years ago the current king had worked as a religious advisor at the side of the ruling Queen, Queen Cordelia McLeod a woman who once was kind, became obsessed with death after her husband passed. So terrified of the prospect of dying she had her son trained in the arcane arts so that he might find her a way to live forever. 

And he did. 

But the ritual would call for human sacrifices and the Queen called for subjects to be rounded up for the slaughter. However, before the ritual could be completed Mielikki, Goddess of the forest, sensing the corruption that would take root in the land, sent a blessing in the form of a champion to kill the Queen while she slept. Enraged by his mother’s death the son cast a curse on the forest, making it a beacon for the monsters that infest it now. It was only through the current king’s own sorcery that the kingdom was given enough of the forest to allow them to still gather natural resources. It is the King’s belief that if some brave adventurers are able to reach the ruins of the old castle that they might end two hundred years of suffering. 

Waylan tries his hardest not to think about how quickly the Revengers would have taken up the job, completely undaunted by the failures of those who came before them. 

*****

He does his best to keep to the normal parts of the forest, but as the days go by he finds himself wandering the border between the two sections. It’s obvious where the passable section ends and the Dark Forest starts, he could have figured out that something was different with the landscape even if he didn’t have the map. Because the Dark Forest has an energy to it. It practically pulses with something dark and toxic that sickeningly reminds Waylan of how it had felt to stand above Umberlee’s prison underneath Oshime. He thinks if Vani were with him she wouldn’t be able to stand it. 

He tells himself again and again that he will not cross the border. That going into a forest as monster infested as this one without any backup is a suicide mission. He feels a phantom pain race along his metal arm. 

He didn’t come out here to die. Especially not after it took so much for him to just be able to stand here now. 

*****

“Waylan! Way, can you hear me?!” Radiance’s voice rebounds off his skull and he nearly trips over a tree stump. 

“Fuck!” 

“Oh, whoops, sorry!” 

“Did you get him?” Lugh’s voice chimes in and he resigns himself to having his former companions tagging along in his mind for the foreseeable future. 

“Yeah you got me. I would literally have to leave this plane of existence to avoid you.” He snaps. There’s no need to talk aloud, they would hear him if he just thought at them, but he doesn’t know the last time he’s used his voice and it feels good to hear some kind of sound that’s not just the rustling of the forest. 

“Oh, well, yeah. But still!” Ray’s chipper as ever. 

“How are you doing?” Vani, more subdued and formal. 

“I’m fine. I’m camping.” He didn’t think he’d ever find himself camping on another continent but here he is. He didn’t think he’d ever be tortured in an underground cavern by a legendary assassin either, but here he is. “What have you all been up to?”

They launch into a story about their excursions. They visited Vani’s kingdom, Ray is thrilled by her Goddess’s blessing, they met a particularly aggressive tadpole from another dimension who didn’t like to say ‘please’, Lugh is Lugh. And Gadreel, though he never joins the riot of noise in his head, is still alive and tagging along with them. 

“But camping is great too!” Ray adds towards the end. Waylan is building a fire. 

“Never took you as a ‘one with nature’ soul searching kind of guy.” Lugh says and Waylan can practically hear their eyes rolling. 

“There’s some strange things happening in the forest,” he finds himself saying, bristling at the tone, “I wanted to investigate for myself.”

“Oh, well good luck.” Ray encourages. 

“Stay safe.” Vani adds. 

“Don’t fuck a bear. The ones in the woods are not the same as the ones in Creta.” There’s a slight grunt which he thinks means Vani has punched or pushed Lugh.

“Talk to you again soon.”

“I hope not.” He half means it. 

*****

And damn it, they’re nowhere near him, have no way of finding out if he’s doing as he said, but damn it, Waylan can’t help but feel like he has to go into the Dark Forest now. Fuck. It’s stupid. He’s going to get himself killed just to prove a point to a group of brief companions who aren’t even around anymore. It’s stupid. So stupid. But he finds himself heading back into the kingdom, spending a fair chunk of his money on some healing potions, just in case, before he’s heading back out towards the border the following day. 

He doesn’t reach the Dark Forest for another few days, but when he does the same oppressively wrong atmosphere greets him. Waylan doesn’t think he’s going to die the instant he sets foot past the border, but he asked around the kingdom. There are many different beasts here. Basilisks, dire wolves, blights, lycanthropes, giant spiders, hags, rumor has it even a green dragon might have taken up residency. So if he goes he will need to be cautious. Waylan casts invisibility over himself and is careful as he moves through the underbrush, keeping a cautious eye out for anything that might be lurking in the shadows ready to attack. 

He travels for about six hours before he comes across anything. 

The clicking screeches of the giant spiders are easily identifiable, even from a distance. And Waylan prepares to turn and head in the other direction, but then he hears a different, but familiar, sound of a sword splitting the air and gouging through flesh. Someone else is in the forest and they’re taking on some of the creatures. He still tries to turn away. The last time he got involved with someone else’s battle he’d ended up fighting a green dragon and with a brand on his arm. He should know by now to turn and go as far as he can. 

Instead he allows a soft litany of curses to slip from his lips as he moves as stealthily as he can towards the sounds of fighting. He finds himself looking over a clearing, stones pushed aside, webbing and animal skeletons strewn about. There are a few of the creatures dead already, their corpses leaking a sludgy purple blood, their legs curled tightly against their chest. But there are still several alive. Clicking and screeching as they circle a humanoid figure at the den’s entrance. He looks like a knight. Black armor splashed with purple, a large helmet that covers his face, and a greatsword in hand. 

He’s outnumbered. 

Waylan tries once again to convince himself to turn and walk the other way. He doesn’t need to get involved here. The knight was outnumbered before he arrived and seemingly has the fight under control. And then one of the spiders brings a massive leg down across the man’s back and knocks him off balance. 

The burst of flame is pouring from his fingers before he has time to reconsider. The fireball consumes the spider in one brilliant blaze and a brief quiet falls over the entire clearing. Waylan hesitates, catches the knight looking up at him, and then there is a spider turning away and crawling along the wall, up towards him and he doesn’t have a chance to rethink his decision any more. 

The fight itself doesn’t take long. Giant spiders are dangerous, but they’re not nearly as hardy as other foes that Waylan has faced. He doubts that the knight really needed his assistance, but damn it. The Revenger’s tendency to get involved in others affairs is still clinging to him. 

When the fight is over he scales down the side of the small bluff and joins the knight in the clearing. The smell of charred corpses is overpowering and foul, but he thinks he’s getting used to it. 

“Thank you for your assistance.” The knight’s voice is deep and has a tinny quality as it rattles against his helmet. “But you needn’t have troubled yourself.”

“I’m sure. But better safe than sorry. I hear a lot of adventurers die in this forest.” 

The knight offers his hand. “Indeed they do. Are you planning to stay within its border for long?”

“Maybe. I’m not an adventurer, though, I’m just a traveler.”

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. As far as I can before things start to actively try and kill me.” 

“I doubt you’ll get far then.” But the words aren’t cruel. And Waylan can sense no malice coming from the man, though there is a heavy pulse of magic that seems to pour from him. Enough magic that he could be standing in front of a great mage and yet he’d used a sword to fight. “If you ever seek asylum in this forest find the ruins of the old palace. I will give you a place to rest in return for your assistance.” 

Waylan’s blood runs cold and he takes half a step back. “I don’t make a habit of resting in cursed castles.” 

“A wise choice, but I swear on my honor that no harm will come to you in my home. I cannot guarantee the same if you continue to travel these woods.”

“Thank you for the offer.” He says with stiff formality, wanting to be anywhere but here. He doesn’t think he can win in a fight against this man. If he even is one. There are plenty of monsters that take a human shape and no matter how closely he peers into the slit of the knight’s helmet he can see nothing of his face. Only the faint glimmer of light reflected in his eyes. A dull red glow–

The sun is still high in the sky. It colors the forest shades of dark green and warm yellow, even in this section of the woods. There is no red light to be reflected from anywhere in the environment. Lich. 

Waylan resists the urge to fling his hand out in front of him and cast another blast of fire at the creature. Because the knight hasn’t moved any closer, has only sheathed his sword and continued to look at him consideringly. 

A lich. That’s what the Queen wanted to turn into. A dark ritual like that would have been able to seep the earth around the castle with enough evil that it would become a breeding ground for monsters. He wonders how many other magic users have gotten close enough to learn this. Wonders if the lich killed them before they could kill him. 

For the first time since he got to Okren Waylan feels acutely alone. There is no Ray to be overpoweringly friendly and strike an accord with the creature before him. No Lugh to flirt, no Vani to diffuse the situation. No Gadreel to stand recklessly before all of them like he’ll take every hit so the others don’t have to. It’s just him. And his sharp tongue and cruel remarks will do him no good here. 

“I think that I’ll continue on my way.”

The knight dips his head slightly in acknowledgement. “Until we meet again, traveler.” 

“Right.” He hopes the day never comes. 

[gyrrakavian]

Umberlee saved my goblin eldritch knight...

This was revealed two weeks ago in session, and I spent those two weeks trying to figure out why a sea goddess of chaos who is very much not known for mercy would save my little amnesiac archaeologist.

And then I tried to plug him into @jewishdragon‘s custom alignment chart. I asked for help placing him and started listing some of the things he’s done. Then, it dawned on me that despite diplomatic attempts (-1 Char mod) he’s caused quite a bit of general chaos.

The first town he got to with the party happened to be the same town that the therianthropic blood cult who tried to sacrifice him was based. Umberlee spared him from bleeding out (magic initiate feat explained).

Upon arriving in town, Bug made certain to wear the ceremonial headdress the cult placed on him for most of his time in public there. Not all of the townies were cultists, but they all recognized the sacrificial helmet and were all made very uncomfortable by it.

At the local tavern that night, there’s a card game and Bug ventures over to join. He puts his trademark scarab medallion up for this hand. Bug wins the hand, grabs his medallion and winnings, then ducks out of the card game pissing off all of the townies and some of the caravan involved. Including some weird blue-skinned dwarf (who may be related to Bug’s near-death).

The party fights a few of the were-cultists that night to prevent them from kidnapping caravan members. We successfully kill all five of them. Bug proceeds to severe the head of the wereboar and carries it around town strapped to his back the next day looking for someone with dermestid or scarab beetles to clean the skull off for him.

That also happened to be the day he ate our kobold chef’s golden curry (grants telepathy). Bug passed his save, the townies who decided to eat some because Bug seemed fine did not. [The DM has informed us we may have a newly awakened warlock or 2 on our hands if we ever go back through there.]

More chaos ensued once the caravan got got to Luxheim. Bug only caused some of it.

During 3 weeks of downtime, he scouted most if not the entire ruined city. He only got into two fights during that time (his Int is 15). The first being when our bloodhunter unwittingly freed a gunpowder ooze from a barrel no-one could read the label on. Bug kept using firebolt on it, demonstrating that goblin science is a combination of gnome science and kobold science. Then, the PCs had to save some lvl 1 NPCs from 2 large slimes in the sewers. Turns out Thunderwave is a novel way to get someone out of a gelatinous cube.

Bug and Bohala (dwarf fighter) mined some weird green and purple crystals while exploring. Thankfully the wild magic crystals just blared out music when the two of them used the biggest one to try to signal some dwarves Bohala invited from across the frozen bay.

A 50ft celestial shark ridden by a Kuatoa preist came cruising out of the city to the by when the dwarvish ironside steamer started firing at the skeletal wyvern showing up across the other side of the bay with Dirk the reasonable wraith. The massive shark went across the top of the water to attack the dwarves (explained later).

After commandeering a landing boat and getting the dwarf to get us out to the shark, the 3 of us who showed up managed to fight the giant shark and priest. Only our poor bloodhunter had to make con saves not to drown.

First we managed to kill the priest. Our skeletal bard turning the shark into a boat (DM’s call) really helped in that respect since it made it much more difficult for the sharp to roll like that.

Once we killed the kuatoa cleric, we had to contend with the 50t celestial shark who was now a shark again thanks to the huge waterweird it was bonded with breaking the bard’s concentration.

Bug managed to crawl into one of the shark’s gill slits and used Shape Water to make an air pocket for himself. Meanwhile the bard and the bloodhunter had to hang onto the shark as it dove and rolled.

Bug slashed and bit at the gill membrane (with disadvantage), used Thunderwave to little effect, and successfully got the killing blow burning an exit hole through the giant shark with Aganazzar’s Scorcher.

After getting the dwarves and the wraith settled, we looted the shark. Bug only wanted it’s 2ft long teeth since it didn’t have much of historical worth in its guts apart from some old paintings and a sealed chest with very clear warning labels (he passed his Wis-save to overcome his curiosity).

That encountered prompted Bug to try to figure out which deity had saved him (nat1). It was totally Peylor. Thankfully, the bloodhunter asked him why he thought that and figured out (nat20) that it was actually Umberlee before Bug started praying.

The dream he gets says, “Open the city. Let the path open.” Still no idea what that means.

Bug had a sword commissioned to be made from one of the celestial shark teeth with the symbol of Umberlee on it. A DM roll later, and Bug had a Sword of the Mysterious Stranger.

We find out about The Curator when Baron Geoff (the bard) manages to catch one of the crows. Bug is trying to be helpful and accidentally spills the beans on some things. So we had to figure out where the Curator’s goons were going to go a raid it first. We narrowed it down to an island with Kuatoa in the harbor and an old  battlefield Bug had a map for and had been itching to get to.

We sent the party of now lvl 2 NPCs to the island and convinced Dirk the wraith to go assist them. The party proper managed to gather some NPCs to help us go scout the battlefield. Bug lost a day trying to tame some of the large goats roaming just outside of town while the rest of the party did other preparations.

We did manage to convince some NPCs to join us on our trip to the battlefield. A goblin gambler, an older cleric with a winter wolf, a dwarfish gunslinger, and a fey woodchuck.

Bug the convinced the fey woodchuck to accompany us so they could continue messing with the gunslinger.

The bloodhunter convinced the gunslinger to come so he could keep an eye on the fey woodchuck.

Bug followed the fey woodchuck through a Transport Through Trees spell, and asked to be sent to the battlefield. No one else in the party had thought to do so (we were all there). So they got to figure out a way to get to the battlefield. Turns out the coastal wizard a day’s trip from town is only lvl 4, so they had to ride oxen from the caravan.

The upside to this was that Gesento(sp?) got paid with the sharktooth shield Bug had him commissioned before heading out.

Thanks to being in the fey wild, Bug got transported to the battlefield 4 days prior. He remembered to thank and pay the fey. Then, spent the next 6 days scurrying about finding, logging, and deducing everything he could about the battle. Including some more recent spine devil spikes.

The bloodhunter found a sword that was buried that Bug overlooked. Bug recalled a story about a noble who refused to leave his castle as it sank, and a knight who had come from said castle (nat20). But the source was pretty sketchy.

The Currator’s crows show up, so Bug starts distracting them. Being a terrible liar did and didn’t help. Accidentally outing the Bloodhunter as being a Bloodhunter and asking the crows what they knew of the Promethean (dead language) phrase “seek the dead brother”, the crows (lesser undead themselves) got VERY riled up.

The Currator’s skeletal Kenku goons started showing up and a fight ensued involving a coatl that was acting weird. As soon as the skellies were dispatched, Bug booked it for the trapdoor Rolland had dug out in a fortified hut. Inside was a spiral stairwell. Bug tied some rope to the railing, then proceeded to slide down the hand rail w/o issue (nat20). Which also meant he went sailing off the end of it cartwheeling across the floor, setting off all of the traps behind him, a subterranean courtyard and stopping abruptly by slamming into a tree in its center (nat1) after causing a loud ruckus.

Found the sunken castle!

Thankfully the werewolves that lived there weren’t part of the cult and didn’t kill us since Rolland smoothed things over with them. And we successfully defeated The Currator’s goons! Bug was happy to had some more skulls to his collection.

He also made some Kenku jaw bone pauldrons for our Drow Light Cleric. Yes, you read all of that sentence correctly.