#damnable roach

[eolasesayelan]

Damnable roach!

[natjennie]

ARADIN SAY THE LINE!!! OPEN THE BLOODY GATES

[malewifegustave]

happy one year anniversary to

🪳😈 damnable roach 😈🪳

🗡️🤺 provoke the blade 🤺🗡️

💃🏿🕺🏿 and suffer its sting! 🕺🏿💃🏿

[rowan-of-waterdeep]

Daily Wyll!

Wyll: Damnable roach. Provoke the blade...

[sir-sphinx]

how did dysmas and wylls first meeting go

thought process here: so Dysmas is a wild magic sorc in game but i dont think that's actually what he is. idk what his subclass is i havent decided, but he's a sorcerer who can no longer remember incantations and whose magic has been really really unpredictable ever since his head injury. point being i think he'd fuck up catastrophically in battles early on

open the bloody gates!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

There’s a low sound, a rumbling crackle that fills the air with a crushing pressure. Ears pop, like being too deep in a lake, and in a light that’s somehow lacking light, one of the goblin archers is flung backwards to the rocks. Her companion looks frantically about the cliffs.

Dysmas’ eyes lock on the scene. The pull of magic in the air, not quite like his but just as frightful.

“Damnable roach!” A voice from the rocks. The man leaps from the cliff fearlessly – threads of a spell around his boots, a different spell – and slides down the perilous stones leaving scrapes in the moss.

“Provoke the blade…” he disarms the second goblin with barely a flick of his rapier, then like it’s second nature he slides that rapier into the goblin’s poorly-armored body just below the sternum. A strong hand guides his enemy’s shoulder and drives the blade all the way through, hilts it for just a moment, then slips it back out and shoves the sputtering thing off the ledge. He finishes his little speech, “...and suffer it’s sting.”

Dysmas holds it together, he really does, for a while. The crackle of the stranger’s spell, the battle-rush to his heart, the tang of blood being spilled. They wrap around him like a cloud, confusing and thick, a profound sense of wrongness and inexplicable pain in his chest. Emotion he can’t quite identify – shame, fear, desire, excitement, sorrow, recognition? – and overwhelmed senses. The world itself tilts. His very skull hurts.

He shakes it from his pounding head but it clings to him, as he prepares to ready a spell. He’s already stood for too long, too many seconds. Lae’zel is already in the thick of it sloshing goblin blood into the dirt and Shadowheart is throwing a reluctant blessing onto her from farther back. He can’t see Astarion, he’s vanished to the shadows beneath the outcropping.

He has to remember spells. He doesn’t remember them, no more than he remembers if his name is really his name. His hands remember the grips of his daggers but his head won’t pull incantations easily. What did it say, that book Gale lent him?

He’ll call a web. Drow cliché, right? Only half, maybe more maybe less, you can’t remember, can you?

A spider’s web, it felt easy in his hands when he practiced at camp and it’ll slow the goblin archers beneath him. Hold them still for the stranger’s bloody blade.

Voco – that’s the first piece. He remembers a few that started that way.

“Vo-” his voice fails him, “Voco ...ar...Voco ar—uh, vina, VOCO ARVINA!” It sounded right, close to right, maybe right, up until the spell backfires against his hands like a rebellious horse. Called forth isn’t a spider’s web to wrap the goblin in but a catastrophic burst of grease and mud, roiling around him. He steps back, startled, and it wraps around his boots; he slips backwards and wheels his arms around desperately. Hands scrape on the nearby stones. The cascade of sludge rushes down the ledge, taking the goblin below with it but also spreading out across the clearing. Dysmas hears Astarion yell, apparently caught up in it.

“No! No no no, not-” Dysmas calls out like his magic will obey him, even as a pointed head, wings, and claws begin to birth from the grease-mud. “-mephit?!”

He holds his hands up, hoping that thing will obey him as its summoner but the mephit, flapping muddy wings, looks at him with dark and ill-intended eyes.

He’s so occupied trying to remember any spell that might hold it off, he doesn’t even see the goblin from above flip his crude daggers in his hands and back up for the jump.

He never sees that one, not until the low squeezing pressure change of the Eldritch blast that throws the goblin back and the second that hits the mephit in the back just as it sends Dysmas to the muddy ground.

Then he’s being pulled up, guided back to his shaking feet by a strong hand on his shoulder. Dysmas peers up, head tilted back like a curious dog to find he’s sagged against the stranger from the rocks. He’s a young man, a human, with dark skin and a scarred face, and he takes the moment to steady Dysmas in the midst of the battle around them.

“Breathe easy,” the stranger says, and pulls Dysmas a few steps back, a safe relatively dry path off the ledge. Leading him quick out of the range of the misfired spell. “Stay back here!”

He holds his hands up, motioning Dysmas into the shade of the ledge, and a small smile slightly wrinkles that scarred face.

Then he’s off, back into the fray, leaving Dysmas at the very back. He must look frail to the man, considerably so. By now the heady mix of blood and fear and dark magics in the air has the edges of Dysmas’ vision clouding again. Hands reach for the two mismatched daggers at his hips, fingertips tingling at contact. He doesn’t listen, because he’s no wizard; he follows the stranger into the fray, and doesn’t try any more spells.

[forcewound]

damnable 🤬👿 roach 🪳‼️ provoke the blade 🤺🤺🤺 and suffer its sting 🦂🐝🪼

[xxnashiraxx]

(Teaser) Chapter 4: Behind a Broken Frame

Hi everyone!! Here's a teaser for tomorrow's chapter of With Stars to Fill My Dream 🖤 (and another screenshot of my girl)

“Damnable roach. Provoke the blade,” He punctuates his words with a stab as the goblin falls limp. “And suffer its sting.” He shoves the goblin’s body down into the fray, setting off the powder keg that leads into a full skirmish in front of the gate. “That was pretty cool,” Ofelia whistles and Astarion rolls his eyes. “Please. With an entrance like that, he’s sure to get himself killed. All those showy types usually do,” She stares at him incredulously, either in disagreement or for some other reason. As she begins to rise, Astarion grabs her arm, keeping her in place. “What are you doing?” He hisses. “We’ve obviously got to help them! They’re clearly outnumbered- we can help balance the fight a little.” He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You don’t stand a chance against half of those enemies, least of all the bugbear, and I’d rather not drag around dead weight while trying to stay alive.” She flinches and jerks her arm away from him before narrowing her eyes. Great. “I did just fine on the nautiloid, thank you very much. I have a crossbow, I’ll hang back-” “And what? Let Lae’zel take an arrow for you? Shadowheart? The wizard?” At his words, her eyes flare in anger and he instinctively leans back, somewhat pleased he’d drawn such a reaction out of her. Before she’s able to speak, Lae’zel cuts her off. “The teeth-lings before mentioned seeing githyanki. This appears to be their encampment- let us do battle and get inside. I would like to question them.” Lae’zel stands, forcing them to join the fray as they’ve now been spotted by the man above the gate. “Get behind me, Ofelia,” Shadowheart motions slightly and Ofelia nods, shooting a look of distaste at Astarion. He scoffs and turns away, focusing on the battlefield as he creeps up the hill and backstabs a goblin archer on the rocky outcropping above them. Lae’zel takes the bugbear by surprise, her sword catching against its right flank just as it’s about to bring its club down on the adventurer group’s ranged attacker. It bellows in pain as it whirls on her, and Shadowheart utters the incantation for Shield of Faith to help lessen the impact of its weapon against Lae’zel’s sword. As Astarion’s eyes track the impromptu battlefield, searching for his next target, he sees Gale send a puddle of acid off towards the warg and cold realization dawns over him. Ofelia isn’t anywhere- not behind Shadowheart, like the cleric had instructed, nor beside Gale or near Lae’zel. Where could she have gone? Idiot. “You gonna take out that goblin or what?” He nearly jumps out of his skin at the soft voice in his ear, turning to see her eyes flare with satisfaction. “What in the hells are you doing up here?” He whisper-shouts, watching her lean back. “I figured I'd be better off trying to take some potshots from up high. I’ll die if any of those things try to stab me.” Her voice is steady, but her gaze darts around the clashing weapons and cries below with an undercurrent of wariness. “I’m better at sneaking around if scaring the shit out of you is a good enough tell.” There’s that smug grin again and he sneers at her, unwilling to yield.

[freshcut-chetney]

i think One of the worst instances of tumblr activism I've seen was the time i saw someone asking if Wyll's introduction in act 1 was racist because he said "Damnable roach" and roaches are brown and he's brown soooooo.

Somehow this person being offended about the perceived racism was more racist than what was on screen lol

[crossdressingdeath]

Wyll: Damnable roach. Provoke the blade... ...and suffer its sting.

WYLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MY LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Look at him, he's such a dork. With his little catchphrase and his smile. Seriously considering doing my Astarion origin run next just to smooch Wyll's precious perfect face. I legit perked up like a puppy the moment he appeared, I'm so happy to see this boy.

[slifarianhawk]

Chapter 26: make it easy on yourself

As Albert, Excella, and I drank, I rang the boys back in through the comm link.

When they walked into the room, I offered them a drink to which Nighthawk and Steve took the offer up. I had Archer put away the Disaronno and Osmanthus wine as the festivities were winding down.

"Now that you are a part of tricell, there is something that needs to be done, my dear lotus." Wesker said, stroking my cheek,"a gift if you would believe it or not."

"Yes, the main reason I went to Russia was to extract two people. A Dr. Cordell and his lovely wife, the main doctor in the creation of the Angelis virus project, which you are so versed in." Excella said, taking a sip of her brandy.

My eyes flared their signature, icy blue. My blood started to boil, memories flooding to the surface. My body slowly started to tremble in rage. I dropped my glass and watched it shatter.

A massive growl was unleashed from my throat,"CORDELL!"

(FLASHBACK)

{Trigger warning torture mentions of non con}

/October 28,1998/

Cold, my knees and feet were freezing on the cement floor. Seven needles stuck in my back. My arms chained down pinned to my side. The cold steel dug deep into my wrist, causing deep gashes and scarring cuts. My body naked in a hunched over position translucent white fluid dripping from my back side. Tears stained my cheeks.

CRACK! A bull whip rung out slicing open the flesh between the first row of syringes. Searing pain was all I felt as the wound hastily repaired itself.

"Her will is undeniably strong, colonel Sergei. But it seems the Angelis virus has also made her at least much more easily fixable. Just admire how fast she heals." Dr. Cordell said, walking in front of me as my eyes glowed a cold shade of blue,"tell me, was she truly wasted on scum like that damnable traitor, Wesker?".

I growled and started to transform into the equinoxal mutation. They brought up him. Here, why!?! just to rub salt in the wound of being stuck here. My dead husband is coming back to haunt me again.

ZAP

Scorching pain seared through me. A cattle prod was pulled away from my side. The pain was a reset to my body, causing the transformation process to halt. The ringing in my ears started to amplify.

When I get out of these damn chains, Sergei will pay. He already had taken my support system, and now he's rubbing a wound with salt. I was going to make him pay dearly for this.

"Yes, I do wish I got to my niece first before that stupid roach did, but lord Spencer has his plans for her. As his most loyal follower, I'll obey his every command." Sergei said, taking a scalpel and carving his name into my back, "doesn't mean I can't have fun with her. I already tainted her lovely back side. Now I'm going to work on that pretty little mouth of hers. Slowly, I'll mold her into the perfect toy and soldier for me and Spencer. When the time comes, she'll be able to eradicate our infestation." A dark laugh echoed out of Vladimirs throat.

"HE IS ALREADY DEAD AND GONE HIC JUST KILL ME YOU HEARTLESS BASTARD." I screamed at the thought of Sergei shoving his disgusting penis in my face. It made me feel sick to my stomach.

"She doesn't know, does she colonel?" Dr. Cordell asked.

"Know what, Sergei? What are you not telling me?" I growled out, my nails slowly growing and turning black.

"Red queen." Sergei said, turning to face the wall.

"Yes, Colonel?" A red hologram of a beautiful woman appeared.

"Show our dear agent seven forty-eight the final moments of the mansion lab and front entryway." Sergei said as a screen lowered into view.

Cctv footage played of the Arkley lab on the night of July twenty fourth.

"You'll regret this, my lady, of that I promise." His eyes left a trail like mine except his glowed a brilliant red.

It showed him plowing through B.O.W.S. and even trapping Lisa Trevor. The best and worst part was that he was alive and had survived. He hadn't come to me. He didn't even come home or contact me.

"He.....he...... he abandoned me.....why?" I was there. I came back to Raccoon City to find him. Spencer was right he had survived and chose not to come for me.

Doctor Cordell laughed along with Sergei as my heart crumbled away into nothingness. The ringing in my ears was now a deafening roar. My face grew a sheet of black glass like silica, creating a mask that hid my tears. My choking sobs started to sound like blood curdling growls. My canines were now black and four inches long over my bottom lip. Six massive bloody batlike wings ripped from my back, throwing all but one syringe into the walls. Black silica bracers grew from under my skin, breaking their way through my wrists. I flicked the wings, and the chains corroded away. Cracks formed in the cement floor.

I was truly alone. My family thinks I'm a monster. My friends are dead. Sergei rapes me during the night. Worst of all, my husband abandoned me. The only things that keep me alive are my kids. However, Vladimir has my daughter here, and the other has been tagged for capture. My life has been made mute.

Darkness clouded my vision. The ringing was blaring in my head. Make it stop. Make it stop, please. The pain that radiates from my heart was driving me mad. Then, all of sudden, the ringing stopped. I feel cold and cramped.

《Entering 3rd person POV》

"What is happening, Cordell?" Sergei asked the now terrified doctor.

"This is the arch angel form, sir. Most of the research has been non-existent, and this form was just a theory. What happened if the equinoxal mental state was pushed to the limit and broke. She broke sir congratulations are due, but not at this time we should run." The doctor said, terrified backing away.

"Vladmir Sergei! Prepare to be sentenced to Hell!" A raspy roar ripped from Tabitha's deformed mouth.

"I don't think so, my dear fragile flower. I still have plans for you. Cordell, hand me the viral stabilizer you were bragging about." Sergei said with his hand extended.

She raced over to Sergei and swung her five inch long black talons. Her claws were as sharp as a lickers' talons they left a massive gash in Sergeis's side. She tried to retreat back, but Cordell handed Vladimir a syringe, and Sergei had injected it into Tabitha's neck.

Tabithas body started to flame up, and silica surrounded her body. It encased her in a black obsidian like cocoon. When it shattered, Tabitha's body had returned to normal splayed across the floor, and the mutations remained as obsidian statuary.

《Tabithas pov》

"You belong to me now agent seven forty-eight. If you try to harm me again, I'll kill little Miss Alistar and bring that bastard son of yours here. Do you understand, my sweet anemone." Sergei laughed, pulling my body up by my matted bloody hair,"Yes, anemone the flower of fragility. That's what you are not the filthy lotus of rebirth but a lowly buttercup of fragility. You are as fragile as obsidian and just as sharp. The weapon I need will be you seven forty-eight. Make this easy on yourself, my dear, and accept that you now belong to me."

"Yes, sir." I hung my head lost in a tidal wave of depression and reluctance.

(END OF FLASHBACK)

"Commander?!?" Nighthawk screamed.

Huh? What is going on? I can't move

"Everyone get back she's going Arch-angel!" Archer shouted.

The door opened, and I heard footsteps dashing out. It was time. I opened my eyes.

SHATTER!

I broke out of the silica that was starting to encase my body. I won't let that bastard Sergei control my life now that I was free. I'd choose when i go Arch-angel.

Albert was beside me, holding my shoulder. His sunglasses were off as he stared at my now sweat drenched face. He wore a concerned look.

"Tabitha, my dear lotus," He placed his hand on my face, his thumb stroking my cheek,"What did you see? What did you see in that flashback? I know PTSD when I see it. I've seen it in plenty of my men now tell me what you saw my love."

"Sergei and Cordell, when I found out you survived the mansion incident. They both watched me turn into the Arch-angel form. Sergei was becoming my handler, and all cordell did was laugh. Now it's time to return the favor to Dr. Cordell." I clicked on my comm link, "Archer, bring my scalpels, syringes, and pliers to the containment room. Have the prisoners transferred there."

I stood up, placing my corrective shades on, "Nighthawk, please escort me and Wesker to the lab. I need to make several doses of the angelis viral stabilizer and a special treat for Dr. Cordells wife."

"Yes, mam, please follow me." Night hawk bowed, revealing his massive hawk like wings.

"Project a.c.r.o.h? You certainly have quiet the mangarie of interesting people under you, my dear lotus." Albert said, admiring Nighthawk and his wings.

" Even so, we all gladly serve our Pheonix." Nighthawk said, leading Albert and I down the hall to my lab.

Once we arrived at the lab, I threw on my lab coat and sped to my workstation. Quickly, I prepared seven vials of my blood and synthesized three doses of max strength viral stabilizer. Albert stood in the corner as I worked. He seemed deep in thought.

When I dropped to the floor, he walked over and pulled me into a warm gentle embrace, "My dearheart, please be careful. I don't know a lot about the angelis virus, but I can tell that what happened has really drained you. Please, my lotus, make this easy on yourself and rest. Come, I have something to show you. He took my hand and led me out of the vehicle bay.

We walked along the trail of the apple orchard to Alistar's sanctuary. When we got there, I was shocked by the state of things. The statuary was put back together, surrounded by pink carnations. Albert sat at the bench he held me on last night and pointed at the angel statue that had a blue tarp in front of it.

"Go ahead, my lotus lift it. It's not much but something I could do to help you mourn better. I worked ever since you fell asleep, and Excella landed last night." He said as I turned to to fave the tarp.

With a quick grasp, I pulled the cover away and gasped. Tears were now forming in my eyes as I fell to my knees. There was fresh sod and a new headstone in front of Alistar's statue.

It read," Laid to rest, here is Alistar Lancaster. Daughter of Tabitha and Albert Wesker. May she wander the stars infinitely. 1982-2003"

Albert stepped up behind and crouched beside me. He draped his right arm over my shoulder. A relaxed smile was on his face for once. It was stunning.

"I know, I was not there for you or her either when she was born or when she died. However, I know that she wanted this. We are a family again, and once uroboros is complete, no one will harm us again." He said, looking at me, removing his sunglasses.

With a simple motion, I turned and kissed him, "Carry me back to base so I can rest. That way, i can make Cordell pay for all he did to me and Alistar. He will feel the pain that she felt and all the pain he caused me as well."

Albert quickly lifted me up and took me in his arms, heading back to base,"Anything you wish, my dear lotus."

[blackjackkent]

Lacking any other immediately obvious goal, Rakha and co. head straight for the nearby druid settlement in search of the 'Zorru' that the tieflings mentioned, so they can shake him down for information regarding a nearby creche.

Rakha has little to no interest in anything else that might be at the settlement, but is forced to take notice purely because the door is currently shut and there is a lot of shouting happening.

"Open the bloody gate!"

"What's going on?"

Rakha registers immediately that this man is some sort of leader among the tieflings; he takes command of the situation at once.

"Goblins are on our tail. Open the gate, Zevlor. NOW!"

The man on the ground does seem to be some sort of leader as well, of the smaller band he moves with - but he lacks the composure of the man on the wall; his voice grates with terror.

Goblins. Rakha parses this unfamiliar word and quickly finds the meaning of it. Looking further down the road, she realizes that the three humans are being pursued by what can only be described as a hunting pack, a tremendous surge of small creatures about the height of Rakha's waist, all armed with bows and knives and gleefully cruel smirks.

There's a fight brewing, most certainly. One of them takes a series of brutal shots at one of the tiefling guards; who screams and collapses across the control wheel for the gate.

Rakha smells the sudden burst of blood; it saturates her senses as thoroughly as if she'd been coated in it. She feels her breath start to quicken, her heart start to race.

She cares little enough for the humans under threat and little more for the safety of those Zevlor seems to be trying to guard inside, but she can smell the promise of further blood about to be spilled. The goblins crave it the same way the beast in her head does; they will draw it from the humans, from the tieflings - from Rakha herself if she shows her face.

But not if I spill theirs first. She takes a step forward, flame flickering in her palm.

WHUMP. One of the small creatures is suddenly knocked back by a burst of green-black light from the top of the wall.

New magic. Rakha's head swivels around, looking for the source of this attack, which stung through the air with a sharp edge quite unlike the power she herself communes with.

A dark-skinned, dark-haired man in light leather armor has leapt off the wall. She can see the power surging around him, that same green-black hue, over his skin and in his eyes. He carries a blade in one hand, which he sinks unhesitatingly into the chest of another of the goblins, filling the air with another burst of blood.

"Damnable roach!" the man snaps. And he is smiling too - but it is not the murder-glee that sits in Rakha's head and on the goblins' faces. It is something else, something Rakha cannot even begin to interpret.

"Provoke the blade," he calls. A challenge, an invitation, a threat, all rolled into one. "And suffer its sting!"

Perhaps he has more pithy lines to offer, but if so, he doesn't get the chance, as the next goblin he turns his sights on evaporates in a sudden burst of flame.

"Hells!" he snaps, turning at this unexpected intrusion into the battle. Then he grins, registering that it was an intrusion on his side. "Good shot!"

Rakha does not notice the compliment; the smell of blood and charred flesh is overwhelming now. Her eyes have rolled back into her head and the beast has taken over, and she is already barreling deeper into the crowd of goblins with flame rising around her hands.

Gale, standing on the top of a nearby hillock, meets the stranger's eyes and gives him a sort of sideways grin as he prepares a spell of his own. "She'll say thank you later!" he calls. "Or maybe not, to be honest - she's a bit of an odd duck, this one!"

[primamchorus]

First meetings :: Wyll "Damnable roach! Provoke the blade, and suffer its sting."

[dr-acula121]

Naturae Ferox - Chapter 2

Summary:

Caught up in the manipulation and seduction of a certain vampire, Fen struggles with her own sense of control and autonomy, all whilst struggling to hide her own secrets.

A druid without connection. A Chosen without faith. Rage without control.

Pairing: Astarion x Female OC

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, Non-con, Slavery, Smut, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Spoilers, Abuse, PTSD, Dissociation

Chapter 2 AO3

Chapter 2: Outsider

There it was. The urge she knew all too well.

Watching from above, she surveyed the carnage. Goblin scimitars held high, blood spraying as the hide armour of the grove scouting party was hacked.

They had travelled North to the Grove the next morning to find help with their tadpole problem - much to Lae'Zel's very apparent dismay - instead they had stumbled upon an ambush. Three men - a scouting party - now stood with their backs against a closed entry gate, their swords raised.

Astarion had forced one goblin archer off the cliff with an elegant kick square to her back, landing on the hard ground below with a crack. There was an unmistakable cruel smirk on his face as he looked down on his work. Fen's stomach turned.

Gale and Shadowheart had flanked, sending arrayed of sparks through the air whilst Lae-Zel sprinted across the field to cut down the attackers where they stood

Fen was loosing arrows from on high when she felt that familiar pull from deep with her. Her ears rang and all she could hear was the soft breeze whispering in her ear, urging her to violence.

A sacred grove

Lae'Zel's great sword cut down into the shoulder of the bugbear with a sickening sound.

Fen narrowly missed a goblin arrow aimed at her shoulder and shot one of her own, only just hitting the culprit in the thigh.

They dare attack on hallowed ground. 

"Damnable Roach". With a flourish, a human man joined the fight, skewering a goblin in the chest with almost clinical precision before sending a blast of power across the valley.

You know you could end this now.

She felt the need. The need to feel her muscles grow and stretch. She craved the feeling of mauling flesh to ribbons.

A well placed fireball from Gale cremated the worg below, it's body writhing and contorting as it shrivelled. The smouldering flesh catching a grease puddle, causing another goblin to hiss as they too caught the flames.

Astarion laughed as he ducked to miss a swiping blade, plunging his own into his assailant's stomach. He was clearly in his element, moving in a way akin to dancing. He was precise and swift and Fen doubted that the goblins had even seen his blade coming.

She let go of another arrow, this one meeting it's target, hitting the last goblin archer in it’s flank.

You’re better than this, stronger. 

The wind continued to whisper, swirling around her ears. Her dizzying heartbeat pounding in her ears.

She longed to feel strong, powerful. She longed to feel safe in the hide she was in. Her heart clattered against her ribcage, her fingers twitching in anticipation. She began to feel the power surge from her feet as she lowered her stance slightly.

But then the final goblin fell, and her heart steadied. The ringing in her ears stopped as quickly as it had started and she felt herself again. Fen climbed down the cliff face to regroup with the others

"That was fantastic!" Astarion laughed. His nostrils flared, flashing his dazzling teeth in a huge smile. "We should consider killing more often"

"As much as I enjoy destroying goblins from time to time, I don't think we should be actively looking for trouble, Astarion" Gale says pragmatically, dusting off his purple robes.

"No fun" his pouts, hand on hip.

"Come on." Fen urged. "Lets get inside before more come."

Fen surprised herself when she was able to calm Zevlor and Aradin down, both men's egos almost uncomfortably explosive. She was usually the one to stir trouble when she a younger elf, but now she grew tired of confrontation.

After discussing the tiefling's situation with the Hell Rider commander, they pressed on to the sacred pool.

Fen should have felt tranquil and at home. She has after all spent plenty of years in druidic groves and temples across the sword coast. Although she had heard of Emerald Grove and it's keepers, she had never been herself. The lofty caverns of The Hollow filtered light more beautifully than any stain glass in any temple in the city.

Regardless of her past, she felt a reverence here. It was hard to ignore.

The sacred pool itself was equally majestic with vines twisting around ruined stones. She knew she should feel at peace here. She was raised in circles like this. She recognised her past self in the worshippers they passed, their armour and crowns worn proud. However, she couldn't help but feel somethng was wrong. The scales had tipped and it felt unbalanced. She was unsure whether this was due to the refugees bustling around or something deeper within. But she knew the pleading tiefling parents outside of the pool were contributing to this feeling.

"Doesn't feel very harmonious for a sacred grove does it", Shadowheart muttered under her breath and Fen managed to get the druids at the entrance to let them pass.

Together they descended into the Inner Sanctum, with each step Fen felt her weariness grow. Something was wrong and she had a feeling the heart of it lied down here.

"Please! I'm sorry" young tiefling girl pleads, a large snake enclosing in on her. A death viper. Fen knew these creatures well back in Manshaka. She had seen prisoners cast into entire pits of them. A single drop of their poison would be more than enough to kill this child.

"Stop this madness, Kagha. She's just a -" a man says.

" A what Rath? A thief? A Poison? A theat?" the elf woman replies, looking down her nose at the child before her. "I will imprison the devil, annd I will cast out the rest."

This must be the Kagha Zevlor asked her to talk with. And here she is as power hungry as he had described. Fen's stomach turns, that familiar urge builds.

"You reject the helpless", Fen hissed from between her teeth. "You claim to worship the Oakfather but you reject him yourself." She looked Kagha up and down, her eyes narrowed in judgement.

"Perhaps you don't know that Silvanus spoke further. The parasite must be removed for new seed to grow. Yet behold, the parasite lives." Kagha sneers, her head bobbing like a snake herself. "She eats our food, she drinks our water and she steals our most sacred idol."

"Sacred idol" Fen laughs humorlessly. "Oh how lost you are Kagha. In what plane of existence would Silvanus place the value of a idol over the life of a child. A mere object next to one of his creations?"

"You have no idea of our way of life, stranger. Or the dangers we face. We must have balance, and I must protect the circle from the incoming storm."

"If you claim this child as your enemy Kagha, you'll learn what storm Silavnus' wrath will bring", words left Fen's mouth before her brain could process. Words from deep within, a place she hadn't been in touch with in some time. "You will release the girl to me. You've proven your authority First druid" Fen's jaw was clenched as she sneered. "Now let's prove your mercy."

"Ssifisv" Khaga mutters to the snake. It stands down and everyone can breathe a bit more clearly. "Now go" she tells the tiefling girl. "And tell the others of my grace".

Arabella didn’t need to be told twice before she made it for the staircase, Gale just stepping out of the way to avoid the child. She didn’t look back.

"Only nature can bestoy grace Kagha. You would do well to remember that". Fen feels her anger slowly ebb, her heart slowing. She relaxes fists she didn't know were clenched.

"The Treefather has spoken." And that was final. And yes, and perhaps the Treefather had spoken, but not in the way Kagha had thought.

The remainder of their time at the grove felt tense. The healer Nettie had given little help on the matter of the parasites but had advised that the group look to Archdruid Halsin for further guidance. Lae-Zel made no effort to contain her annoyance as she muttered in both common and gith about how this had been a waste of time.

The reunion between Arabella and her parents felt far from a waste of time for Fen. Once the girl was in her mother's arms, she felt the scale tip and the world felt ever so slightly more balanced, even if just for a moment. A breeze tickled the hair behind her ear.

She couldn't help but notice the blatant eye roll of the pale elf next to her, his arms crossed.

The rest of the trip proved at least somewhat useful. Lae'Zel learnt more about the Creche nearby, and they party took the opportunity to stock up on camp supplies - cooking pots, weapons and armour. Fen paused as she regarded the wares infront of her, passing over the leafed druidic armour to select the chain shirt just next to it. Not to mention Wyll, the human warlock who had agreed to join them on their journey. 

"You surprise me, my elven friend" Gale muses, as they arrive back at camp, the sun now making evening descent.

"Yes? How so" Fen asks, carefully removing her new armour to place it among her rapidly growing pile of things.

"The way you defused the tension between Zevlor and Aradin. The way you got Kagha to release the girl. It impressed me" He smiled.

"Well, thanks I suppose" She looked up to meet his eyes. Brown, crinkled in the corners in a warm friendly way. She didn’t detect any hint of deceit. She didn’t know why she thought she would.

"You have demonstrated more than a strong and noble character. And not to mention prime leadership qualities"

She blushed. When was the last time she blushed? "Well, thank you Gale."

"You're most welcome". After a moment to take her in, he smiled and turned away. Off to start dinner no doubt. Although Fen already felt somewhat satiated.

The night crawled along as domestically as before. Gale's stew filling although albeit bland.

"As lovely as that looks," Astarion scoffs, "I think I'll have to pass tonight. I seemed to have lost my appetite for gruel I'm afraid"

Fen threw daggers in Astarion's direction but he merely shrugged as he handed his bowl to her. "You should have this. You look like you need it". Her eyes narrowed further.

"I do apologise. If we were back in Waterdeep, I could put you all together a hotpot so flavourful it would knock even your socks off Astarion", Gale looked defeated, looking into his own bowl now. "It's difficult with such limited ingredients and without seasonings…"

"No, Gale, Astarion is just being a prick. Ignore him." She took a large mouthful to drive her point home. "It's perfect for what we have, thank you."

Eventually Gale, Shadowheart, Lae'zel and their new companion Wyll retired, leaving just their elven campmates resting by the fire.

"You seemed rather invested in that tiefling girl", Astarion mused. He was lying on his back one leg crossed over the other, cleaning a knife above him. The whole scene would look dangerous was she not aware of how much control he had over that weapon at all times.

"So what?" Fen looked up from her book.

"Tut, tut, so defensive, dear. I was just saying you seemed rather upset about the whole thing" he said rather reductively,

"Thought you would have whole heartedly supported some thievery, Astarion." She teases. "No encouraging of young talent?"

"That’s where you're wrong, dear. Couldn't care less about the whole thing. Colossal waste of time that panned out to be"

Fen knew he is talking about the healer, but suspected that he disagreed with her heroics too. 

"It's not actually a crime to care about someone else. You going to pass sentence, Your Honour?" She said sarcastically "For what? Having a conscience?"

"No, not for your saviour complex. But maybe fraud" He stopped to examine his knife, the blade flashed in the firelight. "I have a feeling you're a druid."

Fen's blood runs ice cold

"Why's that?" Her voice cracked, leaving her exposed, but she continued. "Because I have a basic grasp of religion and don’t  agree with killing children? Not a huge amount of evidence stacked against me."

"No, because you're a shit ranger"

"Oh fuck off Astarion."

"No, I mean it!" He placed the dagger back in it's sheath next to him and rolled his head to face her. "You're a terrible shot. You couldn't hit a Werebear if it's was sitting in your lap. Not to mention the need to talk to every animal we come across"

She resented that statement. "They have useful information, sometimes"

"Hmm, yes absolutely. I'm much more familiar with good quality grazing patches now. Please send my regards to the cattle of Emerald Grove."

She laughed although she didn’t mean to. "I'll be sure to pass on our compliments"

The fire crackles as it bites through a particularly dry piece of bark.

"So are you? A druid?" He's a dog with a bone, refusing to let go. "You have that wild look about you. Like you'd rather be wallowing in a bog somewhere."

A hand unconsciously reached to touch her hair, still knotted and wild despite the wash in the river. She had attempted to comb it out with her fingers with no avail. She knew she looked every bit as derranged as she felt inside.

"Fuck you" She sneered, making a big show of turning back to her book.

"So I'm right!" He laughed that sing-song laugh she had grown accustomed to these last two days. "Don't worry darling, your secret's safe with me. I'm just wondering though, why it's a secret at all. Surely you have more than enough goblin smashing cantrips up those shabby sleeves?" She knew he was still looking at her, but she refused to rise to him.

"it's complicated." She sighed. "I haven't felt… connected to that part of myself in a long time" She surprised herself with her honesty. Back in Manshaka she felt so disconnected from the flow of life. All she knew was dust, stone and blood. Now surrounded by the rustling trees of the forest she didn't feel like a friend coming home, she felt like a stranger to it. When she had lost her self for all those years, she had lost her place in the great circle. Seeing the Grove today had cemented that for her.

An outsider to the sacred ground, not a pilgrim.

Regardless of this she still felt his bond. She was simultaneously repelled by everything natural and drawn to it. She was bound and tied, pulled in all directions.

"You should consider it. Because I wasn't lying. You're a really terrible shot. Sometimes I wonder who's side you're on." He teased yet another reluctant smile from her.

"Thanks Astarion"

"For what?"

She didn’t say. She wasn't sure what she was thankful for. Whether it was his company or his understanding she wasn't sure.

"What do you think this Halsin is like then? You know these druid types" He rolled back over to pick up his second dagger.

"Powerful I imagine. The way everyone speaks of him. Must be a special archdruid the way they revere him". Fen had known archdruids like him, wise, thoughtful and insightful.

"Did you belong to a circle? Or were you more of a live-alone-in-a-cave-amongst-the-wolves-and-bathe-naked-in-the-moonlight type?"

She laughed. Her time with the circle had definitely involved some bathing naked under the moon, but Hells was she ever going to admit him that.

"A circle of the moon actually. So close." She licked her finger to switch the page, but wasn't taking in any of the words written. "Although never fancied myself the archdruid type. Couldn't think of anything worse."

"Yet here you are slowly becoming our de facto leader" He said quietly, looking up towards the sky, forgetting the dagger in his hands. He has a single eyebrow raised in thought.

Had Fen looked up she might have thought he was scheming.

"So do you know this Halsin?" he eventually asks.

"No, I've heard of him and the others at Emerald Grove, but our paths never crossed." She said truthfully.

"In my mind he's an ancient hermit with not a thread of clothing", he giggled at the image.

"With a beard down to the ground" She smiled

"And a bird nesting in his hair"

"Oh, absolutely. You know what these druid types are like" Fen realised that she was enjoying this back and forth. 

"Positively ghastly creatures" He said dramatically. "I've heard of them sleeping outside without even a roof over their heads. Savages"

"You should see the riff raff they associate with" She shoots back snootily.

"Well they do take in any stray animal they come across."

"Even preening kleptomaniac magistrates - "

They both snicker childishly.

The fire hissed and sparked. It was Fen's turn to add another log.

"You should rest." She said, shuffling back to sit back on her bedroll. "I'm going to stay up and do some reading."

"Huh, I didn't think you could read. I just assumed you were looking at the pictures, dear." She shook her head defeatedly at his words. "What is it you're reading anyway?" He rolled onto his side, his head supported by his hand as he leaned on his elbow.

"I don't know really, just something I borrowed from the Enclave library at the grove. A book on druidic gods"

He gasped melodramatically. "And you call me a thief. Is it not - I don't know - immoral to take a book from a sacred grove? Tut, tut, I doubt Papa Oak would be all too happy with you"

"I doubt he'll miss it." She shrugged. She genuinely didn’t care. "You should get some rest." She looked up at him, meeting his eyes, "that’s if you can with me on lookout with my 'terrible shot'"

As he stood to stand, she admired the way he moved so gracefully, his lean muscle evident under his shirt. She looked away as she felt the flush of her embarrassment. She hadn't meant to look at him that way.

"Well I for one think you're a perfectly adequate lookout" He began towards his tent. But stopped to crouch just behind her. She could feel his breath against her ear, colder than she expected. She's suddenly thankful he cannot hear the heart racing in her chest. She would be mortified if he were to know how easily he was affecting her.

"As long as we aren't attacked by were-bears in the night I suppose" he purred.

Before she can even turn around to face him, he was gone. His tent flap closing swiftly behind him.

Her ear tingles.

[honorhearted]

WOULD YOU RATHER: Eat a cockroach or kiss Jace on the mouth?

WOULD YOU RATHER? Send my muse any two things and they have to pick between them. / @voxvulgi

The world had a cruel sense of humor, and Benjamin felt that no more strongly than in this very moment. Souring, he asked, "Would I rather kiss my fiancée's brother or eat a cockroach?"

Good Lord...

Rubbing the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, he sighed and lifted his head again. "It could already be argued that I eat bugs on occasion, what with our rations sometimes getting spoiled," he said. "But on the other hand, the length of this damnable kiss was never specified -- something quick and barely touching might be preferable to actually ingesting a pest..."

How was he supposed to choose? The idea of eating a roach was wholly repulsive, and yet so was kissing Haley's brother, so with a grudging little scoff, Benjamin grumbled, "Jace -- but only because I know he'll immediately kill me afterwards."

Nothing quite like being put out of one's misery...

[snotsloth]

Despite turning my brain to mush at work today, I did write 2337 words of my NaNo project. Currently at 15,936 words total!

Today, Brychan and the tadpole squad fought some goblins, and met a dashing and mysterious folk hero. (It's Wyll. They met Wyll.) Brychan broke up a fight and Astarion lost his patience with Brychan's seeming inability to say no to anyone in need of help, even with the ticking time bombs in their skulls.

Favorite passage from today is actually edited content from a previous partial draft. It didn't go towards my total word count for today, but since I read over it and tweaked some stuff, I'll share it here.

“Damnable roach!” A new voice called out over the cacophony of the battle. Brychan looked up to the cliff ridge and saw a man wielding a rapier leap over the edge to face a cluster of goblin sharp-eyes.

“Provoke the Blade,” the man shouted as he drove his foil into a goblin’s heart, then spun around and used his momentum to fling the dying creature down on the heads of their comrades below. “And suffer its sting.”

The Blade of Frontiers? Brychan wondered to himself. What in the hells is he doing here? Brychan had heard of the notorious monster hunter during his brief time in Baldur’s Gate. The man who called on the fires and miasmas of the Nine Hells to defend innocent farmers and villagers from the great beasts of the Frontiers.

He cut quite the dashing figure, tall and lithe, favoring quick footwork and lightning-fast flourishes of his enchanted blade over brute strength. His lightly padded red tunic complimented his dark brown skin, and his hair was twisted into neat ridges that ran from his brow to the nape of his neck. As Brychan watched, the Blade seemed to disappear with a pulse of sickly green light and a puff of black smoke blasting outwards, engulfing the nearby goblins who choked and fell back as if struck.

The next moment, the Blade appeared on the floor of the clearing with another plume of poisonous smoke and plunged his rapier into the shoulder of another booyag. However, he failed to notice the ravening worg coming up behind him.

With barely a thought, Brychan threw a booming thunder wave towards the creature, knocking it back against the cliff wall. It clipped the Blade’s shoulder, spinning him to face Brychan from across the valley. Two eyes, one a deep, warm brown, the other pale stone, widened in shock. Brychan pulled the air up beneath him and flew to the Blade’s side, where he shot a bolt of lightning towards the stunned worg, ensuring it stayed down.

“My thanks,” the Blade said with a lopsided grin. “Not every day someone saves me from a beast.” He deftly dodged the rusty blade of a goblin and with a sharp “Ad te!” he shot fire from his left hand, knocking them back, and engulfing them in flame.

“No worries,” Brychan grinned back, shaking a stray strand of hair out of his face. Then he turned to shout to Lae’zel who was at the heart of the melee. “Lae’zel! See if you can push them against the cliff. We can keep them from bolting this way!”

Lae’zel nodded, her face stern as ever. Though Brychan thought he caught a sparkle of delight in her eyes as she swung her longsword in a mighty arc, pushing the crowd back towards the western cliff face.

A goblin sharp-eye screamed as she fell from the peak of the knoll. She landed in a crumpled, insensate heap. Looking up, Brychan saw Astarion peer over the edge and salute him with a pilfered goblin bow when he caught him looking. Astarion ducked back under cover, the only clue to his position, a steady stream of arrows, sailing through the air and embedding themselves in worg pelts.

Caught up in checking on his new comrades, Brychan forgot to keep watch on his immediate surroundings. Suddenly the Blade’s arm caught him around the waist and pulled him out of the path of an arrow. Brychan stumbled and caught himself with his free hand against the Blade’s chest.

Another goblin threw himself at the two of them, catching the Blade on the back of his thigh, chipped blade tearing through leather armor and tender skin. The Blade hissed through his teeth and stumbled against Brychan.

“Shit!” Brychan cried out, ducking below his new partner’s shoulder, trying to prop him up with limited strength while he also jabbed the goblin with the tip of his staff. He sent a wave of thunder down the shaft, throwing the goblin back into the pack where Shadowheart easily finished him off with a firm crack of her mace against his head.

“We’re thinning them out!” Lae’zel yelled. “Keep up the pressure!” She was right. There were more goblins dead or unconscious on the ground then remained standing. Both paths of escape were blocked, one by Brychan and the Blade, the other by a rain of magic missiles from Gale at the top of the knoll. At first glance, Brychan could count about three goblins, and one bugbear still in the action. Thank the gods all the worgs were finally down.

Seeing the Blade’s injury, Shadowheart dashed over to the two of them, ducking under the injured man’s other arm, and saying, “Go, I’ve got him taken care of.”

Brychan nodded and released him to to her care. Taking a deep breath and drawing the winds up from beneath him, Brychan shot into the air.

“Lae’zel! Fall back!” Brychan shouted. Lae’zel disengaged from the remaining knot of goblins, longsword brandished to push them back if any followed.

Letting the static build in his limbs and thunder rumble in his chest cavity, Brychan took another deep, calming breath, and let go. A great bolt of lightning shot from the crystal on the top of his staff and into the chest of one of the goblins, instantly turning him into a charred corpse. A second later, a mighty roll of thunder threw the last two back about ten feet, already unconscious.

Lae’zel braced against the thunder wave and then charged back in, skewering one goblin. Leaping down from the rock formation, Astarion slit the throat of the last one.

Spirits buoyed by the appearance of the Blade of Frontiers and the success of the others, the three original adventurers descended on the remaining bugbear and made short work of him. As he fell, the ivy covered gate began to rise.

“That was the last of them. Inside, all of you. More may follow,” the older tiefling on the ridge called down. Everyone ran into the shady shelter of the gate. Brychan did a quick sweep of the valley. Everyone from his group was still standing. Only the Blade had sustained a significant injury.

It looked like Shadowheart had managed to seal the wound, but not fully heal it. The Blade leaned heavily on her shoulder, wincing with each step. Brychan trotted over and slipped under his other shoulder, offering what little support he could so as not to jolt the injury needlessly.

They were the last three through the gate and, as it lowered behind them, Brychan could already hear raised voices clashing further in. He craned his neck to see what the fuss was about, but he couldn’t quite discern the source of the commotion.

“Go on,” Shadowheart said. “I’ve got him from here.” She cocked her head towards a large boulder on the side of the trail, indicating that she could let her charge rest there as she finished cleaning and bandaging his injury.

Brychan nodded and then slipped away to jog towards the small crowd forming a few yards away.

[honeybearhalsin]

DAMNABLE ROACH! provoke the blade….. and suffer it’s sting…….