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saturatedboy · 4 years ago

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Lord Heisenberg X Male!OC

New and first story series! This involves a male OC, however be free to use your own name instead. This book won’t exactly follow the plot of RE8, however ideas will be taken from it.

Male!Oc- Leonardo is a 27 year old male that works within a distance village called ‘Village of Ram’. Reason for it’s name is that its hidden away behind many mountains. His job includes being a literacy teacher within a new still-in-construction school. On the side lines he is a journalist, using his findings to post through the Duke to spread around the other villages. However not all his stories can have a happy ending, and I fear the story he’s within won’t go to plan. Would his story be complete with a happy ending, or will he loose- may the pages of his story be turned.

Warnings: Mentions the use of alcohol

Words: 3K

The Slaughter of the Ram

Chapter 1

They all stared at him with a lost look in each and every one of their eyes. Some had heads down, others blinked away any boredom that snuck in through the words that came from his mouth and the rest were whispering amongst themselves with a few giggles escaping. They really didn’t want to be here but they were forced by the leaders of their home to. It wasn’t like they could get education anywhere else.

The sudden chime of a bell ringing had woken most of the young. Them all being swift in gathering their things together. The older male stood with chalk in hand, watching the young pack away equipment such as pencils, paper and books. Smiling at their eagerness to leave his class, with a clear throat he spoke over the loudness that they were causing with their chairs and voices. “Read pages 12 to 16 of ‘Mid-Summer Night Dream’ please in your break!” A chorus of groans left most of their mouths leaving the male at the front to chuckle. “I know you all are enjoying it all!”

“Sir, must we read? It’s Summer break-”

“Since when do we have Summer break here? You know it’s always Winter here Robert.” The girl with a high bun, neatly wrapped with a silk ribbon had spoken up as she gently flicked the boy named Robert on his forehead.

“So, Charity, it’s still Summer-” He shot back, grabbing her wrist before she could give him another flick. She struggled out of his grip, moving her arm about as she smiled at the others playfulness. The oldest male cleared his throat having heads turn towards him. With a silent chuckle, he banged his fist against his chest a couple of times to clear his throat fully before speaking.

“And here I thought you all wanted to go home.” Just as quick as the words left his throat, his future generation had scrambled out of the door and filed into the very small hallways to escape through the front. He stood there for a minute or two, waiting for all the students to leave fully before turning to face his desk and gathering his own equipment and papers to mark. Being in thought about his next meal of the night, he was drawn back out by a knock against wood.

“Knock knock, it’s your favourite.” A feminine voice that had the tone of a mother had spoken from behind him. Placing the last paper into his messenger bag, he stood and turned to face the old visitor with a bright smile. Leaning against his open door was a woman with blonde hair that was slightly mangled from her usual bonnet that she would wear that was now resting on her shoulders. Her green dress with an apron over the top had reached her ankles which feet was accompanied by black doll-shoes.

“Catherine, great to see you. How were the lessons? Heard you have some new sprouts.” The sudden expression change that came from her explained the whole day to him instantly. With a heavy sigh, she placed her bonnet back onto her head and spoke.

“They were terrible. I’m not even joking. They don’t understand how to make soup. Soup I tell you!” she continued to ramble on about her day, expressing her hatred towards the new students and old ones that she herself had to teach for cookery class. “-And then I told her to put her utensils back and-Hey! Are you even listening to me?” A pout fronted her lips, brows furrowed as she stared at the male with arms crossed over her chest as she watched him stare into space. With a harsh nudged of her, he blinked his eyes and turned t face her, hair swaying with his movement. With a smile and neck scratch, he spoke.

“I’m sorry Catherine. All this talk about food is making me thirsty. Say, would you like to join me at the Inn? I’m pretty sure some whiskey would move all your problems away.” He suggested, adjusting his messenger bag over his shoulder and rolling his beige sleeves up to his elbows. With a soft sigh, the woman placed her bonnet on and brushed her dress down, getting rid of any wrinkles easily.

“Only if you’re paying, and I’ll take my usual of scotch thank you.” Together they walked, arms linked out of the room and school that was still being built. The snow wisped around them, being gentler as it lightly touched their exposed skin. With the walk being silent, they could hear the joyful cries of smaller children playing with sticks and others having the usual game of a snow ball fight. The sight made Catherine cringe. “Children, they are so much to handle.” she expressed her hatred through bending down gathering snow and then throwing a snowball at a child that was in her classroom that day. “And that’s for running with a knife!” She exclaimed as the child that got hit only laughed with a thumbs up, using their other hand to wipe the snow off her arm.

“You mustn't hurt the children; they are the reason this village will be up and running still in times yet to come.” The older male spoke, placing his arm back out for Catherine to grab, which she did almost immediately. Catherine sighed and rolled her eyes, tutting at his words.

“Now Leo, you know very much that if these children aren’t taught manners, then how could they ever survive. Haven’t you heard the news from the Village of Shadows?” She asked, however the older male, Leonardo, stayed quiet. She continued as the Inn was slowly getting closer in their reach. “Apparently mutant sorts of dogs have been wandering about, snatching children left and right. A young girl, age 14 I think, was attacked but luckily survived as her father with his buddies shot at the beast. Wicked I tell you, scarily wicked.”

They reached the Inn at the end of her words, a now unsettling aura around them both. Leo pondered to himself, being caught up in his thoughts as usual. ‘If the centre village is being attacked, then why haven’t they cancelled the festival for two days' time?’ Being dragged into the Inn, Leo huffed and coughed slightly at the sudden smell of cigars blocking his nose. The stench was something he had yet to still get comfortable with however he would deal with it for now. Letting Catherine lead him, Leo looked around the now bustling room of other men and woman, some children falling asleep in the wooden booths to small babies nestle in their mothers' grasps. Waving to familiar faces as he passed them, he quickly settles down at the bar as Catherine sat beside him. “Would you look at her,” She sighed dreamily. Watching her line of vision, Leo followed it to have his vision set on a beautiful woman. Long brown hair reaching her hips, a brow dress reaching the floor with a daisy took behind her ear. She was enjoying a glass of water with some other people that Leo hadn’t set a name with the faces.

“I swear we only come here for you to gush over women.” Leo snarked, rolling his eyes at his friends' actions of whistling loudly grabbing the attention of the girl who blushed deeply in return. Leaning back against the bar top, Catherine giggled and she raised her hand up to call for the bar tenders' attention.

“What can I say, women are really pretty and you can't say much, what about you and Aaron? What happened there?” Her question aa caught in the air as she held a finger up to keep Leo silent, telling the bar tender their orders of whiskey and scotch. It was only after the tender had written down their orders that she signalled Leo to carry on as she turned on her buffet to instead sit straight and look at the lines of bottles behind the bar.

With a groan, Leo dropped his head onto the wooden top as he turned his face to look at her. “He let for another village, asked if I wanted to come. I declined and so he left without any trace of a ‘goodbye’ to me.” Catherine pursed her lips together, only for her lips to stretch into a smirk.

“So, writing boy is free to date hmm~?”

“No, I am not. I enjoy being single and I don’t need no man in my life.” Beside him, Catherine held her laugh. Her faced flushed in red as she tried to keep her composure. With a hard slap on his back, Leo jerked up and sat with an angry look on his face. “Hey, what was that for?!”

“I just felt like it. All this talk about love is making me thirsty- EY BAR TENDER, PASS OUR DRINKS WILL YA!” With a nod from the said other, the bar tender came over to them dropping their drinks on the counter and nodding to them. With muttered ‘thanks’ of the best friends, he walked away to tend to other customers.

Both sat in minable silence, the odd talk about classes to talk about summer ideas passed through their conversations. As the night became young, the pace began to get more crowded and louder. Someone had started to play the harmonica, Catherine had wobbled away from Leo in search of the girl she called beautiful, the place began bustling with smokers and soon, Leonardo had turned on his buffet to watch everything go down. Smiling, he watched as happy couples were on the make-shift dance floor as a small band played, children were running in and out of the doorway and the odd student came up to Leo to ask about the pages they must read. “Just those would do, now go enjoy your night and holiday.” With a loose hand shake, the student ran off again into the crowd of people. Leo scrunched his nose as he downed his 4th glass of the night. The fiery taste burned his throat yet he was still perfectly fine. Looking around the room, he spotted multiple photos hanging of ‘Mother Miranda’. She was Somone that his community and others worshipped. She was their god in their eyes. Although Leo didn't quite understand her, he had his own hopes he wished to grant to her however dreaming is one thing to reality.

Just above the doorway was a sketch of his entire village. ‘Village of the Ram’ was quoted at the bottom of the sketch. There were multiple villages in the area, however his village had mostly resided away from Castle Dimitrescu as he remembered. Words between villages was sent through post by the duke. A large man who acted as a father to all. He was sweet, something Leo did find attractive however The Duke was far from his type. If he didn’t travel every day, Leo was sure to find himself maybe even falling in love with him however he treasures the fact both were close friends- but that never stopped him from never getting a discount of the other.

Placing his empty glass back onto the bar top, the noise from the bell of the door along with gasps and the sudden stop of music had caught his full attention. Turning towards where everyone was looking, the door was wide open with a fairly tall man standing in the way. With long strides, the man had walked in, banging the door close behind him. Murmured talk between everyone erupted at the visitor. The free and enjoyable air that was in the atmosphere had let as it was placed with an uncomfortable sense of feeling. “Ignore me will ya.” The deep, husky voice spoke as everyone went back to what they were doing. Music had started to play again as the new visitor had stride his way up.

Leo stared at the man, taking in his features as he walked practically up to him. Not wanting to attract attention to himself, he spun back around on his buffet and asked the bar tender that was nearby to order him another glass of whiskey. The tender placed the glass he was drying down and went to do as commanded. Leo had stated to take notes in his mind. ‘Big guy, sunglasses blocking his vision, fair long stipple of beard growing, really nice grey hair to compliment his face- overall the fucking Lord Heisenberg.’ Thanking again to the bar tender, Leo kept his eyes on his refilled glass that was stirring with his chosen liquid. He tried his best to keep his breathing down as the Lord of the Village of Shadows had taken the seat next to him. With a shaky hand, Leo sipped his drink this time only to have his eyes wander to look at the man beside him. To his shock, he could see behind the sunglasses to have a pair of greenish yellow eyes staring back at him. Pretending he wasn’t looking; Leo slowly turned his eyesight back onto his drink as he placed the half empty shot glass down. “I’ll have what he’s having.” The same deep voice spoke.

Distracting himself from the talk about him, Leonardo ran a hand through his fairly long hazel hair and pulled it back into a ponytail, using a bobble he had solen of Catherine to tie his hair back. Two loose stands fell in front of his face framing his jawline. “Do I get the pleasure of knowing the young man's name?” The lord asked, turning his larger frame to face Leo.

Biting his lip, Leo turned his head to face him, being greeted again with the same eyes that felt captivating. Without a second thought, he spilt his name. “Leonardo- or Leo would do.”

The Lord smiled in satisfaction, a smirk stretching his lips. “So, you are more than staring!” He exclaimed, catching the attention of a few nearby people who were also sat at the bar, however as soon as they noticed it was the Lord speaking, they turned their heads quickly to carry on with their conversation. Biting back his frustration, Leo spoke up in a much harsher tone forgetting who he was dealing with.

“I’ll have you know it was you staring at me first you-”

A hand pulled on his shirt collar, making him look at the culprit. Catherine was there with the woman from before clinging onto her arm. “My apologise Lord Heisenberg, my friend appears to be drunk.”

“I’d have you know I am no light drinker; he was staring at me-” Catherine slapped her hand over his mouth and began to pull on Leo’s shirt.

“Looks like the alcohol is getting to him. C’mon it's time to go Leonardo.” Heisenberg waved the bar tender away as he placed down his drink of the same liquid as Leo.

“It’s quite alright miss, I find your friends attitude towards me quite...intoxicating.” Heisenberg leaned to grab his shot glass, only to down the whole drink in a mere second. Slamming the glass back not the top, he swung an arm over Leo’s shoulder and pulled him away from Catherine’s grasp. “It’s not every day I see new villages with such Firey attitude. I think I may stay around a little longer, what do you say Leonardo?”

Leo groaned; he could start to feel the effect of the alcohol seeping into his blood stream. Oh, to just pass out in Catherine’s arms would be amazing. “You may be a Lord but that doesn’t mean you weren’t staring at me first.”

“Leo, drop it already.” Catherine hissed, bringing the woman on her arm behind her as she glared at Leonardo. Leo shook his head, letting the alcohol take over his movements as he slowly began to get tipsy.

“He looked at me though,” He whined, pouting as he shot a glare of his own at the Lord who smiled in return. Oh, how he was loving this. The way Leo swayed slightly, to his slightly muscled arms being free and on show for him. To say a man was having such an effect on him that he couldn’t understand, he was enjoying every moment of this.

“How could I not look; you are like the Ram of the village aren’t you.” Heisenberg let Leo’s body fall against his, his arms wrapping almost immediately around his front. Catherine shook in her boots; her friend was at the mercy of the lord’s grasp. “Strong arms with an attitude to prove strength by. So fascinating.” Heisenberg hands got tighter as he pulled Leo closer to him, his scent of chalk and a whiff of whiskey became an instant comfortable smell.

Catherine watched her friend in worry, he was getting less sober by the second whilst she was gaining her composure to be sober. “Not to be rude but I think it's time I take my friend home Lord Heisenberg.” Catherine spoke, twiddling her fingers as the Lor stared at her with an unamused look.

“He’ll be fine. This is a 24-hour Inn, right? I’ll stay with him until he wakes up. Don’t worry, I won’t do anything to a Ram like him.” Catherine balled her fist. Here her friend was half awake and half asleep and she knew she couldn’t do much against a Lord. She sighed and nodded, trusting him with his words as she turned on her heel and walked away, the smaller lady following her.

Heisenberg turned his attention back onto the male named Leonardo. ‘Such a pretty little thing, too bad you're a little annoying- or maybe it's because of the alcohol.’ Heisenberg thought as he placed Leo’s head onto the counter carefully, letting his whole slightly taller than average frame fall against the counter. Heisenberg watched as he slept, this was sure an interesting interaction.

He only came to here explore the other villages, for Mother Miranda to have some new bodies for the experiments. He never suspected to already be caught up in weird feelings with some random boy. He only knew his name anyway. “Leonardo,” He smirked to himself, pulling out a cigar from his pocket and lighting it. “Leo-...nardo.” He repeated but more slowly this time. The syllabus that rolled of his tongue felt good. The name was perfect. Looking at the sleeping male one more time, Heisenberg took a drag from his lit cigar. “Leonardo, Strongest Ram in the mountains.”

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opossum-writes · 4 months ago

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The Lonely Ranger: Pt. 5

“Dogs, Waterfalls, & Love/Hate Relationships.”

A/N: there is a slightly spicy scene in here. Nothing crazy, just fade to black/implied sex. I don’t write smut, bc i’m only a wee bab /j. Anywho, theres a twilight reference in here somewhere. Keep an eye out >:D enjoy!

WC: 1911

Ellios and Karlach are playing chess with rocks, sticks, and pebbles, and other objects found on the ground, Gale is sitting beside Ellios, and whispering good plays into his ear. Karlach is surprisingly good at chess. You’d think she’d be a bit rusty at it, because she spent ten years of her life in the hells. But, Karlach is full of surprises.

Shadowheart is praying in her tent. She’s been doing that way more after she went on a rant about how much she hates Adrien while contradicting that with how she described him at the same time. Like a backhanded compliment in reverse… a backhanded insult.

Adrien is out by himself, foraging for mushrooms. He brought Lucian with, so he’s well protected. Grommash is working on training Grishna for combat. It isn’t going very well, she just keeps licking him and having zoomies around camp. Lae’zel is trying to help Grommash, but she can’t seem to get much luck either with training the wolf.

Astarion is sitting outside of his tent, polishing one of his many daggers. After everything that happened yesterday, everyone now knows what he really is. A vampire spawn. Not a full vampire, but still has the same hunger as one. “All the downsides and none of the benefits.” He said.

He’s able to not burn in the sun because of the tadpole. He said it feels like it’s keeping him alive. Wyll is having some rest in his tent. He’s not asleep, but he’s still cozy in bed.

Grommash seems quite comfortable with Lae’zel, and Lae’zel appears to feel the same way around him. Somehow, without Grommash ever saying a word to her, only grunting, they’ve seemed to become quite close with one another. They sit side by side when eating meals. “Istik, you’re doing it wrong. Pay attention.” Lae’zel says, holding a crumb of bread above Grishna’s mouth. She clicks her tongue once, and Grishna immediately walks over to her and sits beside her, practically leaning against the side of her leg.

“Stay.” Lae’zel commands, and walks a few feet away from Grishan and kneels down and holds her arms in front of her, the steel of her armor protecting her skin from any harm inflicted by Grishna’s sharp teeth. “Attack!” Lae’zel says, and Grishna runs at full speed toward Lae’zel, tackling her and licking all over her face. “Tsk’va! No! Stop!” Lae’zel shouts, but Grishna doesn’t stop.

“Stop her! Grommash!!” Lae’zel shouts, as Grishna continues to lick her face all over. Grommash just looks at the wolf and Lae’zel and chuckles. “Grommash!” Lae’zel shouts again, and this time he listens and whistles to get Grishna’s attention. Grishna immediately stops licking Lae’zel and looks behind her at her owner. He clicks his tongue twice and she walks over to him. He clicks his tongue once more, and she sits beside his legs. He leans his head down to the wolf and whispers something to her. He walks over to Lae’zel, who is still laying on the ground.

He holds his hand out to her. It’s just as green as the rest of him, and his palm and fingers are rough and calloused. “Come.” He says. His voice is slightly raspy. He hasn’t spoken since Adrien first convinced him to join the camp. Lae’zel grabs his hand, and he helps lift her up. Well, more like he picked her up. He’s much stronger than her, so he accidentally lifted her off the ground entirely for a second. Grommash doesn’t let go of her hand, instead, he holds it tightly and leads her somewhere through the woods.

Eventually, they arrive at a waterfall. “I found this. Once our missions are completed, I will make it my own. My permanent camp… my ukrypt.” Grommash says. “I wanted to share it with you. Even if you don’t seem to appreciate the beauties of Faerûn.” He sighs.

“Why appreciate a plane as lacking as this, when you can ride red dragons and soar through the astral plane? Perhaps one day I can show you it.” Lae’zel says, a slight smile gracing her lips. Grommash looks down at her and smiles back. “I have a question.” Lae’zel says. “Ask it.” He replies, looking down at her with fondness. Perhaps their relationship isn’t as platonic as everyone else believes.

“You’ve never spoken to me until now. You’ve communicated through grunts only. Why?” Lae’zel asks, looking up at the half-orc with her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I was forced to serve in my town’s military since the age of 15. I was taught very young not to speak unless necessary, to save my words for battle cries. I suppose it… stuck.” Grommash says. The glint in his eyes changes from adoration to sadness.

“When you speak, I will listen. You need not fear me.” Lae’zel says, bowing her head to him slightly. “Your formalities are reminding me of my time spent as a soldier. They are not fond memories.” Grommash chuckles nervously. “Then what do you propose? Skip the nonsense and get straight to… ‘fourth base’? Is that what your kind call it?” Lae’zel suggests, looking up at the barbarian with her eyes coated in desire.

“What? Lae’zel, what has gotten into you?!” Grommash asks, his face turning bright red, and his eyes widening. “I am no k’chakhi. I have seen your glances. I have seen the way you clearly lust for me. I want you, just as much as you want me. But… will you take me?” Lae’zel asks, seeming slightly nervous.

“Of course, but… are you sure? Here? And now?” Grommash asks. “Yes. Here. Now.” Lae’zel smirks, and pushes Grommash against a boulder. “You are mine. And I am yours. Submit.” She says. Grommash smiles. “Such a shame you thought i’d submit to you. You’ve got it all wrong, kaetid…” Grommash flips her over, now on top of her. Seems like the two of them are going to be a bit busy for awhile…

“Guess what! I’ve found a friend for Grishna!” Adrien shouts as he walks into camp, smiling from ear to ear. Karlach and Ellios turn to look at him. “Oh thank gods! Something to drown out the noises from the forest. It sounds like some animals are fucking or something…” Ellios breathes a sigh of relief, and Karlach starts laughing at his reaction. “Thank you, Ellios! I agree. Also, Adrien, while you were out, did you happen to see Grommash or Lae’zel? They’ve been gone for the past forty minutes. Grishna has been sitting in the same spot forever, waiting for a command, but she’s not my dog so I haven’t the slightest idea what to say to her.” Gale explains.

“I haven’t, but don’t worry about those two. Wherever they are, they can take of themselves. Anyways… meet Scratch.” Adrien replies, still smiling. A white dog walks out from behind him, tail wagging and tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth. “I found him waiting beside a dead man. I spoke to him, and he said it was his friend. I let the poor bloke sniff me so he could track us, and halfway to the camp he ran up to me! We’ve got another canine here!” Adrien says, while petting Scratch’s head.

“Awe! Aren’t you just the cutest little thing in all of Faerûn! Yes you are! Yes you are!” Karlach says, kneeling down to Scratch with a big smile on her face. “Ugh! I can’t pet him, or else i’ll burn ‘im. Ellios, pet Scratch for me, will you?” Karlach asks the rogue, and he immediately starts petting Scratch.

Scratch seems to immediately take a liking to the half-elf, rolling over for belly rubs almost immediately. “Looks like Scratch likes you, Ellios.” Adrien comments. “Yeah. Guess so. Understandable, i’d like me too.” Ellios jokes. Karlach chuckles. “Alright, well, i’m gonna do my rounds and make sure everyone in camp is doing alright.” Adrien says, and he walks off.

He stops at Wyll’s tent first, and pops his head inside. “Oi! Wyll, are you alive and well?” He asks, and Wyll tiredly holds up a thumbs up. Adrien leaves, and walks into Adonis’ tent. “Ohh! Well if it isn’t my favorite brother!” Adonis cheers, and Adrien chuckles. “Cousins. Not brothers. Remember?” Adrien reminds him. “I know, but we’re practically brothers, aren’t we? Anyone who says otherwise is right old cunt.” Adonis smiles, and Adrien rolls his eyes playfully and leaves, and walks over to Shadowheart’s tent.

He takes a deep breath, and walks in. “Oi, Shadowheart? Are you still breathing?” Adrien asks. She doesn’t seem to be in her tent, so he turns around, only to be greeted by a knife to the throat. “You put a spell on me, didn’t you? Some kind of… tadpole trickery. Making me think about you in ways I know for a fact I never would. Making me feel things for you that i’d never feel.” Shadowheart says, her eyes piercing into Adrien’s.

“Easy, there. I haven’t done anything to you. No spell or curse or anythin’. Put the dagger down. There’s no use in killin’ me.” He says. “Lies! All you selûnites do is lie. So? Out with it. What did you do?” Shadowheart asks again, her gaze unwavering. Adrien laughs in disbelief. “I swear on my late mother’s left arm, I haven’t done anything to you! Put the dagger down and just talk. Tell me what is making you think I did something to you.” Adrien says. Shadowheart hesitantly puts her dagger away. “Good. Now, tell me. What is going on?” Adrien asks.

“I think of you… often. And not in the ways I should. I should hate. I should despise every part of you. You’re a selûnite, after all. But… no matter how hard I try to hate you, I can’t. Something is making me like you. When I tried to kill you in your sleep, I couldn’t do it because I was distracted by how you looked. You looked… amazing. You still look amazing to me. My hair stands on end when i’m around you, and I get lost in your eyes… your perfect blue eyes. And-and the way you talk, and how you carry yourself with so much pride and yet so much grace at the same time. How you effortlessly shoot down the most evasive of foes with your arrows. It’s like i’m… falling in love with you.” Shadowheart explains, and she instantly feels like a weight has been lifted off her chest.

Adrien, who at first was slightly concerned for her, is now smiling. He’s amused. He chuckles softly. “Have you ever considered that you might just… naturally feel that way? Because my magic stops at very low level spells. Theres no way I can make you fall in love with me or something. And besides, why would I? It’s not like I have a very fond opinion of you. I still hate you. I just learned to let it be, since constant arguing isn’t helping anyone.” Adrien explains. Shadowheart scoffs at the thought, but… it makes sense to her. She’s just been in denial.

Shadowheart is absolutely positive of three things. One, Adrien is a selûnite, which means she’d get abandoned by shar and her cloister if she were to be in a relationship with. Two, there is a large part of him that hated her and everything she is, and three…

She was unconditionally and irrevocably infatuated with him.

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opossum-writes · 5 months ago

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The Lonely Ranger: Pt. 1

“Friends, foes, and constant bickering.”

WC: 3515

Eventually, the pod finally breaks, and the half-elf steps out. “Gods… I thought I was done for…” He breathes a quick sigh of relief, but is quickly reminded of his situation when dragons attack the ship. He looks to his left, and through a giant hole in the side of the ship is a burning wasteland.

“That’s… not good.” He mutters. He checks himself for injuries, but he seems healthy, if you ignore the tadpole squirming around in his brain. He runs toward the hole in the ship, and as soon as he steps foot outside, a mysterious woman stops him. The tip of her sword is aimed right at his chest. “Abomination! This is your end!” She says, her eyes glaring deeply into his.

He goes to hold his hands up to show the woman that he means her no harm, but is interrupted by a sudden headache. The pain is unlike anything he’s ever experienced. Each and every hair on his body stands up, and goosebumps litter his arms. He starts seeing visions. A dragon’s wing, a silver sword, and his face, seen through the woman’s eyes.

“Ugh! My head…” She groans. “What is this?!” She grumbles, and sighs. “You are no thrall. Vlaakith blesses me this day. Together, we might survive.” She says, putting away her sword. “Oh, no way. I don’t exactly, uh, do… team stuff.” He replies, scrunching up his nose as if he was disgusted by the thought. She scoffs. “Your kind are even more idiotic than I previously thought… I don’t care if you don’t want to, if you want to survive this, then you have to.” She says, glaring daggers at him.

He sighs, but doesn’t reply. He only makes a gesture with his hand as a way to say “lead the way.” “We need to reach the helm and take control of the ship. Follow.” The woman commands, and he follows after her with his bow ready in case she tried anything.

As they are running through the ship they pass by another captive trapped in a pod. “Let me out!” She cries, banging against the pod. The man runs up to her and inspects the pod, trying to see if there is some kind of latch to open it. Sadly, there isn’t. He takes a look at the woman trapped inside. She has long black hair tied back into a ponytail, her eyes are green, like the grass surrounding his beloved home in the woods.

He’d be lying if he wasn’t somewhat ensnared by her beauty. Until he notices her armor… it’s very similar to a Sharran’s. “More people will just weigh us down. Lets go.” He says, and the two of them walk off, ignoring the captive. “Are you kidding me?! Let me out!” She shouts, but they ignore her cries.

After an exhausting battle in the helm, they eventually crash land on a beach. The man is plummeting down to his death, but right as he’s about to hit the ground a strange force saves him, and gently places him down. Confused, he stands up, and checks himself for injuries. Same as before. He looks around at the beach. He doesn’t recognize the area.

“Gods, I hate sand so much…” He groans as he brushes off grains of sand from shoulders. He looks ahead of him, and a few feat away is the woman that was trapped on the ship. He runs over to her, and looks down at her. He pulls his dagger from the side of his pack and contemplates killing her while she’s down. After all, she might be a follower of Shar. He doesn’t want to take any chances. However, he decides against it.

He’s not sure why, but something is drawing him to her, and it isn’t just the tadpoles. He puts his dagger away and kneels down to wake her up. “Rise and shine, woman-I-don’t-know-the-name-of.” He says, and grabs her shoulders and shakes her awake. As soon as she recognizes him, she pushes him away. “You left me for dead!” She shouts, her eyebrows furrowed and her lips curled downwards in an angry frown.

“Well, you’re alive, aren’t you?” He shrugs, and she groans. She’s about to say something else, but she stops when she notices the pendant around his neck. It’s one commonly worn by worshippers of Selûne. “You worship Selûne, don’t you? Now it makes sense why you’d leave me for dead.” She says, looking up at the taller half-elf with a look of absolute disgust.

He scoffs. “You worship a goddess who cares only for herself and her secrets. You’re lucky I didn’t stab you when you were unconscious.” He says, his expression matching hers. “And you’re lucky I haven’t bashed your skull in, you gormless prat.” She threatens.

The two of them just stand there, awkwardly gazing into each other’s eyes. “Honestly, I don’t have the energy to bicker. Can we postpone this word-whacking to after we get these tadpoles out?” He sighs, and she scoffs. “Fine. Wait- ‘we’?” She asks, raising an eyebrow at the man skeptically.

“I hate teams, but it’s probably safer in numbers. I’m unfamiliar with the area, and I don’t plan on getting killed by some feral beast of some sort.” He explains, and the woman sighs. “At least we can agree on. Survival should he our top priority. I’m Shadowheart. And you…?” The woman, now known as Shadowheart asks. “You may call me Sullith. Only friends can call me by my first name.” Sullith replies. “Well, alright then. Sullith.” Shadowheart replies, her tone filled with annoyance and anger.

“Any chance you’ve seen a gith around here?” Sullith asks. “I was unconscious, you fool. Obviously I didn’t see anyone.” Shadowheart answers. Sullith groans, and starts walking. “Moon Maiden, please bless me with patience on this day..” Sullith mumbles under his breath as the two of them journey through the nautiloid wreckage…

Eventually, the two of them encounter a man with white hair and pale skin, with eyes as red as a ruby. “I’ve got one of those brain things cornered…” he says. “Kill it for me, won’t you?” He asks, turning his head to face Sullith. “You seem fully capable, why don’t you kill it yourself, lazybones?” He asks. “Shame. I was looking for a kind soul.” The mysterious man replies, and pulls out a dagger and tackles Sullith to the ground and immediately presses the blade to his neck.

“I saw you skittering about on that ship. You’re one of them, aren’t you? Wretched beast.” He says. Sullith quickly rolls away, and readies his bow and fires an arrow at the mans hand, which makes him drop the dagger. “I usually wouldn’t be quick to shoot, but you attacked me first.” Sullith explains, and the man screams in pain and looks at his hand. The arrow shot straight through his hand, leaving behind a large bloody wound.

“I was kidnapped and infected against my will. Same as you. Now, you either join my gullible pawn of a companion to help us find a cure, or you leave and either transform into a damned mindflayer or find a cure on your own. Which is it?” Sullith asks.

“You shoot an arrow through my bloody hand and now you want me to help you find a cure?! What kind of imbecile do you take me for?” He asks, his voice coated in disbelief and anger. “Answer the question.” Sullith replies. The man doesn’t respond, so he starts aiming at the man again, this time reasy to shoot his head. He quickly throws his hands up in front of his head. “Okay, okay! Fine. I’ll join you.” He says, and Sullith puts away his bow in response.

“Good choice. What’s your name, handless?” Sullith asks, a jokey smile forming on his scarred face. “Astarion. And what are your names?” Astarion asks, looking between Shadowheart and Sullith expectantly. “You may call me Adrien.” Sullith replies. “Wait, so a man you just shot with an arrow gets to call use your first name? Whatever happened to the ‘friends only’ rule?!” Shadowheart asks. “I lied. I just don’t want the likes of you getting too comfortable with my name on your tongue.” Adrien replies, smirking slightly.

“Ooh! Y’know if you didn’t just shoot a bloody through me, i’d like you. I like a man with some snark to him.” Astarion says, his voice slightly flirtatious. “Feel free to keep wanting, handless. You won’t be getting anything from me.” Adrien chuckles. “Anyways… my name is Shadowheart.” Shadowheart explains.

“Lovely! Well, now that we’re all well acquainted can I GET SOME ASSISTANCE WITH MY HAND?!” Astarion shouts, and Adrien rolls his eyes and pulls a scroll of “cure wounds” from his pack and heals Astarion. “Great! Shall we?” Astarion gestures forwards, and Adrien nods.

The three of them continue walking together. Eventually, they’re finally away from the beach and now in the wilderness. Strewn about the place are various types of broken traps.

After some more walking, Adrien notices something in the distance. It’s the githyanki woman that helped him escape the nautiloid. She’s stuck in a wooden cage, and near her appear to be two different tieflings. “Oi! The fuck are you two doing?! Set her free!” Adrien shouts as he jogs up to them, Astarion and Shadowheart following closely behind him.

“No way! This thing could be dangerous.” One of the tieflings reply. “If you don’t hightail it now, you’ll have more than just a woman in a cage to worry about.” Adrien threatens. The two tieflings look at each other, nod, and run off.

“Don’t let her down. Those tieflings were right. We shouldn’t keep dangerous company. Shadowheart says, and the caged woman scoffs. “Dangerous company is what you need in a fight…” Adrien pauses and aims his bow at the base of the wooden cage, draws back an arrow, and fires it. The base breaks, and the woman falls out and lands on her feet.

“And i’m not too keen on taking advice from someone who blindly worships a self-serving goddess.” Adrien says, and flashes Shadowheart a cheeky smile. Shadowheart huffs.

“Usually, I love some good drama, but this constant bickering is exhausting, even for me.” Astarion groans. “Get used to it, handless. I refuse to be civil with people like her.” Adrien glares daggers at Shadowheart. “Shut your mouthes before I shut them for you, istiks.” Lae’zel threatens. “Fine, fine.” Adrien holds his hands up in defeat. “One of those teeth-lings spoke about someone who saw my kin somewhere. They called him Zorru. I suggest we look for him. It is of utmost importance that we find a creche. We can all be purified of this ghaik parasite.” Lae’zel explains.

“Alright then. Everyone be silent, I need to track the tieflings.” Adrien says, and closes his eyes. He takes a deep inhale through his nose, trying to use his keen olfactory sense to track them down. He then opens his eyes and looks at the ground. “This way. I see tracks, and theres a hint of sulphur in the air that way.” Adrien commands, and before anyone can say anything, he jogs off, following the tracks. The rest follow after him.

“Seems like we’ve missed the welcoming party…” Astarion says, his nose scrunched up in disgust as he carefully avoids stepping on the various goblin corpses strewn about in front of a vine-covered gate. “They died recently. Within the last half hour, maybe. Blood is still fresh, and they haven’t gone stiff yet.” Adrien says, kneeling down to inspect one of the bloodied goblins.

“Halt! Put down your weapons and state your business. Now!” A voice booms from above the gate. The four adventurers look up, only to be greeted by a crossbow aimed at them. They comply, and set down their weapons and hold up their hands in surrender. “We mean you no harm, I promise. We’re just in need of a healer and perhaps some safety from the wilderness before nightfall.” Adrien explains. The man, who is a tiefling like the two Adrien tracked here, furrows his eyebrows and does a quick once over on the four of them.

He lowers his crossbow and looks to his right to another tiefling who seems to be in control of the gate. “Let them in. If they try anything, kill them. We have children in this camp.” He says, and they nod and open up the gate.

The four of them pick their weapons back up and put them away and step inside. The man that was previously holding them at arrow-point climbs down from the top of the gate and walks up to them. “State your names. All of you.” He demands, his hand resting on the handle of his sheathed sword. “My name is Adrien, the pale elf is Astarion, the dark-haired dimwit is Shadowheart, and the gith is Lae’zel. We are… suffering from an extreme ailment and need healing as soon as possible.” Adrien introduces everyone.

“Theres a druid by the name of Nettie. She can cure most illnesses. I am Zevlor.” The tiefling now known as Zevlor replies, and Adrien looks at his companions, and they nod. “Thank you. Moonmaiden be with you.” Adrien gives a slight bow, and leads his three team members aside to speak privately.

“Alright, we’ve found a healer. Here’s the plan; Lae’zel and Shadowheart, seek out Zorru. Try to find a creche. Astarion and I will go see Nettie. When we’re done, we’ll reunite back at the gate. Got it?” Adrien explains, and Shadowheart scoffs. “And who made you the one in charge? I’ll do what I please. I’ll see you at the gate.” Shadowheart sneers, and walks off, deeper into the tiefling camp.

Lae’zel groans, and nods to Adrien, and follows after Shadowheart. “Alright! I suggest we gossip. It’d be a grand way to relieve any tension between us! After all, we’re stuck in this tadpole adventure together, right?” Astarion says, giving Adrien a charming smile. “Follow me, we need to find this druid Zevlor spoke about.” Adrien says, and starts walking away from Astarion.

“Oh, you’re no fun! Not even going to tell my why you seem to hate our dark-haired friend?” Astarion asks, smirking as he jogs up to Adrien to catch up. “C’mon, there must be something interesting there!” Astarion practically begs, movibg his hands dramatically as he speaks. “I thought it was obvious…” Adrien rolls his eyes. “Not quite. Care to explain?” Astarion looks at Adrien, his red eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“She worships Shar. I worship Selûne. Shar is my goddess’ twin and enemy. Their feud is mirrored onto their worshippers. Plus, I have nothing but terrible experiences with Sharrans. They bring only pain and suffering unto those they view as beneath them. All under the guise of worship.” Adrien explains.

“Oh. Well that’s a bit underwhelming, isn’t it? So, I doubt those little lustful glances between the two of you aren’t going anywhere, are they?” Astarion sighs. “Shame, really. I was hoping for some drama. Romance can be quite entertaining, especially if it goes wrong.” Astarion frowns, disappointed.

“Excuse me?! There are no ‘lustful glances.’ You’re insane.” Adrien groans. Astarion laughs. “Darling! You can’t fool me. I know ‘fuck me’ eyes when I see them, and Shadowheart’s eyes have that written all over her green orbs.” Astarion scoffs. “Shut your mouth, or i’ll be putting your tongue in a jar later tonight.” Adrien threatens. “Ooh! Feisty. Fine, i’ll be quiet. For now.” Astarion giggles.

Meanwhile…

A tall, muscular human, with brown almost red hair, a charming goatee, and bright blue eyes with black scleras chugs back an ice-cold pint next to a shorter and skinnier man. His hair is black, with a slight raven hue. His left eye looks blind. It’s a milky white abyss. Parts of his face is scarred, clearly having been burned at some point in life. His hair is parted in the middle, his wavy locks framing his face in all the right ways. His eyebrows are thick, but well-maintained. He has a faded tattoo etched across his pale skin. He’s a half elf.

“What’s your name again?” The taller man asks, his sentence slurred. He’s quite obviously drunk. “Ellios. I’ve told you this five times within the last five minutes, Adonis.” The dark-haired man, Ellios, replies. “Oohhhh! Yeah! Now I remember. Y’know-“ Adonis’ sentence is cut off by a drunken hiccup. “You kinda look familiar. Are you from Baldur’s Gate, Elias?” Adonis asks. “It’s Ellios, and yes. I am. Why?” Ellios asks. “You look a lot like this one guy… he’s a politician, I think? He’s a human, like me… got the same hair color, and his eyes are all brown! Like your eye. You’ve got the same nose…” Adonis trails off.

Ellios shifts in his chair, uncomfortable. “I believe your mistaken. You’re really drunk, friend. Lets lay off the beer and take a walk, alright?” Ellios replies. He’s clearly nervous, and it seems like he could be lying.

Adrien and Astarion got back from speaking with Nettie. Unfortunately, it seems Nettie can’t help them with their predicament. She gave Adrien wyvern poison, and said that if he starts experiencing any symptoms of transforming he needs to drink that before he can hurt anyone.

However, she explained that the archdruid, Halsin, could help them. He went on a treasure hunt with a group of adventurers from the grove. The adventurers came back, but Halsin is missing. Nettie has tasked Adrien and the others with rescuing him.

“Well, that was… something.” Astarion says, and tiredly sits down on the ground next to Adrien. Adrien simply leans against the walls surrounding the gate. “It’s better than nothing. Let’s wait on Lae’zel and Shadowheart. Hopefully their task proved more fruitful than ours.” Adrien replies, and Astarion nods, and yawns.

“Gods, all this running around really takes it out of me. I cannot wait to get some rest.” Astarion says. Adrien ignores him, and silence shrouds the two of them. In the distance, Ellios is helping a drunken Adonis walk. “No way…” Adrien mumbles, and quickly runs to Adonis, leaving behind a very confused and sleepy Astarion.

“Adonis?” Adrien asks. Adonis lifts his head up to face Adrien. “Ohh, no waaayyy! What’re doin’ here, Renny???” Adonis smiles widely at the ranger. “Uhm… who’re you?” Ellios asks Adrien. “Oh, Elias, you gotta meet my super cool cousin, Adrien. He’s so awesome! Younger than me, but he’s super tough. Survived an owlbear attack, and managed to tame a griffin! Super badass…” Adonis says, and moves away from Ellios and attempts to rest a hand on Adrien’s shoulder, but misses, and falls on his face and passes out.

“It’s Ellios…” Ellios mumbles. “Oh, you dumbass…” Adrien sighs, and puts his arm under Adonis’ armpits and wraps them around his shoulders and starts dragging the unconscious man to Astarion. “Apologies about him. He’s a sucker for frosty pints…” Adrien explains. “No worries. I’m Ellios.” Ellios introduces himself. “That it? No last name?” Adrien asks, looking at Ellios with an eyebrow raised in confusion. “Uh- yeah. Just Ellios.” Ellios avoids Adrien’s gaze. “Hm..” Adrien has a feeling theres more to it than that, but drops it.

“You should join me. I’ve picked up a few allies. It’s better to brave the wilderness with more than a drunk warrior.” Adrien explains. “Yeah, i’ll take you up on that, I think. This sad bloke mentioned something about mindflayers? Do you know anything about that..?” Ellios asks. “Oh, no! Not Adonis too…” Adrien mutters. Ellios looks at Adrien, confused. “Uh… i’ll explain later.” Adrien says.

Lae’zel and Shadowheart have returned. Zorru marked where he saw the githyanki on the map. Adonis is still sleeping, and Ellios charmed his way into borrowing a wheelbarrow from the tieflings to carry Adonis to a camp the group set up easier. It’s secluded and by the water. You have to be searching for it to find it. It’s got plenty of space, with enough room to house six people.

Adrien set Adonis down on a bed, while Shadowheart set up the campfire. Ellios helped with setting up little tents for everyone’s stuff. Lae’zel patrolled the surrounding area to ensure it was safe. Astarion didn’t do much to help. He “sat there and looked pretty.”

After everything was set up, everyone went to sleep. Well, almost everyone. Ellios is currently sitting by the water, his shoes resting beside him as he dips his feet into the cold water. He pulls a locket that was previously hiding underneath his shirt and opens it up to reveal a picture of an elf woman, her right eye is purple, and the other is blue, and she has the same face tattoo as Ellios. “Don’t worry. He’ll be brought to justice. Soon, Baldur’s Gate will know my name. I can imagine it… Ellios, the Tyrant Slayer. Your killer will be brought to justice, mother…” He whispers to himself, and closes the locket and tucks it under his shirt once more…

To Be Continued…

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opossum-writes · 5 months ago

Text

The Lonely Ranger: Pt. 0

“What a waste of lovely weather.”

WC: 979

The sun is up, no clouds in sight. Beams of yellow radiance shine through the thick branches of tall trees. The birds sing gracefully, their pleasant chirps overwhelming the surrounding area. The woods are so calming, and yet they can be so dangerous at the same time. But, it beats the crowded, loud, and foul smelling city.

Hidden by the trees stands a small cabin. It’s seen better days, but it’s well-loved. Leaves litter the roof, both new and dead. The surrounding area is closed off by a short and uneven wood fence. To the right of the cabin is a little garden, housing various vegetables and fruits. To the left is a shed, where a very tired griffin rests atop a comfortable pile of hay.

The door to the cabin is probably the most damaged part of it. Large claw marks littered about it, and the metal doorknob is rusted and dirty. Theres a small plank of wood nailed in front of the old mail slot. A small sign reading “KEEP OUT!” is nailed into the dirt next to the door. Clearly, the person living here doesn’t take too kindly to visitors.

You must be wondering who lives here. Perhaps, a cranky old hermit? A strong and intimidating man, who could chop off your head with a simple swing of an axe? A powerful hag, wanting to pique a wandering traveler’s interest? A lonely druid? With a cabin like this, it’s hard not to imagine some handsome and tall elf, like in a storybook, but don’t get your hopes up.

Inside lays an unconscious half-elf, deep in sleep. He’s lacking a shirt, and wearing comfortable pants, small holes riddled about the frayed cloth. The color is a pale green, with dirt stains on the knees.

He has long blonde hair, that cascades down his neck and to his shoulder blades like golden waterfalls. Two long braids of his yellow locs frame the sides of his face. His ears are pointed, and pierced. Light brown freckles are scattered across his features, and he has long and thick diagonal scars painted across his face, similar to the claw marks on the door.

His nose is pierced, with a silver ring through his septum and a small silver stud on his left nostril. In the arch of his left eyebrow sits a silver ring, similar to the one in his septum. He has light brown eyebrows that rest above his light blue eyes perfectly. His warm toned skin is slightly pale.

His small lips have a slight pink hue to them, slightly parted as he dreams, softly inhaling and exhaling breaths. He isn’t very muscular, but not skinny by any means. His muscles may not be very defined, but he can still be quite the athlete when necessary. His hands are callused, but still soft. Small scars litter his fingers from the times he’s accidentally cut himself on the fine and durable strings of his longbows.

His eyes flutter open, and he slowly sits up and extends his arms above his head in a satisfying stretch and lets out a tired yawn. He rubs his eyes, and slowly climbs out of bed. He throws on a beige shirt, loosely tying the strings that secure the collar.

He steps into a pair of worn leather loafers, and undoes the makeshift lock securing the door. He steps outside, and walks to his garden, picking up a watering can and showering the plants. “Drink up, friends. I need you nice and healthy so I don’t go hungry.” A mutters to himself, and sets down the can back on the spot he grabbed it from.

He walks over to the shed and gently knocks one of the wooden posts supporting the roof. “Rise and shine, Lucian. I’m going on a walk. I need you awake to guard everything while i’m gone.” The man says, his voice tired and deep.

The sleepy griffin yawns, and does as the man says and wakes up. After giving the griffin a quick boop, the man walks back inside and grabs a short-bow and some arrows and steps back outside to set out on his morning stroll.

Halfway through the relaxing stroll through the woods, the birds suddenly stop chirping, and start flying away. Coming from Baldur’s Gate are distant screams and shouts of terror. The man quickly runs to a nearby cliff that faces the city to see whats going on, and what he sees immediately sets him into survival mode.

A mindflayer ship, known as a “nautiloid” is attacking the city. The man runs as fast as he can back home. As soon as he arrives, he slams the fence gate behind him. He quickly casts “speak with animals” on himself and starts shouting to the half-asleep griffin. “Code E! Code E! Lucian, get ready, as soon as i’ve got what I need you’ve gotta fly us the hells out of here!” His voice loud and panicked. Before the griffin can reply, and practically bursts into the cabin and throws on his leather armor and emergency pack that he keeps under his bed. He throws his shortbow onto his bed and quickly grabs his trusty longbow.

He swaps his leather loafers for a pair of durable leather boots, and puts on a pair of archery gloves. He throws on his backpack and secures a dagger and his longbow to it. He runs back out and over to the griffin. He fastens a saddle to it’s back as quickly as possible and immediately jumps on. The griffin takes flight as soon as he’s safely holding onto the saddles’ handles.

Just as they think they are safe, the nautiloid’s tentacle manages to capture the man, which immediately transports him into a mindflayer pod aboard the ship. “Shit!” He screams, and immediately kicking and punching the glass, attempting to break free…

To Be Continued…

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