capes-compendium

[capes-compendium]

i don’t understand people who love a problematic character but get angry when people mention the evil things that character did. like, that’s your man! he’s proud he did all that, support his hobbies!

[capes-compendium]

'Ah...children these days don't know how to enjoy a drink, do they?'

He would chuckle to himself. Honestly, what was the point of downing something so vile -

[capes-compendium]

'You could say that my dear. When you're bottom of the food chain, you do tend to see those above you in a different light...figuratively and literally.' His eyes narrowed for the briefest of moments, eyes becoming more like slits.

'When you've played the Game long enough, it become's second nature to oneself. If you don't play, you don't stand to win, and that simply isn't acceptable now, is it?'

Even under the lights of countless chandeliers, the gnome noticed a small flicker come from the ring on his finger, something he had grown to look out for.

Of course She agreed. Afterall, if he won, so did She.

'I'm glad you think so lass! A fine one to add you your collection.' He chuckled to himself, the feather bobbing along with his frame.

'I already have! Many sales organised, whether for enchanted garments to antique paintings. Of course, the exchange of goods will need to be had in the coming days, but deals were struck, deposits exchanged....a good night all around I would say ~'

The sound of the quill striking paper was evident, Miphis's hand gliding across the page with the ease of someone who has written plenty before. "Interesting. I suppose that explains a lot of your disdain for the other patrons."

Miphis's eyes narrow, taking note of Absolem's smirk. What an interesting character.

"You certainly know how to play the game, don't you?" Miphis returns the smirk, a little less sharp this time. "You act as if you don't belong in any economic hierarchy. Truly a free individual. Or as much as I can tell."

Miphis writes down the last few notes before dropping the quill and resting it in the spine of the pages. "I'm happy you've found such success in your life. I have to agree. A tale worth noting." She smiles.

"Are you looking to find some customers tonight? Someone to fall for your honeyed words?"

[capes-compendium]

until you find me hiding

[capes-compendium]

The Invitation

@miphis-the-writer / @steel-and-fire

@the-storm-chaser / @capes-compendium

[capes-compendium]

'That is indeed the word I used.' There was no hesitation in his voice, if not amusement. 'While I deal with the upper echelons, I am not one of them.'

His eyes momentarily glanced down at the book, noting her intent. A smirk quirked his lip, more than happy to share a tale.

'I suppose it would start as drab as any other, a child from a working class family that wanted something more than a paltry existence. I was fortunate to reside within Gheldaneth, a city in which every soul had the opportunity to enter academia for their own wishes... something to honour Thoth, a God of Knowledge? But most ignore that aspect.' His hand waved the thought away, a minor detail with not true purpose for the story.

'My chosen field was that of artefacts of arcane power. After the Spellplague, the deserts surrounding the city contained relics with untold potential. My intent was to learn how to find them and restore them, then to sell them to the highest bidder...'

The smirk turned into a toothy grin, a little too sharp all things considered.

'...And that I did. Business was slow at first, having a font of knowledge with no charisma alongside it...but I soon learnt what made patrons tick, what honeyed words they needed to convince them to invest in my wares~' He chuckled, cocking his head.

'From nothing, to something of worth. A story worth noting, wouldn't you say?'

Miphis watched with amusement as Absolem made his case. Seeing things through his eyes as he points out the other interesting characters hiding just beyond the veil of pompous bores.

"Yes, you have a good point. The ones who wish to share their stories typically have nothing much to share." Her eyes squint and she looks down to Absolem.

"But what about you, my theatrical little friend? Your dress and mannerisms are on par with most of the others here, and yet you speak of the other patrons as though they are of another class. Illk is the word you used?" Miphis opens up her book again and rests it on her leg. Her fist, curled around her quill, taps against her chin as she looks Absolem over. Her eyes were trying to pierce the soul of his character.

"What's your story, Absolem?"

[capes-compendium]

'Precisely!'

The gnome took pride in it, knowing he had wonders beyond mortal comprehension within his reach....but she didn't need to know that. No one did...lest it tempt her wrath.

He took a glass, slowly sipping on the contents. In reality, the champagne wasn't to his liking. He wasn't fond of the sharpness and excessive fizz of it. If he were to have wine, it was supposed to be a delicate affair, savouring the rich flavours of the fruit. Alas, he had been spoilt over the years...t'is why he normally stuck with tea.

'To document the event and its attendants...my, what a peculiar host to think of such things~' The gnome laughed at the girl's despair, shifting the hold of the cane to point the gleaning amethyst in her direction. 'Then perhaps you are asking the wrong folk! You shouldn't be asking the lasses in the extravagant dresses, or the men in the same-cut suits ... they are the dullards who just want to fit in, to be a part of the herd.'

His whole body spun on the spot, the rings of the walking aid jangling as he came to a stop, his eyes catching glimpses of those around the event, a few interesting forms taking his fancy.

'You should be asking the ones who clearly don't belong in said herd. Those who can bring something new to the table-' The gem gestured toward a taller figure in the crowd, a horned fellow in armour despite this being a social event. 'A man always prepared for a fight even though none carry a blade....or they shouldn't have. Perhaps it slipped through security?' The last part was mumbled as another figure caught his attention. 'Or the scrawny lass with a posture so stiff that she stood out amongst her other peers. She clearly doesn't know how to hold herself amongst these people, so why is she here?'

The man turned back to the woman, the cane placed before him as a hand gestured to the side.

'Once you know what you're looking for, then perhaps your writings will be more fruitful?'

He finished his flute, nose scrunching slightly at the sour notes.

"T'is a pleasure indeed!" Miphis says back with excitement. Attempting to match the nearly theatrical energy from Absolem. When Absolem mentions that he himself is a merchant, a grin begins to form from Miphis. "So what you're telling me is that you're the individual with the 'excitement' for sale?" She chuckles.

With the tray being lowered, Miphis reaches up to grab another glass. "The question is forgiven," Miphis says before taking a sip. "I am a guest of sorts. I was invited here to recount the tales of the parties' patrons."

There's a sigh that escapes her lips as she sets her glass down and flips through the various pages in her book so far. "Gods, I have barely anything to work with, though." In a much quieter tone, she continues. "The people here are sooooooo boring. I like to think I'm a talented writer, but I have nothing to start with."

[capes-compendium]

'More interesting- Oh no, not at all~! Those with influence like to stay in their circles. The become engrossed in their own affairs until they stagnate and parrot whatever the most influential person says... they are tiring to listen to if you deal with them on the regular.' There was a chuckle from the gnome, the feather bobbing along as he did so.

'That is where merchants and other folks who can offer their services come into the fold. They offer excitement, an opportunity to experience something new for a price...and most are more than happy to take it. They won't mingle with the common folk and live another life, oh no ... but to indulge elsewhere, well, that they are more than happy to do ~' A hand went to twist one of the curls of his moustache before it rested back on the cane, eyes widening slightly before a grin painting his lips.

'Ah! Where are my manners! Absolem, a merchant of Gheldaneth at your service my Dear, t'is a pleasure~' He refused to take the girl's hand, instead removing his beret and bowing forward, tapping the cane on the floor once it returned to his head. The action happened to attract one of the butlers, lowering a tray to the pair.

'Forgive the question, but what is one such as yourself doing here tonight? A guest of honour, or looking to make connections, so to speak-?'

The Tiefling, for the first time all night, looked down to meet the eyes of the pompous fellow. Her eyes light up as she closes her book to fully focus on the conversation. "You could say it's a little bit of both."

Bright yellow eyes flutter as a revelation strikes her, partly due to the inquiries of the gnomish gentleman. "Well, it's certainly not their secrets they're sharing with me. I thought people so high up the food chain would have more interesting stories to share."

A deep sigh escapes past the woman's lips before she recomposes herself.

You're sharing too much!

The Tiefling reaches a hand down in greeting to the gnomish fellow. "Miphis. To whom do I owe the pleasure of meeting?"

[capes-compendium]

Lore : Absolem Trystel

Co-written with @reliving-elegy!

Voiced by him and myself // Audio mix by me

Born to a poor family in the ruins of Old Gheldaneth, Absolem spent his youth amongst slum-bound peasants, disgraced magicians and desperate opportunists. Driven by childish avarice and envy of those even slightly more fortunate than himself, Absolem’s ambitions grew far beyond what could be found from his family’s middling Apothecary. While he was dissuaded from such lofty aspirations by his immediate relatives, Absolem found support from his oft-travelling uncle Elias- a charlatan bard suspected of criminal enchantment and general skulduggery by the Artisan’s Guild of Gheldaneth.

Though forced to work in his father’s shop to make ends meet, Absolem was afforded many opportunities to join his uncle on various, questionably legal escapades during his early teens. Absolem would marvel as Elias played to crowds of fascinated onlookers, enthralled by his flowered words and fascinating tales. Content to ask for a pittance of wealth, Elias would receive generous donations from his captive audience. 

One day, after their return from what would be their final outing, Absolem would question what drew them to his performance specifically. Elias played songs that anyone would know, told tales that defied what Absolem knew of his uncle’s history from the stories his ever-honest father recounted. Elias would smile, gifting his nephew the instrument he played- an old painted flute- and the following answer:

“It’s not the story that causes them such wonder, but how it is told. Music is a marvellous tool.”

Through the following years, to the age of fourteen, Absolem had begun routine journeys to the slum’s markets, tasked to sell their limited wares for fair market price. Discontent to settle for anything less than a tidy profit for his efforts, Absolem added a measure of well-rehearsed theatrics to his bartering; supporting his chicanery through natural guile and lesser magics. While this provided some improvement, the results were too paltry to sate Absolem’s want. 

Taking his uncle’s words to heart, Absolem would make a brief foray into bardic escapades, taking several months to learn the flute. Surprisingly, in spite of his family’s general distaste for Elias, they supported Absolem’s effort regardless. A rarity.

Returning to routine, Absolem provided musical accompaniment to his mercantile exploits. The results were instantaneous- dozens flocked to purchase his wares, engaging in rapidly escalating bidding wars for even the slightest chance of acquiring what the bard offered. 

This proceeded for two weeks, earning great profit without fail. His parents were astounded and deeply proud that he was putting food on the table, even through his unconventional methods. As Absolem’s coffers grew fat, so too would his greed swell beyond sense. The following week, he would exercise his talents within the honest bazaars of Gheldaneth, presenting his routine to the upper-class- a mistake that would cost him dearly.

The general consensus of Rakin was well-established in Gheldaneth: they are thieves, charlatans and tricksters by nature. Absolem’s richly rose-coloured fur drew the eyes of those already suspicious, and his flowered words gave credit to their prejudice. Despite this- despite all their preconceived notions of ill intent- Absolem would introduce himself, his wares and his music to an eager crowd of hundreds.

By the end of day, having earned his greatest haul, Absolem would seek to return home, eager to leave the city for wealthier estates yet to be rid of their coin. As he mutters and chuckles to himself about his fantastical delusions of grandeur, Absolem would be approached by enforcers belonging to the Artisan’s Guild. Confused, but feeling effervescent after the day’s events, Absolem offered the goons a mild share of the wealth in exchange for swift passage. 

He was then struck with a large, blunt object.

----

When he awoke, Absolem was gagged, blindfolded and tied to a firm wooden chair before a council of shadowed individuals. Interrogated as to the nature of his venture, Absolem spoke honestly of his efforts in great detail- not eager to be tortured for misunderstood business. Having explicitly described his routine, the guild would question his origins and any potential cohorts. Confused, Absolem concluded that this was not inherently a kidnapping, but perhaps some sort of recruiting practice. Thus, he gladly shared the details of his upbringing- noting the shared performance of his dear uncle Elias.

Feeling very suddenly upside-down and several stories above the ground, he expelled yet more details- the dance, the potions, the flute. The council, possessing some measure of magical expertise and pre-existing allegations towards the nomadic ‘bard’, proposed a deal to the relatively innocent Absolem:

In exchange for his flute and the whereabouts of his uncle, Absolem would be granted an apprenticeship within the guild and leniency regarding any potential trespass found during their investigations. Absolem, not content to lose the total value of his work, argued an additional clause: in exchange for his aid and a position within the guild, he would be granted an equivalently valued scholarship to the resident University ‘to make something of his brilliance’.

Impressed by his bravado and ultimately favouring the arrest of Elias, the guild accepted his proposal. Offered a private domicile within the university, Absolem would be content never to return to the slums, becoming absorbed in his studies. Though studious and honest in his labour, Absolem would struggle to earn the respect of his peers based solely on his appearance. Distraught that his dreams would be denied by so petty a thing as the color of his fur and the length of his ears, he broke down to tears in the quiet of his room.

Seeking resolution that he might strive for greatness unimpeded, Absolem would find assistance in a wizened scholar of the university, Tyrion Jakhar. Through a number of favours and trades, Tyrion would have a Monocle of Disguise Self crafted for Absolem. When asked what this effort would cost, Tyrion requested only to be repaid once Absolem found his fortune through honest means and hard study; surpassing the bias against the Rakin. Finding this slightly counterintuitive to his immediate actions, Absolem would agree to the terms. 

----

Adopting the guise of a Rock Gnome, Absolem was free to continue his education. Spending the better part of 8 years learning of magic, history, mathematics, economics and business; Absolem would depart the city as a full-fledged, well-learned member of the Artisan’s Guild. Specialising in magical items, Absolem would travel along the coastal cities searching for hidden wealth in old trinkets and baubles.

Within a few months of starting his new position, he would realise the fault of his plan: Absolem was back to merely breaking even, keeping himself moving from town to town to make ends meet. Frustrated that his great efforts changed nothing, Absolem would persist in his duties, both disgusted by his inadequacy and enraged by the unfairness of the world.

For three years, this pattern continued, the hardship grating against his will and better judgement. This was, until, he happened upon a rumour from some drunken adventurers in Maerlar, speaking of a ring that had the power to grant the Wish of any who bore it somewhere in the arid desert adjacent to the Road of the Dawn. Desperate for change, Absolem would take his caravan into the sandy wastes.

The rigors of the desert proved a challenge for Absolem- despite his disguise, his fur still warmed under the merciless sun. Within days, he’d run dry of food. Within a week, his supply of water had vanished. His sense of direction had left him, yet Absolem pressed on, determined to find escape from his fruitless routine or perish in the attempt. 

His exhaustion proved great- Absolem had succumbed to delusions of oases within the desert. Bound to the little hope he’d yet possessed, he approached one such pool in the throes of misery and madness. He leant in toward the water, feeling coolness upon his skin. It took a moment to register that no reflection was present in the pool. Before Absolem could react, the frail sandstone beneath him gave way, causing him to tumble into a deep, dimly lit cavern. As Absolem struck the ground, too weak to stand, his monocle would fall from his eye, rolling off and toward a strange, marked stone pillar.

His guise vanishing in a puff of pink smoke, Absolem instinctively reached for the monocle. He paused in his motion, however, as another glint would catch his eye: the golden flecks of foreign magic. Absolem stood to find that the marked pillar was, in fact, an altar- one that held a single amethyst ring upon its face. Tormented by the fear of yet another illusion, yet still confident this was reality, Absolem would reach toward the ring to claim it for himself…

Absolem inspected the trinket closely: A compartmentalised ring formed by a gold band with a hollow, hinged amethyst. Finding it strange to be so loosely put-together, Absolem would finagle the jewel into its proper place, opening the gem to find nothing inside. Confused for a moment, a swirl of golden sand enveloped the salesman, sensing some form of movement before he would find himself somewhere new, with traces of the magicks fading into the aether around him.

----

Now surrounded by luxurious fabrics, furniture and the smell of fermented grapes, Absolem would observe his surroundings in awe. Another’s voice would call his attention.

“Share your dream with me and be sated. Keep your ambition and take what shall be ours.”

“And be enthralled? I’m dying, not a fool.”

“You are mortal, little Rakin. You are both.”

“I make it a habit of mine to know my clientele well before a bargain is struck. With whom do I address?”

“A friend. You are willing, then?”

“With some elaboration as to your nature- and sustenance!- I could be persuaded.”

As he finishes his offer, Absolem is made present to two things: A platter of various meats and fruits, and an Efreeti.

Cinder skinned, long flame orange hair, adorned in silk and precious things, with a pair of great violet jewels upon her, strikingly similar to the ring the Rakin held. The Efreeti would make herself corporeal upon a fine velvet armchair. With a snap of her fingers, a contract was set upon the desk before her.

“I am Teeanah.”

“A rich and youthful title for one as esteemed as yourself.”

Absolem collects himself a plate of food as he speaks, trying not to show off his eagerness

“I must thank you for your timely assistance.”

“You are welcome to it- and more, should we continue. Speak of yourself, little Rakin.”

Absolem takes a seat and bows his head briefly.

“Absolem. Pleased to make your acquaintance-”

Seeing the fur upon his hands, Absolem instinctively reaches for his monocle, setting it to his eye… to no effect.

“I- p-pardon me a moment, it seems my- my visage is unbecoming of-”

She offers the merchant a soft smile, warming yet firm. 

“Your form is unblemished. Recognized. I accept no false pretence within my domain- least of all from potential business partners.” Her fingers circled the air, a golden chalice adorned with gems forming from seemingly nothing already filled with a liquor of some kind.

“I offer a toast to our newfound pact, and it shall be made in full. You will earn, and I will support your efforts to do so.”

“A… pact?... And what, exactly, will I receive in exchange for my services?”

“I will become your Patron, little Rakin. You will become wealthy beyond imagining. All you must do in turn is remain true to your nature.”

Absolem pauses for a moment, considering the implication of his next act. Affixing his monocle as a wide grin crosses his features, he toasts.

“To our mutual prosperity, then.”

“To prosperity.”

With a clink of their glasses, the bargain was struck.

----

Several weeks later, Absolem returned to the university; having found abundant reward under his patron’s tutelage. Coin in hand, the Warlock tossed a bag of gold into the study of Tyrion Jakhar. Having expected some measure of pride, he was instead met with scorn-

“A pact?! With an EFREETI?! Had you learned NOTHING?!”

“It was a matter of necessity, Tyrion! Besides, the results are tangible! Profits are up! Business is marvellous!-”

“Your efforts are fraudulent, Absolem. You have earned nothing, and you will have earned nothing. Whether you live long enough to realise the consequences of your misdeeds is no longer within your control.”

“Tyrion, I have repaid you- my debt to you- it worked! I learned! Must I remind you how to show gratitude-!”

“LEAVE. KEEP YOUR WEALTH. It is the only company you will deserve here onward, Rakin.”

His race weaponized against him by the one who showed but the lightest ounce of faith. Absolem would leave in a fury, snatching his offer from the table and retreating to his chambers. Though the common fool might not understand what boon he has received, Absolem did. 

And he would make use of it.

…

Forward to the present day; Absolem’s shared wealth has amplified beyond recognition, his reputation of avarice and intuition known across the guilds of Faerun. Having succumbed to his consumptive greed, Absolem serves his patron through honeyed words and the accumulation of remarkable magicks, kept safely locked away in the mystic confines of his ring. 

Having completed his most recent transaction, he now heads for Baldur’s Gate, seeking refreshment and respite… but the gods hold another fate for this travelling merchant.

[capes-compendium]

Ahhh, such grandeur ~

The merchant had been to his fair share of events such as this, whether invited or no. I wasn’t as if he stood out either, the man’s tasteful sense of style fitting in quite nicely with that of the nobility. Afterall, if one were to play the part, one must look it.

There had been several interactions the man had partaken in that evening. Some that succeeded in a deal much to the Ring’s amusement, and others…well, droll to say the least. He must have had a second flute from one of the passing attendants before something unusual caught his attention.

A girl…with a book and quill?

A smirk quirked under the moustache. You didn’t come to gatherings such as these to write. You came to socialise, to learn more of your clientele and how best to negotiate with them.

The man wandered through the crowd, the feather on his beret being the only indicator to most that he were actually there. It was a few moments before the gnomish figure reached the girl, amusement in his tone.

‘Keeping a log of the night’s events, my dear? Or did something take your fancy?’ He shifted his cane before him, golden eyes focusing on the tiefling.

‘I wouldn’t have thought the hosts would liked their secrets to be shared… their ilk like things to remain behind closed doors, so to speak-‘ There was a warning tone in the man’s voice, but more out of concern rather than dismissal.

An Invitation

You've been invited to attend a regal gathering. Champagne glasses, hors d'œuvres, and raucous laughter decorate the main party floor. Off to the side, sitting in a chair, is a tiefling girl dressed in yellow and holding a book in her right hand. She laughs politely as the individual she was speaking to wraps up their conversation with a playful joke.

Her book opens, and she writes a few notes before closing the pages again, scanning the room, her eyes meet another individual. She smiles.

What would you like to do?

[capes-compendium]

Shoutout to the maned wolf, which is technically neither wolf nor fox but has its own genus called Chrysocyon! Why -

why are your legs so long?

I mean, intellectually, I understand that it’s because you live in grasslands and have evolved to be able to see over the grass, but emotionally… why? Are they?? Like that??? Surely there was a way to make your body more cohesive and proportional-looking?

[capes-compendium]

'Oh my, more children want to play the heroes...well, at least it would be entertaining~'