#Fiendish Nature

[beatsandskies]

Beyond "Beyond The Box": Readers' comments on Theme Decks.

Jay of Ertai’s Lament fame also wrote articles for a couple different sites in addition to the blog. I’ve started mining these for my “Compendium” posts, and to make things easier I’ve fired everything into a google docs file and grouped them by set. I then had the thought that it was probably worth just making a couple of dedicated posts about them. They’ll all trickle out eventually as I go…

[red-dead-sakharine]

The Adventures of Raphael - Part 1

Raphael got picked up by the Nautiloid as it flew over Baldur's Gate. The Tadpole is somehow blocking most of his fiendish powers, so now he is forced to adventure with his annoyingly chaotic companions pawns, on a quest to rid himself of the parasite and regain his powers.

Mod: Raphael's Ring

More to come...

[dndtreasury]

Nature's Reckoning

[cannibalisticskittles]

hang on, i have perhaps found The Way to ensure that the idea of amity's mother is at least touched on in the fic, even if that's all that happens (bc i mean, its still going to be written from astarion's perspective, and amity is not forthcoming about this information at all, and it's not hugely likely that they would run into anything with her mother's influence in the first or even the second act, so -- small hints are all astarion gets on that subject)

i feel that there Must be a point at which amity's name is discussed in the context of like, "astarion, i named myself after the concept of genial relationships, did you Really think i would Ever be less than sincere about the possibility of forming a friendship"

to which he asks for slight clarification, and then at her confirmation, says that that's awful, to name herself that. tsk. maybe not quite as bad as shadowheart, but still, how very... noble of her. what a saccharine choice.

first of all, she says, it is incredibly common for tiefling children to pick a virtue name when they come of age, and second of all, she could have named herself temperance. or chastity. so there; could have been worse. that, at least, he agrees with.

amity is just. what she believes in most. what she cares about most. so when the time came that she felt ready to choose a name, it was an easy choice, she says. makes it clear from the get-go what she's all about, and she likes that, so now everyone calls her that.

"well," she says then, after a pause. "except for my mother." and there is another silent pause. she looks contemplative. then she shakes off whatever thought she had been dwelling on and continues. "anyway, it was my choice to call myself that, and it's my choice to continue calling myself that, and i would thank you to keep that in mind the next time you have something sour to say about it."

him, sour? never. perish the thought. everything he says is as sweet as honey.

the culmination of this (or. perhaps this is how it began) is that she points out that he called himself a friend to her first, and now she calls him a friend -- unless he is going to retract his statement? ...no? then they are friends, and, as she takes her name quite seriously, he can trust in that. and now it's settled: friends.

[yngwer]

Fourth Drawtober prompt! Okt. 16 - 20:  𝕱𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝕱𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖆𝖗

Wanted to draw some goats <3

--- Catch me on my Mastodon: https://mastodon.art/web/@yngwer 🐘🌟

[jeeaark]

I'm surprised Epilogue Wyll is a Ranger, not a Paladin. The man fits the mould pretty damn well. And having a good Paladin to contrast Minthara's evil Paladin would be neat.

Ranger Wyll makes perfect sense to me. Rangers are built for survival and to thrive in the environment of their choosing. Even Literal Hell. Not only would Ranger Wyll have no difficulty trekking a land that is nothing BUT heinous, that man would become a menace to every fiend that thought they were top of the food chain. Sure he won't have radiant damage, but he'll have favored enemy. That man would not only become the Blade of Avernus, but the Predator of Avernus. The Ranger Knightmare to Nightmares. Paladin Wyll can smite demons with big damage dealer spells sure, but demons come in the hundreds in hell. Poor guy would run out of smites reaaaaallll fast.

Ranger Wyll? Play your spell cards right, and you can have the environment kill your foes aaaaallll day. Paladin Wyll would be like a good sprinter, but Ranger Wyll? Marathon Runner. Paladins are defenders, pest control for communities in Faerûn and kicking overambitious fiends back to their planes.

Ranger Wyll? Is the naturally heat resistant, longstriding, enhanced leaping, persistent hunter of demons and devils. The man who doesn't wait for the demon lion to start devouring the souls of townspeople, but who dares stride into the demon lions' den itself and beat them at their own game. And this time they have nowhere to run and hide.

Also Paladins gotta have oaths. and that entails. rules. After the whole Mizora thing, I don't think Wyll wants to be stuck upholding anymore sets of rules. Let that man do what he wants without holy/fiendish consequence! The moral conundrum is what got Wyll stuck into the warlock business, and having a paladin oath is moral conundrum cocaine for nefarious evildoers.

Also. Ranger Wyll gets a Killer Puppy Companion.

Can't top Killer Puppy Companion.

[beatsandskies]

The Duelist 40: Preconstructed Destiny

I can’t believe that I missed this: after the Big Bang of Tempest the theme deck content in The Duelist dropped right down to something not really worth a post. But here there’s probably two, if not three posts from this issue alone. Let’s say three: since I feel that I normally try to squeeze too much into each thing I do and why? So keep your eyes peeled. Hit that follow button or email…

[heavilysaltedbagel]

What a way to show off everyone's strengths as comedians and writers, too. Brennan, Katie, and Raph have distinct voices in their work that are largely informed and made unique by their own personalities. This makes them ideal first tier Bingo subjects/victims, due to their voices being distinct and distinctly different from one another.

(I wrote a way more thorough analysis of the structure and cast choices made for this episode. Whoops. More under the cut.)

At the Second level, we have Rekha, Trapp, and Lily. Unlike the first three, these three are all excellent at stepping back and prompting others. Brennan points out the Trapp is an excellent straight man. On Dirty Laundry, Lily consistently will listen and wait to send out little jabs that cut through the bits to keep things fresh. Rekha is a quick thinker and will oftentimes make a joke about how proud she is of a dumb joke, thereby simultaneously making a joke and joking about the joke. It's great.

Tier one Bingo players all have a tendency to commit and commit hard to what they do and say, to their own characters and schemes, whereas tier 2 takes one step back and will often times react to either their own jokes or take a broader look at what others have said. They are, to me, the clearest candidates for the jester in the king's court. Additionally, they all clearly have a fiendish streak that made them (a) perfect candidates to torture the first three and (b) ideal Bingo subjects/victims for the third tier of Bingo players.

At the Third tier, Jess, Tao, and Carolyn do not typically take on front-and-center stage characters. Tao I would categorize as a gracious dork. On Game Changer, he plays up his 'weaknesses' for laughs, or (in the case of Secret Samta) takes advantage of his weaknesses in order to pull the rug out from under everyone. I could say the same for Jess, which you can see clearly in the very first episode of game changer. Jess is also able to do and say otherwise embarrassing things with complete confidence. Carolyn is the only person on the third tier who I haven't seen very much of, but she's hot and funny so what else do you need?

Anyways, the third tier folk are all so incredibly deliberate about their choices and what they do and say. They take a look at all of the dominoes before deciding where exactly it is best to knock them down. This makes them well suited for their roles as prompters for what is presumed to be REAL LIFE. (i.e. the second tier are not aware that they are just as subject to Sam's mind games and the first tier. Their prompts all have to seem natural). Jess, Tao, and Carolyn are fantastically well suited to this. They are all willing to put themselves and others through awkward situations that are adjacent to real life scenarios, all for the bit. And they do it spectacularly.

In this way, not only is the show structured with tier one as set up, tier two as build up, and tier three as punch line, but also each cast of comedians within each tier is perfectly suited for that structure of joke. Brennan, Katie, and Raph are excellent at committing hard to a scenario (the set up). Trapp, Reha, and Lily are fantastic at building up tension and fleshing out that scenario (the build up). And Jess, Tao, and Carolyn were brilliant at subverting in the third act (the punchline).

I'd also like to point out that there's a relationship here with increasing material at each tier as well. All the first tier has to work with is the bingo game and what Sam gives them as prompts and encouragement. They fill in the rest with their character. The second tier thinks they have all of the material and therefore dismiss otherwise strange circumstances (Rekha on the apple box, the um actually box, Lily putting her foot up on the table). The third tier actually does have all of the material, and that material includes their own bingo games, everything that tier 2 is doing, and everything that tier 2 is reacting to on the game changer set.

Anyways, whoops wrote an essay.

TLDR: Gamechanger Bingo does an awesome job at showing off everyone's different skills in comedy. It's excellent. I love it.

[cambion-companion]

Hi! I wanted to know, how do you imagine the interactions betwen Tav and Raphael would have gone like, if they had been Tav’s fiend patron? (as in, they already start the game with the contract (we were robbed)) 

Oh, it would be such an interesting dynamic. And Raphael is ready as ever to adapt to a new situation and manipulate it to his own ends.

The last few days had been an utter whirlwind of madness. Relief at not falling to your death from the Nautiloid contrasting sharply with the dread of having an Illithid parasite in your brain. A ticking time bomb.

You had wondered how long it would be before Raphael came to collect you. As it turned out, you didn't have long to wait before you sensed your fiendish patron's presence. The back of your neck prickled, a shower of sparks cascading from an opening portal caught your eye.

"I had wondered where you'd fluttered off to." Raphael's cadence sounded familiar and almost comforting to your ears, maybe he could help you. "And you've gained such illustrious companions along the way." Mildly sardonic as his brown eyes landed on Karlach who'd frozen in place while stuffing her face with dinner.

"Raphael." You greeted, breathless from the surprise visit. "It's..." You hesitated on the rushed words. "...good to see you." Despite the nature of the devil, you felt relieved at seeing a familiar face.

Raphael bestowed an arch look upon you, the corner of his narrow mouth tilting up. "I always keep close watch over my most prized possessions. When you disappeared from even my purview, I must admit to experiencing my own form of concern." He approached and took your chin between his fingers, tilting your face up for inspection. "You look a little worse for wear. Has my favorite client suffered a chance of ill-fate?" He moved your head to the side, you half thought he would open your mouth to inspect your teeth. "You have a little visitor inside that lovely head, it seems." He snaked a hand around the back of your neck, a little possessive as his gaze sharpened on something you couldn't discern. "A rather unwelcome one, on all fronts." You could intuit those last words were not meant for you or your companions.

"Can you help?" You asked, the urgency of your situation thrumming cold in your veins.

Raphael chuckled, his gaze still narrowed on your wan face. "Does the sun rise in the east and set in the west? Can a young sapling be felled by an ax?" Raphael gave the nape of your neck a squeeze. "I live to help those in need, and perhaps this...little problem squirming in your brain offers just the opportunity I've been seeking."

"Seeking? How so?"

"As ever, you delight me with your inquisitive mind, however naive to think I'd offer you such information so readily." Raphael looked down at you, your noses almost touching. "Come, it's time to go home and have a more private chat."

[bitethedevil]

Raphael and the Devils Tango

I'm sorry about the awful pun (I'm not).

It's time for more ramblings about Raphael (as always, these are just the connections I’ve personally made. Feel free to discuss, disagree with, correct, or add anything you’d like).

I’ve been doing some reading of the Fiendish Codex II (credits to this awesome post, since that’s the only reason I found out about that book).

There’s a section that details the physiology of devils that I found interesting. I feel like it has been discussed every now and again if Raphael feels any sexual desires or if it is simply a tool for him. Well, listen to this:

“But even though they have no need to reproduce, some devils receive pleasure from engaging in sexual behavior. The more humanlike the devil, the more likely it is to feel sexual desire, often accompanied by a twisted, selfish need for love and affection.”

I think we can all agree that a cambion is definitely pretty ‘humanlike’ compared to some of the other horrible monstrosities in the Hells, especially with their half-mortal heritage. The “twisted, selfish need for love and affection” part especially intrigues me. It makes me think of the whole thing with Hope. Let’s keep going:

“Likewise, sexual intrigue provides a motivation for many of the grudges and alliances behind archducal politics. Like intoxication, sexual behavior, with its destabilizing and even chaotic potential, is reserved as a privilege of the mighty.”

It goes on to explain that things like sex and intoxication (yes, devils can apparently get intoxicated but not by the same means as mortals can) are basically luxuries reserved for the Archdevils. All other devils are expected to not participate in such ‘chaotic’ things, as their whole purpose is basically just to please those above them.

This is where I can imagine Raphael as a young cambion, trying to explore those natural urges, only for his dad to take him down a notch and send him an incubus instead. Someone who can satisfy his biological urges but never love him. Also sort of as a grim reminder that he is beneath Mephistopheles and not entitled to indulge in such luxuries.

I’m obviously not excusing what he has done to Hope, but it just makes me think. The crazy possessiveness and extremes he’s gone to so she can never leave (and so that she cannot be freed). What if its his sick attempt at gaining love from someone rather than just him trying to break her down because he can?

[dark-and-kawaii]

Have to say, absolutely adore your writing. I eagerly check your blog once a day. So happy to see such a talented writer who loves Haarlep and does them justice. How do you think Haarlep would react to being approached by his little mouse and asking for a baby from them? I'm curious how you think Haarlep would react to being asked to sire a child. I quite enjoy the fics where Tav/Durge is already with child...they are very steamy...>:)

୨♡୧ ᴀᴡʜʜʜʜʜ ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏ ᴡᴀʏʏʏʏ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ɪ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ!!! ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ ʜᴀᴀʀʟᴇᴘ ᴀꜱ ᴀ ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴏʀ ꜱᴏᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ!!! ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴍʏ ᴀʙꜱᴏʟᴜᴛᴇ ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ!!! ꜱᴏ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀꜱᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ <3

₊˚⊹♡ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴍɪɴᴅ, ɪ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ɪᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ xᴏxᴏ

"Haarlep-" As you lay tangled in your sheets with the creature, you rub their chest, your fingers dancing all across the expanse of their chest. "I-" It's been a year since Raphael's demise, Haarlep was now yours, and you were theirs to claim… "I wish to have a child…" You feel their body go stiff beneath you. "I am ready for one, and I want one… With you… An-And only with you..."

Haarlep's eyes narrow as they listen to your words. Their possessive nature taking hold with each breath you take, and a possessive grin spreads across their face. Their hand slides up your thigh, gripping it tightly as they lean in closer to you, their nails digging into your soft flesh.

"Bahaha! Well, well, well," Haarlep purrs, their voice velvety smooth, "You wish to bear my child, do you? To be claimed by me, carrying my spawn within you?" They press their lips against your neck, nipping and sucking on the already bruised and sensitive skin.

You can feel Haarlep's hand trail higher up until their fingers teasingly graze your exposed cunt. "Such a delicious proposition, my little dove. But are you certain you can handle the consequences of being impregnated by an incubus like me? Your body will feel how it suckles on your soul for nutrients, perhaps even steal the very soul that is mine to take... Death is always at your door once your womb is marked by me."

Haarlep's words are laced with a mixture of possessiveness and warning, yet they continue to trail kisses down your body. Their fingers slipping inside you, exploring your gummy walls until you're arching your back moaning their name.

"Once I claim you in this way, there will be no turning back," Haarlep whispers, their voice barely above a whisper, "But if you're truly ready, if you crave the intoxicating pleasure of carrying my seed, then I will indulge this fantasy of yours and make it a reality." Pulling back, Haarlep's fiendish eyes lock with yours, "I will fill you with my seed, make you mine in every way possible."

Their touch becomes more urgent, their movements rough and commanding. Haarlep fucks you with a possessiveness and greed driving them to claim you completely. The air is filled with the sounds of your moans mingling with their growls and grunts, true music to both your ears.

As you both finish, Haarlep's grip tightens, their body shuddering with release. You are theirs, only theirs. Raphael thought he'd have it all including you yet you are Haarlep's, and now so is your precious womb... It elicits a laugh from Haarlep.

But even in the aftermath, a flicker of concern crosses Haarlep's face. They trace gentle circles on your abdomen as you sleep soundly at their side... The incubus cannot help but to fear for your mortal body. Carrying the spawn of an incubus can be quite dangerous... Their possessive nature momentarily gives way to a sliver of genuine concern, a glimpse of the complex emotions lurking beneath their usual nature.

[stormsandskies]

i was just relistening to the Feywild arc again and oh boy i think i may have found some connections with episode 114.

right so in gills section of episode 79 when he enters the meeting room and does his sniff thing for evil and good he notices that one of the figures does not smell completely evil, in fact, it is only one part of him that smells like that. He also notices many others who are the same and some who are fully evil-smelling

pulling directly from the episode grizzly says "That same figure on the other side of the room that you attacked..." who we find out later to be Jayson Ferin "... a bubbling of evil within but it's not fiendish, it's not undead, it seems to be mixed with what is also a good energy as well. It's almost as if they've been fused together... you get this noxious odor but it's only like one part of this person."

this is especially concerning when we pair it with what we learned in the navy base. between the weird memory machine and the message left by faye ferin stating that her son is "stable" it makes me wonder if maybe the experimentation has been going on for a lot longer than we know and for more people than we think. especially because shortly after we hear about that small bit of evil in jayson we also hear about it in many others around the room.

now obviously some of these people could just be a little evil by nature but the discovery of triton skin on the ground before gillon is taken puts doubts about that in my mind.

anyways all this is to say i think maybe jayson is not full himself anymore and has lost a very integral piece to himself and is now just following orders, and i think maybe some of the members of the council in the undersea may also be under that effect, or are full clones so that the navy can spy on them.

this would fit with the undersea being in favor of lunadeyis and faye being in favor of aster, and we can assume that faye is very very high up in the navy.

i am worried.

[cowboyemeritus]

Cenerentola (Frater Imperator/Reader)

Summary: Copia hosts a gala to celebrate his ascension to head of the Clergy. When things go haywire, it's up to you to keep him safe. In the process, it becomes impossible to avoid your feelings for him any longer.

Content Warning: mild violence, a singular Monty Python reference

Notes: me? writing sfw? it's more likely than you think.

i've been doing a lot of social dancing so naturally that made me think about dancing with copia. i am also a sucker anything remotely cinderella-esque lol. reader is sort of based on an oc of mine.

i don't really know how i feel about this — i had ideas for two related scenes and then had to fill in the gaps from there. sorry it's so long lmao

feedback is always welcome :)

Even amidst the sea of people below, it is impossible for you to miss him. Copia shines like the Morningstar, the candlelight glinting off the ruby brooches and bedazzled collar of his new, freshly pressed suit. All eyes are on him as he spins the delighted young Sister of Sin in his arms, leading her with grace and elegance through the steps of the fast-paced waltz. He’s changed so much in the years since you left the Ministry. Now, with his ascension to head of the Clergy, there are moments where he seems like an entirely different person, exponentially more confident and self-assured than you remember. 

You know his new demeanor, however, betrays a deep-seated anxiety, the product of years of vague threats on his life from the organization he’s now expected to lead. And surely, the irony is not lost on him that the very hall in which he is now dancing sits directly above the crypts, where the bodies of his assassinated brothers lay in eternal repose.

From your position, leaning against a column up on the balcony, you have the entire ballroom in your sights. Every step, every gesture, every side conversation, is under your scrutiny. This was by design. Although Copia, by some miracle, lived to see the end of his reign as Papa, the transition of power has not been an easy one. Threats abound, the old guard of the Clergy still dissatisfied with him, many enraged by his recent promotion. His mother’s scheming was meant to protect him, but now it seems to have backfired, putting him in more danger than ever before. While this gala serves as a way for him to potentially smooth things over with the Upper Clergy, asserting himself as Frater Imperator, he is also making himself vulnerable, open to attacks of all kinds.

As a favor to his predecessor, the woman who taught you everything you know, you begrudgingly agreed to provide additional security around Ministry headquarters. At first, returning to the Abbey, its halls so hauntingly familiar, reminded you of why you left in the first place: decadence, hypocrisy, lies — a message lost in a quagmire of sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll. Somehow, though, Copia and his ghouls have wormed their way into your frozen heart over these last few months. It was done before you even knew it was happening. Copia has this sort of magnetism about him, some preternatural force that makes it impossible not to be charmed. It was like this even when he was a shy, awkward cardinal. Because of this, although the Clergy wants him gone, he has the distinct advantage of a congregation that completely adores him.

The song ends, and Copia sweeps the Sister into a dip. She giggles, pressing a playful kiss to his cheek. Something in your chest pangs.

At the end of the day, you just work together. It would be foolish of you expect anything more. Still, there’s been an undeniable tension between the two of you since your return to the Ministry. You see the way he looks at you, the way he hangs on to your every word when you speak. But maybe you’re imagining it — you spend so much time around him that perhaps you’ve mistaken proximity for fondness.

You sense a familiar, fiendish presence approaching from behind. “You’re having fun,” Cirrus remarks, entering your field of vision. She has a flute of champagne in each hand and offers one to you. To maintain the illusion of normalcy you accept, taking a small sip of the bubbly, golden liquid.

“We’re on the clock,” you say, eyeing a small group of cardinals that have congregated near the refreshments table. They seem to be merely gossiping. Rain is stationed nearby, carefully observing. “No fun allowed.” The ghoul chuckles, leaning against the balcony railing on her forearms.

“I take it everything’s alright so far?” You nod, thinking back on the hours you spent painstakingly drawing sigils at various locations around the Abbey, setting up one massive alarm spell. If anything supernatural tries to get in, you’ll know. All that’s left is to be on the lookout for any natural, more human threats. You swallow down a lump in your throat, hoping your preparations will be enough.

“Try to relax, then,” Cirrus coaxes, sipping her own drink. There’s a pause. “You should go dance with him.” You feel your cheeks heat up, but keep your composure.

“I don’t have time to mess around,” you state bluntly. Your posture sags a bit. “He’s busy, anyway.” Copia is leading another Sister onto the dance floor, taking the starting position as the ghoul band strikes up another tune. You zero in on the hand resting on her hip, worrying your lower lip between your teeth. It looks like her dress doesn’t have any pockets; the probability of her concealing anything is low.

Cirrus places a clawed hand on your shoulder and gives you a playful jostle. “For you? He’ll make time.” You give her a quizzical look and she winks, straightening back up before taking her leave. “Do it!” She calls. “I’ve got good money on you two getting together!” Your mouth hangs slightly agape, watching as she descends the stairs to rejoin the party.

You take another, longer sip of your champagne, relishing in the sensation of bubbles tickling your tongue. It helps take the edge off, if only a little. You remain up on your perch for another long while. Copia eventually abandons dancing in favor of strolling through the crowd, greeting and shaking hands with various high-profile guests. It’s harder to keep track of him this way, even from your vantage point, so once your glass is empty you descend the stairs, entering the fray for yourself. To your relief, no one pays you any mind as you weave through the mass of bodies. You spot a truly nameless ghoul carrying a tray of empty glassware and flag them down, depositing your glass. You’re about to find a better place to camp out when someone taps you on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, signorina strega.” You turn and sure enough, it’s Copia. He’s holding out a hand. “May I have this dance?” Multiple pairs of eyes are now focused on you. Swallowing hard, you flush, smiling nervously. It’s a little more attention than you’d like, but you reason that within arms reach of him is the best place to be right now.

It’s completely logical, not motivated by anything else.

“Of course, Frater Imperator,” you reply, bowing your head slightly. You make it a point to use his full title in front of the guests. “I would be honored.” Gingerly, you take his hand, and he leads you to the dance floor. You pick up your pace a bit so that you’re able to whisper in his ear. “I’m not very good.” Copia gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Do not worry. Just follow my lead.” As the last few bars of the current song play, Copia guides you into the starting position, placing his right hand delicately on your hip and holding the left out for you to take. You try not to think about how, even through the leather of his gloves, his hand is so warm. Having difficulty looking him in the eye, you glance over his shoulder in the brief moment of silence between songs. You see Cirrus, Rain, and Swiss gathered by the refreshments table, watching you with shit-eating grins plastered across their faces. The air ghoul flashes you a thumbs-up and you have to resist the urge to destroy her with your mind.

“Ready?” As if on cue, the band resumes playing. You recognize the song instantly: Waltz No. 2, Shostakovich. How woefully on brand. The dance begins, Copia stepping forward with his left foot while you, mirroring him, step back with the right. It’s easy enough to follow him after that, stepping to your left as he steps right, then forwards to start all over again.

“One, two, three. One, two, three. You’re a natural.” Once you find a steady rhythm, you’re able to look up from your feet and actually start to enjoy the feeling of whirling around the room.

“How are things?” He asks, clearly trying to remain nonchalant. There are so many eyes on you, and from the crowd you sense intrigue, amusement, and a significant amount of jealously.

“Fine, so far,” you reply through a smile, trying to make it as difficult as possible for people to read your lips. Copia nods.

“Bene.” A few beats pass. “Thank you for all your hard work. I appreciate you coming back after...” He looks away for a moment. “I appreciate it.” You didn’t do it for him and he knows that, but his expression of gratitude makes heat bloom in your chest nonetheless.

“I’m glad I did,” you say without thinking. “This place is different now. Good different, because of you.” Copia smiles, the skin around the corners of his eyes crinkling. He raises his left arm and you pass under it in a spin, feeling lighter than air.

“I had hoped you would be able to enjoy yourself tonight,” he admits, a hint of guilt in his eyes. “Instead it seems you are just fretting over me.” You quirk an eyebrow at him.

“It’s that ego of yours I’m worried about,” you tease. “Pretty soon there won’t be room for anyone else in this Ministry.” Both of you laugh at this.

“I had better check myself, then,” Copia says, running a hand through his mousy brown hair. “I would hate to see you leave again.” That catches you off guard and you nearly trip, but his hand finds your hip again, keeping you stable. By now, you’re certain he’s noticed the blush on your cheeks.

“Don’t worry. I’m not-“

Somewhere, an invisible thread snaps. It makes your stomach lurch, the color draining from your face. You pause, your playful expression melting away as you try to pinpoint the source of the disruption. The South Wing. It’s approaching fast. When you return to this plane Copia is looking at you with concern.

“I have to go,” you say quietly. He doesn’t have time to respond before you exit the dance floor, heading for the large double doors at the other end of the ballroom. It’s hard not to shove people out of the way as you duck and weave through the crowd. Dewdrop is at the entrance, minding his post, but as you approach it’s clear from the rigidity of his small body that he’s been waiting for you. He follows you wordlessly out into the hall. Kicking off your heels, the two of you take off in the direction of the intrusion. You internally curse your foolishness for talking yourself out of wearing sneakers, or even flats.

“It’s something nasty,” he says once you’re out of earshot of any guests. You can only nod in agreement, hoping the two of you are enough to deal with whatever this foul thing is.

You round the corner to the South Wing and stop dead in your tracks. The sight before you makes your blood run could. Charging towards you is a hulking creature, easily Mountain’s height but with Aether’s bulk. It’s clearly a humanoid figure, but its edges are poorly defined, a mist-like quality to them. Still, you observe shapes that resemble horns and a tail, and that tells you all you need to know: a rogue ghoul, not bound to this plane by a contract. As such, it’s less of a consolidated form and more of rampaging ball of fiendish energy. This information helps you narrow down the list of potential culprits exponentially.

There’s no time to dwell on that, though. The creature is headed straight for you, no doubt attracted to the smell of your human flesh. Before you can react, Dew puts himself between you and the ghoul, ready to engage. He’s strong in spite of his small size, but the odds of him defeating this massive a beast on his own, especially one this energized, are slim. You realize he’s buying you time to cast a spell, and immediately you formulate a plan in your head. It will take some time to accomplish, but if he can hold off this monstrosity for long enough, you should be able to successfully banish it back to the Pit without endangering him as well. Planting your feet, you take a deep breath, letting your eyes shut. There’s a whoosh of warm air as Dew charges the rogue ghoul. Energy begins to flow through you as you chant under your breath, crafting the spell. A metallic taste fills your mouth, the air crackling with static.

You’re about halfway through the incantation when the sound of a body hitting the floor breaks through your wall of concentration. The creature roars, forcing you to crack an eye open just in time to see it lunge at you. It’s covered in scratches and burns, but Dew is ultimately the one on the ground, desperately trying to pick himself back up. You’re only just able to side-step, the spell breaking as you focus all of your energy on surviving the next few seconds. You’re frantically backpedaling when it swipes at you, claws catching you in the side. You cry out as it tears through the flimsy red fabric of your dress, leaving three long gashes in its wake that begin bleeding immediately. Though profoundly painful it’s a superficial wound; if you had been stationary, there’s no doubt it would have disemboweled you. 

Your back hits the wall. Dew shouts your name but you just stand there, frozen. The creature is about to pin you when a large body slams into it from the side, knocking it to the ground. You immediately recognize the form as Aether, and looking in the direction from whence he came you see Cirrus, Swiss, Rain, Mountain, Sunshine, and Phantom, all approaching with teeth and claws bared. Cirrus gets to you first, grabbing your arm and pulling you away from the scuffling ghouls.

“Are you-“ She finally notices you clutching your side, blood seeping into your dress. “Oh shit, are you okay?” You nod, lifting your hand to show her it’s minor. Phantom is helping Dew to his feet. He seems alright other than a few scratches, the fall appearing to have knocked the wind out of him more than anything.

“I’m fi-” Your heart nearly stops. “Is someone watching Imperator?”

“Cumulus and Aurora are with him,” she says. “They’ve got it under control.” You let out a relieved sigh, shoulders dropping. It’s only now you that you notice how much tension you’ve been holding in your body all night. Your body trembles with excess adrenaline.

Aether lets out a frustrated growl. You barely have time to look in his direction before the rogue ghoul, having slipped out of his grasp, hurls itself out of one of the long, gothic windows lining the hallway. Bits of stained glass go flying, scattering across the marble floor tiles. The creature is smart enough to recognize it’s been outnumbered. One-by-one the members of the pack leap through the broken portal, none of them too keen on letting the intruder escape. Dew tries to follow, clearly excited about the prospect of a hunt, but Cirrus shoos him away from the window.

“Go clean yourselves up,” she orders, perched on the ledge. It’s directed mostly at you. “We’ll take it from here.” With that, she jumps down, disappearing from view as the sound of the pack whooping and howling fades into the distance.

Twenty some-odd minutes and a round of healing magick later, you and Dew are sitting out on the steps of the back patio, passing a cigarette back-and-forth. By now, the rogue ghoul has most certainly been torn to ribbons. There could still be threats lurking, but for as much as you’d like to go find Copia, you’re nowhere near presentable and would prefer not to incite panic, or suspicion, among the guests. Besides, you’re hardly capable of doing anything now, your energy completely drained by the evening’s events. You only had enough juice left to stop your cuts from bleeding; anything physically strenuous would certainly reopen the wounds. For now, you’re content to enjoy the cool autumn air, knowing he’s in capable hands.

“There you are.” Speak of the Devil. You look over your shoulder and Copia is stepping out into night, flanked by Cumulus and Aurora. Clutched in one hand are your strappy red heels, and it’s only now that you realize you’re still barefoot. Dew, with a quiet groan, rises to his feet and climbs the stairs, passing Copia as he descends.

“We’re going to go take care of this one,” Cumulus says, draping an arm over the fire ghoul’s shoulder. It’s hard to tell in the dark, but for a moment you swear she winks at you. Dew tries to shrug her off with a huff, and the girls giggle. Copia nods approvingly.

“Thank you, miei cari. We will debrief in the morning.” The three ghouls turn and step back inside, leaving you and Copia on the stairs. Your heart beats a little faster with the realization that you two are alone, although you tell yourself it’s because you won’t be able to defend him in this state. There’s definitely no other reason.

“Your glass slippers, my lady.” You roll your eyes and reach out to take your shoes from Copia, but he refuses to hand them over, kneeling on the stair below you. “Allow me, per favore.”

This might as well be happening. Lifting your foot up, you grant him permission to assist you. Copia slides the first shoe back on, holding your calf with one hand. Again, you can’t help but notice how warm and gentle his touch is. 

“I’m sorry for running off,” you say, needing to break the silence. “I hope you didn’t think that-“

“Not at all. I figured that something was, eh, ‘going down.’” When he looks up he finally notices the gashes in your side. He hisses, wincing. “Ahia! That looks like it hurts.”

You wave him off. “’Tis but a scratch.” He looks like he’s going to protest, clearly upset, but instead opts to tighten the strap of your shoe before moving on to the next foot.

“What happened?” He asks, starting the process over again.

“Rogue ghoul,” you explain, looking out into the forest at the edge of the lawn. “Likely the work of Cardinal Ambrosius. He’s gotten in trouble for trying to make contracts before. Doesn’t look like he’s quite figured it out, though. I can have his head on your desk by Monday morning, if you’d like.” 

Copia laughs through his nose. “You are absolutely vicious, mia strega.”

You shrug. “Just doing my job.” Once Copia finishes with your other shoe he stands, offering you his hand.

“Walk with me?” 

You give him a hesitant look. “I don’t want to keep you from your guests.” He scoffs.

“I have had enough of those two-faced pricks for one night. A lifetime, even.” His expression softens. “But if you are not up for it, I-“

“No!” You shoot up, taking his hand. It startles him a little bit. “I’m good. Let’s go.” Copia smiles, the moonlight sparkling in his eyes. Like an obedient  lamb, you let him lead you down the rest of the stairs and across the patio to where a walkway wraps around the side of the building. He’s taking you to the gardens, it seems. Though your legs feel like jelly, the walk isn’t very long, which you’re thankful for.

The gardens aren’t really a sight to behold this time of year, but the full moon bathes everything in a mesmerizing blue glow, giving the space a dreamlike quality. The ballroom is just up another set of stairs, the music still audible where you emerge. You stop by the fountain, a marble visage of Lilith pouring water from a bottomless goblet. The water is still running, providing a little extra ambiance.

“Care to dance?” Copia asks. “We were so tragically interrupted before.”

“I…” Damn you and your nerves. You’re blushing again. “I don’t want to get blood all over you.”

Still, he persists, shrugging. “It’s a black suit.” It’s hard to say no to that face, but the McQueen jacket? Really? He gives you a pleading look and your resolve instantly crumbles.

“Alright.” It’s all but a whisper. “But go easy on me.”

You don’t wait for the next song to start, you simply get in position and go from there. It’s slower than what you danced to before, and you two end up just swaying to the rhythm rather than following any steps. That’s fine with you, your legs are still shaking, though you can’t tell if it’s from exertion or something else entirely.

“You look beautiful,” Copia says after a few measures. In that time you two have drifted closer together, only a few inches between you now. It’s hard to look him in the eyes when your face is so embarrassingly red, so you choose to stare at the ground.

“I’m a mess.” You laugh, but there’s something bitter in it as your eyes wander to your soiled dress, torn and bloody. There was a silly, naive part of you that had been thinking of Copia when you selected it for this evening. He stops swaying, a hand finding your chin and gently lifting your head. In your opinion, he’s the beautiful one, practically glowing in the moonlight. 

“Nonsense. You are the fairest of them all, cara.” You roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth draw up into a slight smile.

“You’re getting your fairytales mixed up.” The two of you share a laugh before dissolving into a few moments of comfortable silence. You can tell he’s thinking about something, and he looks away, clearly nervous.

“Did you mean what you said about coming back?” The question catches you off guard for a second.

“I did,” you finally respond. “I really did. This place feels like home again.” Swallowing, you decide to take a bit of a leap. “Did you mean what you said, about me leaving?” You haven’t discussed it in a long time, but when you first took the job, the understanding was that this was only a temporary arrangement, lasting at least until Copia was able to settle into his new position. The notion pains you now. He nods.

“Yes. I-“ He chuckles. “I cannot stand the thought. Signorina strega, say that you will stay with us, with me.”

You don’t even need to think about it. “I will. Of course I will.” Copia beams, and the sight is breathtaking. There’s another pause, the air between you charged with an energy more powerful than magick. In the ballroom, the final notes of the song ring out, though you hardly notice. A bomb could go off next to you, but even that wouldn’t be enough to pull you out of this moment.

“Beautiful…” You don’t protest when he cups your flushed cheek, running his thumb across the bone. “May I kiss you?” It takes everything you have to not melt into a puddle.

“Please.”

And then his lips — Sathanas, they’re soft —  are on yours. Stars explode behind your eyes as he presses into you, the hand on your hip to pulling you in closer. His body is so warm against you; it feels so right. Your heart is racing, head spinning, as the euphoria overtakes you. 

He kisses you until you’re both out of breath. When he finally pulls away, you want to chase after him, to kiss him until your lips fall off, but then your knees buckle. Copia is just barely able to catch you, letting out a surprised little noise you can’t help but find adorable. He seems less concerned when he sees you’re grinning like an idiot.

“Alas, I have killed her!” You both laugh as he helps you regain your balance. “Why don’t we sit down?” Humming in agreement, he leads you over to the fountain, sitting you down on the edge. He brushes a strand of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. “Are you sure you are alright?”

“Just peachy,” you say, gazing at your intertwined hands. “It’s been a long night.” Feeling bold and still a bit woozy, you bring Copia’s hand to your lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. 

“Ah, young love.” You both jolt, heads snapping in the direction of the voice. Before you stand the glowing specters of Papa Nihil and Sister Imperator. The old man has a wistful, nostalgic look on his face, while your former teacher observes with her arms crossed. How long have they been watching you? “Just like we once were, don’t you think?” Imperator huffs.

“I sure hope not.” Her focus falls on you. The wrath in her translucent blue yes makes your blood freeze. “You think you’re good enough for my son, girl?” For a moment, you’re completely speechless.

“I-“

“Are you two serious right now,” Copia shouts. “Get out of here! Go on! Get!” He gets up from the fountain to shoo them away. Imperator gives you a pointed look before dissolving into a blue mist. Her message is clear: this isn’t over. You gulp.

Copia groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I cannot believe those two. I finally get to have my moment with you, and then they go and spoil it!” He flops back down next to you, sighing. “I am sorry, bella. I understand if-“

“Forget about it,” you say, holding up your hand to silence him. “Just kiss me, like, forever.”

Copia happily obliges.

[atrueneutral]

Please some soft Raphael..

“Raphael?”

“Hm?” he acknowledged, on page three of writing a rather lengthy letter that was to be planted at a specific place at a specific time for a specific someone.

“Are you busy?”

He was always busy. As the mortal saying went, there was no rest for the wicked; schemes of a fiendish nature needed to be plotted and executed, souls needed to be signed away, collected and tortured, and the infernal ladder needed him at the top…

However, for Her, all of that could wait.

Especially when she made a point to visit the House sounding so… melancholic.

Raphael quickly scrawled the finishing touches to his latest sentence, and his head turned to greet his beloved who stood a few feet away from his desk and where he was seated. She flashed a smile, but there was no joy there - the spark of life and mischief he secretly (and not so secretly, according to Haarlep) adored lacked its normal luster.

Raphael’s brow raised as he looked over the rest of her. Thankfully, there were no signs of injury, yet even if there had been, the bath was hers to freely to use…

“Is something the matter?”

Her reply came after a heavy sigh. “It’s just one of those days.”

Setting the quill down, he pushed his chair back and beckoned her to him with his fingers. She instantly moved to settle herself in his lap, her legs bracing his as she tucked herself against his chest and nestled her head under his jaw.

“Tell me about it?” he said, his hand coming up to soothingly stroke her hair.

“Nothing happened - not really,” she mumbled into him. “Just not feeling like myself. I wasn’t going to bother you, but… being here - bothering you - is what I need most right now.”

A warmth that was now familiar to him spread throughout his chest, pairing with a pleased hum.

He forever wanted to be what She needed.

—-

And then there was Haarlep - who wanted to others to need them and who waited for any opportune and tender moment to remind them of their existence.

“What you need, dearest Tav, is to shed your clothes and crawl onto my lap…” Haarlep called from the bed.

[markrosewater]

were bats ever a consideration for the black cards? what made you go with squirrels? is it their inherently fiendish nature? inquiring minds and such

Bats are the white/black archetype.

[beatsandskies]

Theme Deck Review Compendium: Urza’s Destiny “Fiendish Nature”

Promise my next post is going to be something other than just a cut and paste type jobby. 🙂 Fiendish Nature A black green deck with a fatties and reanimation theme. Official product information webpage (archived) Don’t you hate it when you manage to get out a really big creature early, only to lose it to Terror? Then “Fiendish Nature” is the deck for you. Wipe that smirk off your opponent’s…