#Little Bear || Faolan

[thewolfisawake]

Faolan, if for some hypothetical reason you couldn’t impart on your son your wish to take the throne and avenge you through that way, what would be your backup way to order him to avenge you?

"Intriguing question albeit one I have my own queries about. Such as, does by this inability...does he not have much of the other abilities his kind has? If so, then I would find little use in him other than to aid in my escape. Most likely raise enough magical energy to trip the barrier though it'd likely incinerate such a small body. If not and we are to say we continue a similar vein as has come to pass...that is quite simple. I know not why it is not used since that child is glaringly obvious about it...but I would use love."

"One so desperate to be loved and would commit atrocities in the name of it," Faolan spoke idly circling the tea cup rim, "it really would not be that difficult. How much a simple ruffle of the hair, gentle spoken words and weaving of sweet dreams when unable to touch this world. To continue the lessons, since they have retained so well, and speak of the desires and hopes I carried. And that now I would need him to bear. This between small embraces and a smile smile. All of it to carry with an earnest wish from a mother. Memory to be dyed with nostalgia and wistfulness...that child would do so for the love long passed but surely, surely in his 'heart' existed. And that alone is enough."

She took a sip of the drink within, "Frightening how juvenile and asinine it is. Frankly, it is a marvel how that Rathais boy hasn't done so already. Nor any of those that currently serve as a 'general.' Those are ones that have a bit of mettle to them and more sense behind them."

[corvidsong]

how did you pick faolán’s species? very unique combination that I think suits him well

WELL it was a mix of a lot of things! firstly his design was based around how he typically looks as a human (he is/was a human oc first!) and he's got fluffy white hair, and his nickname is "lamb", hence the lamb part! he's also very docile and sweet and loves springtime so lambs really suit him. here's how he looks as a human so you can see what i mean about the hair haha, very sheep-like:

the unicorn part is just because i think they really suit him too, very mythical and mysterious and soft and pretty! he bears an (unintentional) resemblance to amalthea from the last unicorn so i leaned into that a bit ^o^ aaand lastly he's just a little bit part fluffy dragon bc i love them :] (and so i had an excuse to give him paws instead of hooves LOL)

fun fact, faolan is an ancient god and can turn into four different animal forms at will: a snow leopard, unicorn, lamb, or the hybrid mix that his furry form is! i wasn't able to throw snep into the lineup for his furry design but it's there in spirit i suppose! (maybe that's where the paws come from actually hmm...)

[wraithowl]

Barren yet Brave: A Gothic Tale of Motherhood

In the heart of Transylvania, nestled within the mystical sanctuary of Onyx Faolan's family, a bittersweet moment unfolded. One of Onyx's aunts had just given birth to a beautiful baby boy, filling the entire family with joy and excitement. However, for Onyx, this moment stirred up a deep sense of melancholy that weighed heavily on her heart.

Onyx Faolan was known for her towering stature, ghostly white skin, black hair streaked with silver, and eyes as dark as night. She was a goth queen with tattoos adorning her scarred skin - one of them depicting a thestral, a creature whose personality mirrored her own. Despite her intimidating appearance, Onyx possessed a maternal instinct that made her the impromptu matriarch of her eccentric family.

Chiara Lobosca, Onyx's beloved wife and silver-haired werewolf healer, sensed something amiss in her wife's demeanor. Chiara knew about Onyx's condition - a certain affliction that rendered her unable to bear children. It was an unchangeable reality that not even magic could alter. And while Chiara didn't place much importance on having children herself, she understood how deeply it troubled Onyx.

As their little cousins rallied around them to offer comfort, the newborn boy began to cry in his mother's arms as she tried to catch some sleep while his father ran errands. In that moment of vulnerability and neediness, Onyx found herself cradling the infant in her arms. His mother expressed gratitude towards Onyx for soothing him.

It was then that realization dawned upon Onyx - moments like these were precisely why she was never meant to have children of her own biologically. Her purpose lay in caring for all children who crossed her path; she was destined to be a guardian and protector rather than a biological parent.

Within their magical sanctuary filled with creatures both wondrous and strange, surrounded by family members who embraced their uniqueness wholeheartedly, Onyx and Chiara found solace in each other's presence. Together they navigated through life's challenges with unwavering love and support.

And so it was in this tapestry of love and acceptance that Onyx Faolan discovered the true essence of motherhood - not defined by blood ties or genetic legacy but by compassion, kindness, and an unyielding spirit ready to nurture all those in need. And though she may never experience childbirth herself, she knew deep down that she was fulfilling her destiny as a protector and caretaker in ways far beyond what biology could dictate.

In the embrace of family bonds forged through love and understanding, Onyx Faolan stood tall as the fierce yet tender-hearted guardian she was always meant to be - barren yet brimming with an abundance of maternal devotion for all who sought refuge within their enchanted haven in Transylvania.

[overlyimmersedarcana]

Halloween Faolan

Faolan dressed as a little bear for Halloween. And yes this is half a month late. Oh well.

This didn't come out as well as the first drawing of him. I have no idea why... The mouth maybe?

[fullrangeofemotions]

Build a little world with me

Happy Birthday Donna! My gift to her, is snippets of her life with Ally. Just everyday life for these two gingers, who deserve the world. They are a cute little family and I’d die for them. 

Happy 50th Donna. 

____________________________

Donna propped her head on her hand as she watched Ally curled on her side, chest rising up and down, sleeping peacefully. Sometimes, Donna could not believe that Ally was in her life, that she was a mother, but there she was, her daughter, dreaming happy dreams- or so Donna hoped. With a soft smile, Donna ran her fingers through Ally’s curls, the braid Donna had tried to tame her hair into had unraveled fully by now. Ally sniffled slightly, nose scrunching up for a second before her face relaxed once again. Donna wished she could stay in that moment forever. Despite how tired Donna was, she loved staying up late and watching Ally, memorizing every little thing, basking in the tenderness of the moment.

A loud huff had Donna’s smile widening, Faolan’s head popped up from over the bed, old-man eyes peered at her and Donna, like always, patted the bed. Carefully, always gentle, Faolan stepped on top of the bed and sniffed over Ally and Donna, checking that they were okay before turning around and settling at the end of the bed. It warmth Donna, her little family. Tiredly, she settled her head back on the pillow, one arm reaching over to pull Ally close before closing her eyes and letting herself join Ally and Faolan in the dream world.

-

The bow felt strange in her hands after so many years without holding one. Nevertheless, it came back to her as she straightened her shoulders and notched the arrow, gaze focused on the target across the field. Donna took a deep breath and counted to three in her head, before releasing the arrow and watching it fly across the field and land firmly in the center. Claps erupted from behind her making Donna grin as she turned around, eyebrow raised as she looked down at Ally who was gaping at her.

“You never told me you knew archery!” she exploded, pointing at her mom, not believing that all this time her mom had kept this skill hidden from her.

“It did not seem relevant,” Donna answered with a tiny smile as she offered the bow back to Ally’s teacher, Mrs. Battles.

“Not relevant?! Not relevant?! You hit the center! The center! In one shot!” Ally’s mind had just been blown, there would be no getting over this. Donna could not help but be smug that her daughter was looking at her with such awe. Had she kept her skill hidden for this reason? Perhaps.

“I sure did, and you will be able to one day as well,” Donna told her, offering her hand to Ally who immediately took it, “now, how about some ice cream?”

“Yes! I can’t wait to tell all my friends. Oh my God, can you shoot arrows while riding a horse? What can’t you do?” Ally rambled full of energy and Donna was grinning to big, her cheeks were hurting. It was a good day.

-

The sun was bearing down on her and Donna just knew she was going to be pealing for the whole week. It was all worth it to watch her daughter in her meet. She stood at the edge of her seat as Ally talked to her teammates, all while crouching down and stretching her legs. Her hair was pulled tightly back into a braid that Donna made sure would not loosen up at all.

This was not Ally’s first track meet, but Donna could not help feeling like every meet was the first one. She tried not to tap her foot as she watched the runners get in place.

One. Two. Three. Go!

Donna shot up to her feet along with the rest of the parents as the girls took off, dust rising behind them. “Go Ally!” she cheered as Ally sped down the track, her pace steady for her first circuit, which made Donna proud.

“You got this!” she hollered, eyes tracking how many girls were in front of Ally, three of them. Gradually, as the second circuit came to an end, Ally began to cut down on the distance between her and the top three girls. In seconds, Ally was in third place, then in second place, then fighting hard for the first place.

Donna clasped her hands together as she watched holding her breath the whole time.

Ally passed the finish line first by millimeters to thunderous applause.

-

“Of course I know how to dance,” Donna raised an eyebrow as she looked at Ally, who was looking at her suspiciously.

“Really?”

Donna rolled her eyes, “I’m a theater kid, of course I can dance, can’t do musical theater without dancing,” she pointed out.

Honestly, Donna should have known that Ally was up to something, but at the moment, with all of Ally’s classmates looking at her quite intently, well, Donna had bigger things to worry about.

“Thank you Ms. Paulsen for volunteering to do a dance lesson!” Mrs. Ferguson grinned, hands clasped together, her eyes clearly saying that she knew Donna was roped into it by Allison.

“Okay, well, dancing is about having fun,” she started, her hands on her hips as she gazed out at the class. “Now, let us move the desks against the walls.” Now, Donna had not been in a theater production in years, even less, a musical, but she had always loved learning choreography and as she had been wondering what she would teach Ally’s class, the excitement had returned.

“Now, this is the song we will be dancing, I’m sure some of you have heard it before, even seen the movie perhaps,” she continued as she pressed play on her phone, already connected to the bluetooth speaker she had brought with her. The kids all seemed nervous at first, shifting nervously on their feet, all except Ally who was used to singing and dancing with her mom. Donna nodded and began to sing along with the song, Ally joining in.

“And we will come back home, and we will come back home again!” they chorused and soon the rest of the class began to bob their heads, and when Donna and Ally began to clap, they all joined in.

“From now on!” she led them into a simple grapevine, going left, then going right and repeating this a couple of times, adding a clap when they reached the left side of the classroom and again when they reached the right side.

Slowly, she led them into a turn and repeating the grapevine, before leading them into another turn and a couple of more grapevines.

At the end of the day, Donna watched as the kids all rushed out singing and clapping, talking to each other about the steps, “Thank you Ms. Paulsen!” shouts rang out. Ally hugged her around the waist and beamed up at her, “you are awesome mom!”

-

Donna smiled wide as she took the offered two dollars and handed over the cupcake. Ally was beaming by her side, regaling anyone who passed by about the amazingness of their cupcakes. Truth be told, their cupcakes were always the best, but this time they had really outdone themselves if Donna did say so herself.

“How do you have time to do everything Donna?” one of the mom’s, Michelle if Donna remembered correctly, asked her, her toddler resting on her hip as he took the cupcake from his mom.

“What do you mean?” Donna asked as she continued wrapping the cupcakes in little bags, tying them with a bow.

“Well, you clearly came straight from work, just wondering how early you had to wake up to do the cupcakes, drop Ally off, head to work and then come here,” Michelle explained, shifting her son higher up on her hip, “I can’t imagine how tired you must be.”

Donna blinked a bit, taken by surprised, she had worked from home that morning to get the cupcakes done on time. When Donna glanced down, she realized that her slim, pink dress, off-shoulder made her stick out from the other moms who were wearing jeans or a simple dress.

“Everyone says I’m a workaholic,” she answered with a small smile, hiding how uncomfortable Michelle’s statement had made her. Not for herself, but she wondered if Ally minded that Donna came dressed as if she were going to work as opposed to a simple school fundraiser.

“Ally, remind me next time to wear something a bit more lowkey, okay?” Donna told Ally once Michelle had walked off. Ally frowned as she turned to look at her mom, confused, “why? you look beautiful, you always do. What’s wrong with what you are wearing?” Ally rolled her eyes at her mom, not understanding her at all. Ally thought her mom was the prettiest mom and she liked that everyone at the school parted around her mom without realizing. The sound of her heels on the floor always alerted Ally that her mom was coming and she liked it.

It was cool.

-

Ally smiled as she looked up at the clouds, enjoying the soft breeze, her belly full of the sandwiches they had packed for their hike. “Mom, can you sing something in Irish?” she asked, making her mom laugh, now was not the time to go into a lecture about gaelic and Irish. Sadly, she had lost a lot of her knowledge but after a couple of seconds a song came to mind. Softly, she began to hum a tune, letting it spread across the field they were resting upon.

“Cùl an tomain, bràigh an tomain,” the words spilled from her lips, a bit clumsily, her tongue rusty but as she continued the words became firmer and she became confident.

“Cùl an tomain bhòidheach,” she sang, voice becoming louder as she smiled, remembering when her Great Aunt would sing this song to her. She stood up and pulled Ally up with her.

“Cùl an tomain, bràigh an tomain,” she continued, twirling Ally around, slowing down her pronunciation so Ally could make out the sounds.

“H-uile là nam ònar, » she cooed smiling as Ally fumbled around the sounds, eyebrow furrowed as she focused on getting it right. It would take time, but Donna vowed herself that this would be something they would both work on.

-

The scream had Donna bolting out of bed and rolling to her feet in one smooth motion, scrambling into Ally’s room and to her side. Ally was gasping for air, tears streaming down her face, eyes wide as she stared at her mom who immediately opened her arms to her. Ally fell into the embrace, wrapping her arms around Donna, tight, so tight that Donna was worried that Ally was hurting herself.

“I’m here, I’m here,” Donna muttered as she rubbed Ally’s back, pressing a kiss to her temple, rocking her back and forth while Ally cried. It was not the first time that Ally had a nightmare, although they were no longer as often as they used to be when she had first arrived at Donna’s, they still cropped up here and there. Donna began to hum as she continued to rock Ally, her own eyes tearing up at being unable to take the nightmares and fears from Ally. She wished she could do more, could make everything all right.

Time passed, Donna was not sure how long, but after a while Ally calmed down, no longer gasping, no longer crying. With utmost care, Donna shifted and tightened her hold around Ally, before pushing off the bed and to her feet with a grunt. Soon Donna would no longer be able to carry Ally at all, but for now, Donna made her way back to her bedroom, laying down with Ally still clinging to her.

“It’ll be okay, I am not going anywhere,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to Ally’s forehead, tucking the blanket around them. Faolan jumped up and curled against Ally’s back, helping create a cocoon around her. Donna could not promise that she would never leave Ally because there was no way of knowing that, but she would damn sure try her best to be by Ally’s side for as long as possible.

-

The piano music played softly in the background while the scent of chocolate filled the house. At the sound of the oven timer going off, Donna got to her feet and made her way into the kitchen. Faolan padded after her, sitting next to her, watching as she took one cookie pan out of the over and placed it on the counter. She took her time plucking the cookies from the pan and onto a plate.

Unable to help spoiling Faolan, she took out a slice of ham and gave it to him, which he eagerly but carefully took from her hands. “Good boy,” she muttered, giving him a scratch behind his ears, before grabbing the plate and going back to the living room, Faolan beside her.

She slid back down on the carpet, placing the plate on the table, between Ally and her. “They are still hot so be careful,” Donna warned as she picked up her pen and focused back on the paperwork she had brought home with her.

There was only the sound of the piano for a second or two, before a hiss reached her ears. Donna pursed her lips together to try and keep herself from smiling because of course Ally would ignore her warning.

“Are you okay?” she asked, not looking up from her papers, “yeah,” Ally answered, pout clear in her tone. Donna chuckled and finally looked up, “how is the essay going? Need me to look it over?” she asked, glancing at the computer screen.

“I think I have a good argument, once I am done writing all my evidence down, you can help me organize it?”

Donna smiled and nodded, “you betcha.”

After all, if there was one thing Donna knew, it was how to write. Her comp lit degree had to come in handy for something.

-

“Golden, golden, golden, as I open my eyes,” Ally sang under her breath as she colored, forgetting that she was in her mom’s office and should try to stay quiet. “So you wait for me in the sky,” she continued, staring down at her paper, tapping her chin as she wondered what color to shade the sunflower, orange or a crazy purple?

“You’re so golden, tarara, ta ta tarara,” she began to sing louder, bobbing her head to the music, “because hearts get broken!” she forgot all about the crayon and begin moving her shoulders to the beat, eyes closing as she lost herself in the music.

“I can feel it take control, ta tarara,” she snapped her fingers, her whole upper body swaying from side to side, totally forgetting where she was, until she heard another voice join in.

“I know that you’re scared, because hearts get broken.”

Ally startled and snatched her earbuds from her ears, looking over to see her mom, grinning at her, eyebrow quirked. Ally’s cheeks reddened slightly, “you’re so goldeen,” Donna continued, which immediately made Ally grin. She turned the Bluetooth off on her phone and let the music fill the office.

“You’re so goldeen, I don’t want to be alone, you’re so goldeenn,” they chorused, both of them bobbing their head as they sang while working away.

-

Ally was beaming as she took a big spoonful of her ice cream, the first-place medal hanging from around her neck. She was glowing and Donna wished she could stay like this, with Ally breaming with joy, everything right in the world.

Donna reached over and grabbed some of her daughter’s ice cream, making her shout in protest while Donna just laughed. Ally reached over and tried to take some of her mom’s ice cream but Donna moved her bowl away.

“Not fair!” she cried out but she was laughing and so was Donna and life was good.

[swiftsnowmane]

The forest was playing tricks today. The tales Faolan had heard suggested presences beyond the human, beyond the animal: creatures of bone and darkness, long-fanged monsters with reaching arms, crones bearing little bags of perilous charms, fell warriors armed with deadly, invisible weapons. Then there were the trees themselves, the tortuous pathways and the eldritch mists. To hear folk talk, one would think the very stones had legs and eyes and a capacity for mischief. Faolan discounted such tales, for he knew the propensity of men’s fears to build on themselves, making a mighty monster out of a creak in the dark, a furious demon from a darting shadow. In his own opinion, the ill deeds of men were a great deal more alarming than the phantoms that could be concocted from a bad dream and too much mead.

— Blade of Fortriu, Juliet Marillier

[heart-of-flames]

As Lauren's future BFF can I ask what she thinks of the other ROs?

Aeleanor/Aeson: She seems quite nice from the brief instances that I’ve interacted with her. Though I do fear that she’s much too stiff. It can’t be good for her muscles. I do hope that she will become comfortable within Haven soon. As I think we could use a mind like hers around here.

Elaria/Ezra: He has always treated me with respect. Never once ordering me to do something even though he could— in theory. I’m well aware that he hides himself behind a sheet of ice, but anyone who see past that could see the golden heart underneath. I’m glad that he has Catherine in that regard. Even if I still worry about how much weight must be on his shoulders.

Catherine/Caleb: She’s adorably shy when I’ve seen her for her checkups, but she has never once said a cross word to me. I admire that she has such an open heart. Even though I hope that it doesn’t get her hurt in the future. I couldn’t bear the thought of someone crippling her in that regard. I suppose Ezra would never let that happen though.

Lydia/Luca: He is far more intelligent than some people believe. Very cunning in his own way. What can you expect from a purple Rider though? And while he may have a mouth on him, I can clearly see the kind heart underneath it all. I just wish his mother did too.

Samara/Silas: She always knows how to make me laugh when I’ve had a hard day. I believe it may be a gift of hers. Seeking out people with despondent hearts and making them merry once more. I’m very lucky that she’s in my life. Even though I fear what may happen to her if people keep ignoring her own despondency. The happiest faces usually have the saddest hearts. As they have given all their love to others.

Milena/Maven: I wish he believed in himself more. I’ve never seen such a talented individual not believe in himself before him. Such an amazing and kind man that is swallowed by his own demons. Which is why I always try to interact with him as much as I can. Anything to see a glimmer of a smile on his face. Something that seems to become more and more common every time I see him.

Natalia/Nikolas: She’s very crafty. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone that’s able to compile as much information as she can— besides Irithiel. Even so I know that anything I ever said to her would be kept in strict confidence. Just like anything she ever said to me. I would rather die than break her trust.

Faolan: I’ve known Faolan for a long time. He’s been my self-proclaimed protector in Haven for as long as I can remember. He’s one of the greatest friends I could ever ask for, which is something I try to repay whenever I can. Even if it means hiking miles out into the forest at night to care for his injured or sick.

Aidan: That boy can have quite the temper, but I know he means well underneath it all. He always tries to make me smile when he knows I’ve had a bad day. Even though I’m certain he would deny it if he was asked. He’s also the only one that ever remembers Asa’s birthday. I just wish I could help him a little more. It breaks my heart that such a sweet boy is drowning because of his own family.

[pellelavellan-a]

Because of Pelle’s natural aura that he can thank his abnormally intimate relationship with the fade and spirits for, he’s actually fairly used to natural creatures showing little interest in him as far as violence goes.

I use natural creatures very loosely as this applies to animals, demons, and even darkspawn. When he was younger, it was believed by his cousin Faolan that he might actually be passing for a spirit to some of these creatures, and thus their interest in him is very passive. There has been times in his life where his fellow elves around him were attacked by bears, wolves, demons, etc but to him it felt like those creatures didn’t even think he was there. 

Save for the time a darkspawn attacked his now deceased cousin Darcy, just after making direct eye contact with him and then choosing to ignore him. It’s made him feel like a ghost at times, as he doesn’t fully understand what it is about him that seems to trigger this response from natural creatures. 

Additionally if he approaches a hostile creature like a bear for example, he has a pretty good chance of calming it down to avoid a conflict. It didn’t do any good for the hunters who were going to shoot the bears and the wolves anyways, but in the Inquisition it was certainly prevented a number of bear attacks in the Hinterlands. 

Where this perk falls flat is it does not work on people. That is because when people tend to have a direct motive to harm him. Animals only really attack when provoked, and demons don’t always see him as a threat because his aura is a little different from other people he surrounds himself with. People have the intention of harm, and therefore aren’t really affected by his aura. Which was...a bit of a shock to him at first as he had become very used to not being attacked nine times outta ten in a conflict. 

[faolanmeadowes]

there we will go // self-para.

Summer of 1800. Meallán Cottage, Ireland. tw: implications of suicide

He watches the sky in the days leading up to their anniversary, half-afraid it will turn into a winter storm in the middle of summer. Irrational, but this tiny fear lives within him. He’s unsure if he can handle the sight of their home obscured in a spattering of snow without feeling his heart squeeze in his chest, but he shrugs it off. He cannot be afraid when he’s already lived through his greatest fears, there’s no room left in him for it.

His steps drag. He knows this route, he recognizes the trees on either side of him and the shadows they cast over the path. There’s a carving in one of the trees, a permanent mark in a slowly changing world. Touching the grooves of his son’s name is painful to the point of sickness, heart squeezing at the uneven loops of the letter B, the shakiness of the R and the A as he tried to curve the knife, and the jagged lines of the N. Bran, it says, and it hurts. 

Faolan tears himself away from the tree, heaving for air. It’s been almost a decade since he stepped foot onto this land of theirs, and twenty-five years this winter since he last saw them. 

Can he bear to see the rest? He must. He must, he promised.

The carving in the tree heralds the change from forest to meadow and a cloudless, sunny day meets him as he breaks through the cover of trees. Their cottage is there with its crooked chimney and ivy-strewn walls. It almost looks like he can open the door and see them waiting, smiling, laughing. Any second now he’ll hear Bran and Deirdre’s laughter as they tell stories to the chickens. He waits, and waits some more when he realizes it’s not going to happen. 

Vines are crawling over the stone and dust coats the windows. No one has been here in some time, likely not since he last stood here, and Faolan stares at the door for several long seconds, hand hovering on the handle. But, no, he cannot go back inside. It’s no longer the ruin and mess it was twenty-five years ago, he found the strength to do that much, but the care in which he took to keep the inside preserved meant he couldn’t bear the idea of going inside and stepping in on something that is no longer his. The inside of their cottage is for them, he will not go inside until it’s time to be with them. 

He doesn’t go inside.

He stops at their graves, a finger brushing over each name, the gut-wrenching pain no less with time. No tears come, he feels as though he should have none left for this, but Faolan knows the truth. Knows the feeling will hit him as it always does, a vicious cycle of thinking he’s free from the anchor of grief only for it to snag around his ankle once more. He presses a kiss against his fingers, brushing it over the stone bearing Caoimhe’s name and two for the kids on her behalf, before making his way to the back of the property. 

A shallow creek trickles to his left, winding around the side of the cottage and into a large, overgrown pond in the back. The willow tree next to it is twisted and bent, long branches stretching out and near kissing the water’s edge, turning the pond into a tiny, secluded haven. Once, he stood beneath this tree when it was little bigger than a branch sticking out of the dirt, holding her hand and promising to love her forever, and now it dwarfs him many times over. 

Flowers grow, ripe for plucking, and he could take dozens without making a dent in the way nature has taken over this meadow. Maybe, one day, he’ll come back to find it swallowed up altogether. He hopes it does, and if it does, it’ll start with the patch of naked dirt near the back window. His eyes are involuntarily drawn to it. No more grass than it did the last time he was here, as if the ground has made a permanent mark where she died, as if nature is mourning his daughter as much as he is. 

He half hopes when nature reclaims this place, it’ll take him with it. Let him be devoured by the grass and trees and flowers, let him rest and return to them. He isn’t so afraid of dying as he was in his youth, not really, it seems an almost peaceful thing to do in this place, surrounded by the best and worst of his memories.

He takes the yellow flowers for Caoimhe, pushing the thought of everything else from his mind and settling on the edge of the water. They are cold in hands, stems wet from the recent rain, and his mind circles back to this day and this time years before, when it was her hand and his holding the stem of a flower. He remembers his hands shaking, and his heart galloping, and he recalls the certainty that their future together would be long, happy, and endless. 

“I gave you a flower like this one once. Do you remember what I said?” he asks. “‘Thank you for saving me, but you could be quicker about it, I thought I might--” He chokes, clearing the lump from his throat with no success. “‘I might really die there’ and you… The look you gave me.” 

Once, he would laugh, remembering the look on her face. “You saved me. I saved you. That’s what we did.” Until-- until-- No, he must not. He must finish this. 

Faolan clears his throat again, shifting forward, placing a flower on the water for a moment. “You are blood of my blood, and bone of my bone…” he murmurs to the air, watching the flower float in the water. “I will always hold you…” He repeats their vows, choking and stopping after each aching word. The flower sinks like a stone on water. 

Battle for composure long lost, he feels the weight of the world returning, tears falling without pause. “I will never leave you…” His eyes are blurry, and the tree casts a shadow over the water so like a person that his heart stutters. If someone is there, he isn’t afraid of them. He has no room left in him for fear, but a desperate hope clings, as if he might see her standing there. His fingers meet empty air. No one is there, he knows, even as he imagines her hand on his shoulder, her fingers on his cheek, her lips on his own. 

[merrybandofmurderers]

Blood Lotus and Spindleweed for your DA OCs? (Any of them)

Blood Lotus: Is your character a lightweight when it comes to intoxicating substances? How did they come across this fact?

a character that’s a lightweight is Mahanon, the clan’s first. he discovered this when he and his best friend, Kelle, orchestrated a little party for the younger members of the clan with a large crate of brandy they uncovered while exploring a city they’d settled near. Mahanon was completely sloshed after two small drinks, a fact which his twin sister delights in teasing him over.

for the most part, this isn’t a problem, as Mahanon doesn’t really care for alcohol. he does, however, have the taste for the clan’s berry wine that they make for special occasions. he limits himself to a single glass, but even that’s enough to make him tipsy and leave him hungover.

Spindleweed: Had your character ever been grievously wounded or ill before? What was their memory of that occasion?

when Faolan was first coming into his magic as a pre-teen, he was very cocky about it. he had a natural aptitude and as such, was lazy with his practice, thinking he didn’t need it. at one point, he and his friend Sinead encountered a small group of enemies and engaged them. Faolan used his magic offensively for the first time in that fight and ultimately lost control, resulting in a severe burn on his face.

recovery was miserable, partially because of the pain, but mostly because of the disappointment he had to face from his parent and the hold’s augur. he learned that there is an important difference between confidence and arrogance, and that one should no more flippantly wield magic than one would a blade. it was a humbling moment.

Faolan still bears the scar and lost partial sight in his left eye. recalling the memory makes him burn with shame, but he does not turn away from his reflection. the scar is a good reminder of a lesson he knows never to forget.

(ask me questions about my inquisitors)

[preferbialkat]

tag game fun!

Nicknames: Kat (legit shortening of my name, but didn’t start until I made Kat) and Morag (middle name) are the only ones I know of? 

Sign: Sun’s in Libra, you get to guess where everything else is

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff, but there’s a 50% chance of Gryffindor on tests too

Last thing I googled: Pokemon SwSh version exclusives (i want to know which things to catch to surprise trade)

Song stuck in my head: *sighs* Sabaton’s The Red Baron, Sabaton’s To Hell and Back, Sabaton’s Attack of The Dead Men, Sabaton’s The Last Stand, Hammerfall’s Hammer High, Blind Guardian’s The Bard’s Song (In The Forest), It Feels Like Christmas from The Muppet Christmas Carol, so many Christmas carols and songs, Ten Minutes Ago and Loneliness of Evening from Cinderella, a bunch of folk... Look, the list goes on and on and on

Following: 136

Followers: 225

Lucky number: Don’t have one?

Dream job: Dunno

Wearing: A purple nightgown and pink pyjama pants with polar bears and snowflakes and hearts on it

Favorite song currently: Please don’t make me choose

Instruments: I can play the piano a bit and I know it’s been 15 years but I could probably manage Twinkle Twinkle Little Star on the viola still

Random fact: I kinda hate my name and am trying to figure out a new one to go by, so far the best I’ve found is Faolan but nothing really feels quite right

Aesthetic: Artist who’s low on money and energy? Vaguely steampunk? I dunno

I’m tagging: nobody, you can do it if you want though

tagged by: sorta by @askcarmina (she said to do it if you want)

[thefairefolk-rp]

Hey, Razmadi! Your application for Ingrid Faolan has been accepted.

OOC INFORMATION:

Name/Nickname: Razmadi

Age: 21

Preferred Pronouns: she/her

Timezone: CST

Activity and Availability (Please answer in words as well as rating your availability from 1-10): As usual so like a 5-7 I guess? I don’t really know how those numbers work so….

Have you read the rules and FAQ? Yep

IC INFORMATION:

Desired Character: Ingrid Faolan

Second Choice Character: Tallulah Dill

What made you choose this character?: For one it’s probably one of the first muses I’ve had in a while that Balthazar fucking Black didn’t eat. And secondly, I really loved her bio and how it was all constructed so I could understand her personality better. But I also really loved her personality as a whole, the logical, analytical mind and the subtly intense fighting power to back it up, really jumpstarted some muse on her. (Yes, it also jumpstarted plot ideas on her too, shoot me)

Are there any changes you would like to make?: No

Questions/Comments: In Ingrid’s bio it says she was defeated by a young fighter aka Kasha but I checked the ages and Kasha is actually older? Also, Ingrid’s bio reads like she’s older than 620. I was just wondering if that piece in her bio was a typo or was the age put down wrong?

Writing Sample (Must be 300 words or more, third-person limited, in the character you’re auditioning for’s point of view):

I should have expected it, Ingrid thought bitterly. She had been too vocal as of late, too proud. And now it was coming to bite her. Those thoughts didn’t stop her from staring down at the letter with barely concealed fury and anguish. Kasha Greywolf was planning to have her assassinated. Ingrid had had some respect for her, she had beat her for the position of chieftain after all and not anyone could do that and she had the potential to become a great leader, or so Ingrid had thought. It was all washed away, however, under the rise of her absolute fury and disgust. That Greywolf bastard could at least have the decency to face Ingrid herself! Instead, she was sending a lowly assassin to do it? The respect she had for Kasha went up in smoke, leaving hatred and fear in its place. She couldn’t stay here, she realized. Kasha Greywolf was chieftain of the Wolf Clan. That could not be denied and that same Kasha Greywolf wanted Ingrid dead. If Kasha was low enough to send an assassin instead of facing her then Ingrid had little doubt in her mind she could do so much more. She was chieftain, she could turn the entire clan against Ingrid and then where would she be? A fate such as that chilled her to the bone. No, she wouldn’t let it happen, she would leave them first. A lone wolf was still a wolf, she would survive and that was what mattered in the end. With that thought in her mind, Ingrid began to pack her things quickly and silently, pausing every few moments to check for sounds of wakefulness among the clan. She could not wait, no, she must leave tonight, before dawn broke. It was her only chance and she would not squander it.

It was difficult, she soon realized, to choose what she should take and what she should leave. Call her sentimental but Ingrid could hardly bear the thought of Kasha destroying her things so easily. So the furs from previous hunts came, her armor, swords, bow and arrows and her last gift from Ian, a beautifully crafted spear, were all lovingly added to the wagon she had been preparing. Her warning letter had already been destroyed, no pieces remained to set Kasha on her trail. Her raven, Neve, and her stallion were collected last. The stallion quickly hooked up to the wagon, his lead firmly in her hand. With one last look back Ingrid disappeared silently into the woods just as the snow started to silently fall.

Arriving at Roheim was both a blessing and a curse in Ingrid’s opinion. She shouldn’t have had to flee here at all and yet here she was seeking refuge with the only ally she knew of. Titania was a threat she knew; with her closeness to Kasha Greywolf how could she be anything but? But Ingrid had no other options and no other place to run to, it was Roheim or death and Ingrid, above all else, was a survivor. Leaving her stallion and wagon in the care of the stablehand, Neve perched on her shoulder, she went to face the Unseelie king.

Ingrid did not want to bow to this man, but she had no choice, so bow she did. An offer of protection was extended and rooms in the castle itself, it was more than she could have hoped for, yet it still felt like a cage. A gilded cage for a lone wolf, it felt suffocating and silent, lonely, her mind supplied. It was horribly lonely. So very different from wolf clan wildness and community, she couldn’t help but hate it a little bit, and that made her hate Kasha all the more.

Offering a final bow to the Unseelie king, a king with too cold eyes, she responded respectfully, “Thank you for your offer of protection, your majesty, I will gratefully accept.” She would survive this king with too cold eyes, she would survive Kasha Greywolf and her deadly motives, and she would survive this gilded cage full of secrets. Ingrid would further cover herself in ice and stone to shield herself from the betrayal of others. She would survive this, she had to.

[overlyimmersedarcana]

An angst ridden daydream

This is in the questionable canon category, because my mind placed it as some future point in time I haven't explored yet. Foalan is around 3 or 4 when this happens and they have a second child who's an infant, maybe 1. Honestly didn't expect it would take them that long to go for two, Maranell has the craziest baby fever out of the lot.

I was listening to sad music, and my brain decided to explore unhappy scenarios as accompaniment. I legit cried a little while I was imagining this.

There's no build up cuz the point my brained wanted was just the painful part. Long story short Muriel almost died. When the day dream began I fully intended to have him die, but I didn't have the heart. I just could not.

A very large tree fell on him, I think a lightning strike knocked it over. Very very big heavy tree. It took a stupid amount of healing magic from basically everyone in my cast who's capable if it, all working together, to save him. And even without dying he was unconscious for two days and has trouble walking or standing like before. Because spine injury. He can still do those on his own, technically, but he's prone to stumble and be unsteady more often then he'd like. So he spends more time sitting then he did before.

I don't doubt my brain have him heal completely eventually, if I even keep that scenario. It's actually producing a lot of high quality fluff as an aftermath so who knows...

Excerpts

"please! please! please don't go!" Maranell begged, voice tight with fear and grief. She clings with both hands to one of his, clutching it desperately to her chest. "You can't! You can't! Please stay! I'll do anything!" Her pleading is sporadically interrupted by fits of terrified sobbing.

Muriel can't answer her, he can barely breath. The weight of the fallen tree had been removed from him, by some miracle of adrenaline she had moved it, but that doesn't undo the damage. He can't tell the difference between pain and numbness at this point, but even if he could he's not really lucid enough to notice. He does notice them though. The desperate pleading from his wife and the confused fear in his son's crying. But everything is too scrambled to know exactly how to react. So he just looks at her, as best he can, and watches the tears chase each other down her cheeks.

"Please, please stay with me! Please..." She leans down to let her head rest against his, her spastic begging turning to whispered pleas, "please. I'll never ask another thing of you. Please just stay. Please. You're everything. I love you. Please... "

He feels her shake against him as another fit sobs tear out of her.

"Stop...crying..." He forces out, horse and labored like it takes all of his strength. And so quiet she's probably the only one who heard it.

She shushes him gently and nuzzles against the side of his head. "I will if you stay..." She bargains though her stricken voice.

"Mommy!" Comes the tiny voice next to her, between sobs of his own. Faolan tugs at his mother's shirt, begging for comfort. He isn't sure exactly what this is but it's scary, especially if she's so upset it must be very bad. "Mommy!"

She draws a sharp breath and lifts her head, trying to compose herself enough to help the toddler. "It's ok, little bear." She lies, pulling him close with on arm while the other remains clinging to Muriel's hand. "Daddy's hurt, but the wolves have gone and gotten help. There be a doctor soon it'll be ok."

"Daddy... " He whimpers, only slightly soothed by his mother's words. He wiggles from Maranell's embrace and snuggle into his father's shoulder as best he can. He doesn't really understand doctor, but he understands hurt. And huggs and cuddles help hurt, at least as far as he knows.

                                                        ~*~

Maranwe focuses her magic into Muriel's back, looking at the extent of the damage in her unique way. "This isn't good..." Maranwe speaks low, looking at Maranell, at her eyes, the gaze saying far more then the words.

"Don't tell me what I know!" She snaps, then agony washes over her features, and she repeats in a plea "don't tell me what I know..."

Maranwe knows what she means. Don't say it out loud. Don't speak it into reality. If it isn't said, maybe it can be averted. But she can hear the resignation in her sister's plea. She's only hoping against hope, the logical part of her mind already knows better.

                                                       ~*~

"Come here, baby." Maranell urges to her young son, calling him near. "Now place you hands like this, and pour everything inside of you into your hands." There's an edge of desperation to her voice, but she tries to keep calm as she directs the boy. "Think of what you want and imagine it as golden light around your hands. And say what I say."

Once she's finished with the directions, she returns her hands to their own position. Laid lightly on her husband's back as part of a circle made by everyone present; Maranwe and Nazali, Maralyn and Asra, and even Julian though magic still makes him nervous, plus herself and Faolan. All of them pour as much healing magic as they can together, casting their spells, or lending their aid, in whatever way they can. Maralyn and Asra know well what they're doing, and Julian knows enough to know how to lend them his strength. Nazali does the same for Maranwe, while she uses her own unique means. While they all focus in their quiet, well practiced ways, Maranell's hushed voice is the only silence breaker, followed by Faolan as he copies her. They chant in a language none of the other's actually understand, though Maranwe recognizes. Muriel would know the words too, if he had the mind to.

The pooling magic glows brilliantly, and when it fades there's less tension beneath their hands. Maranell's heart misses a beat in panic and she presses her ear to Muriel's back. She gives a quiet sigh of relief when she feels he's still breathing and hears his heart. Maranwe focuses the last scraps of her magic to check their work.

"... Well, I think he's out of the worst of it..." Despite the words, she doesn't seem wholly confident.

"Is Daddy ok now...?" Faolan's little voice asks, rubbing his hands back and forth quickly over his father back like he wants to help more.

Maranell takes a breath, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice for her son's sake. "He's just sleeping now. He was hurt very badly, he needs to rest for a while.

"When is he gonna wake up?"

Maranell looks to her sister for that answer, prompting Faolan to do the same.

Maranwe makes... A noise. Not a sigh exactly, but not a confident sound either. "That's hard to say" How is she supposed to explain this to the tot? How would she explain it to her own daughter? "It's a complicated hurt... There's no way we can know the exact effect-"

"But he...is going to wake up?" Maranell interrupts, trying not to make it sound *too* much like a question. She doesn't want to frighten her son, but she needs the direct confirmation.

"I think so. He should..." Maranwe answers in her usual noncommittal way. "But-" Maranell cuts her off again, shaking her head.

"That's all I need from him."

[pelle-lavellan-a]

Number 8!

Super detailed questions ll Accepting

8. Did they have pets as a child? Do they have pets as an adult? Do they like animals?

Pelle’s had a long history of keeping pets every since he was a little kid. He’s always loved animals and loved giving them a home even more. 

The two pets from his childhood the most was the fennec fox he named Pouncer because of it’s rambunctious attitude. He kept the fennec for a few months before the clan packed up to migrate. Pelle started to leave a trail of crumbs for the fox to follow and was very diligent about making sure that Pouncer made it to their new home. One day Pouncer chased after a rabbit, when Pelle tried to retrieve the fox his cousin scooped him up so he didn’t get lost on his own. 

He cried for days after losing that fox, his cousin had no idea what had him so upset until he’d realized that Pouncer was missing. The guilt his cousin Faolan felt about leaving Pouncer behind caused him to go out with Pelle once the clan settled again to find Pelle a new pet.

Pelle settled on a frog that he named Mr Moss

He never took Mr Moss home with him since the toad belonged in the pond, but everyday Pelle would take either of his cousins Faolan or Darcy to go and say hello to Mr Moss to spend time with the toad. Needless to say when the clan again moved, Pelle had to say goodbye to Mr Moss. 

He would not really keep anymore permanent pets for quite some time He would take in wild animals, feed them, treat them if injured but ultimately as he grew older he would release them back into the wild under the notion that they had families just like he did. 

He didn’t keep another animal until he was with the Inquisition and he found a stray kitten in the Hinterlands who was about to be slaughtered by a bear. He begged Solas and Cassandra to help him an Varric rescue the kitten. With enough pleading they did.

He kept the small animal and named him Ma’Len, elven or “my child” 

He thought he had lost Ma’Len when Haven was destroyed, but later learned to Casssandra had rescued the cat when she saw it looking a bit distressed amidst the chaos. She returned the cat to Pelle once he was coherent again in the camp. 

Ma’Len now wanders about Skyhold like he owns the place He sits in the Inquisitor’s lap when he judges people, pushes items on the floor in the tavern, and often naps by warm fireplaces. He’s also taken a liking to Dorian–most like because he’s noticed a familair scent coming from him when Pelle is busy or away 

[terraisnotonfire-blog]

Knell Chapter 1

Knell took a moment to stretch as she got out of bed, her green skin and bulging muscles taut as she lifted her arms over her head and released a mighty yawn, bearing her short tusks. She rubbed the sleep from her bright red eyes before running a hand over her bald head. It was starting to get stubbly, she ould need to shave soon, when she got the chance. She looked over to the other bed to see it empty and her companions possessions gone. He was probably already enjoying breakfast. She took a few minutes to throw on her traveling clothes, a light brown jerkin that went down to her knees, and a pair of heavy leather boots with fur lining. She tightened the laces on her jerkin before throwing a traveling pack over her shoulder and grabbing the giant two handed maul leaning against the wall beside the door.

She arrived in the dining area to find her companion sitting at a table alone, enjoying a bowl of some kind of soup. He was a large man, some would say a behemoth.  Towering several feet over the average man, he was a solid mass of nothing but muscle, draped in furs and hides. The exposed skin and its network of criss crossing scars told the story of many battles. Perhaps most note worthy was the long jagged one on his face, running down the left side, disrupting his tribal tattoos and intersecting with his eye, upon which he wore a tattered old eyepatch. His brown hair,which was pulled back in to a short ponytail, was graying, as was his braided beard. His sullen blue eyes stared at Knell as she walked in as he gestured to a full bowl of soup on the opposite side of the table he was sitting at. Knell walked over throwing off her pack and setting it and the maul against the table before sitting down.

"You, uh, you were out awfully late last night. Anything interesting?" Volfram peered up from his food long enough to raise an eyebrow before continuing to shovel food in to his maw.

Knell blushed as she rubbed her bald head. "Oh heh heh. No nothing like that. There were a couple of traveling performers here last night. They were really cool guys so I decided to hang out with one of them last night."

"I see" Volfram mused between bites.

"No, I swear. We just talked awhile. Swapped stories. Shot the shit. Ya know just--" Before she could finish her thought a pair of men burst in to the common room of the inn where they were dining. One of them looked to be ill or in pain and was being supported by the other. Knell locked her eyes on them right as they came in, after a moment of recognition, her eyes grew wide and she immediately turned her head down towards her food as the threw up the hood on her cloak. Volfram took notice of this and looked up to see what had caused her reaction. His eyes followed the pair as they exited the room,walking right past Knell as they headed out the door.

"These performers from las tnight. They by any chance a Sardonian looking man and another guy who looks like the night sky stuffed in a gaudy red and gold robe?

". . .yes." Knell didn't look up from her bowl.

"Wow Knell, I knew you could be exhausting to listen to, but I had no idea you could do that to a man just by talking."

Her head shot up, whipping her hood back in the process and revealing the deep forest green her cheeks had become. "He wasn't like that when I left, I swear. Gods,how many time do I have to tell you I'm not in to guys."

"Then why is it that I never see you with any girls.

"Girls are uh. . .hard to talk to."

Volfram froze, the spoon already halfway to his mouth. He squinted at her as he pursed his lips,reading her. After a few moments he shrugged and popped the spoonfull of breakfast soup in his mouth. "Whatever, no skin off my back." Despite the constant noise of an inn at this time of morning, a deafening silence reigned over the table for the next several minutes as they each ate their meals without looking at the other. Finally Knell broke the silence.

"So know that I'm ready to be an adventurer, what do we do first?"

"Well, I already submitted the necessary paperwork on your behalf already so need to worry about all that, you are already an official adventurer under the Angry Squid Adventuring Hall.  So I figured first thing would be to head over to the hall and see if we can fill out our numbers some more. Look and see if there are any interesting jobs while we're at it."

"Anything you had in mind?

"No no. This is your show. It's your first day as a real adventurer. Which means it's gonna be up to you to pick our first quest."

"What if the new recruits don't like the job I pick?"

"We get different recruits. Don't worry it will be--" Suddenly one of the men from before,the one in red and gold robes, burst through the door again, he rushed to the back hallways where the sound of a door being thrown upon could be heard, followed a few minutes later by the sound of it slamming shut and the man charging back through the inn, this time clutching two daggers. "I feel like there is probably a story there."

Knell stared at the door that the man had just slammed behind him, lost in thought. "I hope Deimos is alright." She turned back to see Volfram staring at her once again, bemused grin on his face. "God you are such an ass. I'm outta here, see you at the Angry Squid later." Her spoon clattered as she dropped it in to her bowl. She stood up, grabbed her pack and her walking stick leaning against the table, and walked out the door, flashing her middle finger at Volfram as she left.

*****

Volfram arrived at the Angry Squid to find Knell staring intently at the quest board. He spent a few minutes at the bar, exchanging pleasantries and catching up with the gnomish barkeep Sawyer, before ordering a pint of mead and walking back over to Knell. "You find anything interesting."

"No. Its all turnip thieves and deliveries. Not a single village in peril or vip in need of protection."

Volfram took a long noisy sip from his mead. "Well that's unfortunate. Any one of note on the party board?" He strode over to the board on the opposite side of the wall, staring at it intently.

"No. They all read like someone trying to apply to work at a bank."

He scanned the board for a few moments, taking another sip. "I see what you mean. Well, its to be expected. Its only natural that the most interesting quests and people get grabbed quick. If we want a shot at grabbing either,our best bet would just be to sit around her, wait for something interesting to--"

For the third time in less than an hour, there conversation was interrupted by the strange man in the red robes bursting through the door. Both Volfram and Knell watched as he approached the bar and began frantically conversing with Sawyer, the sound of their conversation lost in the early morning din of the adventure hall. After a minute the gnome looked over to Volfram and called "Hey wolf boy, this guy says he's looking for you."

Volfram looked over to his partner,cocking an eyebrow. "Well, looks like things just got interesting."

*****

"So let's start at the beginning. How do you know my friend?" Knell steepled her arms as she propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her interlaced fingers.

Saros looked over at the large man in the corner as he twiddled his thumbs under the table nervously. "Why can't I just talk directly to him?"

Volfram looked up from the axe he was polishing. "She's my protege. Its her first day on the job so I'm letting her lead things. You don't like it, there's the door. Now, I suggest you answer my friend. Why is my name on your lips?"

Saros turned to face the orc woman in front of him, but his attention remained focused on the man in the corner of his eye. "A while back my father and I were traveling North out of the kingdom of Alfard. We stopped in a little village to perform and maybe grab a bite to eat, I think it was called Mangold." Saros watched as the muscles in Volfram's neck tensed as the grip on his axe tightened. "There was a girl there,named Erin. I helped her out with something. She said I owed her a favor and if we were ever in Innastorm and we needed help to go to the Angry Squid and ask for Volfram."

"Oh yeah, Mangold, I--" Knell was cut off by Volfram clearing his voice loudly, she looked over to see him glaring angrily. "Right. How do we know you actually met this Erin and you didn't just pull her name off of one of the plaques in here." Saros looked around the room at all the various plaques and trophies that lined the walls. There was one that read Jess the Mighty, another partially defaced one read Loramir the Wise. Another particularly large one read Volfram Dragonsbane. He turned back to the orc woman, his vision once again transfixed on Volfram.

"S-she said if I ever wanted to ruffle Volfram's feathers I could c-call him F-faolan." Saros dropped to the floor beneath the table as a hand axe went sailing through the space his shoulder had been a second ago., hitting the wall with a loud THUNK.

A voice cried out from the next room. "VOLFRAM!! RULE NUMBER ONE!"

Volfram got up from his seat and yanked the hand axe from the wall as he yelled back, "Aw stuff it you lecherous old hobbit."

"I'm a gnome, not a hobbit." The voice cried back as Volfram returned to his seat and began polishing the blade of the axe he just threw.

Knell peered under the table to find Saros still curled up in the fetal position. "Nice instincts."

"Yeah. She also told me I should duck afterwards." Saros climbed back up on to the chair and looked over to see Volfram grinning slightly. He wasn't sure whether to be more or less nervous now. Knell looked over to him as well and Volfram gave her a nod.

"The big man buys your story. So, what's this favor?"

"My father, Deimos he was attacked last night."

"Is he okay?" Knell's voice suddenly shifted from mild interest to genuine concern as her posture straightened out.

"No. He, uh. He turned to stone."

"Fuck, that's horrible. I hear its really painful. But there's really not a lot we can do to help with that. Temple of Cinna should be able to heal him. If you need help transporting him there, we can offer that, but that's not really our thing."

""He's there now. Or, the statue of him is. We got him there before he finished turning, but there was nothing they could do to stop it. They said it was both a venom and a curse and they couldn't reverse one without reversing the other."

"I'm sorry but that kind of thing is completely out of our depth as well, not really the curse removal types either."

"That's not what I want your assistance with. You see, before my father turned to stone, he asked me to retrieve his favorite knife."

"Ah I see. And where was this knife last seen.

"Impaled through the hand of the man who attacked my father." Volfram let out a bemused chuckle. "Please, this was the one thing my father asked of me before he turned to stone. But I do not know this city, I do not even know where to begin to look. Erin made it sound like you have sources of information."

Volfram got up from the large throne in the corner of the room as he sighed "Yeah, I know a guy. Let's go."

It was a busy day in Kwix's shop. Customers milled about the store examining the numerous items on display. Occasionally one would approach the counter he sat at and ask to examine one of the more impressive items he had on display behind the counter. He'd pull it down from the wall, which was often easier said than done for such a small Goblin, and tell them about all the special powers or defenses it imbued its wielder. They'd ask how much, he'd give them a price at which point they'd always hand it back acting as if it wasn't quite what they were looking for, but it was obvious that whatever they were looking for was well outside their price range. Magic items aren't something fresh off the boat adventurers can afford.   And yet they always asked.

He couldn't complain too much though. Business was great. He still had plenty of mundane items to sell to the average consumer. He also did very well selling more exotics tuff, like dragon scales and chimera blood, to the wizards and artisans from the noble quarter. 10 years ago he'd been holed up in a little shack in the slums until a mysterious woman had changed his fate by selling him her magical items for a pittance. He'd turned that around and within a few shorts months he actually owned a business in the Trade District. And these days, he was one of the most preeminent place to shop in all of Innastorm. Yeah things were good. But something was missing and he wasn't quite sure what it was.

He needed something else to keep him occupied today. He called Pinkie, one of his employees over to the counter, and then headed in to the back office, closing the large wooden door behind him. He grabbed a book off of one of the shelves on the wall and tossed it up on to his desk before climbing his stepstool up into his chair where he plopped down, his head the only thing visible from the other side of the desk. He grumbled as he gave the lever on it a few pumps, someone had been sitting in his chair again. It was probably Pinkie, she was always using it without permission. Once his chair was back at the correct height, he picked up his small pair of reading glasses and with a long, slender, clawed finger, he slid them up his long hooked nose, resting the arms on his large batlike ears.

There wasn't really much higher he could climb here. He had employees handling most of his work now, hell he could hand the Keys over to Pinkie and things would still keep running.. He'd already expanded his current location as much as he could, even adding on a second story, but he had gotten to the point where his supply was outpacing demand, there just wasn't enough business to be had in this town. Thoughts of what to do now plagued his mind,distracting him from much more beneficial work he could be doing instead. He tried to focus on the ledgers. It was one of the few jobs he still handled himself. Not that he didn't trust his employees to do it. He just liked it. Something about the numbers dancing together and combining, growing ever larger in their fanciful display. He liked numbers. He understood numbers. He wished he understood magic. He looked up from the book over to the large compendium on his desk. It was open to an entry about a magic box that contained a horrifying cat mummy that did its master's bidding. He had seen one once. Carried by a Muridian no less, no doubt for the irony. He looked at it and sighed, lost in thought, he idly twiddled the blue and silver amulet that hung around his neck with his thumb and forefinger

Suddenly the sound of very heavy footsteps heading to his office returned his focus, and he stuffed the necklace beneath his shirt as he turned back to his ledgers,attempting to look busy as any good businessman should. And without a knock, the door flew open, the doorway filled with a man almost as big as the door he had just kicked open. This was intentional, it was a hard earned lesson. Kwix sighed as he made a dramatic show of setting down his fountain pen and closing his books before taking off his glasses and rubbing his temples, "Can you watch it with the doors? I'd hate to have to bill you if you got splinters in my suit,I'll have you know this suit cost me--"

"7800 gold pieces, I know."

Kwix exhaled a small sigh of frustration. "How can I help you Volfram?"

"Need info."

"Of course. What is it this time? Monsters, ancient tombs, misdeeds of nobles, ancient--"

"Daggers and poison."

"Poison huh? That's a new one. What are you needing to now?"

Volfram grunted "Just come with me."

Kwix sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes, "Ugh fine." He smiled a little once Volfram turned around. He'd been dying for an excuse to get out of this stuffy office.

Four figures gathered around the statue of Deimos. The clerics had moved him to a small prayer garden with a promise to Saros that they would look after him. It was a simple gesture truly appreciated, it was one less thing to worry about with the threat of hooligans defacing or damaging his father in some way removed from his mind.

"So uh, why didn't they just chop his arm off?" Kwix inspected the stone as he mused.

"I-I do not know. I think maybe he thought I could reverse it some how. I think he puts too much faith in my abilities. His dying wish was for me to reclaim his dagger, which was last seen in the hands of the man who attacked him. I think he believed if I found him I would also find the cure. My father, he had a very peculiar way of expressing himself. He could never just come out and say what he really wanted. But I have no idea why he was attacked much less by who. I do not know how he expects me to find this man or find the cure for this horrible thing."

Knell pushed off against the marble pillar she had been leaning against, the loud sound of stone grinding against stone pierced the air as the column slide a few inches in response, causing Knell to wince briefly.  She rested a reassuring hand on Saros's shoulder.  "Deimos is a good man and a wise man and he was right to put his faith in you.  I see why he trusts you so much.  This will get fixed.  And I'll do everything in my power to help make that happen. "  The air grew quiet from the tension that the sudden serious turn in the conversation had caused.  A few awkward moments passed before Knell clapped her hands and chuckled awkwardly.  "So uh yeah, I figured if we found out anything more about the poison it might lead us to the attacker or the maker of the poison and we could find the knife that way." Saros turned to look at Knell as she spoke, this got her attention and she found herself suddenly looking away and at the ground for some reason as she kicked at a few weeds.

"Well deduced. Well I can tell you this much, the stone appears to be a special type of blue granite which lucky for us is rare and only comes from Alfard and Cortierra,so that narrows it down a bit. You said he was able to grab a piece of cloth, yes?" He held an outstretched hand towards Saros who deposited a piece of black material in to it. Kwix ran it through his fingers a few times, before holding it up to the light and turning it over a few times. He gave it a few sniffs, before holding it up his ear and rubbing it a few times.

"It's a very thick fabric, meant for colder temperatures. It's black obviously, but its so incredibly black its almost impossible to discern any details about it. I picked up a faint whiff of pine sap. The material is very well made,designed to be nearly silent. My guess is this wasn't some random attack, this was an assassin, and he was sent from Alfard, and that is likely where he has returned to, at the very least that is where you will find whoever hired them. The fact that your father was able to retaliate at all and wasn't long dead by the time you arrived means either your father was very good, or this is a very bad assassin who somehow got their hands on some gear that is very very good. I can't tell you much more than that, but it likely means whoever paid for this assassin paid quite a bit. I don't know who in Alfard could afford to hire him, and which one of them would have motive. My knowledge in that regard is lacking, my info on the doings of nobles only extends as far as the city walls of Innastorm. But my guess is that you will find your answer in Alfard's capital city of Carth. That's where all the money lives."

Volfram uncrossed his arms and placed a hand on Saros's shoulder, and broke his silence of the last 30 minutes. "Well kid, there you go. Your assassin is in Alfard. Knock 'em dead."

Knell suddenly pivoted towards Volfram. "You can't be serious, you're not gonna bail already."

Volfram, whom had already began walking away, stopped and turned back around. "What, Kwix usually charges a ton for this kind of info analysis. That's a pretty big fucking favor."

"He still needs our help."

Volfram grunted. "Assassins with unknown motives from other lands means political intrique. Political intrigue mean lots of talking and not a lot of smashing. I'm no good when there is nothing to smash."

"You said I got to pick the first job. And this is the job I picked."

Volfram crossed his arms defensively. "Well we still need new recruits. Splitting night watch two ways is a real son of a bitch, trust me, I know."

A star-like mote of light suddenly appeared inches from Volfram's face nearly blinding him, he attempted to swat it away to no avail. Saros cleared his throat and spoke up. "I would go with you of course. I know some magic."

"Still, that's only three. A proper party needs at least four members, ideally five."

"I might have a solution for that." The sound of Kwix's voice startled the trio who had already forgotten about the presence of the small green figure. "Let's head back to my shop.

Kwix's legs and feet flailed uselessly as he struggled to reach for the contents at the bottom of the ches the was hanging over. Eventually he decided his dignity was already gone, so he just climbed the rest of the way in and began rooting around. He found a backpack which he tossed up towards Volfram who snagged it out of the air deftly

"Hey new guy, did you know I can do magic too?" Volfram held the bag open with one hand, and stuck his other hand in, pushing it deeper and deeper, past the wrist, the forearm, the elbow. Finally he got it all the way up to his shoulder, his arm seemingly vanishing within the small bag.

"I am not a simpleton, I know what a pocket dimension is. And the name is Saros. Saros Aerglo."

Volfram chuckled, "Yeah, I have no idea what you just said, we need to do something about that accent. What is that Sardonian?"

If any pigment could be seen on Saros's skin, you would have seen him blush. His lilting tone of voice and the ways words rolled along his tongue had felt natural to him, but as his father's travels had taken them farther and farther from their homeland, he had noticed his speech feel more and more out of place. It made him uncomfortable and he hated the reminder of just how alien he was.

Saros was smacked in the face by a second bag that he fumbled to grab as it fell to the floor. Once he had it in hand, he took a moment to inspect it. The front of the Bag was emblazoned with the words Kwix Kit. It was light, as if it was empty, but shaking it produced a rattling sound as it it was full of various items.

"That's one of Kwix's failed business ventures. Turns out anyone who needs a bag full of basic adventuring supplies can't afford a Pocket Dimension, and any one who can afford a Pocket Dimension already has all the adventuring supplies they need." Volfram pulled a few misc items from his bag to demonstrate, a shovel, a lantern, 50 foot of rope, a waterskin. Saros reached in and pulled out a ten foot long pole.

The Kwix emerged from the chest a moment later with a third bag. He walked to another chest, and retrieved a couple smaller bags, these ones were different, clearly visibily full of contents and made the unmistakable jingling sound of gold pieces. He led them back in to the main room where he grabbed a few large items and then slid open the large glass display case beneath the front desk and grabbed a few more items before holding the bag up towards Volfram. "Switch me." Volfram grabbed the bag from Kwix and handed him the empty one. Kwix locked eyes with Volfram as he did so, clutching one of Volframs massive fingers with his long claws. "Guard it with your life."

"Are you gonna tell us what your solution is yet." Volfram grumbled in response.

"Isn't it obvious, I'm going withy ou."

"Alright!" Knell pumped a fist in excitement

Volfram snorted in dismay "Do what now?"

"I'm sorry what point did you not understand."

"You're a shop keep."

"Yes, but a very well equipped one." He waved a wand at Volfram for emphasis before stuffing it in to the bag. "I've been thinking about expanding my business for a while. Setting up a new location in Carth sounds like the ticket. I'm sure you can see how this is a mutually beneficia larrangement. You'll need someone to gather information when you get there, I know you and Knell ain't the ones for the job, I don't know the first thing about you star man, but I definitely know I can hack it, and you know it too. Plus that means more info resources in thefuture, and wider catalogue of items. In addition, I would outfit this group. After all, your survivability improves my survivability.  This only works out well for you, yes?"

"Yeah, okay fine, but you better pull your weight and I get dibs on all your stuff if you die."

"That sounds fair," Kwix held up a hand, and Volfram held out a large meaty finger. Kwix grabbed it and pumped it a few times eagerly. "So after that's all done, where to next boss?"

The voice of Knell's voice caused his head to turn to face her, "Well, uh, I figure our best bet is to use some sort of tracking or detection magic to see if we can track this cloth back to its owner. Does anyone have any suggestions on how we could do that? Saros, do you have any spells like that?" "Unfortunately no, I specialize in the summoning of extraplanar energies."

"How about you Kwix, you got anything in this store we could use."

"Well I just sold my only scrying orb about three weeks ago, so that's a no from me as well."

"And you Volfram, any suggestions."

Volfram sighed as he crossed his arms disapprovingly. "Yeah, I know someone. But you're not gonna like it.

*****

Journal Day 1 Well it's been an interesting 24 hours. Last night Volfram finally told me I was ready to be be an adventurer, we would just need to flesh out our party and then we'd be ready to undertake a quest. Fucking finally, I've been dying for this for months. I know I've been ready for a while, he's just not seen it. So last night I went out to celebrate, and there were these two wicked street performers. It was a father and son duo, it was the fucking greatest thing. The dad did all this cool acrobatic and juggling shit, and the son did all these really cool illusions, made things disappear and reappear, move things without touching em, it was wild. All without using a spellbook or rod or wand or anything. He didn't even have to chant, it was crazy. And it just so happened they were staying at the same inn. Man I wanted to hang out with Saros so bad. I fed them a line about needing a room for the night. The dad bought it but then Saros took off so it was all for naught. I talked with him for a bit. He's a good man, he loves his son. He told me stories of their travel, I tried to tell him stories about my training but I got nervous so I bolted. I wish I hadn't,  I would have liked to talk to him some more. I would only see him one more time, briefly, before he turned in to stone. I got my chance to hang out with Saros but its at the expense of him losing his father. I know its not my fault, but I can't help but feel guilty for being thankful for this opportunity. I'm a shitty person. Fuck.

So as it turns out an old friend of Volfram's owed Saros a favor and he's cashing it in with us, and know we're hunting this guy down all the way in Carth. Volfram's old friend Kwix, I don't know if friend is the right word, business associate? I get the feeling they owe each other so many favors at this point no one's really sure who's more in debt at the moment. So he talked himself in to joining us on our journey, so know we've got four. We spent the rest of the day outfitting ourselves as well as filling out all the paperwork to ensure the quest and all party members were approved by the Adventure Hall. Tomorrow we head southeast to find another old friend of Volfram's in hopes we can get their assistance. Volfram doesn't seem too pleased by the prospect. Guess we will see why tomorrow.

[overlyimmersedarcana]

Faolan

I've been meaning to draw Faolan for like 3 months, and finally I did. Here is da bb :3

I'm pretty happy with how it came out. I have no idea how I've managed to improve my skills in the last 2 months since I've barely done any drawing. I did the october drawing challenge, but I only draw keyblades for that so it doesn't help this type of drawing. And 3 days ago I drew a supreme kai oc. That's all I've accomplished in two months, 31 keyblades and a kai... So here's an infant. I rarely draw babies... He's cute though.

Again, this is Faolan. Maranell and Muriel's son, at about 10 months old.