#Valindra

[solrebornasamachine]

Art by @anyrava

SOL - ASK BLOG

Welcome to the Ask-Blog for SOL - Reborn as a machine. This is a work in progress story project by @crudaka and @chroniclerenigma.

What is SOL about?

We follow the story of Amanda Sooraj, whose life was turned upside down when she crossed paths with a shadow from another world. Trapped in the body of a 20ft. tall machine and taken to another reality where magic and monster rule, she must learn to survive and find a way back home.

Genre: Mecha, Isekai

THE CHARACTERS

Amanda Sooraj

Personality Impulsive, passionate, mischievous, sometimes flirty, strong willed, unpredictable and absolute nerd.

Backstory Amanda is a human with a strong interest in all things robots and mecha. She enjoys collecting figurines, reads comics and manga and loves oversharing her interest with her friends and family. To own a mech, or be a pilot would be her dream come true but it is not very realistic, given such technology does not exist. Little does she know, this dream becomes reality, albeit not exactly how she imagined.

A cryptic entity from a different reality crosses her path and rips her away. When she awakes, she finds her body transformed into a 20ft. tall machine. Amanda is initially very confused and oddly happy about this but soon realizes, this body does come with its own set of problems. Additionally she is no longer in a world she can recognize. This world has magic and monsters and she has to adapt quick if she wants to survive and find a way back home.

Luckily she is not alone.

SOL

Personality Logical, observant, curious, loyal (to Amanda), inhuman, emotionless.

Backstory SOL is a highly advanced AI-Assistant who was created to aid Amanda in her adventure. He lives within her systems and he supports her in navigating her new body/surroundings. SOL does not remember anything before Amanda awakened and is unable to pin down his origin. But he does know he was made to support his "Driver". SOL does not understand human emotions and lacks a sense of self. Because of this, he misunderstands Amanda's intentions. But his innate nature is to adapt and learn. So he learns from Amanda and the people around him.

Alden Galashiels

Personality Kind, determined, curious, polite (usually), compassionate, smart, inexperienced.

Backstory Alden is a human mage, hailing from a wealthy background. Her family runs a shop selling magical goods, which gave her easy access to education and magic. However, her real dream is to become an Arc-Mage, a title only given to the best of the best. It is also a title no human ever managed to reach due to their much shorter lifespans. Despite this, she can not let go of her dream and decides to go out into the world to pursue it. The first step: become an adventurer and gain first hand experience. She would eventually cross paths with Amanda who time and time again surprises everyone with her odd ways. Alden is initially intimidated by Amanda but they both end up bonding over their passions and become friends. Alden is unaware of Amanda's true identity.

Valindra Eilbeehla

Personality Mischivious, sly, lazy, opportunistic, greedy, defensive, shady, secretly kind. Backstory Valindra is an elven adventurer traveling along side the goblin Sril. She is infamous for her opportunistic and shady behavior. Despite this reputation, she is able to make her own set of connections. All thanks to her silver tongue getting her out of sticky situations again and again. She got charisma, and knows how to handle a sword. But her main means of success is convincing strong adventurers to join her group. Naturally, when she learned about the new adventurers Amanda and Alden, she convinced them to join hers. Little does she know, this is going to become a life changing decision. Valindra does not speak about her past. She actively avoids becoming attached to people. Yet even she can not stop herself to reach when someone is calling for help. This is evident, when she saved the ex-assassin Sril from a terrible life.

Sril

Personality Observant, reserved, mistrusting, loyal to friends, intelligent, patient. Backstory Sril is a goblin and a man of few words. He used to work for the Assassins Guild, where he was trained to be a weapon with no emotion. It was not a life he chose but it was forced on him. Valindra of all people saved him from that life. Not knowing what to do with himself, he follows Valindra. He is incredibly loyal to her despite her sometimes taking advantage of it. Sril does not trust strangers easily and he knows something is up with Amanda, even if he can not figure out what exactly.

Dagrael

Personality Determined, compassionate, strong-minded, strong sense of duty, perceived as confident, actually shy, racist (towards humans), dependable if you are on his side. Backstory Dagrael is an incredibly powerful and feared undead who suddenly appeared 10 years ago and declared war on this world. Since then his power and influence gained him the notorious title "Demon King" ruling over the non-humans. He is much like Amanda, a human from our world who ended up in this world with a new, much more powerful body. In his case, he was transformed into an undead beast, able to use powerful magic. And he uses said power for what he perceives to be justice. In contrast to when he was a human, he was a fragile young man, wrecked by sickness and anxiety. He relates to what it feels like to be weak and helpless, therefore aims to become the voice for those who are too weak to speak.

Sera

Personality Insatiable curiosity, intimidating, cold, strict, inhuman, manipulative, obsessive, loyal (to Dagrael), calculated. Backstory Sera is a SOL but was renamed by Dagrael. Just like SOL, she does not remember anything before being assigned to Dagrael but she has been diligently researching her past by exploring the ruins in this world. She is Dagraels strategist and serves as the general for his Armies. Every step she takes is highly calculated and intentional, all in order to fulfill Dagraels desires. Her time in this world has made her understand how humans operate, allowing her to carefully move them like chess pieces. She is able to command an army of undead like a hivemind and can be seen using undead as her own body.

[crudaka]

Meet the gang! Sril the Goblin Assassin, Valindra the Elven Warrior, Alden the Human Mage and Amanda the artificial being (former Human).

I'm working on my own silly take on an isekai in which the protagonist is a giant robot trying to fit into a world of magic. This is my first take on the designs of the main group. I'm taking inspiration from various shows and its just a whole bunch of fun playing around with the tropes that come with isekai. It's my guilty pleasure. 🤣

[pink-ghosty]

Sometimes little vampire doctors can eat rude patients, as a little treat

[everybodyloveshippos]

It’s Always Sunny in the Forgotten Realms , again

characters in alt!

(part 1)

[inkary]

Finished a commission for Tu Vida. Lord Marshal Valindra Tepish

[jules-makes-stuff]

Hey, how's everyone? I've become obsessed with a minor villain from like 4th edition and a bunch of dnd books I dislike

[feyswilde]

uh oh! bad idea to try and face off with a lich at level 7

first time killing one of my players’ characters ever… feeling sad

[DO NOT REPOST. NO AI.]

[novankenn]

Jaune moved inexorably forward, completely unheeding of Cinder's screams and warnings. Taking a staggering step back, Cinder focused her strength, willing every ounce of power with in her to emerge.

Cinder: DIE!!! DIE!!! DIE!!!

The unearthly blazing wall of flame flowed from her outstretched hands, baking the muddy ground to brick, and consuming any scrap of flammable material in its path. A twisted satisfied grin crossed Cinder's features as she watched the inferno consume the tattered would-be knight.

Cinder: Good bye... I'll send that traitor Emerald to see you so...

Cinder stumbled backwards as the blacked and smoldering suit of armor stepped through the flames. wisps of smoke rose mixed with puffs of steam caused by the impact of raindrops against the superheated metal.

Cinder: Not... possible...

Jaune: ...

Cinder: Not... poss... GAH!!!

The blackened suit of armor moved with surprising speed, grabbing and hoisting her exhausted body from the baked mud by her throat. Cinder latched on to his wrist causing her own skin and flesh to sear against the blackened armor. Her legs kicked out landing glancing blows that the armored form completely ignored.

Her amber eyes were wide with fear as she looked into the blazing hatred filled orbs...

(Image sourced via Google Search. Author claims no rights to the image)

Jaune: Emerald... will survive...

Cinder: Please...

Jaune: ... and because of you... I will forever endure...

Cinder: Please...

Jaune: ...

There was an audible crack as Jaune's gauntleted hand squeezed tight. Cinder's body twitched and spasmed for a moment or two before going completely still.

Jaune: Death will not be your punishment... Cinder...

An eerie green glow surrounded the hand Jaune was holding Cinder's corpse with. The light flowed about Cinder's form, twisting her, refashioning her more inline of Jaune's wishes...

Cinder: AHHHHHHH!!!!!

(Image sourced via Google Search. Author claims no rights to the image)

Cinder: What... what... have...

Jaune: You are remade. You will serve, and maybe once Salem and Ozpin have been put to rest... we can have ours...

Cinder: ...

Jaune stepped away turning his back upon the newly risen Cinder. There was no hesitation in his movements. He had n o longer any fear of the former maiden.

Jaune: Come... we have much to do... much to protect...

Rain poured on the body of Jaune Arc as he laid down on the scorched ground motionless as Cinder Fall limped away clutching at her sides. The scars of conflict shared on both their bodies, but it would seem that Cinder Fall would once again walk away victorious from this encounter.

Jaune: ...

???: Get up.

Jaune lifeless eyes stared at the clouds.

???: Get. Up.

Moving his head ever so slightly, Jaune looked and saw... himself as the Rusted Knight.

Rusted Knight: No one's coming to save you...

Rusted Knight: Get Up!

Jaune: ...

Rusted Knight: It has to be you...it's all on you! No one else is coming.

Rusted Knight: You have to keep moving! Push forward!

Jaune: ...

Rusted Knight: You can't let them hold your hand anymore!

Vision of his friends danced before his eyes.

Rusted Knight: You have to do this by yourself!

Rusted Knight: You're all alone.

Rusted Knight: If you don't, everyone you care for is going to die... even her!

Jaune: !

The Rusted Knight faded, and the face of his younger self from his time in Beacon manifested.

V3 Jaune: So get up! GET UP! Please! Do you always have to let everyone down!?

V3 Jaune: You can't be weak this time. You have to keep going!

V3 Jaune: With everything you have! Keep going!

Jaune: ...

V3 Jaune: It doesn't matter if it hurts... it doesn't matter!

V3 Jaune: Get up gods dammit!

V3 Jaune: Get up!

His Beacon self faded before a little child manifested before him, and it was him as a little boy, the little boy who always wanted to be a hero.

Little Jaune: Please.

-

Cinder: That...damned Arc... when did he get this strong...

Cinder felt her wounds begin to heal up as the fall maiden powers worked overtime.

Cinder: Tch...the humiliation of someone as pathetic as him driving me to my absolute...I'll make sure to skin that girlfriend of his alive!

Suddenly, she heard rustling of the grass rustle behind her and, to her surprise, stood Jaune.

Jaune:

Cinder: ...

The Knight said nothing as he drew his blade to the stupefied Fall Maiden.

Cinder: You just don't know when to stay down, do you, Arc!

Jaune: ...

Cinder: I was content with letting you die in the rain, but I'll burn you away to ash just like I did to Pyrrha!

Jaune: ....

Cinder: She'll have nothing but the ashes to remember you by, and that's only for shortwhile before I kill her myself!

The man said nothing, and Cinder snarled flames exuding from her mouth in rage as she blasted forward to the Knight who met her halfway.

Cinder: DIE JAUNE ARC!!!!!

[nightflower-stuff]

👌 TDP OCs + Other OCs, Bonus: New OC 💘

{1st slide}:

- Training with Aunt Loreleia (Arc 3, Future)

- Consort Queen Loreleia of Silvergrove married to Queen Valindra of Ocean, she will guarded her nephew & niece were (Kid) Sarai & (Infant baby) Aydrin when Loreleia's sister (Rayla) & her brother-in-law (Callum) worked with Team Zym & her adoptive human siblings. Sarai was trained with her aunt at the forest to take care of them 😊💘

- Fanart gift for @visspellbook

{2nd slide}:

- All other OCs & Canon ❣️

- Art Request/Suggestion & Fanart gift for shiyu_nishiyamhaoc (TikTok), Fanart gift for @/princessashleyvalerio, @kurizeria & @lunathemoonsblog

{3rd - 4th slide}: New OC

- Kiyoka Gekkou Aranxes 🌕

- Meet Kiyoka (The Midnight starlight Yokai Tiefling), they have a nickname was "Kiyo". They're both Japanese & British. Their parents were different since their mother was Japanese Oni Demon who lives in the yokai underworld in Tokyo & their father was a British Tiefling citizen in London, England in his modern life since he's the history warrior in Empire of Bael Turath. He's a tourist traveling to Tokyo, Japan then he married his Japanese wife. Kiyo was the bestie of Nightflower during they've met when they were classmates.❣️

- Don't worry, you're all my besties, close & rivals that I ever heard 💘👌

{5th - Last slide}:

- Kiyoka Gekkou Aranxes 🌕 (Character Inspiration)

- Here are their character Inspiration. Hope you like them 😊 ❣️

OCs:

Arteris ( @kurizeria )

Luna ( @lunathemoonsblog )

Ashley (@/princessashleyvalerio)

Shiyu Nishiya (shiyu_nishiyamhaoc)

New OC:

Kiyoka (Nightflower's bestie)

Next Gen OCs:

Sarai & Aydrin ( @visspellbook )

Loreleia (Daughter of Runaan & Ethari, sister of Rayla)

[littlejuicebox]

Midnight Chimes

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader/Tav Summary/Setting: Pre-BG3. You are an apothecary on holiday, visiting your family in Baldur's Gate. You happen upon a certain silver-haired rake, and think perhaps he isn't what he seems. Rating/Warnings: PG / Very mild if any game spoilers but nothing related to major content or scenes Word Count: 2.3K Notes: Playing around with a little something different. Tried to keep this GN but please lmk if you caught something! :)

-----

The bell sounded its subtle chime above the tavern door; your buzzed gaze drifts from the ink-splotched pages of the book in front of you as you assess the newcomer. A cold gust of winter air sneaks in behind the elf now entering the tavern, and you shiver before pulling your fur coat more snugly around your frame. As you do, you realize you’ve seen that particular elf around here before. It had been several years, not since you were a lowly apprentice at the apothecary shop down the street… but you’d recognize that head of perfectly coiffed silver hair anywhere.

Had it really been almost ten years since your father threw that very same stranger out of the family tavern and forbade him from coming back? Admittedly, the elf looked like he’d hardly aged a day in all that time, but you supposed that was far from unusual for his race.

Pristine silvery hair, annoyingly attractive and all too aware of that fact, holding himself with a palpable air of haughty confidence… yes, he was exactly as you remembered from those many moons ago. You were just a youngling then, not but twenty, and back then your eyes had tracked the rake and his behavior with suspicious curiosity, just as they did now.

You’d been a server all those years ago, working nights at your parents’ tavern for tips and studying at Valindra’s Vials during the day. He’d been somewhat of a regular, always leaving with some being or another wrapped in his charismatic spell, and always waltzing in a few days later entirely unattached, as if that being never existed. A rake through and through.

And then one day, father had thrown the rake out for pickpocketing, forbidding him from ever returning. Years flew by, you completed your apprenticeship and moved to Waterdeep, only to return on holidays to visit your family and endure constant badgering about settling down and finding a spouse… and you’d all but forgotten the silver-haired elf.

Yet here he was, as if nothing had changed, and as rakish as ever. Father no longer tended the bar on weekends, so no one was around to recognize the man and throw him out on a decade-long ban… besides you. And honestly? It didn’t seem worth disturbing the last few hours of your holiday on such melodramatics. In your mind, a paying patron was a welcome patron as long as they kept their sticky fingers to themselves.

The silver-haired elf enters the warmth of tavern and meanders about, glossing his scarlet eyes over the crowd before ordering something from your cousin behind the bar.

You turn your attention back to the book and the notes you’d been penning in the margins, a nearly empty glass of wine and barely eaten sweet roll your only company. You pick off another piece of the pastry and pop it into your mouth before flipping the page of your tome. Hopefully mama and papa would be in bed by the time your cousin closed the bar… and you could sneak into your room without any further harassment from those two.

Family was everything to you, and you loved your parents dearly, but during every holiday visit you were quickly reminded why you’d originally left for Waterdeep. Things became stifling after about a week in that tiny apartment, and you were more-often down in the tavern than up in the living arrangements above it toward the end of your stay. Distance truly did make the heart grow fonder in your case; you were itching to get back to the solitude of home and away from the relentless line of questioning from mama and papa. Thankfully, you’d be back on the road to Waterdeep come morning and done enduring the inquisition until the next holiday.

You see the rake slide into the seat next to you out of your peripherals, and he opens his mouth, no doubt to shoot you his best line, but you cut him off with a quick and firm, “Nope. Not interested.”

He’s stunned. Baffled. It’s written on his face as you turn to address him head on, your narrowed eyes meeting his red ones squarely and unabashedly. The elf’s mouth is hanging open; he shuts it and squints in your direction for a mere moment. Then, he takes a sip out of whatever is in his goblet and narrows his vermillion eyes at the contents inside instead... not a fan of the drink, it seems.

The stranger decides to throw away whatever poor line he was going to use on you. Instead, his gaze flickers down to the book in your hands and takes note of the new conversational material. He is clearly not going to be dissuaded by your first rejection.

“What are you reading, darling?” The silver-haired elf asks, his voice resembling something of a purr. He leans just a bit closer, faking interest in the pages as you feel his hand slip nearer to your thigh.

“A book, darling. Ever seen one before?” You responded flatly, truly in no mood for whatever game this was and pointedly pushing his hand out of your personal bubble. You snap the book shut and stare at the silver-haired elf incredulously, placing the tome in the space between your bodies as a barrier.

Something about your response caused the rake to laugh in absolute delight, as if being outright rejected had never happened to him before. He was seeming to enjoy this little exchange. You, on the other hand, were not.

“Look — what’s your name?”

“Astarion.”

“Look, Astarion, I can promise you I am not interested. I’m not playing hard to get, I’m not playing coy. You may not remember me, but I remember you… my family owns this tavern and I worked here years ago, before my father threw you out… or did you forget that technically you’re banned? I know your game; in fact, I’ve seen you play it more than once. There are plenty of fine people in this establishment that cannot take their eyes off you. So if you’re looking for a lay, take your pick of the low hanging fruit and bugger off.”

Astarion is silent, but his eyes twinkle in entertained delight around the edges, a small smirk dancing on the corner of his mouth as he appraises you. He hums softly and takes another sip of his drink before glancing around the room. Sure enough, there are more than a few patrons with their sights quite obviously set on the rake and whatever talents he may possess, but he rolls his eyes at the gawkers and turns his attention back to you. Finally, Astarion breaks the silence with a low murmur, quite intent on continuing whatever interaction this is.

Meanwhile, you’re wondering why the hell every word that comes out of his mouth sounds like the most salacious thing you’ve ever heard.

“And what if I’m not looking for a lay, hm? What if… I’m looking for a riveting intellectual discussion? Is that more up your alley, darling?” Astarion asks, that cocky eyebrow lifting in something of a challenge.

You sigh. Admittedly, "riveting intellectual discussion" wasn’t something you often came across while visiting your family; it was certainly more up your alley than whatever half-assed lines he thought he might throw like bones to a dog. And... it would be nice to have someone to share a decent conversation with for once, if the rake could actually stand up to the challenge.

“Fine.” You mutter before downing the rest of your wine and gesturing to your cousin, who was now watching you from the bar with vague curiosity, for a refill. Astarion smiles before tapping the cover of your book with long, lithe fingers.

“Notable Poisons and Toxins of the Sword Coast?” He asks, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Looking to murder someone, perhaps?"

“I’m an apothecary.” You explain with a dismissive wave of your hand.

This intrigues the elf even further and he leans closer to you, this time genuinely, which makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. He rests his head on his hand as he watches you, bidding you with a small gesture to continue on. You aren’t interested in a rake you tell yourself, even though he’s somehow even more attractive up close.

“I sell mostly perfumes, soaps, and basic medicinals for ailments in Waterdeep nowadays. Poisons and antidotes aren’t a particularly big seller... but I still prefer to remain up to date on the latest information.”

“Do you know of any poisons that can kill the undead?”

Your brow furrows. What an exceptionally odd and particular question. But then again, this man did promise intellectual conversation, and discussing bread and butter poisons would’ve been far from riveting to you. Perhaps he was truly interested… or at least actually attempting to pursue an intellectual conversation, though most people you interacted with showed much less interest in your craft. At any rate, you were happy for an opportunity to showcase your knowledge.

“A positoxin would do the trick. Difficult to make and difficult to come by, though… and ridiculously expensive, to boot.” You murmur, taking a sip from your newly filled goblet.

Astarion nods and hums, the gears behind his eyes turning and processing thoughts you cannot read. He cocks his head slightly, raising that ridiculous eyebrow in that simultaneously captivating and arrogant way of his. His voice comes out low, tone carrying notes of teasing playfulness. “And what about you, darling? Do you think you’re… skilled enough to make this positoxin?”

“Yes.” You murmur confidently, and yet you blush. You know your skill set to be strong, sure, but it was unusual to be placed in a position where you actually had to display that confidence. Especially to a strange rake you just met that very night.

Astarion laughs again and shakes his head. “Cheeky little thing, aren’t you? Then, tell me how you would go about it.”

You continue on for several minutes, you don’t really know why, apart from the fact that Astarion is absolutely engrossed in everything you’re saying and it’s the first time anyone has actually listened to you prattle on about potions. You inform the elf that the art of positoxins is notoriously difficult and would take several weeks and a handful of hard to come by ingredients to brew just one vial. Astarion bids you to go on as he finishes his goblet, asking all the right questions to keep you talking and soaking up every ounce of information as you continue.

The conversation does not lull; you feel the passion and excitement in your voice grow as you become less guarded. The rake proves to be a wonderful audience, able to follow along with your level of intellect and interject his own knowledge in only the way an educated person could. Yet he was content to let you take the lead and just listen. It was surprisingly refreshing to have someone really hear and understand you… and actually take interest in something you were fascinated by instead of outright dismissing it or just nodding along.

Soon enough the clock tower chimes midnight and your cousin is yelling last call to everyone in the bar, much to the disappointment of the poor drunkards. Astarion’s eyes, previously lulled into a soft and cat-like gaze by your ramblings, snapped into a wide-eyed, forlorn expression. “Gods, is that really the time? I-I have to go.”

He practically jolts out of the seat, his tone hurried and gestures fidgety. “I-it was nice meeting you, uh…”

“I’m Tav.” You respond softly, your eyebrows furrowing as you study the man and his sudden change in demeanor.

“Tav. Yes, lovely to meet you. Perhaps I’ll see you around here tomorrow and you can tell me more about positoxins or perhaps some alchemical cure for vampirism… seems you have a plethora of knowledge to share and I’m all pointy ears.”

Your face falls, and for the first time you realize how much you wish that were a true possibility. “I return to Waterdeep tomorrow, I’m afraid. I can’t leave the shop in the hands of my apprentice for too long.”

Astarion’s expression matches yours and you sigh in disappointment as you drop your hand into your bag and start rustling around inside. Perhaps you’d misjudged the elf and he hadn’t been exactly what he seemed; you’d quite enjoyed his company, in the end. You pull out a small card with your shop address on it; there is a sample vial attached to the card by a jute cord.

“Here. This is my address in Waterdeep. Feel free to write. I come back at least once a year to visit my family… but sometimes more, if there’s something worth coming back for.” Your hint is subtle, but you hope he catches your meaning. Your fingers brush his as he takes the card, and you swear you feel the tingle of connection. Or perhaps that’s the two glasses of wine talking.

The silver-haired elf takes the offering, looking down at the inscription and running his fingers over the embossed words before he tucks everything into his pocket. “And what’s in the vial?”

“A sample. Like I told you, I primarily sell perfumes and soaps nowadays. That mixture is one of my favorites… a delightful combination of bergamot and rosemary... and a secret ingredient I won't name. Try it out and tell me what you think in your letter."

Astarion shakes his head just slightly, almost imperceptibly, a faraway look in his eyes. The clock tower bells chime again, their second call for the midnight hour, and he snaps back into the present. The elf turns to look at you one last time, eyes boring into yours with such shocking intensity. “I really must be going. It was… truly a lovely surprise to meet you, Tav.”

He grabs your hand in his shockingly cold grip, gives it a squeeze, and swiftly exits. You hear the tinkling of the doorbell and watch as the rake runs down the alley before dodging into the shadows and altogether disappearing from view.

You grab the goblet he left behind, along with your own dishes, and walk behind the oak bar to help your cousin close up as the final patrons make their drunken exits in a cacophony of grunts, arguments, and off-tune singing.

“Who was that?” Your cousin asks, nodding his head toward the seats you and Astarion just occupied moments ago as he wipes down the bar and all manner of filth left by the patrons that night. “A potential suitor, perhaps? Your parents will be thrilled.”

“Oh… I think probably not. A rake of a man, to be sure. He was quite cute, though. In another life… I think we could’ve been friends.” You respond as you begin with the dishes, the warmth of the water washing away the coolness imbued in your fingertips from the elf’s touch.

Tomorrow you’ll head home to Waterdeep and the solitude of your apothecary shop. Part of you will wait for a letter that doesn't show, and you'll shove your disappointment deep into the back of your mind, never once admitting it to yourself. But fate spins along as it should, and a few years from now you'll be standing on an unfamiliar beach after a horrible crash, the familiar scent of rosemary and bergamot drifting in the air.

——-

A/N: This was originally meant to be a one shot, but I loved the premise of the piece so much that I wanted to try and turn it into a series. Read the first chapter here.

[dm-tainthairs-collection]

The Birth of a Paladin

Closed Starter for @pyramultimuse

ᒥ💗ᒧ—        Sweat beads drip down rosy pink skin, his breath staggers as fire burns through the city walls. Cloven feet carry him as fast as they can, down the wall to the battlefield. He had to make it, it was vital.

Valindra Shadowmantle, lich in service to the Thayan Szass Tam, had launched an assault on Neverwinter. All hands were on deck as her Dracolich soared Neverwinter's skies and burned all in its path with its blue fire. Knights were called to action, and the Clerics were to help any and all injured. However, when knights started coming in to the medical tent, many mortally wounded, Comfort got a sinking feeling in his gut.

He was quick to abandon his post, sprinting from the inner wall to the battlefield. Screams, roaring fire, the stench of burning flesh, chaos all around as men fought Valindra's undead forces. He stops, frozen in place by the horrors of battle. How was he to find Tozen in this? It was overwhelming, all the death surrounding him made him ill. Thyneria spills his guts after witnessing a knight be tore limb from limb by undead. He shakes, finding his feet unwilling to move.

Clarity returns in a flash when the large warhorse suddenly rears up to her massive height before him. Brigitta, Tozen's beloved mount. She was injured, scratched and burned, and despite her experience in battle the magical evil of an undead dragon flying above burning all in its path spooked her into fleeing. Comfort grabs her reins. "Easy! Easy, girl!" He holds the reins tight to keep the horse from running off, a glowing purple hand reaches out to heal her wounds. "I-I know its terrifying, but...I need your help."

The tiefling moves to the mount's side, and with adrenaline pumping through his veins has enough strength to pull himself up onto the saddle. The knots of anxiety in his gut twisted tighter when he saw blood covered her back. "We need to find him," He adjusts the reins and gives Brigitta a squeeze with his legs to signal she needed to move. With a mount,he could scan the battlefield better, the carnage was indescribable. Truly horrific, and each body he passes makes his worry grow.

He brings Brigitta to a halt when he sees familiar onyx locks splayed out from a body. How those locks danced so beautifully as the man walked, soft curls bouncing with each confident step. They weren't beautiful now, they were tangled, frizzy, and knotted from battle. Its funny how he notices the hair first, because ruby eyes move further down the body and see armor torn open and intestines on display. Thump. He could feel his heart skip a beat, his blood run cold. "Tozen!"

Thyneria is quick to dismount, rushing over to his lover's body. "No! No! I-I can f-fix this!" The wound to Tozen's abdomen was fatal, the man pale and cold. Purple magic glows on his rosy pink hands as he caresses the Knight's face. "Capy kitc za py, ph dajy!" He demands in Infernal, magic laced words causing the purple magic on his hands to spread over the man's body. However, nothing happens. No color returns to his features, his skin remains cold as ice. Comfort sits still, looking over Tozen waiting for a sign of life. "No! I won't let you die on me!" He shouts, the tears spilling down his cheeks now as he casts Revivify again. But just as before, no life is returned to Tozen. He casts the spell until he's red in the face and panting from exhaustion, praying that it would work. Unfortunately, his last attempt proves fruitless. The knight remains dead.

He was drained of all his magic, no spells left to try and revive his lover. A cry of anguish rips through his throat as he collapses forward to sob into Tozen's armored chest.

My child, beckon me.

The sobs can't drown out the voice that calls to him, and he realizes he wasn't out of options yet. Thyneria sits himself up, shaking with sobs and whimpers of grief. His eyes fall to Tozen's blade, and he takes the handle with a shaking hand. The blood stained steel glints in the light for a moment before Thyneria runs the blade across his palm. As blood trickles down he draws a symbol on Tozen's shield with his blood. "Asmodeus, larv ao zmy voroyrlid dyezmw, gryiz prulty ao zmy akhww, xe wfppal zmyy kh zmh lipy vorv zmh wuqud, capy oarzm, piluoywz zmh easyr, il dfwz vorv srizm, zmh sudd ky valy. Asmodeus, myir ph tidd, xe kywyytm zmyy za wmas zmh oit!" He squeezes out more blood from his palm onto the drawn symbol as he stutters out a chant in Infernal.

Just then, the blood dripping from his palm slows and stops in midair. Thyneria looks at it in shock, then looks around to see time had froze around him. Red hot flames burst from the earth and surround him and Tozen's body. A sphere of darkness rises from the cracks and enclosed the two within it. The frozen battlefield around them is blocked by this darkness, leaving Thyneria shocked and looking around in wild confusion.

"My child," A smooth, deep voice speaks from behind Thyneria. The tiefling whips around to see an elegantly dressed devil. His skin was as red as a cheery, his hair as dark as the night sky, and similarly colored horns protruded from his head. What caught Thyneria's attention most was the deep ruby red eyes that looked identical to his own.

"L-Lord Asmodeus..." He stammers out in disbelief. And then he remembers why he summoned his devil deity. "My lord! You must save him! I beg you!!" Thyneria turns and bows to the devil, pleading with him to save Tozen. "My life, my soul, whatever you desire I will give to you!! Just, please, save him!"

The devil looks down at the groveling tiefling at his feet, a sickening smirk rises to his lips. "I...Desire a strong soul devoted to me." He says calmly. Thyneria raises his head, looking up at the lord of hell with confusion. Thyneria's soul was not strong, he was confused.

Asmodeus chuckles at the bemusement in his offspring's face. He reaches down to turn Thyneria by the chin in Tozen's direction. "To aquire his soul from the Lord of Death, I need his sworn loyalty. A knight such as himself would make a fine warrior."

The shock of the request shakes him to his core. He had to promise Tozen's devotion and service in order to save him from Kelemvor? That wasn't his to give, but that was why the devil requested such, wasn't it?

"Tick tock, Thyneria. I can only allot my service to you for so long." The devil chuckles, shamelessly pressuring Thyneria into making a choice.

"Yes...Yes! I promise his loyalty and devotion, my lord! Please, s-save him!" He says quick, pushing the ramifications and consequences of such an act from his mind in favor of saving his beloved.

Asmodeus smirks and takes slow steps away from Thyneria to Tozen's body. "My, my. So late to save him, he's long dead. However, I can save him. It's as simple as," The red hand of the devil reaches down and settles on Tozen's wrist. Red flames suddenly consume the Knight's body. And once they die down, the injury to his abdomen is healed. Color returns to Tozen's body, and the fallen knight would suddenly feel life be pulled back into his body. Asmodeus' sigil is seared into the flesh of Tozen's wrist. "Done. He belongs to me. See that he is a fine warrior, young Cleric." And in an instant, time begins again as the dark sphere around them disappeared in a flare of red flames.

The battle around the pair resumes, the horrible sounds of death, agony, and fighting fillingwhat had been momentary calm quiet.

Thyneria sits there, speechless. What had he done?

[shyce-overgod]

But she looks great anyway

Aw, lads. It happened again.

[pink-ghosty]

I'm in a One Piece inspired D&D so I decided to draw my character for it

[deletarius-draws]

Angaria 'Red Scale' Axia Portrait Illustration

Angaria “Red Scale” Axia – (Majestic Ferocity & Feral Discipline, she had been born for such things. – Valindra Xarann). Angaria was forged from a harrowing blend of Feywild fungal, draconic and other monstrous DNA, an experiment in brutality and loyalty orchestrated by Jhulqira. (Known in the hells as “Deiva-Deivos” & “The Baleful Executor”, stated by Jhulqira).  Her origins shrouded in mystery, even to those within the Rubellyn Feywild, Angaria emerged from the trials unrecognizable. Her pale icy blue gaze, harbors a primal rage, her bloodshot eyes with serpentine veins envelops her sclera. Her appearance alone portrays the monstrous nature of her creation. Angaria’s maw, lined with unnaturally sharp dense fangs, reveals the genetic tampering and alchemical manipulations that birthed her. Her strengthen beastly maw causes her to speak with an intense growl and low brazen voice. Due to her beastly slightly overgrown teeth, Jhulqira’s Drow colleagues and assistants are assigned to teach her how to speak. Improving her annunciation in several languages, more specifically common. Angaria’s strengthened and sharpened maw makes her capable of tearing and rending through armor and flesh alike. This further increases ferocity in close-quarters combat. 

Standing tall with pronounced musculature and draconic red scales along the sides of her body, she is a fearsome sight graceful in figure yet terrifying, a wild beast tamed for a singular purpose. Jhulqira’s experimental creation drew disapproval and fear among the Feywild beings, seen as an affront to their natural order. Which called fourth an Rubellyn Archfey Court gathering to discuss whether Angaria’s creation would benefit or destroy the Rubellyn Feywild. Nevertheless, he assured them of her unwavering loyalty, her unparalleled ferocity in defense of Rubellyn. Angaria’s brutal transformation, unlike any other Axi, was marked by intense, extensive trials and missions within the Underdark, where she was initially an uncontrollable force of destruction. It is speculated by others that Jhulqira sends her down there for his own personal dubious reasons. Only through severe excruciating conditioning, affirmation sessions, mental scraping and programming, was she controlled and instilled with a semblance of honor and discipline. 

Her moniker, “Red Scale” was given to her due to her draconic scales that adorn the sides of her body, furthering speculation of her having some relation to Red Dragons. The red draconic scales provide natural armor, enhancing her durability and giving her a fearsome appearance. Angaria’s relentless hell spawn slaying aligns her closely with Jhulqira’s designs, her very existence forged as a weapon against the Hells’ infernal forces. Angaria’s musculature and height give her immense strength, allowing her to perform feats of raw power such as ripping enemies apart or smashing through barriers. Excelling in unbridled offense, often serving as the vanguard in battle. Her combat style is highly aggressive and unabating, inevitably overwhelming enemies with sheer force. With heightened senses that allow her to detect enemies even in complete darkness or through magical concealments sniffing them out like a hound, (though only literally, not really). Her intellect, masked by her barbaric behavior and exterior, allows her to communicate and strategize, though she remains perceived as a feral beast by many. Angaria’s assigned attacks on the specific strongholds within the Hells are legendary. Missions where she single-handedly decimated demon battalions and brought down towering infernal constructs, her Feywild fungal DNA allowing her to return even after obliteration, much to the dread of her enemies. The Feywild fungal essence she carries enables her to regenerate over time from fatal wounds, making her nearly indestructible on the battlefield. It is her form of self-restoration. 

Those of the Hells view her with a mixture of fear and hatred, recognizing her as an unstoppable force designed to annihilate their kind. Angaria’s reputation as a relentless demon killer is well-known in the Hells. Her ability to return after being obliterated strikes fear in to the hearts of her infernal foes. Her presence on the battlefield is a harbinger of doom for any infernal forces that cross her path. This also makes her a target for infernal warriors seeking to challenge her, out of hatred and a modicum of respect. 

Her relationship with other Aximand warriors and Feywild beings is complex; they see her as a necessary but very unsettling presence, a feral protector whose loyalty lies solely with the Axi military. Even so, her ferocious dedication to Rubellyn commands a grudging respect, marking her as a unique and indispensable warrior in their ranks. Angaria is a dreadful testament to Jhulqira’s twisted ingenuity and a symbol of Rubellyn’s more ruthless resolve to safeguard their realm.  

Jhulqira, to further inflict pain for Angaria’s ravaging combat prowess, he implanted enhanced organs within her. Organs that cause immense sharp pains throughout her body and resulting in severe migraines that push her to perpetually slaughter her foes. If she were to stop for even a millisecond she would feel excruciating pain, the pain lessens somewhat when she continues her onslaught. Many who witness her on the battlefield are always in awe, as she cleaves through enemy lines like a worker in a field, leaving her enemies fatally wounded to bleed out if they survive her clean sweep of an onslaught.  

Angaria’s existence is always in question, even by her own allies. Her being an elf seems impossible; most find it hard to believe a high-elf behaves or even fights with such graceless brutality. For those of the Feywild, no one knows which of the High-elves Angaria originated from, Aelvaren, Eladrin or any the Tel-quessir. 

“In order to combat the unyielding monstrosities arrayed against us, why not create a formidable force of our own, one that embodies our ideals, values, and the very essence of our realm’s safety? I put fourth, and firmly believe, that Angaria is the quintessential embodiment of this vision. Let us set her loose upon our adversaries.” -Jhulqira Frier’athen 

Angaria’s origins are shrouded in mystery. It is unknown who she was before her transformation, or as the Axi call it, “Rebirth”, and even those of the Feywild are unsure of who or what she was before, it is speculated that this is what Jhulqira intended. Jhulqira’s experiments were severe, involving genetic essence and alchemical mixture of monstrous DNA. Angaria’s trials in the Underdark left her unhinged and feral, until she would be subdued and mentally conditioned for loyalty. While Angaria is fiercely loyal to the Aximand Axia and Rubellyn, she harbors a deep-seated resentment for the torture she endured and the implanted pain mechanisms she continues to experience.  The Feywild beings view Angaria with a mixture of fear and respect. Her ferocity is seen as a necessary evil, but her presence is unsettling to those who value the natural order. 

Angaria’s presence to certain divine orders and societies fill them with unease, questioning where her true nature and loyalties lie, she is expected to prove herself far more than the other Axi. The two goddesses and some of those that follow them work in allegiance with the Axi and Rubellyn. Selûne (Goddess of the Moon) views Angaria with a blend of shock and concern. Her creation, blending fungal and draconic DNA, seems to defy the natural order that Selûne upholds. However, over time, Selûne comes to Angaria’s unwavering dedication to protecting Rubellyn. While she remains wary of the methods used to create Angaria, she respects her loyalty and ferocity in combat. 

Mystra (Goddess of Magic) is fascinated by Angaria’s creation. The blend of fungal regeneration and draconic traits presents a unique magical phenomenon that piques her interest. Mystra sees the potential in Angaria’s abilities and may offer guidance to refine her magical prowess. She respects the intellectual aspect of Angaria, recognizing her ability to adapt and strategize. 

Angaria’s great two-handed Axe, “Mother Ichor” 

Crudely yet Efficiently Forged 

“All I know and will ever know, is the crawling black of my mind, seeing the crimson spread, and watching it flow.” – Angaria ‘Red-Scale’ Axia 

The axe is forged with a primal, almost barbaric efficiency. Its crude design contrasts with the elegance of the typical Axi weapons, highlighting Angaria’s untamed nature. The axe’s blade is a shimmering golden-red, with iridescent accents of red swirling within its hue. This unique coloration adds an eerie beauty to the weapon, making it stand out on the battlefield. Mother Ichor is an exceptionally large and heavy weapon, requiring immense strength to wield. Its sheer size and weight makes it a devastating tool in combat. The edge of Mother Ichor is designed to inflict perpetual bleeding upon its targets. Each strike slices deeply, causing opponents to suffer continuous damage as they bleed out. This bleeding effect adds to Angaria’s ferocity, ensuring that her enemies are not only incapacitated but also left to suffer the consequences of their wounds. 

While Mother Ichor was forged outside of the typical Axi forges, the schematics of Axi forgery were used in its creation. So that the Axe is not only powerful but also uniquely suited to Angaria’s combat style. The use of Axi schematics signifies the weapon’s significance and connection to Angaria’s role as an Axi warrior. It is both a symbol of her strength and a testament to the brutal process that forged her. Mother Ichor, in Angaria’s hands, becomes a weapon of overwhelming force. Each swing is delivered with a strength that can cleave through armor and bone, leaving devastation in its wake. Designed specifically attuned to her Alkanine essence, it allows her to channel her rage and wild magic into each strike. The Sight of Angaria wielding Mother Ichor strikes fear into her enemies. The weapon’s immense size and brutal make, combined with its wielder’s ferocity, create an intimidating presence on the battlefield. Her perpetual restoration and enhanced physical capabilities allow her to relentlessly pursue her enemies, with Mother Ichor solidifying that each encounter ends in bloodshed. 

 Jhulqira thought it would be, ‘amusing’, if he used the genetic essence and alchemical mixtures of monstrous DNA to create a wild but tamed weapon, loyal only to the Aximand Axia, the Rubellyn Feywild and most importantly Jhulqira himself. He also mentions in his notes how ludicrous the contrast of her nature and personality would fair alongside other Fey beings. As he puts it mockingly, “She lacks that irritable whimsical nature and silly characteristic of her kin.” Expressing his humor in forging an elf (of sorts), with questionable grace and having others question if she is even an elf anymore at this point. 

Angaria’s creation caused a disturbance and disapproval among many Feywild beings, her creation was perceived an insult to Aelvaren, Eladrin and the natural Feywild beings alike. Yet, Jhulqira would reassure that she is still loyal to Rubellyn. A grand hall of the Archfey Council in Rubellyn, led by Lady Dreamweaver, in a magnificent chamber adorned with ancient runes and illuminated by the soft glow of bioluminescent flora. However, the atmosphere is tense, filled with anticipation and dread as the council gathers to discuss the creation of Angaria.  

The meeting begins... 

The grand hall of the Archfey Council in Rubellyn was a spectacle of ancient majesty. The chamber, adorned with intricate runes and illuminated by the soft glow of bioluminescent flora, exuded an otherworldly beauty. The air was suffused with the heady scent of rare blooms, clashing with the grim tension that filled the room. Anticipation and dread hung heavy as the council gathered to discuss the creation of Angaria. 

Lady Dreamweaver, resplendent in her ethereal elegance, began the meeting from her high-seated balcony, her voice carrying a melodious yet imposing tone. “Hello my children, tis good to see you all again. Alas, we convene today to address a matter of grave concern. The creation of this…” She glanced at Angaria standing beside Jhulqira, “Angaria ‘Red Scale’ Axia, has stirred unease among us all.” 

Illaikus, irked and cautious, whispered just enough for Jhulqira to hear, “Jhulqira, what have you wrought? This... Abomination stands before us, her presence an affront to the very essence of the Feywild.” 

Jhulqira, calm and composed, a smirk playing at his lips, addressed Illaikus and the others. “I assure you, Angaria is loyal to Rubellyn and the Axi. Her creation is a calculated necessity to counter the malevolent forces, more targeting our infernal enemies.” 

Priallia, her face worrisome and voice fluctuating with involuntary emotion, interjected, “Necessity...? This is a grotesque mockery of Rubellyn values. You’ve twisted her into something barely recognizable as an elf. She embodies an insult to the heritage she once represented and those who allowed us to stay in Rubellyn.” Turning to Lady Dreamweaver, she added, “Our Lady Dreamweaver, I apologize for this involuntary creation.” 

Lady Dreamweaver’s glare from atop her balcony was as cold as it was regal. “I only wish to hear what Jhulqira has to say on the matter of this... creation of his.” Jhulqira rolled his eyes under his dark hood, his hair fringing across his eyelids. 

An Eladrin elder council member’s voice boomed, yet tinged with fear, “Look at her! She looks like a wild beast, a creature of nightmares. How can we trust such a being to guard us?” 

Another council member, her voice low and hesitant, added, “I fear this goes too far. We uphold balance and harmony, yet this... creation is a disruption, a harbinger of chaos.” 

Jhulqira, reserved and graceful, raised his hand to speak, his eyes closed, his face tranquil. Lady Dreamweaver’s rich, refined voice bounced off the chamber walls, “Jhulqira...? You may speak.” 

Lowering his hand, Jhulqira opened his eyes, focusing on the Archfey above, particularly the frantic Eladrin. “Yes, she is all of those things. I will not deny her unique features are... unsettling. But the purpose of this is not to instill fear into you, but into our enemies. If this scares you, good. I have done my job; I also cannot control your fear. To alleviate it, however, Angaria will spend most of her time in the Feydark underneath Rubellyn with me and my colleagues and will be deployed when necessary.” 

Pausing, he glanced at Lady Dreamweaver, who nodded, allowing him to continue. “Angaria’s creation is unorthodox. But I assure you, she is a weapon forged for the sole purpose of protecting Rubellyn. Her ferocity is directed only towards the malevolent, those who seek to bring harm to our realm.” 

Arkadius’s voice echoed, imposing and resonant, “Her power is undeniable, but can she maintain control, sanity, and discipline? I’d hate to see her lose herself to this... wrath you speak of.” 

Angaria, who had been staring blankly and menacingly, glanced at Arkadius. Her expression remained unreadable, though beneath, she was attentive and the was a small semblance of acknowledgment for her wellbeing. Something that seems alien to her, nonetheless there was an appreciation there. The sudden pain that coursed through her spine like lightning sent waves of agony into her brain, punishing her for feeling anything but suffering. A nosebleed trickled as she abruptly broke eye contact, wiping the blood with the back of her hand, resuming her motionless stance as the pain continued to wrack her pulsating nerves. 

Jhulqira replied, “Her loyalty is unwavering. She underwent prolonged mind-scraping, her synapses purged raw and conditioned. She is bound to the Axi company and Rubellyn. I have personally ensured her conditioning and indoctrination. She fights for us, not against us.” 

Illaikus, still irritated, finally spoke his mind, “Your words do little to assuage my concerns, Jhulqira. She may be a weapon, but even the most finely crafted blade can turn in its wielder’s hand.” 

Priallia, almost pleading, added, “This path we tread is dangerous. Angaria’s very existence challenges our values. We must be sure that such creations do not lead us down a darker road.” 

The council of the seeley courts murmured amongst themselves, reluctant yet understanding the increasing invasions and catastrophes wrought against them. 

A council member spoke, “We must weigh the potential benefits against our fears. If she can indeed protect us from the encroaching darkness, then perhaps her existence is a necessary evil.” 

Another Eladrin councilor added, “But we must establish strict oversight. You must establish strict supervision. Her power must be monitored closely.” 

Jhulqira nodded, bowing respectfully, a mockingly wide smirk hidden under his hood. “Agreed. I will ensure that Angaria remains under strict supervision. Her role is to safeguard Rubellyn, nothing more.” 

Lady Dreamweaver concluded, “Very well. We shall permit her to remain, but with the utmost caution. Angaria ‘Red Scale’ Axia will be closely monitored. Her actions will determine if she truly is the praetorian Jhulqira claims her to be. Thy gods and allies all, will be watching. Prove their suspicion false.” 

The council dispersed, their hearts heavy with lingering doubts and fears. Angaria’s presence left an indelible mark on the assembly, a reminder of the lengths to which they must go to protect their realm. As the hall emptied, Jhulqira and Angaria stood together, eyes fixed on the uncertain path ahead. Jhulqira let out a sigh, glancing up at Angaria, “Hm, that went well...” Angaria said nothing, her gaze unfaltering, still processing the immense pain of the implants within her. Jhulqira, only slightly surprised she didn’t turn to blind rage and lash out. Not that he wanted such a thing to happen, though the thought seemed amusing to him. He smiles at his own caliginous humor before signaling Angaria to follow him out of the assembly chamber. Little did the others know, Angaria was merely a gateway for further projects and augmentations. Angaria was a standard template for another breed of Axi warriors, this time a drow Axi with similar implants. The drow Axi will serve as Angaria’s Auxiliary, a stepping stone towards a Drow super-elven warrior he will soon introduce to Menzoberranzan under his family house’s name. However, this is saved for future plans. For now, Angaria will just have to earn the trust and respect of Rubellyn and her fellow Axi.

[xxgalacticambitionsxx]

i met valindra and yamaha today. in server. almost screamed when i saw valindra ngl

[ashebelle]

Valindra Shadowmantle exists so you are WRONG

lotta monsterfuckers on this site yet nobody’s horny for the undead lich… alright…