#campaignverse

[rejectlegacy]

GENERAL D&D/CAMPAIGNVERSE

Tweaks will be made as more events happen within my 16th level mini-campaign!

IMPORTANT CHANGES FROM HIS BG III VERSE

In this verse, Alden cut off his own horns/hexblood crown which weakened his connection to the hag his parents made a deal with. Through his sacrifice, the connection was weakened enough that he was able to flee without her being able to track him after running away.

They have a necklace that is enchanted with disguise self which they use to look like the fair skin/non-red version of themselves

They're keeping the whole hexblood + despair consuming thing a secret from the party

fighting so many necromancers with his party, the Emerald Knights, has been great bc it turns out there's a lot despair centered around necromancers : ' )

all bg iii references removed

In this verse Alden's family are infamous warlords who are thought to have died out around the same time he was taken by the hag/disappeared.

In this verse Hexbloods are considered extremely rare. If people were to find out he is a Hexblood they'd use him as a Eerie Token creation machine, a sort of spellcasting focus, as some sort of grim zoo exhibit or kill him. All horrific options, really. His fellow Emerald Knights/party wouldn't treat him that way but he himself doesn't know that so he keeps it a secret STILL.

LORE PROVIDED BY THE DM: The hag that cursed you, Alden, is called a bheur hag (said like "burr"), and since it's not Auntie Ethel, I'll say her name is Verna the Cold. Typically Verna appears as a tiefling "medicine woman" or druid who rarely leaves her cottage in the mountains. You would know that Verna enjoys making deals with vulnerable people and loves cutting people down to make herself look better. Even amongst the other hags in her coven, Verna was considered selfish. Since you made your escape, you've only encountered her twice. Once was early on, maybe level 2 or 3, when she tried to plead in disguise for you to "come home for dinner." You saw through her and revealed who she really was to your party, though you kept your true connection to her a secret.

MORE DM PROVIDED LORE: The second time you encountered her, you had grown much stronger and more powerful than her. You were helping your party track down Shadryx, the lich you are about to confront, when you remembered that Verna had once had a party full of necromancers over "for dinner" (aka to feed on their despair, when you weren't enough for her). You recognized that they were recruiting people for Shadryx's forces. Verna turned them down, but not after letting them reveal where his base was and how many people were already recruited. You couldn't remember the location--you were fed on so you promptly blocked that night out, except for the dinner--but you knew where to find her, since you'd learned a way to track her in reverse. What you told your party was that you'd made a deal with her previously and she failed to deliver. You confronted her in her lair; whether that means you killed her or tortured her for information, that's up to you. Point is, you emerged from the lair truly free of her, but the trauma still lingers. And since the rest of the coven have since gone into hiding before you could all kill them too, they're not likely to forget you either.

ALDEN'S PARENTS (DM provided info): Nebriinae Warman (née turamarth) and Eudalia Warman. Alden would know that Nebriinae married into the Warman family and that mom (Eudalia) was usually the one to make big decisions.

ALDEN WARMAN & THE EMERALD KNIGHTS

Over 10 years ago, Alden met his party/travel companions. This ragtag group of adventurers have all had their own, traumatic pasts. For example the drow grave domain cleric, Elacan (she/her -- 647 years old, of noble blood, wears mostly gray & purple) used to work for a lich and have a lawful evil alignment before coming to work with the party and shift to a lawful neutral alignment. Meanwhile Mercy (she/they, 47 years old), the circle of spores druid/rogue is the last of her clan called the Zygom. The group that is misunderstood due to their association with death and decay. Her people studied mushrooms and mycology to understand cycles and stages of death. From her understanding the reason her tribe is dying out is because of the work done by a double agent to mess up recruitment and the overall image of the tribe. This work was done and enacted by Shadryx and co. Mercy decided to start adventuring as she believes it is her legacy to change society’s image of their people. She cares about order in the natural role and is really disturbed and distressed when she sees people operate outside of the natural order of life and death. The last party member is a mysterious, all pronoun using barbarian warforged name Barkentree. He looks a lot like Groot from Marvel comics. He has a deep rooted (pun intended) trauma that he has yet to share with the party.

For the past 10 years the party has been studying, tracking, and preparing to kill a powerful dragon-lich (Elacan's former boss, actually...). Will his whole party survive the final fight or will they lose friends along the way? Only time will tell...

Essentially in this verse he and his party members are ex-bad guys or at least, people who were forced to do bad things who upon escaping their horrific pasts have strived to be forces for good.

MORE LORE TBA.

[naberiie]

the funniest part about running a star wars campaign set in the clone wars/twilight of the republic years is that your ragtag group of PCs will triumphantly save the universe!! just in time for palpatine to completely shatter that victory within the year!

[evaceratops]

the “at least one finished piece per month” goal i set for myself this year kinda didn’t happen for february so here’s everything from my sketchbook instead

[evaceratops-art]

partners in murder cover-up ✨

commissioned by @naberiie!

[userpoe]

if poe and rescue battled for volya’s hand in marriage who would win

evaaaaaaaa buddy you don't ask the easy questions huh 👀 okay, okay, so context for everyone else: Rescue is a Clone Medic OC of mine who works for the Coruscant Guard and is part of the escort assigned to Volya while she's working as a diplomat in the og campaignverse.

Alright, alright, alright this one was TOUGH, but I think...I'm gonna have to go with Poe on this one (and not just cos it's Poe).

Don't get me wrong, I adore my og kiddos, but I really mulled over their relationship last summer, and while I never got around to exploring it in any fic, I don't think they stay together romantically very long.

Their paths eventually go so separate, and they're both changed by what they experience, and it really lets them both re-evaluate things. I think, in particular, Volya overestimated how much she actually liked Rescue, and Rescue...goes through some shit and decides he needs to work through that, and they both come to the realization that they might work better as just friends and partners in the field.

And perhaps it's because I wavered for so long on whether or not I even wanted to put Voy in a romantic relationship, but it sometimes felt pretty one-sided to me.

And I also think there's a big difference in how I write Volya with Rescue versus how I write her with Poe that makes the answer kind of obvious: Volya isn't...really dorky...around Rescue. She's a diplomat now, she has a responsibility for Coral Squad, and she wants to prove that she can do this! So she focuses more on appearing to be a competent leader and Jedi, that I think she sometimes forgets to also be that sarcastic ray of sunshine from the Archives we all fell for. And it's fun writing Volya be confident in her abilities, and being a good leader!

But by comparison, when I write her with Poe, she's just as action-ready and competent but she's also the goofy caf obsessed gal who walks into walls and gets lost easily and sometimes (quite frequently) misses the obvious. She banters more freely, more lightly (seriously I can't ever get her and Poe to shut up when I write them), aND she just comes off so....happy. Which, god, after everything I've put her through in the last three years, she deserves.

Ask me about my oc mayhaps 👀

[aunclesquishy]

@donotingest Alright so first of all, me and my bf renamed ratfolk 'kiffie' and that in our campaignverse 'ratfolk/rat' is a slur, because otherwise it'd be like humans calling ourselves 'monkeypeople.' SO his name is Geg, and he's a 16yo kiffie (about 20-22 in human years), and he's an albino. He also has one big scar going from his forehead, down his spine, over and under his tail, and it branches off along the back of his arms and hands and each of his fingers, and branches off again from the back of his legs and under his feet (kind of like a stick man). He lived in a warren in the sewers of a city called Velkrand, where he apprenticed under his alchemist mother since childhood. He's rly weak (strength 7 with a -2 debuff if I remember right), but what he lacks in brawn (and social skills) he makes up for in brain. Compared to other warrens underground, his has to scrape by for survival taking odd jobs and stealing what they can't afford. The other guys would tease him saying he couldn't even steal a free sample. Not like they could be too hard on him, seeing as he and his mom were the warren medics, and you don't bite the hand that heals you. As he got older, Geg started questioning his mother's methods, since she relied on tradition and old books, and they weren't always guaranteed to work, or they didn't target the real problem. 'His cold is gone but why was he sick in the first place?' So rather than rely on outdated methods, Geg started doing his own research in plague alchemy by listening in on above-ground alchemists, stealing whatever ingredients and books he could, dissecting and sketching whatever dead small animals he might find (especially actual rats), and he even used himself as a guinea pig. He fell in love with studying diseases. He did this all in his room when everyone was asleep and kept his things in a hole under a tile under his bed. One night he was caught with his flayed dead body on the floor and his skin just walking around, after doing his first successful skinsend (which is suicide on yourself in combat, but if you use it on someone else it's BRUTAL AND AMAZING). He put his back on but naturally this person flipped the fuck out, and woke up everybody and told them what happened. Geg was immediately kicked out of the city but allowed to take his stuff with him because they didn't want somebody else getting their hands on it and doing who-knows-what. He liked the idea of adventure and setting out on his own but never seriously planned on actually DOING it, especially so suddenly. He has no idea wtf he's doing and he's awkward and nervous af so on the one hand he wants to prove he can be badass but on the other hand he needs someone to tell him what to do.

[faceutil21-blog]

캠페인판 대전략 II(Daisenryaku II - Campaign Version, キャンペ?ン版大?略II, Great Strategy II - Campaign Version) Г

캠페인판 대전략 II(Daisenryaku II – Campaign Version, キャンペ?ン版大?略II, Great Strategy II – Campaign Version) Г

캠페인판 대전략 II(Daisenryaku II – Campaign Version, キャンペ?ン版大?略II, Great Strategy II – Campaign Version) 캠페인판 대전략 II(Daisenryaku II – Campaign Version, キャンペ?ン版大?略II, Great Strategy II – Campaign Version) Daisenryaku_2_-_Campaign_Version-full.zip (805.09 KB) 캠페인판 대전략 II(Daisenryaku II – Campaign Version, キャンペ?ン版大?略II, Great Strategy II – Campaign Version) 첨부파일 다운 받으세요~   운영체제 :…

[skydc21-blog]

캠페인판 대전략 II(Daisenryaku II - Campaign Version, キャンペ?ン版大?略II, Great Strategy II - Campaign Version) ㎀

캠페인판 대전략 II(Daisenryaku II – Campaign Version, キャンペ?ン版大?略II, Great Strategy II – Campaign Version) ㎀

안녕하세요. 이번에 소개드릴 자료는 캠페인판 대전략 II(Daisenryaku II – Campaign Version, キャンペ?ン版大?略II, Great Strategy II – Campaign Version) 입니다. 아래 첨부파일을 클릭하시면 다운로드 됩니다~ 캠페인판 대전략 II(Daisenryaku II – Campaign Version, キャンペ?ン版大?略II, Great Strategy II – Campaign Version) 유용하게 사용해보세요. ^^ Daisenryaku_2_-_Campaign_Version-full.zip (805.09 KB)   운영체제 : WinXP/WinVista/Win7/Win8/Win10   지원언어 : 한글   제작회사 : CampaignVersion  …

[naberiie]

hmm i think i am now officially a star wars fan Poser. evidence: haven’t watched aaanything since tlj, only vaguely knows plot/characters bc of listening to friends, reads spoilers when they come up out of vague passing interest like i do for media i’ve never heard of, reblogs fanart based on vibes

[naberiie]

lekku headcanons that no one asked for

while asleep/cuddling, lekku will wrap around close partners’/bunkmates’ limbs (most often arms) or, if partners/bunkmates also have lekku, they’ll intertwine around each other

if lonely or stressed, someone’s lekku might curl around their own arms while they sleep

massive faux pas to touch lekku without explicit permission, as this is seen as an extraordinarily intimate gesture - some parts of the lekku are more Off Limits than others, i.e. the underside and close to the base of the skull

especially those two - underside and close to skull - are erogenous zones. no touching without explicit permission, and even then move with care - they are VERY sensitive

...which can also be used for fun :)

massaging lekku is one of the most intimate things one can do for a partner with lekku

on the other end of the spectrum: grabbing and yanking someone’s lekku can cause temporary swelling, hearing loss, and - if pulled very hard/for a prolonged period of time - can lead to permanent brain issues

lekku ‘socks’ (or lekku-warmers) for keeping lekku warm and/or cuddling/napping with a person with whom they don’t feel close enough to literally bare their lekku. good for cuddlepuddles, arguably the entire reason they exist in the first place

the fattier and longer the lekku, the more attractive they are to other twi’leks/togrutas - it’s a status symbol

there are cosmetic procedures to modify both of these

the oldest and most powerful clans have lekku-jewelry version of their clan’s kalikori - elaborate and intricately carved pieces of thinly hammered metal linked together with delicate chains and decorated with precious jewels

some of these are now too long to be worn without dragging onto the floor, and are valuable pieces of twi’lekki history that are stored in safe places across the galaxy in order to keep them safe

some of these kalikori headdresses and lekku jewelry can be seen depicted in ancient art on ryloth, and their physical counterparts still exist!

lekku can be used to stim! swaying, twisting, wrapping together, etc

a person might pull their lekku in front of their shoulders to stroke them for comfort

the sign of an extremely good liar is the ability to keep lekku utterly still during conversations, because otherwise it’s easy to get a general sense of the state of their emotions from how the lekku move

[evaceratops]

oc aesthetics - jedi knight azlin eko

[naberiie]

jedi at the fancy gala, what mischief will they get into

(so much. so so so much)

[naberiie]

ama and misi sharing a bed maybe,,,,,,, i am soft for the them

The nightmares were very loud tonight. He was in her head, whispering and smiling his horrible dangerous smile, and Amaranth pressed her forehead onto her folded arms, willing him to get out of her head. Curled into a ball, tight as she could fold her body, pressed into the corner of the bunk, but he still slunk through the gaps in her mind until she wanted to vomit - maybe that would get him out of her head, maybe that would make everything quiet again.

She had known that, eventually, this would happen. Sooner or later. She’d told Chyth, Gavri’el, Virus, and Rang what had happened, she’d told them what she’d done. She’d told them why she’d done it. It made sense, she supposed, that giving voice to her secret would make him ooze out of the mental place she’d locked it away in.

She just wanted to sleep until she could get it back under control. If only Azlin were here… but she’d been called away on some mission.

Amaranth felt terribly, dreadfully alone.

There was a quiet knock on her door.

She froze. The barracks were under this room, she knew; had she woken some of the troopers up? She tried to keep her tears quiet - maybe it hadn’t been enough-

“Ama, it’s me.”

All the tension in her body fled at once and she slowly sat up, wiping her eyes. “Misi?” Her voice was hoarse, cracked. “H-hold on.”

She managed to get out of bed, noticing the time as she did - a little after one in the morning. She’d slipped to her room early that night, immediately after dinner, because she’d felt this panic bubbling up from her guts. She hadn’t wanted to bother anyone. When she opened the door, Misi stood in front of her, a blanket thrown over his shoulder and a pillow tucked under his arm. She stared at him, confused.

He gave her a warm, concerned smile that almost made her cry all over again. “Hi. I figured you didn’t want to be alone right now. Is it okay if I sleep here tonight?”

She stared at him and then asked in that quiet voice, “Was it… you sensed… uhm. T-the Force?”

He nodded, and she stepped to the side to let him in. He made his way straight towards the other bed and set up there, and Ama perched on the edge of hers, watching. He was already quieter, in her mind. Like Misi’s appearance had scared him back towards the locked place in her mind - not all the way, not yet. She was glad Misi was here, but it wasn’t... enough.

“Misi? Can I…” she shifted, and then pointed to his bed, before pulling one lek over her shoulder and holding it against her chest. He patiently waited while she found the words. “Can we. Can we share? Sorry, I just don’t… I don’t want to be alone. Not tonight.”

He smiled so gently at her that she had to look away, digging through her clothes to find a pair of lekku-warmers. “Of course. That’s how the troopers sleep, too, most of the time. It feels more secure like that.”

That’s exactly what she needed right now. He let her get in first, so she was against the wall, let her get settled and comfortable. As he turned off the lights, he said quietly, “If it gets bad again, wake me up. We’ll work through it, okay?”

She nodded and curled in close to his chest as he settled in the bed next to her. It was dark, but she wasn’t alone anymore. She fell asleep listening to his quiet breaths, secure and safe next to him, safer than she’d felt in a long time.

She didn’t have any more nightmares.

[naberiie]

"would some tea help?" + ama & any of the gangTM?

The ceiling of the ancient temple loomed above them, their small fire on the verge of being swallowed by the absolute darkness that had reigned here for millennia. Ama picked up a handful of Tython’s rubble, long reduced to pebbles, and let the fine stones slip between her fingers. 

“It feels like we’re barely allowed here,” Volya admitted quietly, shifting as she gazed up, up, up into unknowable darkness. They’d already been descending for the better half of the day, and had stopped to take a quick break. Most of the others were dozing in the same way a clip rested in a blaster: ready to spring into action at the merest twitch of necessity. “Like this place is taunting us, almost.”

The three archivists were huddled together, speaking as quietly as they could, both in order to not disturb the ones who rested and the dark stillness itself.

“Yes,” Brider agreed in a soft voice. “I’m worried that it wants us to see its heart, that we’re approaching the… event horizon, as it were.”

Amaranth shivered and couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder. She wasn’t sensitive, but even she could feel the eyes of something watching the party pick their careful way down the ruins. The fire popped and crackled, the sound muffled, almost nervous. 

Her lekku prickled with unease, and she suddenly had to divert the conversation away from its current path. She twisted behind herself and pulled her pack forward, setting it in her lap and noisily opening it as she dug through the contents. “This sort of talk won’t help us,” she said briskly, in her most confident voice. She thought she saw the troopers, the General, glance her way - as if she’d broken some sort of rule by speaking confidently, even as false as it sounded to her own ears. “I think some tea would help us. At least help settle some nerves.”

Volya perked up. “You brought tea!”

Ama nodded and pulled out the tall canteen. “It put the tea bags in last night, so it’s been steeping since then.” She opened her mouth to apologize for it being tepid, almost chilly - but the canteen was warm to the touch. It burned her fingertips. It almost beat in time with her own heart, warm and… and alive… Like something had kept it purposefully hot, in all those hours. That wasn’t possible…

“Something the matter?” Brider asked, worried.

Ama forced herself to brighten, to remain confident and cool and collected, even though touching the canteen made her want to throw it to the shadows. “I was just trying to figure out how strong it will be,” she said, and hoped her smile was convincing enough. She didn’t know what she would do if the Jedi got unnerved. If they were scared of this place… but she could keep their spirits up, in any small way she could think of, and maybe that would be enough. 

She brought out some of the travel cups, and handed one each to Volya and Brider before turning to the rest of the company. One of the troopers accepted the offer, and when she poured the still-steaming cup for him, she saw his expression falter, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion - but he simply nodded his thanks and raised it to his lips without a word. Volya exclaimed over the taste and smell, how it seemed to chase dangerous thoughts away.

The silence still pressed down on them. Ama drank the tea, and wondered, privately, who had kept it warm for her.

[naberiie]

“when was the last time you slept?” - ama + azlin

“Where does this one go?”

“Those plates go up on that shelf–can you reach it?” Ama asks, and is immediately rewarded with a look of proud disdain from the young, brightly-colored Nautolan helping her clean up for the day. She laughs a little, holds her hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry, beta, I know you can manage.”

Tip flexes their hands for a moment and then stops. Their huge eyes flick towards the entrance of the Rose Lantern, which Ama locked in front of them so they could be assured that she’d done it. And then they clamber on top of the stepstool and put the clean plates away, without using the Force. Ama bites her lip but continues to wash the dishes, both of them purposefully ignoring the way the plate wobbled, ignoring the way both of their nerves twisted in fear at their instinctual reaching out through the Force. It’s safer, now, if they don’t use it. But purposeful disuse after a lifetime of training to manipulate it? It must feel like a tourniquet in their mind, she thinks. A slow strangulation, violent retraining, of one of their most natural instincts. But they don’t complain. Tip gets back down and picks up the drying cloth again, and neither of them speak. She knows they can sense her fear, and she knows how exhausted they are.

It’s hard to find something to talk about, now, anyways. Words seem to always fall short, nowadays.

So they focus on cleaning the restaurant. Purposeful, engrossing work that they could do together. Three days since Tip stumbled in through the door, three days since Ama had mentally moved one name from the long list of dead, missing, gone into the list labelled alive. It is much shorter than the first. Three days of the pair of them focusing on the small things, on the things they can change, the things they still have power over.

The bell above the front door chimes. 

Her blood runs cold. Tip, too, is frozen, and for a moment all they can hear are soft steps, quiet breathing, the door swinging shut. Her family is all upstairs; her roommates are all accounted for. 

Danger.

“Stay here,” Ama hisses, drying her hands, eyes fixed on the kitchen door.

“But-”

“If it’s stormtroopers,” she goes on, quietly, “your pack is by the back door.”

“Ama-”

“Stay hidden, I’ll come get you when it’s safe.”

They might have sighed in exasperation but she’s already moving through the kitchen into the restaurant proper, putting on her best imitation of her mother: confident and warm yet with absolutely no room for arguments. “Sorry, we’re closed–the door was locked for a reason, and-”

She stops, not quite trusting what she’s seeing. She knows those eyes, huge and strangely colored and so haunted, now.

She takes a step forward, and when the apparition doesn’t vanish, Ama moves one more name from the long list of the dead to living.

“Azlin?”

“Hi, Ama,” comes the answering whisper, exhaustion flaking away the strength of the Shadow’s voice like embers. “Sorry about the lock, it’s just-”

Ama doesn’t really remember crossing the room but she doesn’t believe Azlin’s actually here, actually alive, until she’s thrown her arms around the Shadow, buried her face in the thick hood of Azlin’s huge cloak. And she’s certainly not prepared when Azlin starts to tremble, her arms tight around Ama’s waist.

When Azlin chokes back a sob, the reality of the past two horrible weeks hits Ama all over again. Ama just sinks to the floor, tugging the Shadow down with her, and Azlin follows without a fight, curling into Ama’s arms like a lost child. Her quiet sobs echo in the empty restaurant, and when Ama glances back towards the kitchen she sees Tip peering around the corner. For just a moment she can almost pretend everything will turn out okay. She asks Tip with a sign to bring something to drink and they duck back into the kitchen. She’ll wait to relock the door until they’re back in the room, so that they can see her do it. So they can both see her do it. Small reassurances.

Azlin finally uncurls herself from Ama’s lap and she looks so exhausted that Ama doesn’t know what to say. So she just sits and holds Azlin’s hands, wiping away the tears on her cheeks. She’s relieved to see Azlin alive, but her relief pales in comparison to the terror of what Azlin’s life has now become. She remains quiet.

When Tip comes back out of the kitchen, carrying a tray with three glasses and a pot of hot tea, Azlin starts in shock, staring at them. Ama goes to the door and locks it again, the click providing some small sense of security for them all. Tip pulls a cushion next to Azlin and–taking care to make sure their poisonous skin doesn’t come into contact with hers–rests their head against her shoulder. They close their eyes and Ama wonders if the world feels empty to them, if it’s too quiet for them.

She pours the water while the former Jedi catch their breaths. When Azlin looks up and accepts the mug of tea, she looks like she just needs the warmth of it and cups it close to her chest. The door is locked, the lights are all turned out, and their little neighborhood is quiet. For now, it’s safe. “Azlin,” she begins softly, and then wonders how she could possibly voice all of her fears, her worries, her concerns. How to ask about the last two weeks of fear? They’re all so close to breaking.

Azlin holds her gaze, the skin under her eyes bruised, Tip still curled up against her.

Ama lets out a quiet sigh and, after a moment, knows what to say. She asks the questions that she knows will convey everything. “Have you eaten? When was the last time you slept?”

Azlin shrugs, unsure of how to answer, and Ama nods, rising to her feet. She doesn’t know how to set the world right again, she doesn’t know how to make it stop hurting. But she knows how to do this. “We’ll eat, and then we’ll talk. And then you’ll sleep here, alright? For as long as you need.”

Azlin nods. It can’t be forever; they all know that. But at the very least, it’s something.

At the very least, they have each other.

[evaceratops-art]

this wasn’t intended as bday art and i wasn’t originally gonna post it but it does happen to be @naberiie’s birthday today so happy birthday em!! i love u very much