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As a side note I fucked around in the character creator a LOT in Bg3, ergo here are some Fealty faces:
I was SOOOOO close to playing as Fealdwulf
Bonus Fjord below bc his ponytail is important to me:
#dem plays bg3#a life of little things series#i maintain that fjord is half aquatic elf or whatever the hell they're called in exandria#anyways the bg3 half orcs were too bulky for a fjord#so i did half elf base and its so spot on for him lol#im case it isnt obvious clockwise from top left:#fealty Eadwulf#fealty astrid#fealty fjord#fealty jester
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Hey everyone! Hope y'all had fun for CR's 9th anniversary yesterday 💕 Today we have five fics with divergent canons! Some diverged before campaign events and some in how the post-campaign played out. As always, you can find them below the cut and if you check any of them out, I encourage you to leave kudoes and comments to spread the rarepair love 💕
I dream of you amid the flowers by glittergarbage (66,967 words, Explicit) Pairing: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast (Shadowidomauk) Warnings: Mentions of drug use by minors typical of Volstrucker experimentation
Molly comes back after Cognouza instead of Kingsley. Old feelings stir, new feelings are born, and polyam fluff between Caleb, Essek, and Molly ensues.
Reccer Says: A classic SWM fic, to me. It's all so sweet and lovely and I adore the way Essek and Molly's relationship develops. Essek apologizing to Caleb for developing feelings for Molly so fast compared to how long his feelings for Caleb took to develop is just. Imprinted on my brain. And there's so many good moments like that! Also the side of Trent intrigue that comes into play a bit later in the fic is a very fun addition, imo :3
your touch's so sweet (throw me in the water) by quinn_of_aebradore (1,872 words, Teen) Pairing: Fjord/Caleb Widogast (Widofjord) Warnings: None
Champion of Uk'otoa Fjord and Scourger Bren meet to hook up every so often. Fjord knows it's nothing real, nothing that could go anywhere, but when Bren teleports to his ship in the middle of the night he catches himself tempted to pretend anyway.
Reccer Says: A surprising amount of yearning for an evil-AU oneshot, and it's delicious. Fjord knows Bren is a Volstrucker and he still can't resist Bren's obvious moves to manipulate information out of him. Also, it's hot. That should probably go without saying but just in case.
the stranger who was your self by Demenior (60,045 words, Mature) Pairing: Fjord/Eadwulf Grieve/Jester Lavorre Warnings: None
Running away from the fallout of the end of the Volstrucker program (and maybe something Else), Eadwulf joins Fjord's crew, swearing fealty by rather dramatically kneeling before him on the dock and making Fjord very alarmed! He becomes the captain's bodyguard (and by extension, Jester's) and explorations of loyalty and power and, eventually sexy and fraught power dynamics ensue.
Reccer Says: Mostly alternates POV between Fjord and Eadwulf, but also some (very good!) Jester POV. Slow-burn between Eadwulf (aka the Captain's Hound) and the happy couple, plus Fjorester PDA that they think they're being subtle about (they are not). Also featuring Orly not being paid enough for this, despite being paid quite well. Came for the Eadwulf/Fjord power dynamics, stayed for the character studies and also for the crew (and for the power dynamics lbr). Now a series, there's also a threesome one-shot and Orly POV fic, with another installment apparently on the way!
Three Wizards by yesthisisnarumi (1,329 words, Mature) Pairing: Yussa Errenis/Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast (Shadowidoyussa) Warnings: None
Caleb has a thing for elven wizards. Elven wizards have a thing for him. Bickering, kissing, and more ensue.
Reccer Says: There is Never enough of these three in the world and this is such a fun take on them. Caleb constantly observing the contrasts between Essek and Yussa is delicious, the jealousy (that only makes them wanna make out more) is delicious, it's all just *chef's kiss* so fuckin good.
ebb and flow, love's sweet metronome by wytch-lyghts (12,972 words, Explicit) Pairing: Fjord/Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast (Shadowidofjord) Warnings: Recreational drug use, sex while intoxicated
On-the-run, evil AU Shadowgast pays a visit to their ally and sometimes-lover, Plank King Fjord. Unsurprisingly, they fuck about it.
Reccer Says: It's so hot. Like, insanely hot. Most of the action is between Widofjord and Shadowgast, but there's still moments of Shadowfjord and they're Very Good too. These three make Such a fun triad, especially in an evil AU. The dynamics, the push-and-pull, yes, the sex, all of it is so good. My Ao3 history says I've revisited it like ten times and I nearly got sucked into it for another read while writing this recc lmao
Thank you for joining us this week’s recc list! All the love to everyone who submitted a fic 💕 All enclosed recommendations were submitted by the community via our submissions form, which you can find here. All fic information is as it was provided by the reccer, so it may not be accurate to the author’s intent or the precise contents of the fic itself. Please assume good intent from all parties 💕
Submissions for next week’s list are already open! We’ll be featuring Keyleth Rarepairs. If you have any you’d like to highlight, you can send them in here. The week after that, the theme is Polyamorous Ships and the weeks after that we’re taking recommendations for Enemies to Lovers and Miscommunication fic! Submissions for all of these themes are currently open.
If you want more rarepair fic, check out @cr-summer-wildflowers and their event collections on ao3! If you want some friendship after all this romance, take a look at @critter-genfic-events and their recc lists! And if you’re interested in everyone’s favorite wizards, you can’t go wrong with the lists at @aeor-is-for-reccing !
Thanks all and have a lovely day/night/timezone! 💕
#critter rarepair recc lists#shadowidomauk#widofjord#fjord x eadwulf x jester#shadowidoyussa#shadowidofjord#critical role#cr fanfic
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Adventure: The Banebeast of Deolimar
What is your right, adventurer, to decide who the gods punish, and who they should spare? Is it your role to mete out mercy and justice, just because you picked up a sword?
Adventure Hooks:
While traveling through the northern hinterlands on their greater quest, the party hears tell of a rampaging monster haunting the countryside, and the great reward offered by the king for slaying it. Should they wish to negotiate their price, the party will need to seek audience with this barbarian ruler, and gain an invitation to his hearth.
Many destroyed villages dot the region. While these may be blamed on the beast’s marauding, a closer inspection by the party reveal that many of these habitations have been abandoned for years, and were destroyed by sword and fire, not tooth and talon. All the same, lesser threats from bandits to ghouls lurk in these places, so it is best not to tarry long.
Stalking the beast may prove difficult, as its sudden appearance in the kingdom and the swiftness of its attacks have resulted in many conflicting accounts regarding its nature and abilities. Some claim it is a dragon, some demon, while others that it is a chimeric beast of fur and tusk and batlike wings. Some rumors even mention its ability to talk, though these are surely exaggerations, aren’t they?
Setup: Its said the deep winters and harsh fjord valleys of the kingdom of Deolimar make for cold hearts, and none colder than their king Algard of the towers. This grey eyed conqueror turned a mass of feuding tribes into a kingdom, tore down wooden villages and built stone fortifications, and replaced centuries of clan tradition with his own ironwrought laws.
Now, at the end of his life, with his succession unsecured, the gods have sent a beast to torment the coldhearted king, ravaging his holdings and carrying off the herds of cattle that are his worldly fortune. Algrad is happy to have this matter over and done with and is willing to pay any warrior or hunter that does the beast in a kingly price, but not all is so simple as that.
This beast is a divine judgement, sent to harass and eventually devour the king as punishment for his numerous crimes and brutalities undertaken in the process of “civilizing” his homeland. The beast destroys Algrad’s fortressess the way he razed innocent villages to force others to swear fealty, and steals his wealth in a grim mockery in the way he filled his own vaults at the point of a sword. If the party take the cruel king’s gold and stop the beast, they may unset fate, or make themselves the new target of the gods’ reckoning.
Challenges & Complications:
Though it seems little more than a rampaging animal, the banebeast is indeed intelligent, and has been created with an absolute moral framework for why it should dedicate its existence to slaying the coldhearted king. The beast only speaks when spoken to, but if the players manage to engage it in the right arguments, they may be able to negotiate it away from any particular course of destruction.
Being sent from the old tribal gods of the hinterlands, the banebeast is a Mythic encounter, gaining new abilities once first defeated and restoring all of its resources. In particular, it gains the celestial subtype, and a radiant breath weapon that dissolves things in a burst of light. Most deadly of these is its divine rejuvenation ability, which grants the creature incredible HP regeneration until it has fed on king Algrad’s flesh. A savvy group might persuade the king to give up a pound of flesh to defeat the creature, but it is not within the nature of tyrants to sacrifice for their people.
A much neglected temple to one of the old gods of the hinterlands is said to contain an artifact that may help the party in their goals: a mithril bridle said to have been gifted by the god of bravery and used by a fabled hero to break the stallion of the dawn as part of a heroic task. This bridle could allow the party to steer the banebeast to earth, perhaps even prevent it from escaping, but the high priest and keeper of the temple refuses to lend her aid to the party if it means subverting the gods will. Can they convince this holdout, or can they steal the bridle out from under the watchful eyes of the gods and their servants?
Further Adventures:
The banebeast was the vengeance of the gods given shape, and if it is slain, that enmity must take on a new form. From its blood: a divine plague, affecting only those loyal to king Algrad, spreading first to the hunters who slew the creature, then onwards to the court. The city Algrad slew so many to build will empty, leaving none but the stubborn sovereign and those more fearful of the king’s wrath then they are of their body wasting away. The only cure? For the great lawgiver to be sacrificed ( or to sacrifice himself) on the altar of the old gods he once destroyed.
With the beast defeated or the king dead, the challenges are not over. Though Algrad spent the latter half of his life trying to sire an heir of his own blood to rule his kingdom, all his efforts came to naught, and he refused to accept the possibility of adopting or appointing another suitable candidate, as to do so would be to spurn his all important “legacy”. Some weeks or months after their visit to the kingdom of Deolimar, the party will receive a missive: the council of clan elders and petty nobles want them to visit for the election of a new monarch... an election that they surprisingly have standing in, given how momentously their actions affected the realm.
#D&D#D&D adventure#Homebrew Adventure#Adventure#DnD#monster hunt#nobility#hinterlands#highlands#mountain#winter#Take The Crown#temple#theif#plague#bossfight#knights of winter
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Unholy Holy Things Worldbuilding | Culture, Religion, & Politics - The Imperial Family and the Nine Great Houses of the Odisian Empire
After the Greatest War and the subsequent founding of the Odisian Empire by Valiana von Cavellius the First (as well as several other nations led by her compatriots), power in the northern regions of Valeros was divided between the ten most prominent Godslayers of the time--Emperor Valiana I of Odisia, Queen Hylmora of Triessa, Queen Evensiya of Cveralhk, Tormjor Wind-Sails of the Western Fjords, King Talemnos ‘the Clever’ of Caeronica, Eidkahren Kahrssen of the Naeklands, Grand-Chief Ylfsigar ‘the Ruthless’ of the Bloodlands, Lady Orena of Tithingvuuld, Queen Alagrata of Akavaria, and, of course, Mordinoff ‘Bleeding-Hands’ of the Malig Mountains.
Shortly after the conclusion of the Greatest War and the establishment of her new empire, Valiana I set about conquering the lands of her former companions. As her conquest proved unstoppable, she offered each Godslayer an ultimatum: surrender to her, swear fealty to Odisia, and live the rest of their lives out in peace and prosperity as an Archduke under the Imperial throne, or die where they stood.
In the end, only Mordinoff Bleeding-Hands refused.
His children were spared, however, and given the same choice. Mordinoff’s eldest son chose to surrender, and was created the Archduke Mordinoff shortly after his father’s corpse was disposed of.
Now, almost two thousand years later, the Nine Great Houses descend from the fallen Godslayers and serve as the rulers of the Nine Imperial Archduchies, under the throne of the Imperial Family--House Cavellius, descended from Valiana I herself.
Taglist and more info under the cut.
And now, a more detailed look at the Nine Great Houses and the Imperial Family.
House Cavellius
House Founder: Valiana I, the First Emperor
Current Head of House: Emperor Valiana XII
House Words: ‘Victory is inexorable.’
Notable Characters: Valiana XII (current Emperor, in very poor health), Hadriel von Cavellius (heir to the throne, one of UHT’s MCs), Iphne von Cavellius (Eighth Princess Imperial, one of UHT’s MCs), Calenia von Cavellius (Seventh Princess Imperial)
House Hylmora
House Founder: Hylmora of Triesse
Current Head of House: Archduchess Melaphine I
House Words: ‘Upon us, the sun shines.’
Notable Characters: None.
House Evensiya
House Founder: Evensiya of Cveralhk
Current Head of House: Archduke Domikiran IV
House Words: ‘Prudence, fortune, prosperity.’
Notable Characters: None.
House Tormjor
House Founder: Tormjor Wind-Sails of the Western Fjords
Current Head of House: Archduke Esken II
House Words: ‘The winds will provide.”
Notable Characters: Sanna von Tormjor (Archduke’s younger sister, good friend of Odelai’s)
House Talemnos
House Founder: Talemnos ‘the Clever’ of Caeronica
Current Head of House: Archduchess Talemna XV
House Words: ‘Strength in unity.’
Notable Characters: Calenius von Talemnos (High Imperial Consort, father of Hadriel, current Lord Regent)
House Eidkahren
House Founder: Eidkahren Kahrssen of the Naeklands
Current Head of House: Archduke Adfinn II
House Words: ‘Hunt by the moon alone.’
Notable Characters: Kjalli von Eidkahren (Adfinn II’s only daughter, one of many potential brides Hadriel’s father has found for him), Kel von Eidkahren (Adfinn II’s third son, studied the blade while everyone else was being heterosexual), Korrask von Eidkahren (Adfinn II’s youngest son, has bad luck)
House Ylfsigar
House Founder: Ylfsigar ‘the Ruthless’ of the Bloodlands
Current Head of House: Archduchess Silna VI
House Words: ‘Death before cowardice!’
Notable Characters: None.
House Orena
House Founder: Orena of Tithingvuuld
Current Head of House: Archduke Galyaniv III
House Words: ‘Wisdom above all.’
Notable Characters: Yakovai von Orena (Archduke Galyaniv’s heir and youngest son, really likes Calenia von Cavellius but would shoot Hadriel if that wasn’t treason)
House Alagrata
House Founder: Alagrata of Akavaria
Current Head of House: Archduchess Faleine I
House Words: ‘To the flames with glory!’
Notable Characters: None.
House Mordinoff
House Founder: Mordinoff ‘Bleeding-Hands’ of the Malig Mountains
Current Head of House: Archduke Vordin I
House Words: ‘Drink your blood, child of the mountain.’
Notable Characters: Archduke Vordin I (Odelai and Malvina’s grandfather, total POS), Ilyakai von Mordinoff (Vordin’s oldest son, Odelai and Malvina’s father, deceased, Godeaten), Ivyan von Mordinoff (Vordin’s younger son, Imperial Consort, father of Iphne and Calenia von Cavellius), Odelai von Mordinoff (Vordin’s Godsblood-less grandson, Ilyakai’s only son, one of UHT’s MCs), Malvina Sanclarens (Ilyakai’s bastard daughter, Godeaten, one of UHT’s MCs).
Taglist: @elywritesbydarkness, @sprigofbasil, @scaevolawrites, @maskedlady, @metanoiamorii, @anomaly00, @error-404-error-not-found, @hekat-ie, @aurieeeeeenyx, @kaseylynnwriting, @unholieds, @jauntymushroom, @tae-mv, @veiliza, @hysteriwah, @amywrites256, @pressedpapyrus, @ultimatecryptid, @cream-and-tea, @chuchoters
#writeblr#writblr#writers on tumblr#novels on tumblr#original fiction#unholy holy things#uht worldbuilding#myedits#holy SHIT this is a MONSTER of a post#this literally took HOURS#the edits were simple and quick but all the typing#ALL THE TYPING#please pay attention to this
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Fig and Fjord embody the two extremes of what warlock-patron relationships are like
I present to you Warlock PC-Patron relationship descriptions in the format of those titles for highly specific spotify playlists (I have not created any of these playlists):
Fig: you’re a high school freshman and you just learned your the product of your mom’s affair with an archdevil and you free your father from a gem at a skate park and he gives you powers
Fjord: you’re a drowning sailor and a giant eyeball gives you a sword and speaks to you in your dreams and puts salt water in your lungs and promises you dominion over the ocean and threatens you when you disobey
Sofia: you’re a Staten Island hairdresser who’s drinking her way through what she initially thought was a divorce but learned was a cover-up for her husband’s murder and as you start to recover you meet a talking bodega cat in Queens and offer your fealty
Zahra: something something about the moon? You’re really cool though.
Leland: your boss gave you immense powers in your undeath and you try and you try to impress him and catch his notice but it’s never enough and he won’t even use your real name and your desire to impress gets caught up in other desires and you pine for him and become jealous and everything you do still isnt’ enough and then he explodes and is diminished and you finally let go of your jealousy and you learn he was an objectifying unfaithful creep so you swear your loyalty to his infant son instead, borne of a woman you once envied but now respect
#fantasy high#critical role#escape from the bloodkeep#the unsleeping city#warlocks#fjord stone#fig faeth#sofia bicicleta#Anonymous
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Functionally, would Erathis be the Exandrian equivalent to Hestia?
I’ve been thinking about this for a while but I’m struggling to come up with an answer. I see parts of Hestia in Erathis, yeah—specifically her lack of bias and dominion over the balance of justice. But I also see her in Sarenrae, a deity of forgiveness and redemption, plus the bonus of an association with an inextinguishable beacon light likenable to the fires of the hearth. (I actually play a cleric whom I’ve built to be my interpretation of a Hestial Virgin, and her fealty is to the Everlight.) And then from my own personal relationship with her, I also see echoes of Melora around the edges, the nurture and support she shows, the maternal love and protection Matt gives her in the moments he plays her. That dream that Fjord had where Melora intervened in his pact with Uk’otoa and sheltered him within her mantle is everything Hestia is to me.
I, uh... I might be too close to the issue to make an unbiased assessment, really... 😅
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Fjord, to the Bright Queen: I cannot speak for my friends, I will let them speak for themselves, but I would say I do not know. I do not know you, I do not know this land or this Dynasty. I’m interested to learn. That’s the best I can offer.
Caduceus: We serve the living. For as long as we walk in your kingdom, we will serve all goodness that we come in contact with. But, we do not, and I also apologize if I speak for everyone...we are new to this place and would know it better before we would feel comfortable giving you such fealty. I’m not saying it won’t happen in the future, I would just say that I would like to know you better, know your people better.
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by GrannyBoo
There is something discomfiting about the halls of King Urtusk’s castle. It wasn’t anything Caleb was able to put his finger on while he and his procession made their way through the grounds of the citadel, it came much later, when he’d exited the lavish carriage he rode in alongside his Lord, Trent Ikithon, silently following along and watching. Observing the behaviour of everyone they passed and cataloguing their actions, their words, unsure of what Ikithon would request in his debrief later in the day.
After he is…gifted to the King.
-Or-
Arcanist prodigy Caleb is gifted to King Fjord Urtusk with ulterior motives from Ikithon.
Words: 2406, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English
Series: Part 1 of Sworn Fealty
Fandoms: Critical Role (Web Series)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Categories: M/M
Characters: Caleb Widogast, Fjord (Critical Role), Mollymauk Tealeaf, Caduceus Clay, Jester Lavorre, Beauregard (Critical Role), Yasha (Critical Role), Nott (Critical Role), Nila (Critical Role), Trent Ikithon
Relationships: Fjord/Caleb Widogast
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Royalty AU, King!Fjord, Archmage!Caleb, Discovering agency, Identity issues leading to lack of agency, Eventual Smut, Eventual Happy Ending, Slow Burn, PTSD
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Сологад - Howling Fjord (eu) head: Shadow Council's Hood neck: Heart of Azeroth shoulder: Shadow Council's Mantle back: Parrotfeather Cloak chest: Shadow Council's Robes wrist: Wraps of Everliving Fealty hands: Shadow Council's Gloves waist: Primal Gladiator's Cord of Prowess legs: Darklight Legwarmers feet: Steamburst Treads finger1: Commander's Signet of Battle finger2: Rot-Scour Ring trinket1: Ancient Knot of Wisdom trinket2: Balefire Branch mainHand: Jinyu Meditation Staff
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BIBI H - HOW IT IS (WAP BAP...) [1.43] Not our most disliked song ever, but awfully close...
Alfred Soto: My skin started unpeeling from its bones the moment the opening acoustic guitar and piano announced their fealty to false cheer. No one's going to sing "Wap Bap" because even three-year-olds know "it's" not how it is. [0]
Thomas Inskeep: I know I can sound like a cranky old man when I dis internet "fame," but this reinforces all of those thoughts and prejudices. This German vlogger has inexplicably received over 37M views for this look-at-me-I'm-pretty barely-stringing-together-phrases video/barely-a-song, and it really does make the likes of Paris Hilton sound like, I dunno, Radiohead. I bet Bibi H went to the Fyre Festival. [0]
Will Adams: With all the hate being directed at "How It Is," you'd think Bibi was using her obscenely inoffensive song as a platform to sell you shitty iced tea. Sure, it's a bad song -- it's an uphill battle when all you've got is a ukulele and cloying optimism -- but its knee-jerk designation by many as being the "WORST SONG EVER" speaks volumes more about the detractors than it does Bibi. It sucks and it's unfair: this gets pages and pages of YouTube reaction videos with all-caps titles and mouth-agape thumbnails, while the Mrazes and Marses of the world go multi-platinum for the same bullshit. "How It Is" won't matter in a few weeks when the Internet finds something new to point and laugh at; my cynical hope is that when the cycle repeats, it's for something far more deserving of this level of scorn. [2]
Cassy Gress: This is a thoroughly confused concept: lyrics apparently written by a 12-year-old pretending to be an adult, orchestration courtesy of library music (that's not the actual song but may as well be), video of sexy girl in sexy dresses rolling around in bed. One point for effort, I guess, no matter how incoherent it ended up. But this doesn't deserve to be the 6th most hated Youtube of all time, not when there's like, actual Nazis. [1]
Iain Mew: I don't know if I want to understand the forces that elevated this so quickly to the sixth most disliked video in YouTube history. Sure, it's twee in a way that sounds like it might be on a weather forecast ident and its mundane lyrics take a puzzling turn at the end, but while I wouldn't go out of my way to listen to it more, it's harmless and I'll take afectless vocals over plenty of the common alternatives for this stuff. [3]
Maxwell Cavaseno: Europe needs to get every which way to the hell out with this nonsensical, Betty Boop-oop-e-doop ass bullshit right now. Hell to the Tom Green nauh buddy. I already struggle enough with the occasional returns to blithe twee Hallmark Card commercial soft-pop, now you're doing this with some "Lemme just hit two notes for a whole song" type from the fjords blathering about things just being what they are, and who cares lol? NO. NO I CARE, OK?!? And I'll take any sort of hyper-alarmed feeling of energy than this slow asphyxiation of sunlight and cotton candy and dullness. C'mon man... [1]
Joshua Copperman: Look, there's so much backstory to this song, involving Warner Music, colossally overpriced singles, and a German YouTuber whose entire existence apparently revolves around manipulating young children, so I'm just gonna hope other Jukebox writers cover that part. To my ears, this is not bad enough on it's own merit to warrant the amount of dislikes, but it's certainly bad. The backing track sounds like the production music in those 30-second Facebook news videos, Bibi's voice is not just robotic in pitch but in delivery, and the lyrics remind me of the old Internet game of translating a song through Babelfish and seeing the results. In this case, the source must have been "The Way It Is" by Bruce Hornsby, and the attempts at making Bibi seem like a human being (I lost my job! My credit card was denied!) are somehow even shallower and clumsier next to Hornsby's poignance. Maybe it's not Bibi's fault, considering she didn't write it - she just doesn't have the Range. [3]
[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]
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The Legend of the A-Khela, Part I
The Legend of the A-Khela
A Tale of William Kennedy, Bard of House Lorain
In the wild North, they tell many strange tales. Witches who fly around in a mortar or have houses made of candied bread. Blue skinned giants who do battle with gods wielding hammers forged in the stars. Horned demons that kidnap naughty children and beat them with reeds before devouring them. It's a place and a people unlike anything I've ever seen in my travels. Some people say that they are uncivilized or barbaric, but having lived among them for a time, I find they hold a culture that would rival that of even the noblest houses in the kingdom. A culture of harmony with nature, of honor between brothers, of giving everything for one's people. Beneath their rough exterior lies a truly noble sentiment. After spending a month listening as a shaman recanted legends by the communal fire in the shadows of a gathering stone, it is my privilege to recount for you an ancient legend which traces back to the earliest days of the North. A tale of dark magics, of proud warriors, of black-hearted betrayal, and of great sacrifice. So begins the legend of the A-Khela….
Deep in the rolling hills and rocky crags of the northern highlands lay the city of Ravndal, the seat of Thelm Broadshield. The village lay within one of the many fjords along the Northeastern coast, where the Dakthorn Forest met the sea. The Broadshield clan had brought their village to a place of prominence through raids and alliances with the heads of other villages. They also controlled valuable resources of iron within the fjord’s cliffs, making Ravndal a center for trade. Eventually, Thelm was granted the title of Arl, winning the fealty of many of the other chieftains of the North. However, some chieftains refused to swear their loyalty. They withdrew into the rugged tundra of Valkensvi, but raiders bearing the colors of these rogue clans would often appear in the lands of the Arl, attacking traders or hunters and occasionally ransacking and burning small villages on the outskirts of the Arl’s domain. Occasionally they were joined by criminals or mercenaries from the south, but the renegades never had enough power to directly challenge the might of the Arl’s forces.
So life continued, and in Ravndal many children came of age. Among the greater houses were two young women, Annariel and Astred. Both were of slim build and fair skinned beauty. Their light hair and brilliant blue eyes caught the light of the sun and sparkled like spun gold framing twin sapphires. However, they were far from fragile beauties. They were the daughters of great warriors, and the two had trained together alongside other warriors since they could first hold a sword. While both mastered combat with the sword and shield, Annariel often traded her sword for a spear, striking at distance before closing for a fatal thrust, while Astred favored the bow, raining a hail of precisely placed arrows down upon any who stood before her. The two women often fought side by side, and despite their youth they were heralded by the Arl for their valor, who named them shield sisters. The two were inseparable, and even the bravest of warriors fled before the purple banners of the shield sisters. They were often dispatched by the Arl alongside a small group of talented warriors to search for raiders from the renegade clans and expel them from the Arl’s lands.
In response to a particularly brazen spree of raids on the border of Valkensvi, Thelm dispatched the shield sisters to investigate. During their first encounter with the enemy Astred was wounded when an enemy warrior had rushed her during an ambush. The attack had been much fiercer than any the two had ever encountered. Their foes would suffer wounds that should have instantly been fatal, but they would continue to fight for quite some time. Even the loss of a limb did nothing to dampen their rage. Berserkers had long made up a core of the renegade raiding parties, using potions and other natural materials to enhance their strength and endurance. However, these men were driven by something far darker. As the men tended to Astred’s wounds, Annariel examined the corpses of the men they had slain. Their bodies bore scars that formed jagged, sprawling runes. Annariel did not recognize the inscriptions, but looking on their ragged and scabby filled her with an intense sense of unease. Night was falling quickly, so the scouts made camp for the night. Annariel left her compatriots behind to scout the surrounding area in case there were any reinforcements nearby. With her spear and shield at the ready, she crept through the dense briars that covered the space between the great forests and the tundra. As Annariel approached a clearing surrounded by ash trees, that feeling of unease returned. The trees were black and twisted, their branches contorted into unnatural shapes. As she moved closer, she began to hear a woman chanting in the ancient language only spoken by the shamans. The runic speech was similar to that spoken by the shamans of Ravndal, and their incantations had often brought healing or settled the spirits of those who heard them. However, the words this woman spoke had a sickly, haunting tone, and they brought no comfort to Annariel.
As she reached the top of a ridge, she could finally see the chanting woman standing in the middle of a stone pool, her face cast in shadows by the twin moons overhead. The shaman was draped in a cloak of ravens feathers, and on her headdress she bore the crest of the Blaghvold Clan. This clan was the first to oppose the Arl, and many thought the clan’s chieftain sought to unite the renegades and overthrow the Broadshield clan. The shaman was surrounded by warriors, their chests stripped bare and covered in deep cuts. Their eyes were rolled back into their heads, so the circle seemed to stare at the feather-clad priestess with pure white eyes. The blood flowing from the cuts on their chests poured into the pool. As the shaman’s chanting grew louder, the blood rose in fine tendrils around her, twisting and waving in the air, encircling the gathered berserkers in their grasp. Suddenly, with a loud shout from the shaman, the tendrils seized the warriors. Each man gave out a bloodcurdling shriek, their backs arching to inhuman degrees as their bodies contorted under the manipulation of the blood magic. Annariel was frozen in horror as the warriors were lowered to the ground. Their wounds were mystically healed, leaving behind the same runic scars she had seen on the other slain warriors. As the warriors rose, their bones cracked as their joints reset themselves. Annariel have out an involuntary cry, scared and revolted by the sounds and sights of this ritual. The shaman and her warriors all turned and saw Annariel crouched amid the briar.
“Get her, you fools!”, the shaman cried. The warriors rushed towards Annariel, picking up whatever weapons they could pick up on their way. Some had their swords and axes nearby, while others brandished tree branches or rocks. Annariel quickly came to her senses and ran towards where her troops were encamped. However, the camp was miles away, and the blood magic had seemingly instilled the renegade warriors with immense stamina. They chased the shieldmaiden relentlessly, throwing whatever they could pick up in attempts to trip her. Annariel blocked several projectiles with her shield, continuing to race towards her camp. Suddenly, she found herself facing a high cliff. She had descended it without issue on her scouting mission, and would not have had any trouble ascending under other circumstances. However, surrounded by 9 berserkers infused with dark magic, she could not climb to safety. Instead, she leveled her spear towards her attackers and readied herself to die fighting. The largest berserker loosed a great war cry and charged, raising the tree branch he wielded to crush her skull. Annariel raised her shield and thrust her spear towards her enemy. She heard a scream of anguish, but her spear was met with only thin air. She looked out from behind her shield to see what had struck down her foe. She half hoped it was an arrow from her shield sister’s bow. What she saw before her, however, was not the feathered fletching of an arrow.
It was a wolf, with its teeth buried deep in the throat of the berserker. This was no ordinary wolf. It was slightly larger than normal, and its jet black fur was marked by thin white streaks, as well as white paws and a white face and snout. A pattern of white and black fur on its forehead appeared as though it was a rune. The wolf tore the warrior’s throat out, coating its fur in blood. The wolf let out an earsplitting howl, then bared his fangs towards the remaining berserkers, staring them down with its golden eyes. The berserkers shook visibly, unnerved by the new foe they faced. Annariel, however, found new courage in the wolf’s cry, and she hurled her spear towards another of the berserkers. The spear buried itself deep in the warrior’s chest, his heart impaled on the blade as it exited his back. The wolf barked in approval, then lunged at another enemy. The shield maiden gave a mighty war cry as she drew her sword. While the wolf wrestled with its latest victim, Annariel blocked a blow from a berserker axe. She then severed the arm of the offending warrior. She instinctively ducked as the wolf jumped over her to maul her attacker, having already disemboweled his previous opponent. The shield maiden and wolf became a whirlwind of blades and fangs, systematically decimating the remaining berserkers. Only one managed to escape the bloodbath, retreating back towards the stone pool. Annariel was too tired to pursue the fleeing warrior, instead collapsing against the rock face. The wolf walked up to where she was lying, and sat back on its haunches. Its head tilted to the side as it looked at her. Annariel swore that the wolf was somehow assessing her injuries, which were minor, as if it was concerned. Suddenly, she heard a twig snap, and the wolf jumped to his feet. It quickly sniffed the air, then, with one last look at the shieldmaiden, darted off into the forest. The next thing Annariel saw was her shield sister limping towards her. The two embraced each other, both happy to see the other alive and well. They made their way back towards Ravndal to report what they had encountered.
The scouting party secured horses in a nearby village and ride swiftly for two days and nights before reaching Ravndal. They entered the village gates just as the sun was beginning to rise over the eastern hills. Annariel and Astred were both summoned to the Arl’s quarters to report on their mission. The throne room was deserted save for the Arl seated on his throne of wood and tron and Gellena, the oldest of the clan’s shamans. She had served both Thelm’s father and grandfather, and the runes that spiraled along her gnarled oaken staff told the entire history of the North. Hidden behind her wrinkled face and piercing grey eyes were the greatest secrets and most ancient magics known in the North, her inheritance as the latest in a proud succession of elder shamans. As Annariel described the ritual she had observed and the enemies that she and Astred had faced, both the Arl and shaman’s eyes grew wide. The Arl’s mind was filled with thoughts of rebellion and civil war among the clans, and he began to earnestly question the two about how many men they had seen, and how such berserkers could best be overcome. She answered each question to the best of her ability. However, for some reason, she left out the wolf that had come to her aid. In contrast to her Arl, Gellena stood silent, her fingers tracing along her staff. The two shield maidens and the Arl paid her no attention, loudly discussing various strategies for taking down armies of these new foes.
Suddenly, the old shaman slammed her staff on the floor of the throne room. The other three immediately fell silent and stared at the old woman as she slowly walked towards the fire in the center of the throne room. She began to chant in the ancient language, her normally quiet voice booming throughout the hall. The flames leapt from the pit, twisting to form the outlines of warriors with their weapons drawn.
“The prophecy has begun!”, she said, tapping her staff with her long fingers as she recounted the ancient words inscribed there. The flames shifted to illustrate her words, crackling and flashing as they changed their shape. Gellena spoke of a time when a great leader would rise unite the North. “It was said that his reign would bring about an era of peace and prosperity, and many would herald his greatness. However, others would grow jealous of the leader’s power and fame, and they would conspire with the dark forces of the world to end his reign. Their warriors would shed their fear of pain and death in pools of blood, and rise to fight endless battles against the lands of the North, and their merciless slaughter would spare no one”. The flames showed berserkers slaughtering men, women, and children without mercy, their wickedly shaped weapons extinguishing the light of life in these flame beings.“Even as great warriors would give their lives to defeat these blood ragers, darker forces would be brought forth by those desperate to gain power”. The flames contorted into monstrous forms the likes of which none present had ever seen. Horned demons with great clawed hands and grotesque boars with six legs and tusks the size of spears rose amid the flames, tearing through battle lines of warriors with ease. The Arl and the shield sisters looked on in horror at what they saw. They could not see any way for anyone to prevail against such power and evil.
Gellena continued, “But there is hope. A champion will arise, and he will rally a force that will defeat even the strongest of foes. None shall stand before him and live, and he will drive back the darkness”. Flames showed an agile warrior fighting against the fiery demons. Slowly he overcame one after another of the foul creatures. The Arl pressed the shaman to reveal the name of their savior. “It is not written”, she replied, “he will only be known by his mark, and by omens yet to be foretold. But with him will come another”. The flames split to form two identical entities. “As other chieftains grew jealous of the great leader, so too will one grow jealous of the champion. This man will outwardly be steadfast and loyal, but a dark secret lies deep within, a hidden lust for power and a disregard for the costs of success. He will betray the champion at every turn in a ploy to take his place. Eventually, his ambition will lead him to forge a pact in blood and dark magic with those who would destroy the great leader and seize his power. Should he succeed, the champion will likely fail to gather his force, and the North will fall to the betrayer and those with whom he has made his dark pact. He will rule as a tyrant, and all will suffer under him. Fear will dominate the world and an era of darkness will blanket the North. The arl begged to the shaman to tell him how they would recognize the betrayer. She said, “He will be a great warrior, handsome and strong. Many will hold him in high regard, not thinking for an instant that he is capable of any wrongdoing. His heart is well hidden, but you will know him by his mark as well. It will be unnatural in appearance, and it will serve to herald pain and suffering. One will rise and one will fall. Either the champion will disperse the darkness, or the betrayer will help it consume us all”. The shaman slammed her staff on the ground again, and the dancing flames were immediately extinguished. The throne room was left in darkness, as the sun’s rays had not yet penetrated the narrow windows. The two shield maidens and the Arl looked at each other, each silently considering everything they had just heard. Thelm rose from his throne and called in several of his advisors. He thanked Annariel and Astred, and the shield sisters left the hall as a solemn discourse began among the gathered advisors.
In the months that followed, more and more reports of the blood ragers’ activities reached the walls of Ravndal. They attacked boldly and without regard for their losses, Often leaving no survivors. In response, Thelm Broadshield dispatched an ever increasing number of patrols to try and defend his lands. Annariel and Astred were often on the front lines. They formed an exceptional effective pair, with Astred’s arrows bringing down foes while Annariel kept them at bay with her spear. However, one day the blood ragers became the least of their worries. The two were in a village that had already repulsed two bloodrager attacks when a lone scout ran gasping into the village. He was bleeding from several wounds, and he barely made it through the village gate before he collapsed. The women rushed over to him. His wounds were obviously fatal, but they didn’t seem to have been caused by any weapon the sisters had ever seen. With his dying breath, the man whispered one word.
“Wolves”.
The two women barely had time to process what they had heard before a sentry’s horn sounded from the eastern tower. Astred raced to the top of the tower while Annariel gathered the town militia to supplement her scouts. As Astred looked out towards the treeline, she could see large, dark shapes moving swiftly among the trees. At first she thought they were towering blood ragers, but as she watched them she realized that they were moving far too fast to be men. She knocked an arrow and pointed it towards the woods, waiting for whatever was lurking to emerge.
She didn’t have to wait long. As the arrow settled on the bow, a pack of fifteen giant wolves burst from the woods. Each of these beasts stood as tall as a warhorse, with menacing yellow fangs and and fiery red eyes. Their matted black fur was caked with blood and gore, evidence of their past slaughter. Astred instinctively loosed her arrow. It struck one of the wolves in the front rank, but the wolf showed no acknowledgement of the injury. The wolves then began to howl. This was a hunting cry, and it instilled a sense of fear that none had ever felt before. Before Astred could even reach for a second arrow, the wolves charged the wooden battlements of the village. Astred and the few sentries that had held their nerve fired a quick succession of arrows, but they did nothing to halt the advance of the beasts. The wolves did not slow as they reached the base of the wall. They crouched low, then used their powerful legs to leap over the battlements with ease. Once Annariel’s assembled forces saw the black beasts land, many threw down their weapons and fled. Those who stood firm braced themselves for an attack. The wolves stared down the shield maiden and her militia, their teeth barred in what seemed like a wicked smile of one who reveals in death and destruction. A few of the wolves then broke off towards other parts of the village, intent on hunting down the residents incapable of defending themselves. The largest of them, the pack’s alpha, and the others remained to face the town’s defenders. The alpha let out a threatening howl. Annariel responded with a equally fearsome war cry, and she charged the wolves with spear and shield raised. The warriors behind her joined the charge, inspired by the fearlessness of the shield maiden. The wolves lunged forward with fangs bared and claws extended.
The two forces clashed. Swords and axes hacked through thick fur and leathery hide while teeth punctured armor and flesh. Shields shattered under blows from the wolves’ massive paws. Arrows from the sentries on the walls continued to pour into the fray. Screams of the villagers and frightened animals added to the cacophony of battle. In the middle of the melee stood Annariel. She stood alone before the pack alpha, the two locked in single combat. She pointed her spear at the massive black beast using her shield to deflect swipes of its paws while jabbing at the alpha’s face and forelegs. The alpha used his superior agility to circle the shield maiden, looking for an opening to sink his fangs into her soft flesh while trying to knock her over with his great strength. It took every ounce of skill Annariel had to stay alive. After rolling under an attack from the alpha’s paw, she heard the wolf give out a cry of pain. Its left eye had been pierced by an arrow. Annariel looked to the battlements for an instant to confirm the source of the arrow. Sure enough, Astred was there, already preparing to loose another arrow. The second found a home next to its brother in the alpha’s bloody eye, eliciting another howl. Annariel knew this was her chance. She dove forward between the stomping paws of the alpha. Rolling onto her back underneath the wolf’s body. As the alpha turned its head down to glare at the her, Annariel thrust her spear straight up into the great wolf’s chest. The alpha gave a horrible death scream, and its body convulsed in its final death throws. Annariel clung tight to her spear, but she was thrown from under the wolf by its final, violent movements. She crashed against the wall of a nearby building. Her vision blurred as she struggled to maintain consciousness. Astred rushed to her shield sister’s side, her bow ready to bring death to any who would threaten Annariel. However, the death cry of the alpha seemed to have robbed the other wolves of their will to fight. They fled quickly, leaping over the nearest section of the village wall and retreating into the forest.
Astred helped Annariel to her feet, supporting her shield sister with her shoulder. The two surveyed the damage to the village. Almost half the men who had stood against the wolves were dead or wounded. Women rushed around the village attempting to tend to the wounded, while others tried to assess the damage to the village. Nine of the militiamen had managed to bring down a second wolf. Its great black corpse was pockmarked with sword and axe wounds, and the warriors were dragging it to lie beside the slain alpha. Other warriors worked to clear the bodies of the dead which littered the village. Annariel shook her head, knowing that the funeral pyres would burn for many days after this attack. She fought to join the efforts to return the village to a state of normalcy, but her injuries and Astred’s firm admonitions prevented her. She was laid in a bed alongside others who had been wounded. Before she faded into unconsciousness, the man beside her turned to her and smiled. He spoke only two words.
“Hail, Wolfslayer.”
To be continued...
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“Puppy,” for a split-second Fjord thinks the endearment is for him, and his mouth opens to answer to it, “come here.” Eadwulf pushes up to his feet. “Down!” Jester snaps. Fjord flinches. Eadwulf drops into a slump. He’s watching them with laser-like focus. “Dogs don’t walk,” Jester says, and she keeps Fjord pinned with one hand while she beckons Eadwulf with the other, “they crawl.”
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#jester lavorre#fjord stone#eadwulf grieve#critical role#a heart that howled fic#a life of little things series#its jesters world we just live in it#im sure many of you remember this line from an early fealty piece i was playing with <3
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Jester surprises Fjord out of his thoughts when she waves Eadwulf over with her outstretched hand, and says, “puppy, come here.” Fjord blinks in a daze. His head is foggy with sleep, that’s all. There’s no way she called him puppy. Eadwulf looms over their hammock, mouth and brow pinched tight. Jester gestures him closer, and grabs the front of his jacket to help lift herself so she can kiss him, “good morning. Have a good day at work.” Eadwulf clears his throat, but doesn’t say anything. His ears are pink. “And Fjord too,” Jester adds. Fjord moves in a haze, like he’s dreaming, and pushes himself up enough to accept a kiss. Now there’s a blush across Eadwulf’s face. Fjord’s face is hot to match. This was unexpectedly domestic— goodbye kisses before someone goes off to work. They both look to Jester. Her tail wags against Fjord’s leg under their blankets. “Thank you, puppy,” Jester says, “have a good day.”
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#critical role#jester lavorre#fjord stone#eadwulf grieve#a heart that howled fic#a life of little things series#this is the fealty series. eadwulf is their loyal hound dog bc they found him at his most pathetic#and fed him once and now he won't leave#and jester thinks its funny to call him a puppy because of it
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Astrid would hate sailing, he thinks. She would especially hate sailing with Fjord and Jester. The chaos, the lack of hierarchy and the close quarters of it would make her mean and miserable. They could have hid away in their room together, waiting out the journey until they could escape the confines of the ship. The thought should be funny, and only makes his chest feel tight. She’s small enough that they could have shared a hammock, she might have made allowances for that kind of prolonged contact. Eadwulf would probably have slept on the floor anyways, to give her the space she needs. He tries not to think about her, but his hand is reaching into his bag before he can stop it. The dark doesn’t matter, he knows the handkerchief and other items by touch alone. He holds it to his face for a moment, picturing that it still has Astrid’s smell. That she’d only just discarded it, frustrated with her imperfect stitching, and she hadn’t noticed him pocket it when she left to go study with Bren. It’s been years since he collected this, and just as long since it stopped smelling like her. Eadwulf holds it tightly in his fist, feeling the other small things wrapped inside of it, and then he pushes it all back down to the bottom of his bag. I miss you. I’m sorry it had to be like this, he thinks, as if she could hear him, and then I wish that was enough.
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#eadwulf grieve#fjord stone#jester lavorre#critical role#a heart that howled fic#a life of little things series#my stuff#<3 the fealty trio back at it again#eadwulf is like a herding dog lmao he NEEDS work or he will pick tasks for himself#and nip your heels while doing so
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Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fjord/Jester Lavorre, Fjord/Eadwulf Grieve, Eadwulf Grieve/Jester Lavorre, Fjord/Eadwulf Grieve/Jester Lavorre, Fjord & Eadwulf Grieve, Past Fjord/Sabian Series: Part 4 of A Life of Little Things Summary:
The connective tissue in all of his greatest mistakes is that Eadwulf allowed himself to love his Masters. Every Master he swore to serve, and protect, and he turned on them for the next. An unending chain of betrayal. A pattern of dangerous behavior.
He must kill the human heart in him. The one that lingers, against all odds, and leads him into disgrace.
You are a dog, he writes in his notebook. Fjord and Jester sleep on, oblivious, you are a dog. You are a tool. You are a weapon. You are not a man. Be a dog. BE A DOG.
Or
Traveling with Fjord and Jester has established a new normal for Eadwulf’s life: that nothing will ever be the same again. It’s hard to let go of the past, especially with the carnage he left behind in Rexxentrum. And he’s not the only one grappling with changes...
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#eadwulf grieve#fjord stone#jester lavorre#critical role#ITS HERE ITS TIME!!!!!! FEALTY 2 IS LIIIIIVVEEEEEE#a life of little things series#a heart that howled fic#my stuff
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Now on the horizon, Eadwulf thinks he can see white smoke. Somewhere in there are two ships. He’s relieved they’re far away. It won’t be a bother for them to get around the trouble. “Pirates?” Jester wonders. She sounds dangerously thrilled by the concept. “They’ve raised the black. They’re hunting,” Fjord lowers his spyglass, and he glances around the ship. The Emerald Heart doesn’t have cannons. Eadwulf has checked. He doesn’t have to know ships to know that this one was not made with battle in mind. Should they go into a fight, they have no hope of helping. Eadwulf also knows that Fjord leans towards heroics. And it wears on his morals to abandon a fight, even if he cannot win. “They’ll be upon them before we can reach,” Eadwulf offers, to ease Fjord’s worries. “Not if I can help it!” Jester calls. She immediately begins weaving a spell. Fjord nods, and a wide grin spreads on his face. It’s a dangerous grin. Eadwulf is blindsided with a wave of homesickness. How many times has he seen that smile on Astrid’s face?
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#eadwulf grieve#fjord stone#jester lavorre#critical role#cr2#i have been holding onto a plot point in this chapter since i started writing fealty 2#and i have been SO careful not to let anyone know about it#it is a fucking RELIEF to finally get to release it to the world#hands down one of the hardest secrets i've ever kept#a life of little things series#a heart that howled fic#my stuff
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