#feeblemind

[saschacantrip]

He feeble my mind until I... until I... uh... I...

[lakrisrot]

New fic:

[thefrostychemist]

Cast Feeblemind on a Druid while they're wildshaped so they forget how to change back

[dubiousartiste]

Still haven't recovered... Any MHA Fans here? :D

[lucky-bishop]

Haha y’all ever hear a song that you haven’t heard since you were fifteen and immediately take 4d6 psychic damage, fail an intelligence saving throw, and start crying?

[tiamat-zx]

First time someone attempts to alleviate their pain and Beau?

AO3 Link for those who wish to leave kudos and comments! I would greatly appreciate comments.

“A Terrible Thing To Waste”, 800 words.

Hope it’s to your liking!

—————

Beau’s head hurts. It feels like it’s been aching for forever, her thoughts overwhelmed by a neverending wave of pain.

Bit by bit, she slowly remembers how it happened.

It had been just a routine investigation at an archaeological site, the initiates under her command working hard to record their findings so that they could be sent back to the library in Rexxentrum.

And then, it happened. An unexpected explosion of arcane force. The resulting shockwave passed through everyone present.

Thankfully, a majority of the monks and wizards managed to shrug off its effects.

Beau, however, wasn’t so fortunate as her guard was down.

All at once, the shockwave overwhelmed all of her senses.

Her thoughts were rapidly spiraling and… fading, like parchment quickly burning away.

Her awareness of the world around her was also fading, as if being enveloped in a thick, impermeable fog.

In her last moments of cognitive thinking, she knew what was happening.

Somehow, it was a trap left behind from the Age of Arcanum. A trap designed to cripple unlucky interlopers through stripping them of their mental faculties.

Or in layman’s terms, it was a mass casting of Feeblemind.

After that, her mind had shattered completely.

And the next thing she knew, she was just acting on feral instinct, lashing out at anyone that got too close. That is, until she was subdued by her people.

And now she’s finally waking up.

“Fuck…” Beau says in a raspy voice, having been unable to speak for… however long it had been since the trap had triggered.

She squints her eyes, her thoughts just barely stitching themselves back together. She’s back in the library in Rexxentrum. Did the archivists on site manage to bring her back here?

How many made it back? And how many were lost?

“Ow!” Beau winces as she rubs her temple. Too much thinking. It hurts to think right now. She even notices that her diadem had been removed, the circlet on a nearby table.

“Ah, you’re finally awake…”

Beau turns her head — ow, too quick, my head’s about to explode — and sees Yudala Fon approaching her. The look of genuine concern is unmistakable on their face.

“High… Curator…” Beau mutters as she tries to sit up. Her head is pounding heavily, protesting the movement.

“Easy, Beauregard. You’re only just managing to recover,” Yudala chides her gently. They help Beau get into a sitting position, a lot more slowly this time. Beau tries to steady her breathing amidst the pain in her head.

“Head… hurts…”

Yudala nods. “Must still be feeling the residual psychic damage from that trap. Here.”

The high curator’s hand lights up and they touch Beau’s temples, casting Cure Wounds as a means of dulling the pain. It does help, somewhat.

Beau exhales slowly. “Thanks.”

The two just remain where they are, taking their time until the fog in Beau’s mind lifts more and more. After several moments, Beau allows herself to open her eyes. It doesn’t hurt anymore.

“I feel much better now…”

“Good.” Yudala helps Beau out of her sickbed and onto her feet. “You’re fortunate to not have had any lasting damage. Some of the others weren’t so lucky. Out of the eleven that went with you, five of them were completely overtaken by the trap and were lost. Those that remained got you back here for treatment.”

“And how long ago was…?” Beau asks hesitantly, not looking forward to knowing how long she was out.

“You were brought back on the same day, then you were laid out for another two even after the Feeblemind effect was lifted.”

Beau frowns, her brow furrowing just as deeply. “And Yasha? Have you notified her?”

Yudala nods. “Yes. Your wife and family have been informed. They should be on their way to come pick you up as we speak.”

A clear and concise answer. Beau can appreciate that. It sucks that she lost three whole days to a fucking wizard trap, and that five of her people were lost to it, but overall it could have been way worse.

“And our findings? Did you get a hold of them?”

“Yes. But we can discuss that later,” Yudala says matter-of-factly. “You just need to go home and get some rest. Please.”

Beau sighs melodramatically, but she’s not about to object. After all, she left Yasha, Clara, TJ, and the kids alone for three days. Far too long.

“No argument here. If I’m not home for a day longer, Yasha won’t let me live it down.”

A moment of silence follows before the expositor and high curator end up chuckling.

Again, all things considered, it could’ve been way worse.

And normally, Beau would be reluctant to ask for time off, being the workaholic she is.

But today can be an exception.

[fionir]

Illya pushed him away after his tongue touched her. Embarrassment that had no blood to color her face with came over her. “Why did you not counterspell, you arrogant…” Gen looked at her empty eyes darting, ears tucked back and a low rumble emitting from the back of his throat. His breathing was heavy, raw fear and confusion plain on his face. There he was, her pet. Maybe she should leave him this way, it would save her so much trouble. She reached out for his face and he flinched but not far enough to avoid her. She tilted his head up by his chin. “Give me your ruby!” She ordered knowing it would be pointless. Language was nothing to his scrambled brain. But she would not be made to go to Tara to fix this. In fact she would not leave this room with the Sorcerer in this state. If either of their friends got wind of it… Illya scoffed, still waiting for the cat to follow her orders. Gen stared at her without a hint of understanding. She looked him over, almost surprised his foolish confidence didn’t have him wearing it outwardly. Detect Magic glazed over her eyes, opening it to more of reality… He had his items on him… most of them. That old dagger of his, with the astral shard. An ever growing array of magic wands… her phylactery hanging there above his heart, dimm necromancy easy to miss under the powerful veil of abjurations he had woven over it. She gritted her teeth and glossed over the token of trust. Trust she wasn’t sure he still deserved.

I felt like elaborating on the "shipping content" mentioned earlier... (also last time I just posted a deviantart link of this and yeah... well not how this site work. so have it here properly this time.)

[utilitycaster]

Honestly one of the weirdest things I've found with this campaign is how many people take Ludinus Da'leth's statements just...at complete face value? Like especially when I recall how everyone was like "if Trent Ikithon is speaking he is, if not lying outright, deliberately misleading" which to be clear seemed like a very reasonable conclusion, and yet now we have "guy who, even if you haven't seen Campaign 2, where he consistently comes off as someone who will say quite literally anything to get the desired result, shows up and in his first appearance pulls the exact same Trent lying by misleading implication bullshit, and also destroys a researcher's mind and casts something at Fearne" and people are like "well, in the same breath in which he implied he was Ruidusborn, which he was not, he also implied without explicitly saying anything definite that he survived the Calamity. This, clearly, must be 100% true. How uniquely cruel of you, in fact, to doubt the unfathomable pain of a real live Calamity survivor."

[dent-de-leon]

It makes my heart hurt how gentle Ashton is when he sees what Ludinus did to the professor. Understanding how it feels to be lost and confused and have your head hurt like hell, grasping at missing memories. Making sure he communicates clearly, asks how she feels. "Do you know them? Would you like to go see them? Would that make you happy--"

[jacksoldsideblog]

what do you think they were feeding those Project Mayhem monkeys? reconstituted astronaut food? slop? mass cooked simple ingredient summer camp meals like burgers and pasta? gel diet?

[callabang]

based on his spells I'm assuming vice principal grix was a warforged wizard at minimum level 17, and wow look what's right under dominate monster on the wizarding spell list:

[knightlyss]

“I’ve been angry for 30 years. help me find a place to use it”

oh keyleth is gonna fuck ludinus up

[lunarrolls]

37. feeblemind with ashton and orym?

this prompt then proceeded to haunt me for an entire twenty four hours. i wanted to write some good ol’ mindfuckery, but my instinctual need to make the scenarios of these prompts make sense simply could not fucking justify a feeblemind being thrown at either of these guys. if you REEEALLY want that mindfuckery, masterqwertster wrote an ashton feeblemind/greater restoration ficlet on this same prompt list! HOWEVER. i did write something. i’m stretching the list a bit here, but i had the idea after hours of puzzling and i HAD to get it down. SO. hopefully this is a suitable replacement!

•

Feeblemind is an eighth-level enchantment spell on the bard, druid, warlock, and wizard spell lists.

You blast the mind of a creature that you can see within range, attempting to shatter its intellect and personality. The target takes 4d6 psychic damage and must make an Intelligence saving throw.

On a failed save, the creature’s Intelligence and Charisma scores become 1. The creature can’t cast spells, activate magic items, understand language, or communicate in any intelligible way. The creature can, however, identify its friends, follow them, and even protect them.

At the end of every 30 days, the creature can repeat its saving throw against this spell. If it succeeds on its saving throw, the spell ends. The spell can also be ended by Greater Restoration, Heal, or Wish.

•

“Do you ever think about that professor?”

Orym starts a little at the question. It’s been a quiet watch, nothing much going on tonight, and for the most part him and Ashton have been content to simply sit in comfortable silence while the rest of their friends sleep. The sudden inquiry comes out of nowhere, and Orym has to think for a second to answer it.

“Yeah, I do,” Orym says. “The lady in Yios?”

Ashton nods. Orym notices that they won’t meet his eyes—their gemstone gaze stares off intently into the distance. “Kadija. Kadija Sumal, that was her name.”

He trails off into silence, obviously working at whatever he really wants to say. Ashton’s jaw always tightens when he’s got something to say but isn’t sure whether to say it. Orym’s noticed that he usually errs on the side of silence if interrupted, deeming the sentiment pointless after a moment, so he waits quietly for his friend to chase the threads that tangle behind the glass encasing his opalescent mind.

“She—she was ruined, Orym,” Ashton says.

Orym is caught slightly off-guard by the tightness of their words, mirroring their jaw—it’s uncharacteristic of them to be openly bothered by someone they’d only met once.

“Ludinus just—“

They make a grandiose hand gesture.

“I dunno. He just—he just waltzed in there and—and broke her like it was fucking nothing, Orym. She didn’t do anything.” They blow out a breath and roll their shoulders, staring down at the ground with a familiar angry expression. “I’m not making any goddamn sense. Whatever. She just—she’s just on my mind, is all. Random thought.”

Orym sits for a moment, tilting his head and trying to recall exactly what had happened at the Seminary. Ashton had vanished for a while, off on some random mission with an acquaintance from a million years ago (which, honestly, Orym was surprised that hadn’t happened more often given the sheer amount of random and strange people Ashton seemed to know all across Exandria), and then reappeared on the steps. Together with Chetney, they’d blackmailed the lady at the front desk and threatened her with a ladle (which was very funny, honestly, Orym had been a little sad that the Crown Keepers hadn’t seen how he’d handled that, he had a feeling they’d approve), and then ventured up to the classrooms only to find Imogen, Laudna, F.C.G., and Fearne crowded into a small office room, surrounded by a chaotic mess of fluttering papers. Orym had immediately thrown himself into searching for clues, making sure Ludinus wasn’t coming back (though, at the time, none of them had any goddamn idea who that asshole was).

But he remembered Ashton’s impromptu interview of the professor. The blankness of her stare. The childlike placidness she displayed, sitting alone and small in that room.

Ashton had offered her water, asked her what her name was, been gentle and even kind to her. Orym’d almost never seen them like that—even when they were at their softest, admitting affection for Chetney and F.C.G. on the deck of the Silver Sun, he’d never seen them act that way any other time. Even though the professor’s name hadn’t stuck in his mind the way it clearly had Ashton’s, he remembered the moment very clearly.

“Are you worried about her?” Orym asks, attempting to mirror Ashton’s distant stare into the middle distance. “Or… something else?”

“No, no, not worried about her,” Ashton says. “That fuckin’ place was absolutely crawling with mages. She’s probably fine now. Just—I hate Ludinus for that.”

Orym swallows his own white-hot rage at the mention of the name. He feels his expression harden.

“She was just a teacher,” Ashton says. Orym sees their fists clench out of the corner of his eye. “And he shattered her. Completely robbed her. She didn’t even have a way of fighting back, didn’t fucking threaten him or anything. She was just briefly in his way.”

Another pause. Orym hears Ashton shift across from him, curling in on themself, a hand on their hammer.

“We only got away from the Key at all because of Keyleth,” Ashton says bluntly, “because of that asshole buff lady and the fucking wizard guy who knew about my head. If they hadn’t been attracting his eye, who the fuck knows where we’d be now. You saw how he broke them too.”

And, oh, did Orym see it. He sees it every time he closes his eyelids, every time he gets too comfortable.

“We can’t ignore this,” Ashton continues. “But I—ugh. Fuck. I don’t know.”

“You don’t want to be broken again,” Orym says softly.

“No,” Ashton replies, finally glancing down at him, “I don’t want you all to be broken. And he can just fucking shatter us like fucking eggshells.”

Orym considers this. Lets it wash over his skin like an ice bath. Breathes deeply. Ashton’s right on some level. Some rational, horribly pragmatic level. Ashton is often right on that horrible, annoying level. It’s one of their strong suits.

Orym can’t fish up the right words to comfort his friend because, well, for all he pretends to just be the muscle of the group, Ash is surprisingly insightful. He doesn’t like to be lied to. So Orym won’t try. He would hate being lied to, in Ashton’s place.

“You’re right,” Orym says simply, almost absently, “we’re fucked.”

Ashton nods bitterly. “Fucked.”

“But,” Orym continues, gesturing out to their sleeping friends, “they’re strong. They’re stronger than us. If we’re shattered, like Sumal, I think they’ll pick up the pieces. I know they will. Who knows what happens after that, but they’re strong, at least.”

Ashton sighs and shifts again, curling tighter, his glassy eye poking just above the ridge of his kneecap. “…right. Right. They’re the best of us. I’m just—worried, I guess.”

“Too much time to think, huh?” Orym teases, his gaze sliding over to them directly.

“It’s a dangerous fucking pastime,” Ashton quips. “Nothing good comes of it. No idea how you or Chetney stand it.”

“Did you just imply that Chetney thinks? As a pastime?”

“Oh, fuck off. If you tell him any of this, I swear—“

[justalittlebluetiefling]

Spells with int saves are my favorite spells

[luthienmpl]

I crave a gif set of the saga of Marisha Ray falling out of/throwing over her chair when major stuff happens. For reasons.