#gnoll artificer

[dragonuv3]

Arekkz Scrapheart and lore building an arms forger

First Picture drawn by the lovely @kobold-kurios​

All other images drawn by me.

So let me start this off by saying that I’ve never been THIS in depth with actually writing and drawing lore for a DnD character. Especially during a setting where magic (initially) is limited to clerics and paladins to a disaster in the first season.

Arekkz scrapheart is a Gnoll Artificer in the second season of Kobold’s Bards & Blades campaign. To describe him in a few words: driven, intelligent, exciteable, and intuitive. From his rural tribe to a big city to learn how to be an articifer, he’s managed to make a name for himself as a skilled artisan of the Stonecutter’s guild in Tulpio (the city both groups start in). He also is the sole proprieter of a shop called the Gnoll’n Arms.

Now getting into the main drive of this post.

Arekkz’s LOVED watching his people forge weapons ever since he was a pup, and took it upon himself to build his first makeshift weapon. And getting to the city of Tulpio, where he’s seen the people there try to replecate magic through alchemy and steampunk technology, his drive in life is to learn more about magic by “sciencing the shit out of it.”

Cue the MO for how he ends up making his weapons for people. Since I was building an artificer in a world without magic, the challenge would be to figure out certain limitations with how he earned his living, and how he cast spells in unconventional ways. I took a lot of inspiration from the usual aesthetics of gnoll weapons, and a lot from Austraila and Junkertown in Overwatch, while still trying to keep it classy enough for customers to want to come and get an excusive of Arekkz’s work. His trademark being bite indents made on the metal before the final treatment process.

The hardest part for me was to make the weapons he make seem almost like he got things from a junkyard and managed to make something not only functional, but aesthetically pleasing in a rough around the edges kind of way. The “boom stick” on the far right being a failure that didn’t mesh well. Not to mention I want to be able to explain just how they work in some instances without having to leave it to DM disgression. And I even started writing some notes about them in character.

Two of them I’m most proud of. First being the Spark Knife

Arekkz personal weapons are all able to help him with his special brand of spellcasting when not being exclusive to other alchemical components and mixtures (or specialized grenades). The Spark Blade in particular coming in a breakthrough for a personal project of his. A way to cast the Green-Flame Blade cantrip. The handle has compression switches on either side of the handle that causes a spark to emmit from just behind the blade that would ignite flammable vapors that (to the current session) Arekkz would spray and release from a vial.

The concept would actually help get an idea for how to make it work with a longer blade. In character, he had trouble replicating what he could do with the Spark Blade due to short swords and longswords either warping, losing sharpness, or not getting the right amoutn of destructive force needed while stress testing them. He ended up going back to the drawing board to figure out what about the Spark Blade worked, and he realized that the metal had enough mass and surface area to survive being used as a “spell focus”, and the materials used managed to keep it from falling apart.

With that in mind, he ended up forgoing the smaller swords and worked with a slab of metal to get a proper greatsword. And the result...

A successful prototype that survived multiple stress tests, and with it, finally given a name: “The Scrapyard Runt Mk.I” (A personal hommage to how HE started with forging). It’s still a work in process, but leaps and bounds farther than what he was able to do before. 

I’ll post more weapon sketches as we go deeper into the campaign, as Arekkz’ll probably be commissioned to do work for both HIS party and the Side A party that goes the day before us.

[chronivore]

Gnoll Artificer

[ces-nenuphars]

little animatic i made for my DnD group as we play through tomb of annihilation

from left to right: Ramsey [Artificer] - Bako [Barbarian] - Daive [Rogue] - Niamh [Cleric] - Bathys [Warlock] - Charys [Eel]

[sorcerous-caress]

Realistically speaking, If I got thrown into dnd I'd be an artificer. Like I'd be so fucking pissed I'm not a sorcerer and will thrown a tantrum, but let's be real.

[diesvitae]

Agnoth - Gnoll Artificer Lovely commission for Daniel Keymer on the birb app!

[kobold-hoard-oc]

Gnoll Artificer and Steel Defender. Gnoll Artificer: https://www.etsy.com/nl/listing/1191649087/varg-arcane-strider-artificier-wolfman The steel defender or Builder: https://www.etsy.com/nl/listing/1101703229/builder-miniature-construct-robot-dnd Painted by me.

[mysilentepidemic]

Just wanna share my new dnd character with the void. Would appreciate any name suggestions for my gnoll artificer ♥️

[spidermilkshake]

Snake From Beyond

From the high place wedged over the pillars of the flooded room, Arga tightened her grip on the slick stone. The presence of the dragon didn't comfort her much; not when she could see the ripples below her, spreading. They were shimmering with a multitude of beautiful colors, as if fouled with oil.

In a pang of unnatural silence, the head rose.

"It's fine to speak; it cannot hear," Yug-Shabut's voice sidled in beside her. Arga turned away only for a second or two to fix the small dragon with a wild-eyed look of horror. "I know what you're thinking; yes, this is the Temple Guardian; I did mention not everything was at all right in the world."

"What th' hell happened to it?" She gazed long into the abyss of polluted water below, and at the sinuous form cresting and making slick gasps of breath and movement. It was certainly 50 yards long, which was a respectable size for a guardian of the Temple of Waters, a huge creature from the seas or the deep underground lakes that grew to a one-in-a-million scale. A favorite for Kamosh, who liked the vast and loud. But this was not the form the grand serpent should be seen in. Its body rippled under skin whose scales had long become hazy and indistinct; its jaw now could not close fully for the too many fangs and teeth and hideous uneven barbels protruding from its face. And, as the behemoth turned back to face Arga, she shuddered as she finally could place the final, worst thing. What were surely once simple orbs had vanished into black pits, as if each socket was a portal past all sense of the real, and into a Hell that eyes couldn't imagine.

"Corruption," Yug-Shabut grumbled. "It's very bad here; all is not right in the world indeed." He paused, heavy bovine lips curling back to show gritted tusks, "I'm afraid the solution is to kill it."

"Me?" The gnoll barked, temporarily deafened by the echoes of her voice, "Kill that? How?"

"It's got to be done," The small dragon grinned humorlessly, "Besides, you aren't alone."

--------------------------

Some more bits and pieces based on ADOM events, and the Ancardian homebrew. The Snake From Beyond is one of the major bosses of the game guarding a Chaos Orb, and I imagined that perhaps the guardians were normal until something unexpected happened with the Chaos Incursion into the world. Arga is also a legendary character appearing in ADOM!

[vespaer77]

Pairing: Gale x Named OC/Tav Author play through, making it up as we go =) Rating: Eventual smut 'cause you know they bone. Cosmically.

Link to read on AO3

Summary: Tempest Tidewater's Terrific Teas, Tonics, and Tinctures had been her whole life. She'd built her little shop from nothing but an empty shack and a dream, turning it into a household name in Neverwinter for all things aches and ailments. But at the height of her success, a mystery had begun to unfold. Her supply chain had suddenly run dry, amongst strange rumors of troubles brewing near Baldur's Gate. Left no choice but to leave her life's work shuttered and dormant behind her, Tempest embarked upon a journey south seeking answers, never anticipating the wild adventure she'd soon be set upon. This is a story of friendships and struggles, of mindflayers and cultists, but mostly… of how an artificer and a wizard fell in love.

Tempest Tidewater could hear the rush of the river behind her. And if she kept her eyes closed and stayed very still, she could almost imagine she was back in Neverwinter, gathering mergrass by the shore and waiting for a ship to arrive from Baldur's Gate carrying herbs that were found in greater abundance near the Cloakwood. And though the fabled market district in Waterdeep would claim the greater bulk of the supply, she could still rely heavily on trade to bring her things like mugwort, belladonna, and autumncrocus. Even balsam and daggerroot. If she could've sourced the quantities she'd needed from the surrounding hillsides, she would never have left. But the latitudes just weren't as favorable.

And the shipments had begun to dwindle. She'd even started struggling to make simple healing potions.

She hadn't been the only shop owner to feel the pinch. The Chionthar was a huge artery, carrying a heavy and widely varying flow of trade goods down from the continent and out through Baldur's Gate, to seek foreign ports all along the Sword Coast. The fall of Elturel had only been the beginning. Soon after came troubling rumors of hoards of devilkin roaming the surrounding forests and villages. Then there were tales goblins and gnolls, raiding tollhouses and terrorizing towns and fishermen.

And then it was drow.

And then it was cultists.

But now it was like a dream.

If she stayed very still, she could imagine that she would just wake up, safe at home. That she would open her eyes and step out of her bed, warmed by the first rays of sunshine that spilled past her windowsill. Like the ones washing over her even now. She would dance down her creaky little staircase, humming a tune as she donned her cured leather apron to begin sorting her ingredients and measuring caustic solvents. She would eat scones with honey and start boiling the kettles to brew the tea.

And if she stayed very still, so still, deadly still and just kept her eyes closed, she could smell it. The tea. Lavender to calm, mint to soothe, rosehips to heal, and currant for a smile. And of course her prized morning tea - a black blend, lively and bright, yet also acrid and smoky. Heady, like the wood coals of a bread oven. Or a campfire. Or like smoldering flames.

Like ashes falling all around her.

Flesh burning, still on fire.

And then a sound came from behind her, or above or all around her. Large chunks of detritus, groaning before falling and splashing into the water. Sounds of fragile wreckage crackling with heat before submitting to the forces of gravity. She was not safe.

Her eyes flew open and she sat up straight.

It was real, all of it. The gangplank bouncing beneath her knees as she boarded the ship without looking back. The beautiful, hazy blue mirage of Blackstaff crowning the horizon as her ship passed Waterdeep. Even her capture by a nightmarish nautiloid ship. And finally, her infestation with an illithid tadpole. All of it. It was no dream, and she would not be waking up. Her life's work - the entirety of her savings, her education, and her efforts, the whole sum of all her meager accomplishments - lie shuttered and dormant behind her to collect cobwebs and late fees and tax penalties, possibly in perpetuity.

Tempest Tidewater's Terrific Teas, Tonics, and Tinctures.

Yes. Terrific, indeed. A terrific loss. The latest in a lifelong string of them. How could she ever rebuild?

How she longed for one more piece of Tangy Tidewater Taffy. How she ached for one single, soothing cup of tea. She could just lay back down and mildew into the wet sand instead, never open her eyes again and become as sun-bleached as a sand dollar before sinking away forever. But she'd made a promise to herself, long ago, when she left her childhood home. When she spent so long languishing in inadequacy at the top of a wizard's spire. When she felt so lost and so alone - a feeling that had never left her, if she was honest.

She'd promised herself that she would not let this world beat her.

So, she groaned and slapped her knees, and summoned the strength to stand up and brush herself off. She wanted to scream. She wanted to weep. She wanted to take this hurt that sat in her belly like a blade and wrench it out. Oh, how she yearned to find that stupid fucking marid that cursed her family line and punch that bitch in the throat. After all, woe betide anyone who dared to be born genasi. At least, in the pastoral communities that worked the land and fed the breadbasket of Neverwinter.

Already exhausted into apathy by her anger, she chose to inspect herself for hidden injuries then she turned a slow circle to get her bearings.

Despite the black smoke still pouring out of the purple, tentacled abomination lying crushed and dead on the beach, the sky was warm and blue and cloudless, letting cheerful sunlight glitter across the water. An insect buzzed past her nose to land on plump, abundant blades of mergrass swaying in the light, gentle breeze of late afternoon. It was a perfectly lovely day, all things considered.

Wherever she was.

To ground herself and wash the grime of battle from her skin, she took off her boots and waded out into the river for spell. There was time for aimless wandering later. The daylight was already fading, and she wouldn't get far before she'd need to forge together some sort of camp for the night. So she allowed herself a moment of peace to float on her back and let her hair billow and fan all around her. She let the water cradle her like the mother she never had. One that wanted her. She listened to the river as it filled her ears and she dug her heels into the gravel, heeding the mild, placid current as it filtered through her toes. It renewed and replenished her, feeding her courage and a connection to the world around her, a direction forward like the needle on a compass.

Which she found she needed immediately when she stepped out of the water and slipped her feet back into her boots. Ahead of her, twisted and face down where they fell, lie the crumpled forms of those who were less fortunate than her. The poor souls who did not survive the crash, or possibly even the circumstances of their capture to begin with. Their blood soaked the dirt in dark puddles beneath them, and insects had begun gathering to feast. Clouds of them hung heavily in the low, orange shafts of afternoon sun.

But then she saw something move. Something so small she nearly missed it.

It was a foot, just ahead, along the trail of the scar the nautiloid had carved into the earth. And then Tempest thought she heard a moan. Someone was alive. With any luck, it was one of the women she'd met while still aboard the ship. The githyanki had been a skilled fighter, and if one could forgive her ruthless demeanor, she was clearly beneficial to have as a traveling companion. And Shadowheart, while cagey and mysterious, was a cleric. It was possible the girl's skills in the healing arts could even rival her own.

So she finally moved forward. Solid strides with purpose, one foot in front of the other, and with each step she felt that purpose grow. With each step, faces and words and memories circled through her mind like water down a drain. A wizard who preferred her as a pet rather than an apprentice - a meal ticket, as long as her mother's monthly tuition kept rattling in his coffers. A mother who couldn't wait to sell her once she finally came of age, and at last could pretend her family curse did not exist.

And a kind mentor, the first and only to see beyond the places where planar elements had marked her, who had the courage to nuture an untapped spark of potential, and whose only crime was to simply die of old age, happy and fulfilled.

She wondered if Mister Henry would still be proud of her, now that she'd lost everything. Now that she'd conflated her own courage with foolishness. But then his voice called to her from the depths of her own memory, steeling her nerves as she knelt beside the dark-haired cleric who stirred in her slumber on the sand. It was something he'd told her when he'd first taken her in, when no one else would.

"Look for the light in the darkness, girl," he'd said. "It will always be there. They may be at odds, but they are still sisters. Where one ends, the other surely begins. Look for the light, do not fear the dark, and be ready to begin."

In many ways, her life had begun the day she'd met him.

And it would not end here on this shore.

"Okay," she murmured to herself, reaching to shake Shadowheart's shoulder. "It's okay. I'm okay.

"I'm ready to begin."

[arcticlutra]

Been playing BG3 and it's got me thinking about the Batfam, and their classes. So here we go:

Bruce: Fighter, battlemaster with proficiency in investigation and perception.

Dick: Rogue, Thief or Arcane Trickster. Very much an elusive shadow.

Jason: an oath of vengeance Paladin. You could argue Barbarian, but let's be real here.

Tim: college of lore bard. This kid has too many proficiencies, too much luck and there's a reason he gains enemies like a DM gets aneurysms.

Damian: initially he's a gnoll. After character development he's like his dad.

Barbara: divination wizard or lore bard. She knows all. She knows what you will do. And she can cite the references.

Cass: Way of Mercy Monk. And unfortunately, she has rolled very high. You're doomed.

Steph: multiclass fighter and bard. She can throw a punch and work out what makes you cry.

Duke: Light Cleric. And he did not get a lecture on pacifism.

Harper Row: Artificer. Except where she could have developed other tech, it's mostly stuff that sparks.

Cullen Row: Arcane Trickster. All his skills are based on evasion. He doesn't hit hard but you won't hit him.

Alfred: Cleric of Helm. He's a stalwart guardian and protects the home. He doesn't venture beyond that but woe betide anyone who crosses his threshold in threat.

Kate: Fighter, duelist. Kate is aggressive but it's honed in a way Bruce isn't. Callous and detached but graceful.

Extra:

Jim Gordon: Warlock, his Patron is Gotham. He's kept fuelled by the city. His pact is that he can solve all cases but every case he solves spawns more.

Bernard: Lore Bard. A perfect mirror to Tim. Whereas Tim specialised into investigation, perception and sleight of hand, Bernard went for Arcana, Nature and Insight. He may have some out there ideas but don't think that means he isn't switched on.

[dragonuv3]

Arekkz Scrapheart and Joltik. Both as they are at lvl 4.

As things currently are in the campaign, Arekkz has proven he carries himself well both in and out of combat, and despite being a genius artisan with a minor in alchemy, he’s STILL a gnoll. His bite is far worse than his bark. With a literal bag of tricks with inventions, alchemical ‘spell’ substitutes, a cute but destructive eldritch cannon, and MANY experimental weapons, he’s ready to tackle his adventures like he tackled magic: “I just gotta science the shit out of it.”

Side notes: Aside from the fun of designing his ‘adventuring clothes’ (he likes clothes a lot), there were two things I had the most fun with. 

1) due to the unorthodox shape of his sword, he needed something to properly carry it around. As cool as it is to carry it in hand everywhere, it was impractical, and the sheath had to account for the beveled tips at the top of the blade. His solution? Keep the sheath open on one side save for the very end of the scabbard. Makes it easy to pull it from his back and just as easy to store it.

2) Our DM noted that during the party’s first time seeing a fully functioning greater bag of holding that their employer had (magic was quickly coming back to the world in full force), that Arekkz was part of a group of guild artisans trying to recreate such a bag. However, due to the technology at the time, they were not able to bend space or make a pocket dimension needed to be implemented inside of the bag. However, our DM noted that they all came out of it some well made and stylish bags. Naturally, I HAD to give Arekkz a handy engineer’s bag to hold his notebook, tools, inventions, etc. in. Now that magic HAS come back into the world, there’s a chance he might be able to complete that bag of holding after all...

I had SO much fun drawing again, and it’s so strange that I actually finished a drawing that wasn’t a weapon, a piece of equipment, or other conceptual piece. Expect a lot of more of these, and for me to post more!

[crunchetime]

Tikra Tara [they/them]

Gnoll Sorcerer, Clockwork Soul

Magical anomalies can be found anywhere. One day, a hyper-intelligent gnoll with mechanical implants just emerged from a cave, and the rest is history.

Imbued with a vestige of the powers of Universal Absolutes, Tikra is a prodigious sorcerer and pathological liar. Though, sometimes, the little white lies suddenly become reality.

"Am I wrong??"

tick... tock... tick...

"...are you sure??"

[I'm using the playable Gnoll options from this GM Binder article!]

[For those just joining us, I made a list of D&D ocs with one based on each playable class, including Artificer and Blood Hunter (14 total). Then, I decided to make a second set. As of typing this, I'm close to finishing a third set, bringing the total oc count for this list up to F O R T Y - T W O (42). Someone Help]

[acid-comet]

((IGNORE TYPOS, MISTAKES, ETC. THIS IS A SKETCH))

Gortash and my Dark Urge.

Im currently on my third replay of Durge cause i make hella mistakes and hated it. But since im recreating my Durge and im fully thirsting for Gorty i wanted to do some sketches!

Below is a mini description/summary. Also im posting a eye color poll for my Durge, please answer the poll if you can!

Obvi i drew my in-game during his coronation and his anti-fear coat. Than, sleepwear but im looking up camp-wear. The last two are concepts for Pre-tadpool bs.

Gortashs outfits are artificer and rouge/ranger based. Artificer for his mechanics and gauntlet look and a rouge/ranger cause i never saw him as a warlock and i thought that the absolutes chosen 3 being a; paladin, rouge, rouge., would be kinda weird. Also i thought that Gortash, working with the god of tyranny still wanting to be seen as a good archduke or 'the better option' to be lorded over, would fit a ranger rather than rouge. Since, rouges are more sneaky, theif based while rangers are more heroic-y. Also cause his and Durges gnoll thing. Also i LOVE his David Bowie Labyrinth hair and Noctis FF hair so.

Rica Briar, my Durges outfit was based off warlock/cleric armor but ill be changing paladin/warlock as shes being remade, but id like to hear any opinions on my own Dark Urge and Gortash's outfit/s.

[silversiren1101]

It's strange that Minovae has become like, the 'main' OC for me because by and large most of the characters I play are Not Good, and she is like Good Good.

Varae Dorne - (DnD5e) Chaotic Evil -> Lawful Neutral; Warlock Paladin; Fallen Aasimar

Pruscilla Domenel - (DnD5e) Neutral Evil; Artificer; Half-Elf

Weeping Night - (DnD5e) Chaotic Neutral; Monk; Tabaxi

Orphaea - (DnD5e) True Neutral; Cleric; Siren

Safri - (Pf2e) Chaotic Neutral; Ranger; Halfling

Sascha - (Pf2e) Chaotic Evil; Cleric of Lamashtu; Beastkin

Lsayle - (Pf2e) Lawful Evil; Magus Hellknight; Half-Elf

Marok - (Pf2e) True Neutral; Druid; Orc

Morolai Valduin - (Pf1e/Pf2e) Neutral Evil; Bloodrager/Barbarian; Half-Elf

Omorose Ahnkamen - (Pf2e) Lawful Evil; Sorcerer; Automaton Dhampir

Castreiza - (Pf2e) Lawful Neutral; Summoner Hellknight; Changeling Human

Sabine - (Pf2e) Neutral Evil; Investigator; Tiefling Human

Amellara - (Pf1e/Pf2e) Chaotic Evil; Cleric of Hastur; Elf

Weeping Night* - (Pf2e) Chaotic Neutral; Alchemist; Catfolk

Revile - (Pf2e) Lawful Neutral; Gunslinger; Gnoll Fleshwarp

And then there's

Minovae Arangeir - (Pf1e/Pf2e) Lawful Good; Fighter/Slayer Hellknight; Human Ganzi

Veera Rao - (Pf1e) Neutral Good; Slayer Vigilante; Human

Meiko - (Pf2e) Chaotic Good; Witch; Halfling

I'm sure I missed some but it's funny to think about! My first instinct when making a character is not Good that's for sure. I think I'm that type of player that likes to play on the looser side of conforming to overall morals and more following a strict personal code; or characters that allow me as a player to do fun thought experiments on what it would take to make someone 'evil' or 'morally dubious' cooperate with the group at large and conform.

[musezieren]

Gale's eyes darted over the drawings, behind the formerly sleeping and now dead gnoll. Artistic like magic runes in his tomes and on the magic scrolls. And at the same time impossible to grasp for him. Brows furrowed in annoyance. It was like he was trying to catch water with a sieve. Facing his own inability, he moved on to think of an illusion, and like a flame had been lit his eyes started to brighten up and with an excited smile he turned to @overclocks . "Anthony!" he exclaimed, luckily most Goblins were dead already, which allowed him to not just whisper. Hurried steps led him to the artificer, and with the excitement of a child who had found some new toy he led him to the drawings. " It looks interesting... and I thought a tinkerer like you might understand it... Maybe we can find more of it?" the wizard rambled. Magic was maybe his main interest in study. But Anthony had his own interests and skills, and Gale basked in that passion, and enjoyed feeding it as much as teaching about his love for magic.

[rinwellisathing]

You're Awful, I Love You: Part 21

Enver Gortash/Trans Male Tiefling Durge

“Don't look so disappointed, my Dread Executioner. This plan will provide you all the bloodshed you crave, I promise.” Gortash led him to sit down at one of the work benches. “You see, when you showed me your tyrant statue, particularly the crown you designed, it made me think of an artifact I heard about when I was growing up. The man I was...apprenticed...to was obsessed with it. I'll explain it in more detail later, but rest assured, as you told me I am your muse, you've quickly become mine as well.”

Sentry looked up curiously. He wasn't sure he'd ever inspired anything, well, other than fear and silly rumors with his yet unsolved years long murder spree. It felt good, he felt powerful, like he had influence, and more than that, influence over a chosen of Bane. Like puppeting a puppeteer. A smile formed, growing into a toothy grin. “And you say this plan will provide me with plenty of victims...parts...materials?”

“More than you could utilize in a life time.” Gortash sat beside him, reaching for a pen and ink. “Now...shall we?”

Sentry began to fish around in his satchel for the book he'd referenced only to find that Enver had already placed a well read copy on the work table next to the spare parchment. “Hey, you said you only read that in passing.”

“Did I?” He smiled teasingly. “Perhaps compared to some of the other ones, but I must admit, these copper dreadfuls were a comfort while I was growing up.”

Sentry nodded. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Did you read the one about the artificer who creates life from a corpse? I think that one would really speak to you.”

“I did, and you're not wrong.” He nodded, opening the well worn book and beginning to thumb through the pages.

The two sat deep in discussion about what they could learn from the code the killer in the book used and how best to adapt it to their own uses. Hours passed as the discussion shifted between business and their favorite copper dreadful plots. Sentry barely noticed his tail flicking back and forth like an excited dog as the enthusiastic discussion continued well into the early hours of the morning.

Yawning and stretching, The Executioner realized he should probably head home and make sure Fel had properly reanimated as well as deal with the earful he was sure to get from Gabraela for sending him back in the first place (Though really, he had been very clear on the topic of breeding and his thoughts on it.)

“You're sure you won't rest here? You could sleep in my bed while I work.” Gortash offered as he and Sentry climbed the stairs back to the locked room together.

“What, work? You need to sleep too. There is no way you got any kind of rest yesterday before I got here. You're human, your body needs sleep.” The tiefling folded his arms across his chest.

“I do quite well without it most days.” The Tyrant replied dismissively.

Sentry rolled his eyes. “Oh yes, I can tell. You look so well rested all the time.” the sarcasm dripped from his voice.

“At any rate, there should be a gift for you waiting at your temple. The messenger I sent claimed to know the way. Just a little token of affection.” Enver changed the subject as the two reached the window.

Sentry grinned. “Well, I do enjoy gifts. Great change of subject, really.” And he leaned in for a kiss, nipping at his partner's lips affectionately for just a little taste before turning to begin his climb down.

When Sentry arrived home, he found the path to the temple splattered with more blood than usual. Three corpses wearing armor with a serpent emblem were strewn about the path in varying degrees of having been chewed and eaten. A smile crossed his lips, this was certainly a good start to a thoughtful courtship gift.

His expression changed to a gleeful smile that lit up his scarred face when he crossed the threshold to see that Tomi was setting plates of meat down before three large healthy looking gnolls at one of the tables in the common area. The creatures' snouts and claws were matted with blood and they chittered and made those delightful giggling sounds as they sniffed at the offering.

“Oh, welcome back brother dear! I heard a commotion outside the temple and found these darling creatures wandering outside. There was a note on one of those Zhentarim courier corpses and it seems these beauties are to be your new friends.” She explained with a knowing smile. “You must teach me your seduction techniques if this is the kind of gift your plaything gives you.”

“Plaything...yeah...” Sentry managed, walking slowly down to the table and looking over the creatures. “Oh hello, aren't you all so beautiful?” The colors of their fur, the spots where it was falling out. The perfect inspiration to add color to his latest work.