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pessimisticshapewithablog · 2 years

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Mohg the omen

soft spoken sadist, narcissistic cult leader extraordinaire

Anybody wanna read my obsessive ramblings about a tragic asshole goat man thing?

Idk what it is about Mogh, but i can't help but image him as an intuitive and soft spoken omen child. Where Morgot was constantly craving the greater will and the golden order, mohg became disillusioned with the golden order.from a young age, this is mostly due to current voice actors' performance of him. Morgott voice has more 'presence' to it than Mohg's. Although we only ever hear morgot being scathing toward our tarnished so.

Another thing i noticed was the dichotomy of the Omen twins stat spread required to wield their weapons. Mohg's weapon requires moderate strength and arcane where morgot requires dexterity. Although Mohg becomes quite agile when he gets his wings. I like to think that Morgott took after Marika physically and Mohg after Godfrey, but, in terms of abilities the twin positions are reversed.

History

We know little about Mohg's childhood and adolescence save that it was spent in the shunning grounds. I find it interesting that players can find Mohg's shackle still in the shunning grounds, very likely where he was bound. I assume that once he broke free, he just left it, wanting to be as far from it as possible. Where did he go? Did he wander sewers, content with just being able to?

Physiology

I have been curious about the education and socialization of the Omen twins. As we can see, they are not feral and capable of reason. Morgott is well spoken and quite articulated to have been raised in a sewer. He is also stated to be a rather fair and effective ruler and statesman.

Mohg was knowledgeable enough to create his own school of blood magic as well as almost all blood related ashes of war. AND somehow commissioned all those blood order armaments and robes. It seems that the twins weren't simply abandoned in the shunning grounds and left to starve. Someone, maybe marika herself, made sure the twins were given some form of care and education.

https://csdt.org/culture/adinkra/ramshorns.html

https://animals.sandiegozoo.org/animals/spiral-horned-antelope

Mohg has to be the least omen looking omen to ever omen. It's hard to know if he always looked like that or if receiving his great rune changed his appearance similar to Morgott after his defeat. Some may believe that Mohg's pact with the Formless mother may have changed his appearance as well.

One thing that caught my attention was how much thiner mohg is compared to Morgott. While Mogh is larger, his wrist, ankles, and limbs seem the same size as morgotts. The man is built like a brick house, but I feel that if Morgot was the same height, he would be the beefier of the two.

His horns are one of his most striking features to me. Compared to other omen we see, ik they're just reused assets, their horns grow wild and all over, without direction. Whereas Mohg's horns seem to grow primarily on his head with one growing on his left hand as a claw. His horns appear to grow almost neatly, curved, and coiled around one another.

From what I've read, horns grow curved due to the outer edge of the horn growing faster, but he grows around each other live vines or his beyond me. Mohg is the only omen we see whose horns grow on his chin like a goatee.

It's hard to know how much of Mohg's appearance was affected by his communion with the formless mother, but as far as omen go, he is quite singular. From his grayish black marbled skin and horns, as well as the fact that he has less horn growths all over his body compared to other omen, we see ingame, including his own brother.

Speaking his horns, look at how coiled and cultivated they appear. With other omen, their horns seen to grow randomly and uncontrollably jutting in every direction, Mohg's seem grow tangled and curled around each other, like vines or tree roots. His horns are neat, in their own chaotic way. Another unique aspect of Mohg's appearance is his lipless mouth and prominent fangs/tusks. We don't know if he ever had lips, but, once again, compared to other omen, he stands out.

Psychology

I have this theory that the omen "curse" responds to it's barers emotional-state/ perception of themselves or the curse. If you are treated and told from birth that you are cursed and you very existance causes suffering you would not think very kindly of yourself or your "curse". This, in turn, causes the curse to go out of control and horns to sprout uncontrollably.

But if the bearer were to have a more positive outlook about themselves or their curse, their horns would manifest more uniformly and less intrusively. Morgott is ashamed of his omen blood and has to actively trim is horns to be able to see properly whereas Mohg seemingly allowed one of his horns to grow back into his eye from pride in his omen features.

It's difficult to know to what extent Mohg's upbringing in the shunning grounds has affected his psyche, but considering how his order speaks of him and their dynasty, it can not be good.

Mohg's self-harm and blood-play are what drew the formless mother to him. She craves a wound after all. She chose him as her prophet and shared her blood with Mohg, causing his blood to burn like hers. We do not see the blood of other omen being flammable only the Regal Omen twins who may have communed with a blood obsessed outer god willing or not.

I would like to begin with Mohg's particular obsession with blood. One does not create an entire new school of incantations based around blood for it to be a passing interest. I noticed that Mohg's shackle is covered in blood, his or otherwise. Compared to morgotts, it is practically drenched. I have a sneaking suspicion that Mohg may have coped with his time in the shunning grounds by self-harming.

The same goes for Morgott, although his may have been more out of self-flagellation to recant his omen blood outside of himself. Similar to how Radahn learned gravity magics for his dear mount, I believe Mohg began developing blood incantations to sate his boredom of being bound to one spot for most of his life. All he had was himself. See the curse blood pot description. Replace beast blood with omen blood, or are omens categorized as beasts?

Next is Mohg's obsession with love that manifests in the way Varré tries to recruit the tarnished. Varré is the only member of the bloody finger faction that isn't immediately hostile to us at any given time, so we can't ask them why they follow. From what we know, most of Mohg's followers are bloodthirsty psychopaths who only care about doing violence on anyone they meet, and the whole 'aquiring blood for Miquella' is secondary.

He speaks highly of Mohg but randomly drops his love as being one of his positive attributes. It sounds like Varré is trying to sell Mohg to us as a person worthy of following/serving, but "love" is such a particular trait to judge his worthiness on. What does Mohg's love look like? How does he express it? How would the tarnished benefit from gaining Mohg's "love". It sounds like something Mohg instructed Varré to tell potential recruits because receiving love is a reason Mohg himself would join.

I speculate that spending most of his life sheltered in the shunning grounds left Mohg with a naiveté about the intent of others and his understanding of complex emotions like love or obsession. I feel like Mohg does not understand how much intimacy and trust are involved in having those emotions for another person. It's not something you demand from or force onto others. Love, affection, and intimacy are not conditional or transactional. Unfortunately, Mohg never learned this. He innocently and genuinely believes that beings who join his murder cult would care about his 'love' for it to factor into their willingness to follow him.

What's worse is what happens to those who don't willingly follow him. He abducts war surgeons to 'tame his blood', i.e., forceable give them a blood transfusion that quite possibly drives them insane if it fails, which it did most of the time. The non blood Albinaurics outside his mausoleum don't look too happy. Miquella's entire philosophy hinged upon noone being used by an outer god for it's own gain but look at him now, Mohg abducted him, as far as we know, and is trying to force Miquella to be a puppet god for the formless mother. If Mohg truly cared for Miquella, he would not be actively going against something Miquella cared deeply about.

It would be tragic if Mohg didn't look for love and acceptance in the worst possible way. Creating an order around ritualistic blood letting of the innocent and uninitiated filled with obsessive murderers and assassins does not a new world order make.

Servants of Blood

Even after the tarnished joins Mohgs dynasty, other members such as the sanguine nobles and blood albinaurics are still very much hostile to them. Either the tarnished, Varré included, are simply being used as pawns and are not considered legitimate members of Mohg order, or this order inspires no loyalty amongst its followers.

We do not know exactly what Mohg and Varré's dynamic is. Mohg abducted numerous war surgeons to try to "tame the accursed blood" with varre being the only one who could. The other surgeons are still alive and will invade the tarnished when able. So what happens to someone who can not tame the accursed blood? Do they go mad? Its hard to say if they were sain even before being abducted by Mohg.

The occupation of war surgeon may require one to empathetic to the plight of those under their care but might have only succeeded in attracting those who have no qualms with killing the injured and infirm. Who knows, but what we do know is that Mohg's bloody fingers are all violent murderers and most came into his service by way of trying to kill him.

Mohg is either an overt narcissist using people as props to validate himself and his dynasty or a deeply misguided individual looking for love and acceptance by any means necessary. He uses others to benefit himself and his goals. But as Mohg is using others for his own goals, he is being used by others. It is doubtful that the formless mother came to Mohg's aid out kindness like some elderich fairy godmother. Whatever her intent, Mohg is a means to an end.

Considering that Mohg's bloody fingers are not automatically given the rank of knight or noble makes me think that Mohg knows that they are at best useful to collect blood for his consort but not as a permanent member of his order. They are too blinded by their bloodlust to do much more than sate it.

Although it seems Eleonora was entrusted with the one item that neutralizes his nigh unavoidable bloodboon ritual but was that because he trusted her or because she killed anyone that got near and would be a good place to keep it. Did Mohg even know Eleonora had something like that on her person? Was that something she found and kept until she felt ready to actually slay mohg once and for all?

Conclusion

#mohg the lord of blood #mohg #mohg the omen #luminary mohg #elden ring mohg #elden ring #i like him a normal amount #long post #my thoughts #my post #feel free to comment

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fear-before-valor · 3 years

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Tales of Arcadia AU: hold on my dear, i’m coming home

Premise: James Lake Sr. tried to take his trans son, Jim Lake Jr., with him when he left Barbara Lake. By the time Jim Jr. found a chance to run away, wanting to return to his mother, they were pulled over at a gas station out of state. Choosing the woods over getting back in the car, a lost 5-year-old finds himself in the presence of a kind, if not mischievous, forest spirit, who offers the frightened child a place to feel safe. He takes her hand, and off they go. All he can remember is that he lived in a town called “Arcadia,” and that his mother had red hair. Using his faint memory of what his house looked like almost 11 years ago, he tries different Arcadias across the Continental United States, until finally, fifteen years old, a month and some change shy of his sixteenth birthday, Arcadia Oaks, California beckons him with open arms, and a feeling of familiarity. After working it out with his three very magical guardians, who have raised him both dutifully and compassionately, one Jim Lake enrolls in Arcadia Oaks High. What ensues from there is a mystery and an adventure that tests Jim, and the Arcane Order themselves, in ways he never could have predicted...

Plot Points So Far (Bulleted):

Jim is raised by the Order from age 5

He doesn’t learn magic, but he does learn other lessons from them, including combat training

He is still chosen to be the legendary Trollhunter, after his very first day of human school

This is a fact he very much keeps to himself at first, not daring, even, to acknowledge his duties as Trollhunter for the first few weeks

A parent-teacher conference is called by one Mr. Walter Strickler, after Jim, previously his best student, and elected president of the history club, appears distracted, standoffish, and anxious

Nari goes in a glamour to meet with Mr. Strickler, and upon returning, does not out him to Jim as a changeling, but does inform him that he walks in magic

She recommends that Jim remain close with this teacher

Jim takes this to mean that Strickler is a wizard,

With this in mind, Jim goes to him for help in masking the magical scent and presence of Merlin’s amulet, so that he can be the Trollhunter without his family noticing

He gets training from Strickler as well, though the Heartstone Trollmarket trolls are beginning to take notice of him...

Jim is not aware of this but as these events happen, Claire Nuñez and Toby Domzalski have been separately investigating him

Eventually, they happen to compare notes one day, and start to piece together something that is not quite true, but equally, acknowledges that Jim is not who he says he is

They eventually confront Jim, and he confides in them some truths-- namely, the Trollhunter-related ones, and together, the three of them begin to work together

From there, the events of Trollhunters, Parts 1-3 begin to occur, with slight differences, of course, though most of it remains the same (much of this will be explored in more depth in fics)

There is only so long that Jim has before the Order starts to get suspicious of his activities. Meanwhile, Jim also has to juggle Bular, Gunmar, Strickler and the other changelings, his schoolwork, the play he didn’t mean to get cast in, and the world’s most confusing crush. He hopes that he can handle it all, but the stakes continue to tense; eventually, he may have to admit that he needs some magical help. But will The Order be interested in the events of troll factions? Not to mention, the long-term grudge they hold against Merlin Ambrosius, creator of the Amulet of Daylight, which Jim dons every night.

This AU is not meant to be grimdark, and will feature light and happy or humorous events, as well as the tense, mysterious, and more angst-heavy plot points, but overall, it is meant to explore themes of identity, secrets, outward appearances, and the dangers of heroism, as well as the duties that stem from needing to be a hero.

The AU is now available on my blog for questions and rp threads, and I will be uploading fanfic works within it as well, as time goes on. If you have any questions, or would be interested in learning more about this AU, please feel free to send an ask or a message, and I’d be delighted to answer!

AU Tag for this blog: hold on my dear; i’m coming home - arcane order jim au

You may also see me refer to this AU as: coming home au

First fic in the series so far: you are a stranger here, why have you come?

#hold on my dear; i'm coming home - arcane order jim au #arcane order jim au master post #(well... explanation post but since there's not much out it's also a masterpost lol)#ok to rb #if u really want lol

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nikibogwater · 4 years

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Long-Distance: a Tales of Arcadia fic

Nari comes to an upsetting realization when Douxie makes a very important phone call.

Somehow this ask got me to write an entire oneshot after months of really struggling with writer’s block, so I can only conclude that the Non was a literal enchantress whose ask was packed with the magic of the muses. At any rate, thank you for the unexpected inspiration!

Unfortunately I was not able to include a scene of Douxie stopping by Zoe’s place before he left Arcadia. The show heavily implied that he just grabbed Nari and booked it to New York City as fast as possible, which is a bit upsetting to the Zouxie shipper in all of us, but I did try to provide a bit of an explanation for it in this fic. This fic ended up being a two-for-one special, prominently featuring both Zouxie and the Magical Siblings (because I’m pretty sure I have a stipulation in my fandom contract somewhere that every ToA fic I produce must have Magical Siblings content in it). Also Archie being a marvelous little menace.

Read on Ao3

Or under the cut:

Douxie had been on the phone for almost two hours.

From what Nari had observed of him, this was highly unusual behavior. He was typically very averse to making phone calls, and even when it came to checking in on his friends in Arcadia, the conversations never lasted more than thirty minutes or so. But he had seemed downright excited when he told her and Archie that he needed to make a call that evening. Archie must have known something Nari didn’t, because he swished his tail smugly and said “I see the lovesickness has settled in again.” Douxie threw a pillow at him, which he dodged gracefully, and began dialing before Nari could ask what any of this meant.

“CASPERAN!” Douxie did not have the speaker on, but the others could hear Zoe’s voice screeching on the other end just fine without it. The wizard hissed and jerked the phone away from his ear, though his aura seemed strangely unperturbed by the less-than-friendly greeting. “YOU TRASH MY WORK AND THEN TRY TO DIP OUT OF TOWN WITHOUT TELLING ME--AND WHAT THE HELL IS ALL THIS I’M HEARING ABOUT YOUR DEATH?!”

“S-sorry, darling,” Douxie sputtered. “I--yes, I know that wasn’t...I texted you as soon as I could! There wasn’t time to stop, the Order was practically breathing down our necks, and I couldn’t risk bringing them to you...Of course I’ve been meaning to call, but getting my phone replaced was a nightmare and there’s just been so much...No, I’m fine it was just...” The conversation continued at an ordinary volume from there--clearly Zoe had just needed to get the yelling out of the way first. But there was something odd about Douxie’s aura that puzzled Nari. Granted, she had not known him for very long, but she’d never sensed his spirit giving off this particular energy before. It was a sort of warm fondness, but somehow different from what his aura projected when he was near Archie or any of his other friends (she was only just beginning to dare to hope that perhaps some of that fondness might be directed at her). It was almost a happy ache of some kind, something that felt as gentle as a budding flower, but also as ancient and deep as a canyon. It took her a moment to recognize it, but when she did, it gave her an unpleasant start.

“Archie,” she inquired softly, giving the Familiar a gentle nudge. The two of them had settled on the broken-down sofa near the front of the studio, while Douxie was flopped on his mattress near the back. Archie’s ear twitched and he looked up at her expectantly. “Is...Are Douxie and Zoe...” She dug through her mind in search of the correct human term. “...mated?”

“The human word for it is married,” Archie informed her gently. “And no, they are not. Though they certainly give off that air.” He looked back at the wizard sprawled on his mattress, face aglow as he listened with rapt attention to whatever Zoe was saying on the other end of the line.

“But they love each other as mates?” Nari persisted.

“I would say that is an accurate assessment of their relationship, yes,” Archie chuckled. “They met back in Camelot, when Douxie was still an apprentice. Boy took one look at her and was instantly smitten. It was hell on earth trying to deal with him moping and sighing around the castle, sounding out ridiculous love songs on his lute at all hours of the night. Zoe took a bit longer to come around, but she did after a while, and they have been devoted to each other ever since.”

Nari’s heart twisted. That was what she had feared. The guilt that had been nibbling away at her now began to gnaw like a ravenous beast. Douxie had not only left his home because of her. He had left loved ones. It had barely been a week since they fled Arcadia together, and yet his heart was aching for Zoe like they had been apart for years. And it was all because of her. Nari pulled her knees up to her chest and curled into herself, feeling sick. Douxie’s voice continued to fill the tiny space.

“...Mm-hmm...Yes...Yeah, I’ll be fine, Zo. Really. And I promise I’ll call again soon, alright?” There was a long pause. “...I love you,” he said softly. His aura gave a warm, fluttering pulse, a sure sign that Zoe must have returned the sentiment. Nari’s stomach turned uncomfortably. “...Yeah. ...Yeah, okay. ...I will. ...Goodnight.” The phone beeped softly as he ended the call with a deep sigh. He lay on his back for a while longer, staring up at the ceiling, a sad, dreamy look on his face.

“Are you ever going to eat dinner, or do you intend to sustain yourself on yearning alone?” Archie called across the room. Douxie huffed and pushed himself upright to glare at his Familiar.

“One day, Arch, I swear, you’re going to--” He stopped suddenly as his gaze landed on Nari, still huddled against the back of the sofa. “Nari? Are you alright?”

“I....yes,” she fumbled, surprised he had even noticed anything. “S-sorry.” Archie was looking at her now as well, and she felt herself shrinking under both his and Douxie’s scrutiny.

“Hey,” Douxie murmured, getting up and crossing the room to kneel in front of her. “What is it?”

“...Why did you leave Arcadia?” Nari asked in a tentative whisper. Douxie tilted his head in confusion.

“What do you mean, why did I leave? We had to. You wouldn’t have been safe there, the Arcane Order was too close.”

“I had to leave, Douxie,” she insisted. “But you could have stayed. I have been hiding alone for hundreds of years, there was no reason you had to be part of that.”

Whatever she had been expecting, it was certainly not the look of hurt that flashed across Douxie’s face, accompanied by the feeling of his aura flinching away from her as though she had struck him.

“Do you not want me here?” he asked, voice tight with whatever pain Nari could feel turning in his spirit--it was an old pain, that much she could tell.

“I...I want you to be happy, Douxie,” she replied, willing her voice to keep steady. “But the only thing my presence has brought you is suffering.”

“Who told you that?” Douxie barked, voice suddenly sharp. He didn’t seem to want an answer, because he continued before she could say anything. “They’re wrong. I don’t care what they told you, they’re wrong.” Images of Bellroc and Skreal flashed through her mind briefly, but Douxie wasn’t giving her any time to dwell on it. One of his hands landed on her shoulder. “Nari, leaving Arcadia to protect you was my choice. Merlin entrusted me with your safety because he knew you are worth protecting, and I--” He stopped for a moment, searching for words. “...I agree with him. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, even if that means I lose something along the way. You are a part of what makes this world good, and I decided a long time ago that I wanted to protect all the good I can. But that’s on me, and me alone. You’re not responsible for anything the Order has done since you left them. Understand?”

There were several things Nari could have said to refute his argument. She still had doubts as to whether Merlin would have ever found her individual safety at all important if it hadn’t been for the fact that the Order needed her to open the Genesis Seals. Douxie’s desire to protect what was good in the world was admirable, but also entirely foolish. It could only end in his demise (it already had once before), and someone with a heart as pure as his deserved better than to make such a thankless sacrifice.

“...What about Zoe?” was all she said.

“...I do miss her,” Douxie confessed, voice soft once again. “But this isn’t the first time my wizarding responsibilities have forced us to part for a while. I know she’ll be there when all of this is over, and that’s all I need. And besides--” He gave her a lopsided grin. “This is nothing compared to what it was like before the invention of the telephone. At least I can talk to her whenever I want now. It’s really not so bad.”

“I can attest to that,” Archie put in. “This Lovesick Period isn’t nearly as horrendous as some of the others I’ve seen.”

“Yes, thank you for that, Arch,” Douxie replied dryly. “Point is....I wanted to look after you, Nari. I made some sacrifices to do it, but I know it’s worth it. And Zoe feels the same. Honestly if I hadn’t been the one to take you, I’m half convinced she would have. She acts tough but she’s soft on the inside.”

“...I do remember sensing that much when we met,” Nari admitted. She uncurled and folded her legs beneath her, reaching out and cupping Douxie’s face in her palms. His aura twitched in surprise, but he did not pull away from her, even when she tentatively pressed her forehead to his for a moment. It was a very ancient gesture of trust and affection--so ancient that Nari wasn’t even sure if most humans still practiced it. But it was the only way she knew how to convey her feelings just then. “You are what makes this world good as well, Douxie,” she murmured. “I will do my best to protect you in return.” Archie cleared his throat loudly as she pulled away from the wizard. “You and Archie both,” she amended, giving the Familiar a fond pat.

“...Right,” Douxie breathed, his aura glowing with fondness once more--the familiar kind she had felt before. And this time, Nari let herself believe that perhaps it was for her.

#tales of arcadia #toa #toa fanfiction #douxie #toa zoe #nari #toa archie #zouxie #the magical siblings #and their therapy cat

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tigerkirby215 · 4 years

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Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything subclass Tier List

(Artwork from Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything. Posted by @robmichel_art on Twitter. Copyright Wizards of the Coast.)

I was going to make some comparison posts between the UAs and the full release of Tasha’s but other more qualified people are doing that, so instead in my continued effort to pretend that this account is for more than just me satisfy my character building obsession I decided to make a little tier list ranking the subclasses from Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything from my least favorite to my favorite.

This list is going to be comparing the subclasses from Tasha’s to each-other, but is also going to be comparing the subclasses to the other available subclasses for the class they’re from. So even if I really like a subclass it’ll lose points if the class already had better options. I’m not going to talk about any of the reprinted classes from Eberron or Ravnica but I will talk about the reprinted Theros subclasses (Eloquence Bard / Glory Paladin) as for many people this will be their first time seeing them.

Also it goes without saying but this is just my opinion! So sorry if you really like the next class you’re about to see because it’s at the bottom of my tier list!

F TIER

Psi Warrior (Fighter)

Well something had to be the worst. Truthfully I really wasn’t interested in the Psi Warrior during UA but wow its full release leaves a lot to be desired.

First let’s get the obvious out of the way: “Worse Battlemaster LUL!” It is laughable how bad this subclass is when compared to Battlemaster. BM gets to give itself advantage, give allies advantage, move allies, fear enemies, grapple enemies, give enemies disadvantage... and by comparison Psi Warriors get to do a little more damage or reduce a bit of incoming damage.

The fact that this subclass requires Intelligence confuses me to no end. They changed both Rune Knight and Soul Knife to not require intelligence (even though Rogues are kinda expected to have good Intelligence to help with skill checks) but Psi Warrior still needs INT? It amazes me that Battlemaster, Rune Knight, and Echo Knight are all SAD (single ability dependent) yet Psi Warrior of all subclasses is the one they consider too strong if you can min-max.

The biggest problem with this class by far is the Psionic Energy Die. Having your main class resource only come back after a Long Rest is insulting. (It’s the problem that Samurai Fighter has had since it was printed and it’s really sad that Wizards of the Coast didn’t learn from that.) While Battlemaster gets bigger die that have more effects which come back on a short rest Psi Warrior can only recharge one die per short rest. Honestly this subclass would be so much better if you regained Psionic Energy Die when using Second Wind (as well as having a dedicated action for it) so at least then you could have more than one die per short rest.

The only good level in this subclass is level 7, entirely because you get to Fly when you Dash. I mean, sure the UA Dragon Monk can also do that but at least this is in the official rules. Everything else that this subclass gets is weak: Telekinetic Thrust lets you do what Battlemasters were doing at level 3, Guarded Mind is just bad (Monk? Never heard of ‘em!), Bulwark of Force is mediocre at best (I know like 3 people who actually understand how cover works in 5e), and Telekinetic Master is a laughably weak capstone. Your capstone as a Fighter is a situational 5th level spell that takes away your ability to attack? Meanwhile actual spellcasters are casting 9th level spells, and other martials are doing upwards of 50 damage per turn.

At first I was largely indifferent to the Psi Warrior but after reading over all its abilities its laughable how bad it is. It at least surpasses Purple Dragon Knight in terms of mediocrity (ironic considering that the two of them are beside each-other on D&D Beyond) but it’s the only true stinker of Tasha’s, and it gets the honor of being the second weakest Fighter subclass and the weakest subclass in this book.

D TIER

Aberrant Mind (Sorcerer)

This is the best subclass to play if your only desire is to cast spells, and I mean that in the worst possible way. While every other Sorcerer has a defined class role Aberrant Mind feels like the most generic milk-toast subclass that you pick simply because you didn’t know what to play. While Clockwork Soul defends, Divine Soul heals, Draconic Bloodline blasts, Shadow Magic sneaks, Storm Sorcerer evades, and Wild Magic does memes Aberrant Mind’s only major strengths come online at level 14+.

Telepathy at level 1 is a joke when compared to the other Sorcerers. CS can negate advantage, DS gets Super Bless on top of access to the Cleric spell list, DB gets free Mage Armor, SM gets super Darkvision and the Half Orc racial trail, SS gets goddamn flight, and WM gets to kill the party at level 1 with a level 3 fireball. Meanwhile AM gets the Message cantrip with a longer range.

Psionic Sorcery is okay. Getting cheaper* (citation needed) spells that you can Subtle Spell for free is alright. The subclass spell list is good and seeing as you can sub out the spell to take better ones if needed you can really get some useful magic for your kit.

SPELLS TO LOOK AT AS AN ABBERANT MIND SORCERER

LEVEL 1

Dissonant Whispers is honestly a really good spell to have, but Arms of Hadar is a bit situational. If willing you can swap it out with: the utility Divination spells (Detect Magic / Identity - remember that Sorcerers can’t Ritual cast so it might be better for someone else to take these), Hex, Sleep, or Tasha’s Hideous Laughter.

LEVEL 2

Gift of Gab from Acquisitions Incorporated is either going to be a complete joke of a spell or the most useful spell in your arsenal. Hold Person is the most obvious choice from second level. Tasha’s Mind Whip is a great single-target damage spell with some added utility, and is almost objectively better than Mind Spike because it doesn’t require Concentration.

LEVEL 3

Both Hunger of Hadar and Sending are great spells, and there really aren’t a lot of Divination / Enchantment spells at third level. The only one I can really recommend is Tongues if you need the utility.

LEVEL 4

Evard’s Black Tentacles and Summon Aberration are both extremely strong spells, but if you want to replace them for some reason: Arcane Eye is essentially just a better familiar, Confusion is a great AoE disruption spell, and Locate Creature can be useful in a pinch.

LEVEL 5

Honestly the spell list really opens up at 5th level. Just about any choice is good, so look on D&D Beyond to see what to take. If you know me I’m going to recommend Synaptic Static.

Psychic Defenses, like with Psi Warrior, seems to have been taped onto the class because WoTC realized how weak it was so they just threw more situational garbage into its kit to compensate.

Revelation in Flesh is pretty much the only good ability you get. And granted there’s some insane utility with this ability. Not-quite-Blindsense, fly speed (best one), swim speed (worst one), and the folding ability that I’m sure will result in some interesting stories on Reddit. Warping Implosion is also a great escape-utility ability but like it’s your 18th level capstone of course it was going to be good.

If I was going to play in a level 20 one shot I’d perhaps roll up a level 20 Aberrant Mind. (Or more like a level 18 Aberrant Mind with 2 levels in Warlock because Sorcerer’s level 20 capstone sucks lol.) But unless I knew the campaign was going to at least level 15 I wouldn’t even bother.

Oath of the Watchers (Paladin)

It was boring in UA and it’s boring now. I feel bad that I have so little to say about Oath of the Watchers, especially after writing massive paragraphs about Psi Warrior and Aberrant Mind. But Oath of the Watchers feels like the worst parts of Arcana Cleric to me. Only difference is that while Arcana Cleric gets Wizard spells you get Moonbeam and help with Initiative. This subclass feels more campaign-specific than PHB Ranger and that’s really saying something.

Swarmkeeper (Ranger)

It’s certainly the most unique Ranger, both in terms of concept and in terms of abilities. It actually has a lot of utility with a good spell list and the Gathered Swarm feature providing a lot of great utility to a martial character. The thing is that in all honesty this subclass is kinda boring until level 15. And the other big problem is that the fantasy and roleplay that this subclass provides is so strange. When you think “Ranger” do you think master of the hunt, traveling through multiple dimensions and slaying powerful foes from the shadows with a tamed beast at their side? Or do you think “hurr durr bugzzz”?

This subclass feels like the one you pick when you've played literally every other subclass available, or when you get them from a random character generator. Ironically enough I do actually have a friend who made a Swarmkeeper for a one-shot I ran back when this subclass was in UA. But the fact that they made the character just to test UA shows just the type of characters that will be made with this subclass.

Way of Mercy (Monk)

You either love it or you’re completely indifferent, is what I have found the general opinion of Way of Mercy to be. Guess which camp I’m in. This subclass literally just feels like a Cleric with mobility whose healing comes back on a short rest. Time will see how OP “I can heal every turn and get my Cure Wounds back on a Short Rest” not-Cleric will be, but until then the subclass is pretty much exactly what it says on the tin. For the people who wanted to play a healing Monk I’m happy for them.

Path of the Beast (Barbarian)

If I can sum up Path of the Beast in one word it’s “underwhelming.” Form of the Beast gives you three above-average weapons to choose from, Bestial Soul gives you some movement buffs, Infectious Fury lets you do some decent crowd control or damage spiking, and Call the Hunt lets you buff your party.

The thing is... you’re fighting against “resist all damage” (Totem Warrior), “protect your allies with your JoJo Stand” (Ancestral Guardian), “smite with the wrath of God” (Zealot), or “shoot lightning out of your goddamn chest.” (Storm Herald.) It’s not a bad subclass and honestly compared to some of the existing Barbarians (Beserker, Battlerager, and honestly Storm Herald is bad too) it’s pretty strong. But it’s just so, so boring.

I need to preface this by saying that Barbarian is probably my least favorite class in 5e and for what it’s worth I’m certainly more interested in playing Path of the Beast than say Battlerager, but I can’t help but feel that this subclass just lets you hit things better as the class that does nothing other than hit things. The only real positive I see to this subclass is the flavor, which absolutely carries it above the likes of Totem Warrior and Zealot. (Both of which I think are objectively stronger than Beast Barbarian.)

Clockwork Soul (Sorcerer)

It been mostly unchanged from playtest even though as I stated Clockwork Soul was one of the subclasses I was a little worried about. But even then the subclass just feels so boring to me. It seems like this subclass is entirely designed to be the “no fun allowed” character who just says “No U” to everything the DM does. Don’t get me wrong it’s certainly a strong defensive subclass but I feel like if you want to play a defensive spellcaster you’re more likely to play an Abjuration Wizard or a Cleric in general.

And the lore just doesn’t really click for me? I can understand how you’d have dragon blood magic, shadow soul magic, and celestial infusion magic. But how the heck do you get a Clockwork Soul? I know Mechanus is a thing in D&D but I feel like for the average normie this won’t make any sense.

Also RIP in piss Heat Metal from the subclass spell list. Here’s my suggestion for spells if you want to play a CSS:

LEVEL 1 - Absorb Elements, Armor of Agathys, Featherfall, Mage Armor, Shield

LEVEL 2 (Aid and Lesser Restoration are good but Aid chews through your spell slots) - Enhance Ability, Enlarge / Reduce

LEVEL 3 - Blink, Counterspell, Fly, Gaseous Form, Haste, Slow

LEVEL 4 (Tasha’s Summoning Spells are good but Freedom of Movement is highly situational) - Banishment, Polymorph

LEVEL 5 - Animate Objects, Passwall

C TIER

College of Creation (Bard)

It has a lot of interesting abilities. Performance of Creation in particular is arguably one of the strongest abilities for someone who knows the equipment page well in the PHB. The problem is just that unless you have a very specific build in mind I don’t really know why you’d play the College of Creation? It feels like a Conjuration Wizard... but it’s a Bard. Perhaps the biggest irony is how much stronger this subclass feels when compared to the Conjuration Wizard, but you really have to be in the mood to play a conjurer.

Oath of Glory (Paladin)

Having some experience playing this subclass in a one-shot (Theros yay!): it’s very hit-or-miss. The spell list is amazing, the Channel Divinities are mediocre at best, the aura is garbage (10 foot +10 movement aura LUL), Glorious Defense is insane, and Living Legend is a capstone ability so of course it’s going to be good.

I think the main reason you’ll pick this subclass is for their subclass spells. And don’t get me wrong: Guiding Bolt and Haste are crazy good. But considering that Paladins usually want to blow everything on Smites?

When I played this character it was a 9 level dip into Paladin with a 3 level dip into Warlock. I didn’t use a melee weapon and opted for Eldritch Blast spamming. And that’s essentially this subclass as a whole: it wants you to be a spellcaster, which is great if you multiclass into a spellcaster (Aura of Protection is always good) but it feels bad as an actual Paladin.

The new Fighting Style that lets you get some cantrips as a Paladin might make this subclass better, but you’re still stuck being a half caster. Can’t escape the feeling that an actual caster would be better.

Path of Wild Magic (Barbarian)

It’s fun, is all I can really say. The subclass is built almost entirely around the Wild Surge table you get at level 3 and all the effects are strong. (Thankfully none of them are OP like in UA.) Unstable Backlash means that with luck you should eventually get a good Wild Magic effect.

The use of a d3 for Bolstering Magic is still a crime. It should just be a d4, with the spell slot restoration thing being “reroll on a 4.” (Or better yet: “roll a d4 and take half the roll, rounded up.” I still think having an RNG chance to get back a Haste or Fireball is a bit too strong.)

B TIER

Fey Wanderer (Ranger)

All I can say is thank god this subclass got better. It went from a weird pseudo-Paladin to a subclass with its own identity and theme. The only ability that’s really weak currently is Dreadful Strikes since it encourages you to spread out your damage for no particular reason. Horizon Walker had a similar problem but you could still focus damage as Horizon Walker. And you were doing more than a d4 of extra damage.

But beyond that this subclass is great! The subclass spell list is very strong. Otherworldly Glamour gives you some utility as a party face. Beguiling Twist... is honestly a little hit-or-miss. But it’s made up for by Fey Reinforcements and Misty Wanderer. Having a non-concentration summoning spell along with near-unlimited Misty Step is so insanely powerful to keep out of harm and to keep your DPS up.

Fey Wanderer seems really good at a lot of the things a Ranger wants to do. It’s a good skill monkey (being good at Charisma which other Rangers usually aren’t), a good damage dealer, a strong defensive support, a great single-unit summoner, and incredibly slippery and mobile. I don’t know if it’s enough to make me play the class (Ranger’s flavor is still iffy for me overall) but it’s definitely on my list for subclasses to try someday!

Order of the Scribes (Wizard)

Order of the Scribes is the best default Wizard, which is its biggest strength and its largest weakness. Getting a free colored pen is fun and flavorful, being able to get all your spells back if you lose your spellbook is insanely useful, always having an Arcane Focus is great, being able to replace the damage type of your spells is MASSIVE, getting to cast a Ritual Spell with its normal casting time is situationally fantastic.

Getting what essentially amounts to a free familiar is amazing. Getting what essentially amounts to a free spell slot (to upcast a second level spell) is great, and is honestly worth multiclassinging into for a lot of classes. Being able to negate incoming damage as a Wizard (IE squishy d6 hit die baby) is huge, even if you lose a lot of spells in the process. (I assure you by level 14 you’re going to have some useless spells that you’re never going to cast.)

But the problem with Order of the Scribes is that it has to compete with Divination, Evocation, Chronurgy, and War Wizard. If you have any specific build you want to go for then the specific schooled subclasses are better. But if you “just want to cast spells or whatever” Order of the Scribes is a lot of fun.

I actually have a character who’d fit Order of the Scribes very well, it’s just that Chronurgy feels so much more fun even if it doesn’t fit him as well. And that’s literally the exact problem with Order of the Scribes summed up in one anecdote.

Peace Domain (Cleric)

You may be forgiven for thinking this subclass is just a Life Cleric that doesn’t wear Heavy Armor, but the Emboldening Bond and the upgrades it gets are incredibly useful. Protective Bond in particular is such a massive power boost to the tanks of your party, giving them mobility and letting them take damage for squishy allies.

Peace Domain is by far the best party buffing spellcaster. They make everyone else amazing, and while that may not be fun for everyone I’m a garbage Yuumi main so it’s right up my alley.

Circle of Wildfire (Druid)

“iT dOeSn’T hAvE fIrEbAlL aNyMoRe It’S bAd BeCaUsE nO fIrEbAlL” oh get over your Fireball fetish Reddit. Circle of Wildfire is carried pretty much entirely by its flavor. It’s such a unique take on a Druid it’s impossible not to find at least some build to make with this subclass.

That’s not to say that it’s a bad subclass! The summon feels weak but you get two of them per short rest. Having a powerful subclass feature tied to short rests is really nice as a spellcaster. All your other features are very useful and flavorful, though my one complaint is that Cauterizing Flames is hard to use in Theater of the Mind.

It’s just a very fun and unique subclass that offers a unique flavor to Druids that they don’t normally have. I’m sure a lot of players will be motivated to try a Druid just to take a crack at this class. Hopefully they realize that only you can prevent forest fires.

A TIER

Phantom (Rogue)

I’m actually surprised how much I like this class to be honest. I made a Phantom Rogue once as a joke for a one-shot and to my surprise the subclass is actually very powerful and fun! It surprisingly just feels like a better Rogue, but considering how strong Rogues are normally that’s all the better for Phantom Rogue. You can easily fill any skill proficiencies your party needs thanks to Whispers of the Dead, and Wails from the Grave really lets you increase your DPS.

Tokens of the Departed got a major boost from UA since it now lets you use Wails from the Grave more, but the flavor of being able to ask the souls of the dead for information is also great. Ghost Walk is just insanely useful in general, and Death’s Friend lets you do double Sneak Attack damage every turn! Imagine how much damage you’d do with a crit!

The flavor is the one thing that I think hurts this subclass, as it’s really hard to make essentially an undead Rogue without immediately being labeled as an edgelord. But if a party ever needs a Rogue to do all the things that a Rogue does this character is perfect!

I’m personally awaiting the day to bring back Bill, the Undead Kobold Detective.

Way of the Astral Self (Monk)

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JoJo subclass. I like JoJo. This subclass was overpowered in UA but the final release manages to capture the same feeling without being broken. Let’s go over the features one by one:

Arms of the Astral Self gives you a JoJo stand rush against everyone close to you, letting you recreate the flavor of JooJ without breaking action economy too much. But being able to prioritize Wisdom is huge to keep your Stunning Strike DC high while still getting good attack damage. But it’s still not OP since Dexterity is tied to your AC. It’s perhaps a little strong for multiclass builds (you can use your spellcasting modifier to attack) but multiclassing into Monk has always been kinda iffy, and Shillelagh has existed since the PHB was released. It should also be said that having Reach weapons as a Monk is huge, since you don’t have to get the Mobile feat to do hit-and-run.

Visage of the Astral Self is a nice social feature for a subclass that doesn’t normally get social features. Body of the Astral Self gives you more defense and offense. And Awakened Astral Self just further increases your defense and offense.

Excluding weeb shit this subclass just has awesome flavor. I’m actually planning on playing this subclass soon. (I’m playing a Cleric / Monk multiclass and I’m only level 2 in Monk currently.) I’m surprised myself that my first Astral Self character isn’t a fucking JoJo OC, considering that I already have a grand total of about 5 JoJo OCs.

Twilight Domain (Cleric)

Twilight domain also surprised me with how interesting it is. I don’t really have much to say other than it has a good mix of defensive, offensive, and utility abilities. Your subclass spell list is very strong for the most part. Eyes of Night and Vigilant Blessing are both just generally useful. Twilight Sanctuary isn’t insane but it’s consistent and it’s nice. Steps of Night is very strong and has a nice aesthetic. And Twilight Shroud is a good boost to your Channel Divinity.

The honest truth is that Twilight Domain feels kinda weak by comparison to some of the other Clerics. It’s no Forge, Grave, Life, or even Order Domain is all I can say. The fact that all your features only work in the dark is iffy if you don’t have shadows to sulk in. But along with just generally having good abilities the flavor is really what carries this subclass.

Here’s a meme:

Armorer (Artificer)

Artificer is one of my favorite classes so it’s no surprise that a new Artificer subclass excites me. Armorer fills a niche that I think Artificer didn’t have, and surprisingly it’s not the “tank” archetype. Armorer is still a good tank but the Infiltrator armor also gives you an option to play the subclass at range.

What I like is that Armorer is a subclass that doesn’t have a summon and puts more focus on your infusions. Armor Modifications is such a great feature that really brings the customization to Artificer. It truly lets you make your character your own instead of focusing on concrete class features. It doesn’t surpass Warlock Invocations for customizability, but it’s still great to get two personal magic items of your choice.

Yeah this subclass is going to be used a lot for min-maxing. Giving Wizards easy access to Heavy Armor is a little scary. But really if a Wizard wants to take a 3 level dip just for armor and the Guidance cantrip let them. Let the squishy boys have some AC for once.

Circle of Stars (Druid)

Full disclosure: I’ve been wanting to make a Stars Druid after the Rise of the Mountain expansion came to Legends of Runeterra. My first Druid had Telepathy (I took the Telepathic feat as a joke since I had a floating ability score) and it helped me realize how crazy a Druid with telepathy was for espionage. After seeing The Trickster celestial card from LoR I felt the artwork hit all three of my qualifiers for a character: class I want to play, great theme, and furry.

(Artwork by Kudos Productions. Made for Riot Games.)

My personal interest in this subclass aside: it has such a wonderful aesthetic that’s perfect for any character who wants an astral connection. The features are also great: Guiding Bolt is a strong spell to have as is Guidance, and having reactionary Bardic Inspirations is nice for a spellcaster.

But of course the main feature of Starry Form lets you still play the game normally while also benefitting from your Wild Shapes. Stars Druid is probably the second best Wildshape Druid despite not actually Wildshaping. Free Bonus Action attacks is huge, extra healing is always helpful, help with concentration (and Flight later) is really swell, and resisting all damage while not-Wildshaped is very helpful and lets you play as a pseudo Frontliner.

Stars Druid just does so many nice things and I think it’s a great subclass that can fit into any team comp. Druids are already insanely useful (arguably one of the strongest classes in 5e) so to have one that can do so much is massive.

Soulknife (Rogue)

Much like Phantom Rogue this subclass feels just really good in general. You can boost your skill checks and also add not-Bardic Inspiration to your attack rolls to do more guaranteed damage. However this subclass is by far the best Rogue for infiltration. Yes: even better than Assassin. (Though I’d perhaps suggest learning how to use a Disguise Kit.) 1 mile telepathy, teleportation, and invisibility all seem to be built for infiltration. If you have a DM who likes infiltration, espionage, and other encounters that don’t involve combat then Soulknife is by far the best subclass on offer.

But of course you aren’t picking Soulknife just to sneak around! The Psychic Blades are easily the most useful feature not just for Rogues, but for many builds! Having an unlimited supply of thrown weapon suddenly makes a lot more builds viable. My dreams of a ranged Paladin or ranged Barbarian are somewhat crushed by RAW, but there are still some niches that can be filled with unlimited throwing weapons.

Fun fact: you can’t do extra Rage damage with thrown weapons, but you can use Reckless Attack on thrown Finesse weapons. What’s more interesting is that you can’t use Divine Smite on thrown weapons, but you can use Improved Divine Smite on thrown weapons. But of course you can always talk to your DM to see what their final ruling is.

Rune Knight (Fighter)

You can become Giant which makes my stupid furry ass horny for Volibear and Nasus.

I mean I’ve gotta be honest like 75% of the reason I’m hyped for Rune Knight is to become a giant. But the runes are also very strong, giving the subclass some Battlemaster-esque gimmicks that have a bit more magical flavor than the other martials. I also really like that the subclass gets boosts to their skills, allowing you to help out of combat as a Fighter.

There isn’t much I can specifically praise about Rune Knight because the whole subclass is fantastic. It’s a very good mix of defense, offense, and utility both in and out of combat.

The Fathomless (Warlock)

Sheeyutu Nagakabouros. Nagakabouros-shee-shok.

Having played a Fathomless Warlock in UA I can safely say: it’s a good subclass. Having a consistent source of Bonus Action damage is nice, and being able to use it defensively is also great. Extra spells known as a Warlock is nice (and Evard’s Black Tentacles is a great spell!) And a teleport with a mile distance is rather crazy.

So much of the subclass is built around the tentacle which is great because the tentacle is such a great Bonus Action damage source. I really wish I had more to say but the power of this subclass starts and ends at how great having what amounts to an extra Eldritch Blast as a Bonus Action every turn is.

S TIER

College of Eloquence (Bard)

Yup. One of the best subclasses in this book was also in Theros. It helps that my favorite D&D character of all time was a College of Eloquence Bard.

This subclass got so much better since UA. Reliable Talent for Charisma checks at level 3 is fucking nuts! And on top of that Unsettling Words is a great way to soften enemies up for devastating spells. Universal Speech at 6th level pretty much singlehandedly enables the “peaceful” route with a lot of enemies, allowing you to talk your way out of problems.

But this bard is the king of inspiration! Unfailing Inspiration fixes the biggest problem with the Bard class, and Infectious Inspiration multiplies your Bardic Inspiration to a ridiculous degree. This Bard is just so reliably fantastic at Bard things, all while still being a full spellcaster that can make it harder for enemies to deal with spellcasters. It doesn’t get anything special from its subclass but you only got 3 features from your subclass as a Bard anyways. Baseline Bards are amazing and the insurance on your features from this subclass makes it all the better.

The Genie (Warlock)

If the fact that I stick Warlock levels into literally every build didn’t prove it I really like Warlocks, and Genie Warlock is easily the best Warlock subclass. Period. I actually have a post in the works where I go in-depth as to why Genie Warlock is so good. But in short:

Being able to choose between four subclass spell lists is crazy good. Like ridiculously good. A single level in this subclass gives you a Bag of Holding, a (single person) Leomund’s Tiny Hut, and a damage boost to all your attacks every turn!

6th level gives you damage resistance which is always good, but I seriously can not stress how ridiculous non-concentration Flight is for a Warlock. Your spell selection and spell slots are already so limited, and this subclass lets you get all the utility of flight pretty much whenever you please. Just think about how strong Aaracokra are and then consider that this is basically the Aaracokra’s only racial trait.

Sanctuary Vessel lets you upgrade your Leomund’s Tiny Hut power to affect the whole party. By this point you can indeed Long Rest in the lamp, and I need to stress how less suspicious a lone lamp is to a giant bubble of magical force. You could easily hide the lamp somewhere and (if the party is traveling light) be practically undetectable.

Oh and Limited Wish? So you know how the best feature of the Bard is their Magical Secrets? What if you got to choose (practically) any spell of 6th level or lower whenever you please? The only “problem” with Limited Wish is that you have to know every spell that you can pick from, but whenever “too much choice” is a problem in a game of infinite choices you know it’s a good feature.

Genie Warlocks do everything that Warlocks want to do so well. More damage on all your attacks to maximize the value of cantrip spamming, mobility to keep safe without spending spell slots, more high level spells, and giving the party a safe place to rest and recharge. I played a full Genie Warlock and absolutely loved it. I highly recommend this subclass to anyone who wants to play a Warlock. It’s just so versatile and useful I’m sure anyone can find a way to enjoy playing it.

#Tasha's Cauldron of Everything #ranking #tier list #dnd #dnd 5e

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firemagicked · 4 years

Text

Maw: Desperation

There was no sunlight in the Maw.

And death knights didn't eat.

There had been before him and since, other mortals into the Maw. The Ebon Blade even said some had gotten out again, but Lyren was less focused on that.

The light in the Maw was weak and pale, more shadows than light. And never changing. Nothing changed. It could have been days or weeks or mere hours. It could have been months. Time keeping devices and magics flowed too strange to be depended on.

Magic was in technical abundance… but it was that which came from souls. A literal river of them and Lyren hated it, hated every bit of arcane magic he needed to use that needed more than he could give it. So he rationed his own magic, and ate conjured mana buns and ignored the way his internal fire didn't like this place of Death at all, the his dependence had to be on arcane over fire because at least there was an outside source to sift through and transform into arcane if necessary.

At least he had brought his sword instead of using a staff as was more common focus when he had a companion that preferred throwing their face at the enemy. It was the one upside.

He was surviving. Not thriving. But he was surviving - and it was finding Darnath, the first time, that nearly outdid him.

The mark barely gave him any notice as two bodies dropped next to him, a furious and familiar death knight, and one of the winged beings who was paying for attempting to abduct him. The mark lit up with recognition - if it was weaker than it should have been, if other signals even now still felt stronger, it didn't compare to Lyren physically seeing him.

"Darnath!" For expediency's sake, now he used fire on the winged being.

He was hoping for a greeting. Even just his name. Any sort of words. Instead what turned toward him - was Darnath's body and none of his intelligence. Darnath's body gave a snarl, raised his sword in Lyren's direction - then paused.

"Darnath?" he asked it again, so, so hopeful. Not-Darnath strode toward him - but though there was a glimmer of recognition now as hands that had both once held his children and tried to strangle him came closer. Lyren tensed up, and swallowed. "Now would be a great time to say something if there's any part of you in there."

Instead, one hand left the sword to tug at Lyren's robes - still with enough magic in them they were recognizable, if dirtier. Darnath's head gave a nod, as if satisfied - and then just began walking off.

Lyren - stared. It was… There was no sign of improvement. Nothing. So much for the former Lich King's idea this whole adventure would "fix things". They had been better off on Azeroth. He should have - should have just dragged them back to Atlas. Fuck, what had he been thinking? Jumping into a death portal. Now they were far away from home *and* Darnath was still… gone inside.

Maybe if he brought him home, Alinith could have fixed it. Or Javinth, or maybe Mira would have had an idea. Any of them, a better resource that was more - … or at least equally trusted as the guy that had lost his very important Hat of Death that led to their world breaking.

(Mira was a little crazy but her heart was in the right place.)

(Javinth… was pretty good these days and knew some sort of soul magic he absolutely refused to divulge.)

(Alinith couldn't be trusted as far as Star could throw him but he seemed invested in Darnath's continued existence at least and had fixed Lyren's fuck ups before.)

Anything would be better than now and for a brief, brief moment Lyren closed his eyes and wanted to sob. The burn of moisture was there, the pit of despair, the yawning loneliness and guilt. For just a bare moment it seemed overwhelming.

He gave himself that one moment, before tucking all of that into a ball to deal with never and straightened up, and opened his eyes. "Wait up!" he called to what was left of the man he loved, and ran after him.

(Reaching for his shoulder was how he found out that not-Darnath might not be trying to kill him anymore, but he now bit. Unrelated, he now would have a scar on his right ear perfectly matching Darnath's teeth.)

-----

The first time he lost Darnath's body in the Maw, one of the Ebon knights grimly declared, "It may be for the best."

The subsequent fight was how Lyren ended with his magic chained and unconscious. When he was let go, he immediately left the camp, struck out into the Maw, and went to find Darnath.

Eventually, Darnath simply… wandered right back up to him. As if he hadn't been gone in the first place or in an entirely different area. He also tried to immediately bite him. Lyren was beginning to think Darnath was seeing it as a greeting now. Lyren did not approve, but he was so relieved to see him even the newly bleeding wound wasn't deterrent of his happiness.

His magic was stretched thin, his food had basically no true nutritional value, the lack of sunlight was possibly making him actually sick, they were cut off from all contact - but he had Darnath. It had to be enough.

The third and last time he lost Darnath's body in the maw was both the worst and the best. It was yet another rescue attempt of Azerothian denizens. Sometimes it was other knights, sometimes it was the original leaders stolen… sometimes it was new people that had come into the Maw since. Lyren had, honestly, stopped keeping track. They almost all failed except maybe to get one or two people through a supposed gateway to somewhere not the Maw.

They were over the river of souls when Helya herself popped up… and Darnath threw himself straight at her while the rest of them went flying off… on the opposite side of the bridge.

Lyren had felt the river of souls. It was impossible not to when he had first opened his senses up. But being in it - being in it the river was no longer like a singular piece of the Maw. Now he could feel each individual coursing through it. Some endlessly. Neverending in their rush onward - except - there was something -

"LYREN!"

It was his name. It was a voice he hadn't truly heard all this time in the Maw.

It was a soul. It was Darnath. Lyren was still spinning from that fact alone when Darnath came up with a plan and put it into action. `"Maybe Just...stay put. And. This, is going to be a wee bit uncomfortable."`

One of the souls was there, pushing at his mind until it penetrated his defenses and shoved inward and he knew it was Darnath but - `"Wha - Hey!"` - that was still his mind! And his body and most recently he was all too used to a close Darnath meaning he was about to get hurt. It was natural to resist and evidently Darnath knew that.

But they both knew it had to be done. Darnath's soul clung on but his voice was in Lyren's mind, soothing at the necessary hurts. `"I know I know. I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, but if I don't get in fast and lock the path others might realize and try to follow."`

The mark on Lyren's back warmed, welcoming the new presence… and Lyren felt such relief he wanted to be able to just focus on nothing but the warm feeling of Darnath with him. Except he couldn't. They didn't even have time for the full explanation Darnath wanted as Lyren struggled out of the river of souls with one burrowed determinedly into him. Not a long term solution to be sure - but Lyren wasn't going to let it be a long term anything.

Somewhere in here, there was a body to find.

Unfortunately… they refound the Ebon knight before Darnath's body. A couple of them stared at him like they could see and Lyren ignored it, traveled with them on autopilot with a new murmur of Darnath banter in the back of his mind. It was wonderful.

It was distracting.

They were at the portal out before he knew it, surrounded on all sides… and there, out of nowhere, was Darnath's body crashing through the enemy.

`"...Am I really talking with just grunts and growls? No wonder he's not getting laid."` Darnath seemed less than impressed with himself. Which was a confusing sentence Lyren was never again going to think.

The thing was, the waystone portal was glowing. It was active. They had to go now if they wanted to go.

The problem was, last time he went through a portal he had lost Darnath. And right now his body housed Darnath's soul. If they went through again, there was no guarantee that this time, he would be able to find him again and soul and boy might remain separated. It was insane, and impulsive, but he knew it had to be done. `"Hold on a minute you two."`

He took a breath and stared at the body, empty of the usual soul occupying it. Occupying. A lot more made sense, but not all, and none of it was to contemplate now. He could only hope the feral death knight who absolutely was not really Darnath at all right now would give him a little leeway. `"Okay, we need to go through the glowy thing veeeery soon, but can you do something for me real quick first?"`

Disturbingly, feral death knight had learned to parrot some things… including a key phrase of the Ebon knights as he glared, full of wrath and a hunger wholly belonging to the undead. `"Get on with it."`

Notably, he did not give Lyren his hands. The phoenix stared before rolling his eyes and mentally going, 'fuck it'. It had to be done. Likely only from surprise, he was able to yank one the death knight's hands toward his back. He began struggling - and biting at him - almost immediately but Lyren still got one palm against his back where the demonic mark was anchoring Darnath's soul.

`""Lyren wa-!"` Oops. Evidently Darnath's soul wasn't quite ready for it to be suddenly connected to its more usual occupant as immediately after the soul left him… the big death knight slumped unconscious over him. He kept his feet, but only barely.

There was still fighting going on - fighting they were losing. Lyren couldn't risk it. He dragged Darnath's unconscious form over to the waystone step by step, aware with each breath how less and less blades rang out. He didn't look back. He could focus on hating himself later for it.

They made it through the portal.

But not intact. @darnath

#LyrenFlarewind #DarnathWindere #Dar and Ly Shadowlands adventures!#mentions of others #FlarewindFamily #Mira #Alinith #Lywriting

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cosmosfated · 4 years

Text

The Summoning

SUMMARY: Lea, Xion and Roxas perform a summoning to bring back an old friend to perform on a job asked by another. This results in a conversation between them and their old friend that gets uncomfortable in several ways, as well as a couple of faces that intrude. Roleplayed on Discord.

It's a tug of warmth in his chest that begets a look of confusion. What? Then, a name. A familiar one, his. His ears ring with bells as he feels himself pulled from his place in The Depths and up, out, away. The dragon is with him, always with him, but the sensation is jarring and wrong and it feels too fast. It makes him feel dizzy and sick and awful.

This is all too quick, and he takes a breath of cold, but comparatively warm air. The light is bright against his eyes, as he'd grown used to the dark. He has to squint somewhat to adjust and his chest shudders as he breathes in. Everything aches, he hurts. Clothes torn to near shreds, beaten, bloodied, hair slicked down, covering his right eye, single visible eye a bright silver, fully aware that there's flowers and leaves and trees and life and vigor all around him but not trusting it. His ears are ringing still with the sound of bells. Right, right, first things first. Deal with the rest of what he sees later.

His eyes focus on... wait... no... that can't be right. Yet his chest is warm. A tug forward, to a familiar face. He doesn't trust it. He can't...can he? "... excuse me." Voice a growl, like a warning, like a demand for an explanation.

The curl of a flame dips before settling on a shoulder. Comfortable now that its done its task. A smirk curling across features that would sooner see a sunset then stand around a garden. Or would he?

"Yo!" The mock, two fingered wave/lazy salute given with his free hand is well enough to give away who it is. A greeting far too familiar to be anyone else. Not that his looks would be anyone else. Nor to two half pints flanking him on either side. Keyblades drawn and looking like deer's caught in the headlights. Something he's quick to note and shake his head at.

"You two got all that? Or are we going to have to do that again?"

"I have it, though Roxas on the other hand..." Xion states with a bit of a smirk to the blond and redhead. "Hey! I got it too! This was important so I was paying attention!" Roxas pouts somewhat, though mostly playful in his intent.

Fleur can't help the flicker of a smile that plays on his lips at the familiar bickering between familiar voices. It's his friends. Oh how he's missed them. But just as quickly he's reminded that this is probably a trap and he all but snarls at the familiar visage before him of his so called friend. This isn't beyond something that The Depths would do to him to get him to die before he reaches his grave. Then he would be screwed. Then there would be no escape. Then there would be truly no way for him to go home. And then he would be going against his word.

"so. you called for me. i would like to know why and the terms. i was in the middle of something. something important too." He's calm, but his breaths are short, stunted, as if breathing through a straw. "i don't take kindly to being interrupted while on a business venture."

Lea's grinning at the duo even as his attention slides back over towards Fleur. Waving off the words with his free hand like they're not much but an annoyance or a few leaves on the wind.

"Yeah you're busy so you're not back yet, we get it. This is kinda important though." His keyblade disappeared in a flash of fire as he moved to cross his arms over his chest, far more comfortable but also far more serious.

"Saros hired me as a body guard."

There's a pause, a twitch of his claws. And then-

"with what money?"

It's a simple question but one that is as stupid as it comes. He knows well the going rate of an assassin. Especially one of Lea's caliber. He just wants to know how Saros managed to access his money without him giving that information up to them. It's real interesting.

That gets a laugh. "Pretty sure pearls are expensive. And it's not like you ever hid anything from the kid." He's rolling his eyes long before anything else knowing the kids will back him up on this one.

He clicks his tongue. That's a fair assessment he supposes. Hide, no, not if they asked, and they asked plenty of things. Unlike others in their 'family'. He pauses again, realizes something. "my magic. it feels strange. i can't access what i normally can. is there a cap on it that i should be aware of or is this because of the way you summoned me?"

He looks over towards the kids warily, for just a moment, but they just smile at him and wave. Weird. They haven't tried to attack him yet. He mutters under his breath that they're being weird.

"It's Keyblade stuff." Lea's answer sounds almost as exasperated as he looks. One hand reaching up to rub at the back of his neck even as he shakes his head at the ground. "Far as I could get out of Sora, without all the mushy heart talk thrown in, we act as a unit. Two people, one shared attack or magic effect."

"...i'm sorry," he's so calm, terribly calm. He's not even looking at Lea. "but not only can i not teleport freely, but i can't use my spells? i can't use mirage arcane or herasha mirak?" He suddenly looks annoyed. He does however start coughing a little bit, for just long enough for it to become a problem and then he stops.

"... i hate this. this is awful. don't summon me again after this, okay? or if you do, summon me the right way, so i have all my abilities and can actually do something." Sigh! "guess i'll just rely on the old fashioned way." Pause. "wait. wait. back up. body guard. why body guard? they're 13 they don't need a body guard."

Well he would comment on how rude that was. There were some tricks up his sleeves thank you very much! But... Well... Lea shares a look with Roxas and Xion. That cough doesn't sound good. Now he's glad they talked him into making it a Trinity Limit. It would last way longer this way. Not that Fleur had to know that.

"Fine, fine I'll let Xion summon you next or something." He waves a hand again, exasperated even as his other finds its way onto his hip. Can they get on with the program please?

Roxas and Xion definitely look worried for him. That didn't sound good. He looks worse for wear too... He looks like he could use the time out from where he was.

"no! i said YOU! not xion!" He rubs at his temples and sigh-growls. "anyway, body guard. right. why would... a 13 year old need an assassin as a body guard..." ... Nope. Nothing comes to mind. "bullies at school or something? i'm sorry, i'm not all with it, a bit loose in the cap. i'm, ah." He winces. "distracted too. right sul?"

There's a low rumble of a growl that shudders the ground like a localized earthquake, and then a rumble of a voice answering "I do not believe these are deceptions young one. You can stop playing your games."

Lea's stance widens just a hair. Oh shit another one! "Uh... Care to catch us up?"

He knows the kids will back him up. They always do, but his side still smarts from where he took the most damage sailing THROUGH a WALL thanks to a dragon friend of Sunshine's.

"Long story short on our end? Your script's been messed with. Sunshine's a very real threat with a very real dragon. One that's threatened Saros enough into hiring me... and enough for calling backup."

The kids even go a bit ready on the offensive for just a moment. There's another dragon in their midst?! God damn it! Not again! They don't need this...

Fleur doesn't seem fazed by this information until he hears that Saros has been threatened by Sunshine. At which point a low snarl tears from his throat. An awful sound that is actually sounding a bit watery and drowned. He then takes a short breath and shakes his head.

"Young one. You should take what time you have." Silence. "This should not be squandered." Silence. "Young one. Trust in what allies that you have. You have few." Silence. "Young one?"

"i'll help. but i need to check up on two people first." He looks down for a moment. "they don't need to be now but i need to... see if they're okay. just at some point. even if i have to steal one of my watches to do so."

Is he about ready to bolt? Maybe. But weird feeling the kids anger though. That’s a new one. Sora could have given him a heads up. He’s pretty sure if the two half pints weren’t in view he’d be a lot scarier right now.

And that’s a thought he’s going to shake right back into a box thanks. No shape edges needed here. Not right now.

He hopes Xion doesn’t think too far into why he puts a hand on both her and Roxas shoulders as he steps closer to Fleur again. “Sure fine, check on whoever. I’ll buy you some time.”

I'll buy you some time.

Something about that phrasing makes his expression soften. The anger in his visible eye flickers and dims. And he just stares, no words, no response, just stares, as if he simply can't understand.

Xion looks at the hand on her shoulder, then up at Lea, then at Fleur. "... I think you've broken him. Look at him. You've broken a perfectly good friend is what you've done." She smiles. Roxas gasps. "You broke him again? Isn't this like, the fifth time?" Cue a wide grin. "Come on Lea, we need him unbroken."

Lea smirks. Your turn kid to have a little extra time.

Only for the touching moment to end with Xion and Roxas poking at him for breaking Fleur. "Hey!" That's his hands on both their heads. Time to mess with their hair. Brats. Key brats the both of them!

He snaps back to attention at hearing the laughter of the two keybearers, and Fleur closes his eyes, reaching up to gently scritch at the neck of the dragon as it comes into view. Gargantuan, silvery with hints of grey, but only for a moment before it shifts itself to be small enough to be on Fleur's shoulders like a scarf and just stares at the the Keyblade bearers. Respecting distance and also keeping close to Fleur.

"that requires stealing a watch from either my lab or from the embassy. i can't just be invisible while walking around so i have to be careful how i go about this. my damned other watch broke when i... left." Sigh. "speaking of. how did you get clearance to do this from the watchers of this timeline? namely the wardens? ... and i can still feel the influence of my papá." His expression drops. "oh gods. i'm actually... this is real?"

"Did you doubt us?" Roxas throws up a victory sign, grinning like the fool he is. "If it wasn't us, it would have been someone. You know that. Now's not then." Xion insists. "Isn't that right, Lea?"

“You’re joking right? Maribel was one of the first people we told with the idea to summon you. She’s the reason we haven’t got people on our butts.” Lea waves a hand over his shoulder. They’d made enough of a racket recently that just their presence doing something this serious would bring more then a few main players running.

Speaking of...

It’s not the sound of boot-steps that heralds him. Silent as the grave save one thing... It’s the aborted noise caught in an agape mouth. One that isn’t sure what to say. Too many things running through a head at high speed off fractured surfaces. Nothing that will articulate correctly. One hand aglow, ready to defend to the death a world his son had loved with what magic he could throw, the other wrapped deep into the fabric of a friend’s collar to drag him along. A grip now going slack at the sight before him. An eye rippling with rings of color stilling once again.

"i'm sure she loved the idea of bringing me back. especially considering the state of the world." He almost laughs. But the aborted noise makes him jump and spin to face the sound, ready to fight and defend Lea and the kids, that rise in anger and fear undeniable in his heart.

But he's greeted with something else. Familiarity. Painful familiarity.

The friend who had been brought along for this ride had, sadly, been brought along with the thought that he'd be in a fight, so he didn't put up a disguise. So no illusion. No tricks. Nothing. He looks like himself. And perhaps that a good thing. Seven raises a hand to the one Lost has entangled in his collar to gently unentangle it. "Well." He says calmly, recognizing the boy in front of him without problem, without pause. He takes off his cloak to walk up to the tense Fleur and wrap it around him, and smiles. "You look awful. You should get cleaned up a bit. A shower would do you a lot of good." Spoken as if he were seeing an old friend after work, and not seeing him after being dragged out of a hellscape.

Fleur just looks over his shoulder at Lea and the kids with the expression of 'uh, help??' but only gets the look back of 'what do you want US to do?' from the kids.

Even with attention elsewhere, tunnel-visioned onto someone else his hand is removed with ease. A trust there that most haven’t earned. A flinch that doesn’t come. Someone is touching his hand, and Lost is unbothered, even as fingers are uncurled from cloth.

Lea gives Fleur a shrug. He recognizes one of these faces. The other one he doesn’t. The fact that the first hadn’t shown up to stalk them while they’d been running around for a while was already confusing, but still welcome. All he could do was stay a stable presence right? That’s how this worked or something? Who knows.

Fleur slowly looks back at the two familiar faces and warily assesses the situation. So, this looks like Seven and Lost. Two of the figures that had taken care of him when he was at his worst. But then again, this could be a trick. A very elaborate trick.

"s...even?" "Yes?" "...how are you-" "Long story short: you led me to your old man over there and he pulled me free for a time. I still suggest a shower. Or a bath. A nice long one. You look like you need one. It relaxes the body and mind. You know? Right, Lost?" Seven turns to face Lost with a grin. "Start with a proper shower and go from there?"

"Man this guy's weird," Roxas mutters to Xion under his breath, who shushes him but nods.

Lea crosses his arms over his chest but deigns to say anything. This is interesting to watch, and for more then one reason. He's seen this in a few places, and the few places he has. Well, he'll leave his mouth shut.

Thoughts bounce off shattered panes of coded messages. Half formed thoughts and partially coherent mutterings.

That was his son, but what if? Could he? What if not? There was danger here. Keys friend or foe? He looked terrible. Agreed. There was a spike in activity in sector 586. Movement from One-that-is-not-Frisk: None.

Fleur opens his mouth to say something... but nothing comes out. He has nothing to say. If this is really Seven... then he looks tired. Worse for wear. Not the way the Depths would make him look. A confused and strangled, drowned noise tears its way out of his throat and he backs up closer to Lea. The dragon growls at Seven, peeking out of the drenched but slowly drying hair, as a warning.

Seven seems caught off guard by the dragon for but a moment before nodding. Very well. He's unwelcome. Have his cloak then. It's cold out anyway. Seven turns on his heel and walks up to Lost again, gently taking the man's face in his hands. "I need you to stay focused. Can you do that for me?" Speaking gently, calmly, as if nothing else were there but the two of them. "I know this is tough, but you must to try and find your words. Just one at a time will do. Can you try that for me? Not for them. For me. Let me know if I'm asking too much."

Lea's hand steadies him automatically, a hand just to a shoulder. They're here, and aren't going anywhere.

Lost freezes. Hands. Warm.

His eye is quick to meet Seven's holding. A jittering and diffused glow sharpening to a more focused light. Ever so slightly he leans into that touch, grounding himself and settling into that warmth, that trust, that hold.

It's a rattle through his bones that answers more then his voice does. A tight squeeze shut of an eye as he takes a second to focus not on what he sees or thinks but on what he's been asked.

"Keys." Finally makes its way past his teeth. His eye opening again to sweep the three wrapped in an odd material. Sharp with a wild threat. He'd sweep his son away to his ship in an instant if he but knew he could. But what did these keybearers represent here?

The hand on his shoulder does put him at ease, especially since it's Lea that does it. Seeing Roxas out of the corner of his eye calms him some more but he does look towards Xion just to make sure she's there. Good. His friends are still there.

Seven smiles again. "Thank you, my friend. That's more than enough." He then steps to the side to place one hand on Losts arm to help keep him grounded as he speaks. "I think an explanation is in order, if I'm to understand my friend here correctly. The presence of the keybearers right spooked him."

"oh uh," Fleur stammers for a moment. "i was u-uh, s-summoned? right? yes. summoned. by lea. and roxas and xion? i think." He's just staring at Lost. Bewildered and caught between wanting to wanting to reach out and wanting to stick near Lea.

Lea blinks before looking the duo that looked like they might be from Halloween Town over. Huh... So one of them knows about the World Order and the other doesn't. Interesting.

"Right, well we're not here to cause that kind of trouble. Unless you're with Sunshine."

It's almost automatic for him to hook that arm as if he's escorting someone. This one is with me. And yet, it is the entire opposite. Seven has him. Lost's eye narrows just a bit further. His head tilting slightly in curiosity but still a deep distrust set into the light of his eye. His free arm sweeping out to gesture at the world around them, claws showing themselves within the gesture.

"This world is protected." Each word is a struggle. But he manages. He will make certain these keybladers know it, and know the threat well. He will not give up this place that is beloved by his family without a fight.

Ah, Fleur had almost forgotten. The other side to knowing Keybearers. The dangerous side. He's just known them for so long, he's really just seen them as 'they would never'. This is his world. They would never think to harm it unless he gave up on it.

So he steps forward again, still hesitant, still unsure, but towards Lost and Seven. He tugs the cloak closer around him for warmth, and gets a little bit closer, and closer still. He doesn't say anything at first, unsure of what to do or think. Even Seven watches him warily and the kids look like they want to say something but don't.

"you've been protectin' it, haven't ya?" He says with a smile. And then he opens his arms for Lost to give him a hug. He's taking a shot in the dark as far as he's concerned, but he misses his papá. He needs to know.

Lost watches his son walk forward. Uncertain and without trust. It hurts to see, and yet it is only understanding that has him take a step back. A nod bowing his head but also an old warning haunting a step that had not been as steady as it should have.

His mouth clicks closed even as his hand clinches tight on thin air. Of course he would protect this place. That was without question. But that did not mean that he should be trusted. He knew those games just as well as his son did, and all of this was all too many warning signs.

His eye lingered upon Fleur a moment longer before sliding back up to pin the keybearers where they stood.

“Summoners.” It’s a word almost growled out, a low hiss upon his tongue that for those that knew him demanded swift explanation. It’s a warning that comes with his free hand slipping into a pocket.

Those that summoned could command and control just as easily as they could grant that leeway. This was two strikes and he’d get his answers first and foremost.

Ah. So this really was his papá. The depths would have taken that chance in a heartbeat. He drops his arms and smiles sadly. He also takes a step back. Towards safety, towards certainty. This is for the best, for now. Until they both can be sure of themselves and their company. He rushed it, again. He doesn't sigh, but the temptation is there.

"they summoned me because they need my help." He states simply. This is business. This is not a reunion. Not yet. "something happened with saros between them and sunshine, and they summoned me from the depths in order to help them out. i'm going to help because of my own free will. they wouldn't keep me here if i didn't want to stay, right, lea?"

Lea just rubs at the back of his neck. “Pretty sure you’d kick our butts if we tried something stupid.” The kid was stubborn, not stupid. All three keyblade wielders knew that if Fleur didn’t actually want to be here he wouldn’t be. Beside, he’s pretty sure that’s not how this version of summoning worked...

All this hero and heart stuff could give a somebody a headache.

“Otherwise, that’s the gist of it. Saros hired us and we needed the backup.”

Lost’s head tilts, his eye settling on each bearer in turn. Taking his time. These are not beings he can just gloss over.

Instead he hisses out a breath of mist. Might as well start concealing steps that others have already noticed.

“Crow’s about. Be careful.” It’s not an invitation. That would be too simple to listening ears. But the mist makes it easy for him to relax his posture and lean on Seven. Letting his eye unfocus and close as visibility turned terrible to most save those he deemed worth the time. Now escape or return to ship, he’s not up to mind. He’ll trust Seven’s judgement for now.

"i would, you're right." He jests, though knowing that a forced summoning would hurt like hell. Even this strange version of it, there must be rules to it. And he's pretty sure one of said rules must be that both sides must be willing. Otherwise it won't work. He hopes so at least. Otherwise he'd never get his word achieved if the kids had any say in it.

The kids know better than to back down or hide but neither are they going to puff out their chests in pride. They're just waiting. Watching. They've been silent on purpose. They know better than to interrupt something important.

Seven takes the leaning with pride and rests his free hand against Lost calmly. "I have to agree. People you don't want on your tail may already be looking to sever your connection. You best be careful. Keep my cloak for a time. You'll need it more than me. Return it to me when you get a chance, will you?" Said to Fleur, who nods though seems sad. "Good. Now. Lost, that's enough excitement for a while. We can leave when you feel you're ready to go."

Lost watches on through the fog for a moment longer. Eye light like a distant lantern within the gloom.

There isn’t anything to be said as his coat flutters as if caught in an unusual gale. The shadows around him and Seven deepening and turning the fog almost black save the lights of their eyes.

“Always.” Is uttered upon the quiet of the mist that smells of death, sea-breeze, parchment, cedar, and sage. A single word before a light fades and darkness recedes, leaving nothing behind.

Lea gives a low whistle. Now that was an exit. But at least they had a little cover now to get out of here with some sort of stealth to their name.

Almost as if he had been holding his breath the entire time, Fleur lets out a long breath and starts coughing, hacking, wheezing. Breathing is difficult when you've drowned. When he steadies himself after a few moments, he finds himself staring out at the space where the two were. "well that went... elegantly."

"That was tense." Roxas finally speaks up with a bit of a wince to his words. "You okay, Fleur? That coughing fit sounded bad." Xion asks, stepping forward to reach out to him.

"oh aye. just a bit drowned. or drowning. everything hurts." He rolls his shoulders. "got a place you're staying? i could use a moment to rebandage my wounds." Gesturing to the various dirtied bandages across his arms, his chest, even his legs.

Not all that glitters is gold. Not all that is precious is made of gemstone.

Always; he had said. A quiet and broken sentence to a slightly longer one. One punctuated by something that slithers through the fog and mist to curl about a drowned man’s boots.

Bone and just a bit of glitter clung to countless ribs stares up at someone that should not have left it behind. How dare. There will be much pouting for this.

And noticing the familiar sight makes the anger dim that much further and be replaced with joy. Oh how he's missed you! He kneels down to pick up the snake, careful in his motions as to not aggravate his coughing and wheezing. Ah there's the dizziness. "sorry for leaving you, friend. i hadn't a choice."

"I've never seen you look so fondly at something before in my life," Roxas intones in awe. "I have. It's cute. Let him have this while we figure out how to escape someplace safer than this with him in tow, right?" Xion chirps as she tugs on Leas sleeve. "Ideas?"

Lea chuckled watching the kids. Sometimes Roxas missed the biggest cues even now. Man did it show. One hand plops itself onto a blind head to ruffle and muse hair that is in dire need of being messed up for that one.

Xion’s question does get him to pause and think. “Actually, those two gave me an idea.” If this world was as weird as it seemed to have dark creatures working as heroes ... well sorta. Then follow the darkness.

He looked to Fleur with a curious brow raised. “Am I right in betting that travel through the dark isn’t as dangerous here as it usually is?”

Roxas makes a noise of discontent at having his hair mused but doesn't fight it. Clearly he's missed something so he'll take it. Xion just laughs quietly.

Fleur stands and turns to face them again, now holding two entities that are vying for his attention and shoulder space. "erm, it depends on the means of travel. usually not, one of my old friends used to do it all the time and never had a problem. but i can't say every means of travel is exactly the same guarantee. there's always a risk you run. a gamble, no matter how small."

Lea nods. A small gamble is way less then what they usually deal with. And he looks to the duo of kids for a confirmation. He won’t pull a stunt like this without their approval.

“Well, it’s worth a shot.” They could leave the area and get where Fleur might want to go.

The kids just nod towards him; they're up for the gamble if he is. They might as well take the shot if it's going to get them away from here.

"it's worth a shot indeed." Fleur retorts as he finally notices the two on his shoulders gets comfortable. "at your pace."

#discord.#The Summoning #Epilogue #Fragmented Fate #Happy New Year's?#early new year's I suppose

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inviouswriting · 4 years

Text

Eyes that stare into the Soul

Part of the polypairing with @maiden-born-in-snow

Some interactions between Ardbert, Kivera and Divinity. Maybe including Parn too.

Part of the Primal AU in mentions.

There was always an air between Ardbert and Kivera. Not an unpleasant one, but awkward between them. They have danced around each other in the process of getting to know each other. Kivera was always around either Shuri or Estinien, and he wanted to have a conversation with the reaper along with Divinity.

The warrior of light eyed the elusive being currently resting her head on Divinity’s lap having her head petted. He caught on that these two especially had an intricate bond, Divinity spoke in riddles around them saying hers and Kivera’s story is one that the angel needs to say instead of Divinity. Perhaps because their story made Divinity nervous to tell, and Kivera is easier at the truth of their lives.

Ardbert became aware that he is stared at, the moment he walked into the room the two were in. Near windows always near a window or mirror. Conduits to escape.

“Your eyes unnerve me.” Ardbert says eyeing the green eyed one. He makes sure not to keep her stare for too long. She played an unfair prank during a staring contest and froze his feet to the floor.

“How so?” Kivera raises her head off Divinity’s lap, she was in her miqo form today, easier to receive comfort from everyone when she isn’t towering like the elezen are.

“It feels like you are staring into my soul, like you can read my life, like you are judging me with your eyes.” Divinity sits back and knows where this is going. She smiles though as this is a good thing, the two had never spoke much beyond hellos and brief in the moments when intimate with their mutual lovers.

“Ah, so you feel it then. The reason you feel that is because of what I am. Most who have experienced death will feel this. I am staring at your soul, and I am judging silently. Call it gauging what mood you are in. It’s a passive thing I can’t help doing.” Kivera explains and Ardbert feels a little better with that explanation, but it is the vivid of her green eyes that unnerves him.

“Guilty conscience? Usually when souls are uneasy around me. They have something they’re guilty of. I am after all keeper of a realm called Purgatory. In that realm all secrets are revealed. In order to move forward.” Kivera picks up on his demeanor, a longing in him, unrest. She could offer him the same trip she had taken Kiya’s love on, to find peace in himself. For different reasons. Ardbert would without a doubt be truly tested compared to the trip the other one took in exchange for sparing his lover.

“Might just be, when I stare at you, I am reminded of my own suspension in limbo.” He sees the way her nose wrinkles at the mention of a plain of existence.

“You were a lost soul, Limbo is not where you were.” She corrects him. She knows every location in the underworld and has ferried many souls from the real Limbo.

“I meant it in passing terms.” Divinity runs her fingers through Kivera’s hair to get her to settle down. Ardbert understands that, it was insulting to the souls that actually have and are there.

“Forgive me.” He moves to sit across from the reaper, he was right he did ruffle her a bit with that comment the outer edges of her irises were a orange tint.

“Need to have a little more care for passing terms. Those that have experienced the real limbo. Would not find your terms too pleasing.” Divinity speaks up for a change, she tugs an ear on Kivera to get her to relax her demeanor. Underworld keepers were protective of the realm.

“I understand that now, let me rephrase. I felt stuck between voids. Living and Death.” He receives a nod from them both. All three of them have experienced death in different ways. He had heard how Divinity died at the hands of a mob setting her on fire calling her a witch. Where she had met Kivera, giving her a peaceful death sitting on the pyre.

He glances to the Libra spirit, her odd eyes, the gold one blind despite the vivid color and the way she moves it like she can see him. Perhaps she sees something else. The silver eye does see, framed by stark white hair a common trait among the lovers.

“Tell me of your world then? I know little of you, whilst everyone else does know you so well. I tend to feel out of place at your side. You know my life, you can easily read it. While you remain such a mystery.” Ardbert sees the colors dance on the angel’s eyes. Yellow for confusion to a speck of blue then back to green. He has seen how those eyes light up bright gold and purple around the others. He has only received the green hues and brief yellow when caught staring.

“Are you sure you want to hear that story? Or witness it?” She gives him the chance to back out, even moving to stand up from her relaxed spot.

“Aye, I do.” He doesn’t miss the way her eyes light up, another person who actually wants to know her instead of just to be with her. Kivera figures a way to show him, that won’t overwhelm or cause a worry for power use in the house. Divinity moves to sit across from Ardbert her expression soft yet a little solemn since her own past will be shown too.

Kivera shows him the same way she showed Shuri. Using fire and orbs letting it play out for him to see all that happened to herself and to Divinity. From Kivera being used for a ritual, her rise to the heavens in ranks, he finds the angelic form alluring but sees how she was thrown for following her heart, the descent into Hell itself, he and Estinien are the ones shown what she endured through Hell. How she lost her eyes and how she was blinded. He understands why Shuri and Estinien are protective and secretive of it. Shuri was spared the sight that was in Hell. She and Aymeric were not shown.

Ardbert almost glances up till Divinity barks an order surprising him.

“Don’t you dare look away. You’re being judged.” Divinity can see the ruby irises among black sclera that stare down, something the others could not see when they were being shown is how she judges them reacting to her life. Bright red eyes, if one looks away from this, she would forever shut them out of her trust. Kivera did not look at Shuri this way because she had shown her in the comfort of her home and knew she’d accept it.

Ardbert sees how broken down Kivera was, but stumbled blinded through, the frozen land she had walked, till she collapsed on the shores of Purgatory. He is shown how she and another young spirit climbed the mountain, every single moment shown to him was important to what made the reaper.

How she obtained new eyes, her missions as new reaper, taking her revenge on her murderer. Meeting Divinity, a young girl of eighteen autumns how Divinity was branded a witch and killed for it. After that was things he did not know about Kivera. Her lover, her thirst of knowledge, how she came into possession of her scythe, shown it is her very heart how he understands the eye in her weapon is an extension of herself.

Every moment after that was a rise to power. Then the event that all of them speak of in her loss of a lover. Damien. How he was used to lure Kivera to a great arcane ritual, to change the necromancer they were fighting to a full lich. A monster even he is terrified to have seen. One that the voidsents of Tam-Tara could never achieve to be.

There was a moment where everything she had shown clicked with things and her odd mannerisms. The way she is constantly staring, at any of the white mages who talk of raising the dead. It is a precaution she is seeing if they’re driven to madness. Every moment after the cataclysm he was shown in her awakening, he sees her tearing through the voidsent to save their friend in Kiya from her certain death. An event they had spoken of whether or not Kiya would be slain, seeing the grief first hand on Aymeric when he had beseeched them in the matter.

Kivera ends the showing when they reach the point they are at now with talking. Once the orb and flames dissipate he stays there staring till he is told he can look up.

“Thoughts? You are free to look up.” Ardbert does and understands why Divinity told him to keep his eyes on the orb. He’s reminded that this is a other world being. The black sclera unnerves him more than her green eyes do. Her eyes return to normal understanding it is her magic use to show these memories.

“You have experienced such pains. I am glad you trust me enough to share these finally.” Kivera sits down across from him, a flicker of gold crosses her green eyes.

“Pain is what makes us either stronger or weaker. I’ve made my peace with it. What you choose to do with my past makes for how I act around you now. You cannot go telling other people obviously. Only those who have seen it will understand.” Kivera had assumed her main appearance, the black and white wings add to her warnings and reminders of what she is more than who she is.

She curls her black wing for a feather out of it, feeling the white would remind him too much of the sin eaters wings. She fixes the feather into a pendant for him. Ardbert looks at the feather, seeing how the edges of it are serrated like an owls. Silent as death. How he is reminded of that phrase.

“Why do you assume an angel form when you are a demon? If you mind my asking.”

“Children. They’re less scared of me if they see a form that looks like what they believe in.”

“Children?” He receives a nod. He knows too well that young souls perish too frequent. Always a sad thought, but one he understands.

“Do they suffer?”

“Never. I may be death, but I make sure they never experience cruelty beyond what their lives could have been.”

“That thought gives me as much comfort as I’ll get.”

“I’m glad it does. I never asked for the role, yet I’ll do it because I know what it is like to suffer at the hands of tyrants.”

“Aye, you showed me.”

“Don’t forget it. I was once human.”

“I won’t forget it. Also... the way you sparred, I’ll have to challenge you one of these days.”

“Think you can get further than our dragoon?” Kivera’s voice is teasing.

“I might have a few tricks up my sleeves.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” There is a pause between them as they finally reach mutual ground.

“May I?” He had closed the distance, Divinity sits behind Kivera her hands had returned to the reaper’s hair starting to braid the longer black hair. Kivera tilts her head wondering what he is asking. Then it clicks, if he was seeking affection.

“Not scared of me?”

“I was never afraid of you, just unnerved a bit.” Ardbert takes initiative, and looks to Divinity who snares Kivera’s waist to hold her in place to receive a kiss. Not a forced affection. She knows Kivera will disappear if she never wants affection from someone. Slip into another realm of existence. Kivera allows the timid kiss, meeting Ardbert. There is fire racing through her spine almost electric at the generous press, a test between them.

The color he was hoping he’d see was the purple irises that stare at the others so tender. He receives it, bright and alluring. Drawn into the way the two accept him.

Kivera leans back to Divinity, who winds her arms around her fellow star spirit. The way they hold each other he has noticed is more comforting and relaxed. He saw why they’re like that, both have had many nightmares to face. Kivera glances up over him his guess towards a chronometer. Anticipating the time between when loved ones would return. There is mischief in those purple eyes now.

Ardbert has seen that stare directed at Shuri and Estinien. The two girls before him exchange a look and nod. Before he knows it Ardbert is snared at his arms from vines he didn’t know had manifested from the grassy floor and pulled down. He is surprised wondering what and why till Kivera moves to sit on his waist. The vines disappear. Her magic.

“I am guessing you are playful then?” He asks, seeing how she works to rid him of clothing. Divinity helping by starting to blindfold him while Kivera works her magic in multi ways that he has seen used on the others.

“Mayhap just a little. I don’t see you complaining though.”

“Then shall we start?”

“We shall.”

#Leaving it off here #Kivera siverstein #Divinity Libra #ardbert #ff14 ardbert #poly pair #part of shuri's universe #mentions of primal au

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ladyatthecrossroads · 5 years

Note

prompt list 40.“You’re sweeter than cake.” with Caduceus if its not too much trouble?

Sorry this took so long to complete, anon. It’s a bit longer than I expected it to be. I hope you enjoy!Title: Sweeter Than CakePairing: Caduceus x readerWord Count: 2435

It feels good to be back in Zadash. Your adventuring party had dragged you all across the continent of Wildemount and beyond, to the shores of the Menagerie Coast and the waves of the Lucidian Ocean. Finally back in the Empire, you were more than happy to put the relatively lawless ways of the ocean and pirating aside. You had missed this, just walking along the cobbled streets, passing the various vendors out and about with their wares in the Pentamarket. The city was a hectic place, bustling with activity, but it definitely was preferable to struggling to survive on a boat in the middle of the ocean. This was downright relaxing, comparatively.

“Man, I can’t believe Caduceus has never had a birthday party,” comes the trilling voice of Jester as the two of you stroll along the boulevard. The easily excitable tiefling skips along beside you, occasionally linking arms with you for the briefest of moments before rushing off towards whatever stall or tent catches her eye. You, however, have a goal in mind, a very specific goal.

Leaving the rest of your party back at the Leaky Tap, you recall the conversation that brought you here, snooping about the Pentamarket in search of the best variety of baked goods you could find. The subject of birthdays had arisen, and Jester had been very eager to share the details of the various past parties her mama had thrown for her as a little girl. This had led to each of you throwing in your two copper on the matter and your own personal experiences.

Of course, you hadn’t missed the far off look on the firbolg cleric’s face that spoke of fond memories. He had lazily scrubbed at his brilliant pink beard with that thoughtful expression he always wore, commenting plainly on how many seasons it had been since he last celebrated a birthday with his family. And when you had questioned him further on the subject, he appeared to grow sheepish and told you about how his family never really threw “parties,” per se. Birthdays seemed more a day to ponder your personal growth and reflect inwardly on how best to serve the Wildmother. Seeing that this answer didn’t exactly satisfy you, he then made mention that his parents would always cook his favorite food, at least.

You can understand; Caduceus is an incredibly humble individual, after all, and humble celebrations seem enough to please him. Still, you can’t quite shake the odd lingering disquiet you feel. You care for all of your comrades, but the firbolg cleric is very dear to you.

From the first time you had laid eyes on him, he had exuded such a calming aura and had been a paramount force in overcoming your grief and coming to terms with the losses you all had sustained on the road thus far. He always made time to listen when you came to him with a problem, offering helpful advice. He was so insightful, even if he was a bit naïve to the outside world. You’d both promised to lean on each other for support whenever the need arose. It was for your mutual benefit, and ultimately the good of the group, you’d told yourself.

It seemed to just come naturally that you had then fallen for him.

You want to do this for him. He deserves it after everything Caduceus has done for you. For all of you. He deserves to know that he is irrevocably and undeniably a beloved member of the Mighty Nein.

“Oh, what about this one?” Jester’s attention is caught by a baker placing hot fruit pies out to cool in a store window. The aroma seeping out the front door smells nice; the sweetness of candied fruits and the savory scent of freshly baked breads combine and you find yourself leaning forward in that direction to catch more of the delicious fragrance. Your feet move almost of their own accord, drawn in by the promise of tasty treats within. The tiefling cleric is very eager to bound to your side, linking arms with you once again as the two of you enter the shop.

The tinkling of bells announce your arrival, even though the front door is already wide open. Magic almost seems to permeate the air; there’s a palpable buzz of arcane energy, intertwined in the heady scents of the pastries. A young woman wipes her hands on her apron and looks at you, and you can see she is of some sort of Elvish descent; half-elf, you wager. Her blue eyes twinkle at you and though she is fair of face, you can see shining silver strands among her ashen brown hair. It seems impossible to determine her age, as you know that half-elves generally live longer than a human yet not as long as a full-blooded elf.

She regards you with friendly curiosity and a warm smile. “Welcome,” she says, a lilt to her voice that reminds you of a certain lavender-skinned tiefling, and you smile in fond remembrance, “Can I help you find anything today?”

A brief, but detailed conversation ensues, occasionally interrupted by one of many of Jester’s seemingly endless lines of random questions. The clerk seems to have infinite patience. You describe the occasion and general idea of what you’re looking to buy, and she is very helpful in selecting a treat of appropriate taste and size. You leave with a cake box of a medium size and a sense of accomplishment and anticipation. You hope Caduceus will like it.

When you reach the Leaky Tap, your eyes search for your ragtag group. You find them quite easily; even in the dim lighting, Caduceus’s tall frame and pink hair are not difficult to spot. The firbolg’s back is to you as he converses with Fjord and Beau, but Caleb is the one to meet your gaze. A quick assessment of you and the package you hold and he gives you a knowing look when you silently plea for him not to spoil the surprise. He puts his head back down to the book he’s reading but you catch a small glimpse of a smile he tries to hide.

You glance at Jester and the tiefling is practically vibrating in excitement beside you. Her hands go to press upon your shoulders and urge you closer. You can feel your heart beating faster. Together, the two of you cross the room as inconspicuous as you can. Fjord and Beau glance up and over Caduceus’s shoulder, eyes widening and eyebrows cocking, and that gives him the clue to turn around; and that’s when the two of you begin to sing.

It’s entirely worth it. You inhale deeply as Jester and you belt out a somewhat harmonious rendition of Happy Birthday. Your arms present the wrapped confection, held out before you as you circle the table to set it down. Caduceus’s expression is filled with mild surprise and wonderment, his light pink eyes travelling over the expanse of your face before trailing down to the cake box you hold and then back up to meet your eyes. His smile is warm and gentle and you think you can see a faint warming of color bloom across his cheeks. It might just be a trick of the light; you aren’t certain.

“Well,” he says, in that low, rolling rumble of his, “This was unexpected. How nice.” He retracts his hands from where they were folded together on the table before him, and you set down the box. He sits there, eyes glued to you and your face, still smiling, lazy and content.

You puff your chest up in pride and gesture to the box before him. “Well, go on. Open it.” And, watching as those large hands of his move to the simply-tied string holding the container closed, your own fumble together, twisting and wringing as you bite your lip in earnest. “I hope you like it.”

What he reveals is the modestly decorated cake you had picked out. Instead of icing, you had asked for powdered confectioners sugar to be sprinkled liberally about the sponge. The cake itself was actually a dome of a lovely muted shade of green tinted with brown from the baking process. It is a simple design, nothing too fancy, as you had chosen it for flavor rather than looks.

Despite the outward humbleness of the cake’s appearance, Caduceus looks pleased. “Oh, wow. Look at that. That looks…” He closes his eyes and inhales the sweet scent, and you can practically see his eyes roll back in his head beneath his fluttering lids. His smile grows. “I know this smell. It’s wonderful.”

“I thought you would. It’s a tea cake… or, rather, it’s a cake made with tea. Green tea,” you correct yourself.

His head turns and a hand goes to wrap gently around your shoulder and pull you down to him into a hug. “You got me a green tea cake. That’s so nice. You didn’t have to get me a cake.” There’s a light note of bashfulness to his voice and you smile, returning the hug.

“I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to do something nice for you,” you admit, heat rising to your face and you silently thank the gods that there is very low light in the tavern. “You’re always doing things for us, healing us, you know.”

“Yeah, Caduceus,” the other cleric chimes in, that teasing note in her voice as she pops up over on the other side of him, “And you know we wouldn’t do this for just anybody, you know? We really like you. And, I mean, some of us really, really like you. Like, a lot. Like, just so much, you know, so—“

Dear gods, she really did have to just ham it up, didn’t she. You shoot her a glare from behind Caduceus’s back before Fjord pipes up.

“I think the man gets it, Jester,” he says, clearing his throat and trying to inconspicuously glance between the two of you with a look. The air has gotten noticeably warmer, or maybe that’s just you. Either way, you’re grateful for the interference.

The tiefling has the audacity to shoot you an innocent look, despite the mischievous smile clear behind her eyes. When Caduceus turns to look up at you, she makes a rather inappropriate gesture in your line of sight. You want to smack her, but Caduceus grabs your hand and your attention.

“Thank you so much. This is more than anyone’s ever done for me in a long time. Really, thank you.” His eyes are squinted with delight as he looks up at you and his long ears do a happy little flick, and it is the most adorable thing you think you’ve ever seen; a seven-foot-tall, pink-haired firbolg being absolutely giddy at being able to celebrate his birthday so far from his home. He tugs gently on your hand. “Come sit. Let’s eat.”

From his pack, Caduceus produces a set of cutlery to start cutting the cake and you take them gently from his grasp to divvy up the slices yourself. You reserve him the first and biggest piece after sizing up just how much to give to everyone else, after which you all eagerly dig in.

The flavoring is subtle and not overly sweet and you can tell from the expressions of your compatriots that it had been a good while since they had indulged in something to satisfy their sweet tooth. Beau, Jester, Fjord and Nott all seem to devour their shares within mere seconds, whilst Yasha, Caleb and Caduceus each take their time and savor the experience.

You’re focusing so intently on Caduceus’s reaction, taking in every minute shift in expression with each bite he takes, how he seems to chew so methodically and ensure he gets everything out of it; the taste, the texture, every little nuance and flavor he can possibly experience. It’s downright mesmerizing how one man can be so thorough and savor each little bite.

Jester’s foot connects lightly with your shin under the table, snapping you out of your reverie. Maybe you’d been staring for a bit too long. You snap to attention, bashfully returning you your slice and finishing it off. It was delicious and so worth the cost.

A quick prestidigitation spell cleans off the plates and utensils and you help Caduceus gather and sort them all and put them away while the rest of your crew begin to go about their own independent business. Caleb sticks his nose back into his spell books; Nott has slipped into the crowd and disappeared; Fjord and Jester have gotten into some conversation about what plans to make for the coming day; Yasha is brooding in a corner; and you think you see Beau wandering over to the bar, practically itching to start a tavern brawl.

You, meanwhile, are pointedly not looking at Caduceus, fixating yourself on cleaning up the remnants of dessert and simply enjoying the relative silence before things get too rowdy. After a moment, you steel your nerve, asking, hopefully, “Did you like it?”

You don’t know how he does it, how he’s always so content all the time, how easily he grins like the cat that ate the canary, slowly, languorously. Somehow the world just melts away and it’s only you and him. “I did, thank you.”

“And it wasn’t too sweet?”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head, pink eyes warming over your face, “The cake was sweet, but…” He lifts one large hand, fingers outstretched, and you are powerless to move away as he gently swipes them down your cheek. As he pulls them away, you see a small smudge of powdered sugar that he brushes his thumb over. You lift your hands to your face, semi-self-conscious now of having any more sugar there, feeling the blush rapidly rise to the surface; you pray the light is low enough that the firbolg doesn’t notice.

But then he looks earnestly into your eyes and you catch your breath. His face is so close now that his breath fans across your lips. His thumb catches your chin and he leans in to peck gently at your lips, and you’re melting all over again.

Caduceus pulls away from you, and you see his tongue flicker out to pan over his bottom lip just briefly. Honestly, you feel a little woozy. Did Caduceus just… kiss you? Did that really just happen? You could die happy. He smiles.

“Just as I thought,” he rumbles, “You’re sweeter than cake.”

#critical role x reader #critical role #critical role imagine #critical role campaign 2 #caduceus x reader #caduceus clay #caduceus #mighty nein x reader #the mighty nein #x reader #reader insert #request fill

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luckyjak · 5 years

Text

fic: Declaration of Intent (1/5)

“Then it’s settled,” Caleb beamed, pleased with his own cleverness. “We’ve got to find you a husband, before your mother finds you a wife.”

Essik has a problem; Caleb has a solution. Both of them are so good at pretending that their hearts may never recover.

[The Caleb-and-Essik-Fake-Dating/Fake-Engaged-fic you didn’t know you wanted. Shadowgast. Canon-compliant as of episode 63 but probably won't be for long.]

a/n: This is like, the opposite of a slow burn. This is a fast burn: two characters who get together way too quickly and are way too intimate with each before their feelings can catch up.

The rating may also go up as the story progresses, but I don't want to promise something and not follow through on it.

AO3 Link

There was something wrong with the Shadowhand.

It was subtle; from the outside, the man was as composed and as polished as ever. But Caleb had been spending a lot of time with him, and Caleb was nothing if not observant. He was sharper, more critical than Caleb had ever known Essik to be, and while practicing dunamancy was normally one of Caleb’s favorite activities, the afternoon had made it something of a chore. It was in the way Essik moved: his spellwork was...strained, and his concentration waned. He was irritable, and nothing Caleb could do seemed to help ease the irritability, no matter how flawlessly and fast Caleb learned. They had been at this particular spell for hours, and it was beginning to become a problem that would reach a boiling point soon.

“No no no, you are doing it wrong!” Essik snapped, for the fourth time this afternoon. He ran one hand through his cropped hair and the other along the spellbook, tracing arcane ruins with long fingers. “The pronunciation is el-sol-la-de , not el-sal-la-de , you--”

Caleb snapped back. “I would have done that if you said so earlier instead of just handing me a book written in Undercommon and expecting me to just 'figure it out'--”

“I don’t expect you to just figure it out, I expect you to use your brilliantly gifted mind and--” Essik stopped mid-sentence and rubbed his face with his hand, his eyes scrunched shut. He took a deep breath before speaking again. “I’m sorry. I am being unkind.”

You think? Caleb thought, but didn’t say out loud. Instead, he merely nodded in agreement; Essik had been uncharacteristically unkind towards him all afternoon.

“Perhaps we should take a break. I’ve been pushing you hard, and it’s not your fault. Dunamancy is a difficult school of magic to learn even on the best days, and we’ve been going at it for hours now,” The gentleman moved to sit down on the couch in the library/lab, and he gestured for Caleb to follow.

They sat together in quiet stillness for a moment; Essik stared out of the window, lost in his own thoughts, and Caleb stared at Essik. The other man was tired, Caleb realized, and clearly stressed about something, but what the young wizard couldn’t hazard to guess.

“You have been off all day,” Caleb broke the silence, sitting down next to the drow on the opposite end of the couch. “Is everything alright?”

Essik brushed him off immediately. “It is a personal matter. I should not allow it to interfere with my work.”

“What bothers you so?” Caleb tried again, his curiosity peaked. It wasn’t often that he saw the Shadowhand as raddled as much as he was. Essik stopped, his face scrunched in hesitation, which made Caleb wince in sympathy. “If it’s too personal, you do not have to--”

“No,” the drow shook his head. “I should talk to someone about it. And you are a neutral party, from a different culture. Perhaps you could advise me in ways others could not.”

Caleb bowed his head slightly. “I’ll do my best.”

“Right. I, uh,” the Shadowhand stumbled with his words uncharacteristically, stilling looking not at Caleb but at the dark window, as if it might hold the answer he was looking for. “I’m getting married.”

Oh . That was unexpected. “Congratulations?” He said, hesitantly. The thought of Essik getting married was...unanticipated.

Of course Essik would be getting married, Caleb thought with uneasy queasiness. He was a powerful, beautiful young man, with an important career and a lot of political influence. Of course he would have caught the attention of someone special, somebody young and beautiful, somebody not at all like Caleb.

“It is not my choice,” Essik bit his lip, turning his attention away from the window and looking at Caleb’s face once more. “You know I am--young, right? Not compared to you and your kind, but in elvish terms I am barely grown,” Caleb nodded in agreement. It was difficult to comprehend 200 years old as a young person, but when a species lived to be in the thousands, it was easier to acknowledge. “I’ve accomplished a lot in my short life, which is made even more impressive given that my soul is not consecrated, and this is only my first life. But, ah, my amille , my mother, she, ah, thinks I need to wed. For the good of House Theylas.” The drow shook his head in disagreement. “She’s arranged for me to meet with and betrothed myself to a young woman from Den Olios, and I--I do not wish to.”

“Because you do not like this young woman?” Caleb venture a guess.

“Because I do not like any women,” Essik’s face flushed a darker purple, and he hid his face in his hands. “For a woman who has lived 800 years and three separate lifetimes, you’d think my mother would understand that!”

“Ah,” Caleb winced in sympathy. “Admittedly, I still do not know much about your culture. Is such a thing frowned upon?”

He wanted to ask Essik, since he apparently didn’t like women, if preferred the company of men, but he didn’t want to assume. For all Caleb knew, the Shadowhand was like Caduceus, and didn’t want to be with anyone, no matter their gender. A small part of Caleb--a part he didn’t like to acknowledge--rather hoped that the Shadowhand did prefer men.

Men like Caleb, even, although that part remained wisely unsaid.

He also wondered if Essik’s face would always be such a delightful shade of dark purple. “It’s not frowned upon. Ah, we are a reincarnation society, right? So sometimes a pair of veru come back the same gender as before, or different. My father, he was a man when he married my mother, but when he was reborn he came back as a woman. She and my mother are no longer together, because they never vowed atemay , but they could be together if they wanted to, yes? It doesn’t matter that they are both women.”

Caleb cocked an eyebrow. “But it matters that you don’t wish to marry a woman?”

Essik sighed. “It--it does. It’s--it’s important for there to be children, yes? Especially in powerful dens, there needs to be heirs, because we reincarnate. Because I am the highest ranking member of my family, I’m considered Den Theylas’s heir, despite being my mother’s youngest child.”

It was starting to make sense to Caleb. “Because you are the Shadowhand.”

“Because I am the Shadowhand,” Essik repeated with a groan, leaning over to place his head in his hands. “I could--I could solve everything if I just stopped being the Shadowhand. My sister Meela would be my mother’s heir then, and Meela is already married with two children.”

That sounded like a terrible solution to Caleb. “But you don’t want to stop being the Shadowhand.”

“I love my job,” Essik agreed, with a pained expression. “What I do is important, to the Dynasty, to the Bright Queen, and to the study of dunamancy. I would hate to leave it.”

The thought was curious, however. “What would you do then, if you weren’t the Shadowhand?”

“I don’t know,” Essik answered honestly. “It wouldn’t be this, though,” he gestured around the room to where he and Caleb had spent most of the afternoon training and studying. A lump began to form in the back of Caleb’s throat at the thought of what Essik was implying: if Essik was no longer the Shadowhand, he would not be the person assigned to watch over and guide the Mighty Nein. Someone else would take his place.

Caleb tried to imagine somebody else in Essik’s role as their guide. In his mind, he pictured someone who would be less kind to their diverse group of adventurers. Someone who might have a problem with the fact that they planted a giant tree on the roof, or someone who would take issue with the fact that Caleb and Beau were humans. Someone who wouldn’t teach him dunamancy, and someone who wouldn’t be nearly as amused as Essik often was at their antics.

Someone less attractive, almost certainly, and that was reason enough for Caleb to protest. “Well, we cannot have that, then.”

“But I don’t know what else to do ,” Essik sighed, his head hung down low. “My mother is the Den Mother for all of Den Theylas. She’s an incredibly powerful Warlock and an uncanny politician. More importantly, she’s very good at getting what she wants, and she’s been trying to arrange a marriage for me for years. I’ve outsmarted her before, but I don’t know...I don’t know how to get out of it, this time.”

Caleb leaned over closer to Essik, so that his knee was barely brushing against Essik’s. “Is there anyone else you could get help from? Would the Bright Queen assist you in any way, if you appealed to her? You serve on her Council--surely that must account for something.”

“The Bright Queen and my mother have been friends since before I was born,” Essik shook his head. “If I went to her with this, she would side with my mother, and then I’d really have no hope. The Bright Queen’s word is law.”

“Could you suggest an alternate partner? Maybe the young lady from Den Olias has a brother?”

“She doesn’t, I’ve already looked. And if my mother is the one doing the arranging, then all she will care about is me having an heirs,” Essik rubbed his wrist with concern. “Which means a--a lady, a wife.”

“Which you don’t want.”

“I prefer men,” Essik confessed, and Caleb stomach flipped a bit happily. He had assumed, given Essik’s dilemma, but it was still nice to know he and the Shadowhand had that in common. “Sexually. Romantically. I don’t dislike women. But I cannot imagine myself ever being in a relationship with one. At least happily.”

It was a shame, too, because Essik was quite handsome, in Caleb’s opinion. It would be a terrible waste: Essik, with his beautiful smile and sharp chin, trapped in a loveless marriage, forced to spend--however obscenely long it was that drow lived for--with a woman he didn’t know and didn’t love.

At least if the girl in question were human, he’d only have to wait less than a tenth of his lifespan.

Oh.

A surge of brilliance struck through Caleb as an idea slowly began to take form. “What if you were already promised to another?”

That caught Essik’s attention. “How do you mean?”

“Could your mother marry you off if you were already engaged to someone else?” Caleb asked, his knees brushing against Essik’s on the couch.

Essik paused, his mouth frowning. “No--I, no, she couldn’t. Don’t get me wrong, polyamory is a thing here,” Good to know. “But once a bond has been established, no one outside of the bond can decide to extend it, no matter how much influence they may have.”

“Then it’s settled,” Caleb beamed, pleased with his own cleverness. “We’ve got to find you a husband, before your mother finds you a wife.”

Essik smiled at him softly, but it was not the overjoyed ‘ah, Caleb, you are so terribly brilliant’ smile Caleb had hoped it would be. “I wish it were that simple,” Essik shook his head. “But my mother is crafty . She will want to interrogate whoever I’ve chosen to marry, and she would have to approve of the match in order for it to go through. And I have,” he looked outside of the window at the dark day out there, “very little time to find someone.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow at Essik. “Would your mother ever accept a human?”

“You can’t be serious,” Essik breathed, catching on with the finer, unsaid aspects of Caleb’s plan.

“Why not?” Caleb shrugged. “We work well together. Better yet, we can convince the rest of the Nein to collaborate with our story. No one will argue too much with the Heroes of the Dynasty, no?” The red head leaned back on the couch, stretching slightly. “I have no other prospects for the moment. And I live a much shorter lifespan than you.”

“You are serious,” Essik’s eyes grew impossibly wider. “Widogast, that’s insane.”

“Why?”

“ Why? Lots of reasons!” The drow exclaimed, jumping up from the couch so he could pace the room. “We barely know each other! We’re--we’re from different worlds , two different countries, different cultures, different races--we can’t--we couldn’t possibly convince my mother that we were lovers, much less engaged! I’ve known you less than a month!”

“People do crazy things all the time, especially when they are in love,” Caleb smirked at his teacher. “Haven’t you ever been in love before?”

The Shadowhand turned to glare at him with his arms crossed. “I’m a little less than two hundred years old. What do you think?”

Caleb thought a lot of different things, and could have said as much, but he didn’t. Instead, he stood up and walked closer towards Essik. “It’s just a con, you know? Just a bunch of lies told together, to tell a semi-plausible story.” He stepped even closer towards Essik, until the two of them were face to face. It might’ve just been the atmosphere of their conversation, but Caleb felt taller than Essik for once. “You mean to tell me that you, Essik Theylas, Shadowhand of the Bright Queen, spymaster of the Dynasty, have problems lying?”

Essik flung his arms apart, poking Caleb in the chest. “It’s not my ability to lie that concerns me, Widogast. It’s yours .”

Caleb couldn’t help but chuckle. “Believe it or not, Shadowhand, but I’m quite an experienced con-artist. Nott and I used to run a con similar to this back before we joined up with the rest of the Nein, actually.”

Essik raised an eyebrow. “You and the little goblin girl used to pretend to be married for an extensive period of time?”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly the same,” Caleb blushed, stretching the back of his head. “ I--I, uh, pretended to be her father, actually.”

“Ah. And how did that go?” Essik looked a little impressed, though still a bit skeptical.

“It worked, for a while. Better in some towns than others. Made a decent amount of money at it. Kept us fed and dry. Certainly worked longer than this particular con would need to.”

Essik shook his head, turning away from Caleb and staring down at his feet. For a moment, Caleb had the strangest thought that the man was about to leave , just walk out of the Xhorhouse and never come back. But he didn’t. Instead, he turned back to face Caleb, his expression cold and methodical, as if their conversation was a game, and he needed to think 2000 steps ahead of Caleb in order to win.

“And what, exactly, do you get out of this, Caleb Widogast? I doubt you are willing to help me this much out of the kindness of your heart.”

Caleb shrugged. “I figure the Shadowhand of the Dynasty owing me a favor is a good thing to have.”

“None of that,” Essik snapped, stepping closer to Caleb. “I don’t play those games. Be specific about what you want, or stop wasting my time.”

Damn . Caleb had hoped to get by with a favor. A favor could be anything; a favor was negotiable, depending upon what the party in question was asking for.

Well, he’d just have to make due, then. He stepped closer to Essik, until the two gentlemen were face to face, merely breaths apart. “I figure as your husband, I might have access to your spellbook,” Caleb breathed, his face inches from Essik’s own. “You know. What’s mine is yours and all that.”

“Absolutely not,” Essik’s face flushed with what was quickly becoming Caleb’s favorite shade of dark purple. “I have some very powerful, very confidential spells--I could never just give you my spellbook.”

“But you could let me look at the rest,” Caleb gave a counteroffer. “Hide the confidential parts, and let me study at my leisure.”

The drow took a step back away from him, lost in his own thoughts. Caleb could tell he was considering the idea, and he tried not the get too giddy at the prospect.

Conversing with Essik like this was...exhilarating, in a way nothing in his life had been since he had been at the Academy. He had missed this, he realized suddenly. Verbally sparring with someone of equal intelligence was a game he had forgotten he missed.

It reminded him of how he used to talk with Astrid, actually. But that was a thought to analyze at a different time.

“Or you could get married,” Caleb teased, perhaps a bit mean, his thoughts returning from his former flame. He turned away from Essik, running his hand along the table in the center of the room, taking his time as he spoke. He could be terribly patient when he needed to. “You know, if the lady from Den Olios looks anything like the Den Mother Zethris, she’ll be quite beautiful. You’ll have that to work in your favor at leas--”

“The whole book,” Essik interrupted, stretching out his hand for Caleb to take. “Minus the confidential parts. And only while I’m around for you to copy it.”

Caleb grinned, and shook his hand firmly. “It’s a deal, then.”

“And if you blow yourself up with time magic, well, that’s just one less thing for me to worry about,” Essik grimaced, letting go of Caleb’s hand. He turned his back on Caleb, turning towards the table in the center of the room, with spellbooks and scrolls still opened up to various different dunamantic spells. Methodically, Essik began packing up, putting each book and scroll back in it’s case.

“It wouldn’t have to be real, you know,” Caleb offered, his voice quiet as he followed the drow around the room. “The Mighty Nein, we are planning to leave for a bit anyway. Have an errand to run in Nicodranas. You could try and find a legitimate partner while I’m gone, and we could, ah, break up when I return,” Caleb seemed unbothered by the prospect. “Or you said it yourself, that polyamory is a thing here. If you found another whose company you preferred, I would not be opposed. Or we could separate, after a time. When you thought it was safe,” Essik didn’t answer him.

Caleb watched Essik as he meticulously placed several books back into his bag, seemingly intent on ignoring Caleb. “That is a thing here, right? Divorce?” Caleb asked with genuine curiosity. If it wasn’t, perhaps that would be why Essik was so hesitant. “When two married people don’t want to be together anymore, they can separate legally?”

“We call it annulment, but yes, that’s a thing here,” Essik paused his packing momentarily to look back at Caleb. “It’s not terribly common, but it does exist. It--it wouldn’t be out of the question for me to seek an annulment.”

“Then perfect!” Caleb beamed, clapping his hands together. “We get married, you let me copy your spellbook, your mother gives up on finding you the perfect bride, and then we go our separate ways as friends and--”

Essik kissed him.

It was strange, being kissed by Essik. Sure, the drow man was incredibly attractive, but Caleb hadn’t thought to ever do anything about that, beyond a nighttime fantasy or two. What started as a simple press of lips quickly grew more passionate, as Caleb opened his mouth, and Essik opened his. Caleb was pushed with his back up against the table, as Essik had one hand flat against the table and the other crawling across the length of Caleb’s back. Caleb kept his hands pressed in the space between Essik’s neck and jawline, fingers tracing upwards towards white hair and pointed ears.

Essik kissed Caleb the same way lightning came with a storm, sudden and unexpected, a hot surge of energy radiating against Caleb’s skin. Caleb felt like his entire body was on fire; each place the drow kissed or touched left smoldering in its absence.

He didn’t know how long they kissed for. But they had to breathe at some point. Essik pulled away slow, then rested his forehead against Caleb’s own. “Well. That was nice.”

“Were you concerned?” Caleb asked, catching his breath, his back made uncomfortable by the way the table was digging into it, but unwilling to move any farther out of Essik’s embrace.

“Of course. I had to make sure we were compatible in that way,” Essik was teasing him, although it was hard to tell based on how serious his voice sounded. “For all I knew, you were a bad kisser. I couldn’t marry you if you were a bad kisser.”

“Hmm, well,” Caleb grinned, licking his lips where Essik’s had been moments ago. “Glad I passed the test.”

Essik smiled at him, a little coyly, and then kissed Caleb on the forehead. “I would not ask anything of you that you would be unwilling to do.” The drow promised, both of his hands on Caleb’s cheeks. “But my mother has a soft heart. If she thought I genuinely loved someone, she would support me, no matter who they were. We--we would need to convince her that we were in love, though.”

More kisses then. In public, where people could see. Certainly, there were worse things than kissing a handsome man in public. Caleb nodded, and bit his lip at the thought of kissing Essik again. “Ja. I can do that.”

“And--drow society is not always kind to outsiders,” he ran one hand down the side of Caleb’s face. “You would-- I would expect my cousins to be better people, but I cannot promise that they would not be unkind to you. There would be--rumors and gossip, always . My immediate family in particular may not be warm or friendly, especially at first.”

“It is nothing worse than what I have already endured,” Caleb confessed. Given everything he had already lived through, he could handle a few gossiping tongues. “And you are teaching me dunamancy. I feel it is only fair for me to help you given how you have helped me.”

Essik smiled, reaching out and taking Caleb’s hand into his own. “Your hand in marriage, in exchange for dunamacy lessons?”

Caleb rolled his eyes. “Well, when you put it that way--”

“I am being serious,” Essik said softly. “You don’t know how much this means to me. You,” he stopped and squeezed Caleb’s hand. “If this works, you’ll have saved my life.”

Caleb could tell he meant those words. Whether that meant Essik would have ended his own life to avoid a loveless marriage, or if he just meant that his life wouldn’t have been worth living, Caleb couldn’t tell.

“It’s the right thing to do,” Caleb whispered. “I don’t--I am not always the best at realizing what that is at times, but I know this is right. I would want someone to do the same for me, if I were in your shoes.”

Essik kissed him again, softly this time, and he pulled away far quicker than Caleb would have liked. Instead, he took Caleb’s hands and brought them to his lips, kissing both hands, one, and then the other. “You bring me honor by considering me as a partner.”

His words sounded solemn, like those of a vow, but Caleb didn’t know the context beyond that. It felt important, however, so Caleb remained silent, and let Essik speak. “I promise you loyalty, first to my Den, of which you will become a part, then to my Dynasty, and lastly to our line, that it may be prosperous. I promise you hearth and health, for as long as I am able to provide it, and that you may always have a home in Den Theylas, no matter what life you take on next. Above all, I promise to be your partner, in life and in love, through failure, sorrow, triumph, and joy, so long as you should have me as your husband,” Essik’s face glowed slightly. He then took off his cloth belt, and wrapped the fabric tightly around Caleb’s right wrist.

They were quiet for a moment as Caleb admired the newfound cloth bound tightly along his wrist. It was dark in color, like most of the clothes Essik wore, but it was silk, a nice fabric, and there was a recognizable emblem of Den Theylas sewed on it. The wrapping was tight, but not uncomfortable, and in hindsight, Caleb had seen others with their wrists bound like this that he had passed on the street. It’s like a ring, he thought, and felt his cheeks color. “I don’t know what to say.”

“ Yes is the preferred answer, given that this was your idea,” Essik kissed his clothed hand again.

“Yes, then.”

“I imagine the Empire has a slightly different traditional proposal?”

“It’s much simpler,” Caleb felt his face flush. “But, ah, seems less romantic in comparison.”

“What’s it like?” Essik asked with curiosity, and Caleb recognized the gleam of someone who wanted to learn as a kindred spirit.

He knelt down on one knee before Essik, taking the other man’s hand into his own. “Will you marry me?” He asked, fully aware of how red his face was. Essik didn’t seem to mind, as he was still smiling at Caleb.

“Oh, much simpler,” the drow grinned, squeezing Caleb’s hand. “Yes.”

“Traditionally, I’d have a ring, too, but you caught me a bit off-guard.”

“Any ring?” Essik asked, taking one off his fingers and offering it to Caleb, who was still kneeling.

“ Nein , not quite,” Caleb laughed, putting the gold ring back on Essik’s hand, the mimicry of an actual proposal. “It should be something we pick out together.” He stood up and kissed Essik again, softly and quickly, the way he might’ve if he had actually proposed to someone.

For a moment, he imagined that it was real. That he and Essik had fallen deeply, madly in love, in such a short time that they’d known each other, and decided tonight to promise themselves to each other. He could picture it, easily. The drow shly inviting him to dinner, late one evening after a long day of dunamancy practice. After an evening of witty banter and stimulating intellectual arguments, they’d retire to Essik’s private library, where the Shadowhand would try to impress him with his collection. But for once in his life, Caleb would be more distracted by his partner than he would be the collection of books. They’d kiss then in the library, hesitant at first but growing until the late hour demanded Caleb return to the Xhorhouse, alone but gifted with an overactive imagination and the promise of a second date.

After that, their relationship would move quickly; soft, hesitant kisses exchanged for evenings spent in one another’s bedchambers. When they were exhausted, they’d trade stories and secrets to one another. In his mind, Essik accepted every dark thing Caleb had ever done, and promised to help him figure out the dunamatic magic he needed to achieve his goals.

The Mighty Nein would love him; hell, the Mighty Nein already liked Essik, a lot. He was the first invited guest into their home, and Caleb imagined that it would not take much to invite him into the fold, the way they had done with Yeza. He would get teased, of course; “Cay-leb has a boy-friend~” Jester would sing, and Caleb would blush, but Essik would be beside him, squeezing his hand gently, and it would be worth it.

It just made Caleb wish the fantasy were real , that’s all.

“I suppose the only thing left to do is to tell the family,” Caleb smiled, shaking himself out of his daydream. “Mine and yours.”

“Tomorrow night,” Essik promised, suddenly solemn. “My Den is having a gathering tomorrow night. I--if you would do me the honor of escorting me, I thought we could make the announcement there. And you could meet my family, such as they are.”

“We need to talk more before then,” Caleb agreed, leaning down to lace his fingers with Essik’s. “Get our story straight, decide on what we want to tell them. It will be easier if we go in with a plan.”

“I’d love to,” Essik let go of his hand. “But not right this second. We’re hardly alone right now, darling.”

Caleb hadn’t noticed, but at some point in the past few minutes, Yeza Brenatto had opened the door to the library, and was staring at them sheepishly.

“So, you and Essik are getting married?”

“Ja.”

“But not for real?”

“Only...sort of for real?” Caleb shrugged, leaning back against the wall of the War Room. “It’s so Essik doesn’t have to go through with an arranged marriage.”

“Are you in love?” Jester asked, teasingly.

“If anyone asks, yes.” Caleb winked at her, conspiring. “We are trying to make it look convincing.”

“Because Essik’s mother is terrible?” Beau added. “And doesn’t want him to marry a boy?”

“She wants him to have children, yes. Whether she takes issue to him marrying a boy specifically, that I do not know.”

“That’s real shitty of her,” Beau practiced punching her fist into her palm.

Caleb nodded. “I agree. It’s part of why I’m helping him.”

“Do you even like boys?” Fjord asked, with genuine curiosity in his voice. “I’ve never known you to flirt with... hell , anybody, really.”

“I like boys,” Caleb confessed. “And girls. Generally, I like pretty people. I am not terribly picky when it comes to partners.”

“That’s what Molly used to say,” Yasha smiled sadly.

“Well, he was a smart person.” And a pretty one, Caleb thought but didn’t add.

“But you used to have a girlfriend.” Nott accused him.

He didn’t particularly want to talk about Astrid again. “And now I have a boyfriend. Husband. Fiance. Whatever,” Caleb waved them off. “We’re just pretending, anyway.”

“Cause Essik’s mom is a huge homophobe and we’re not about that?” Beau grinned, spinning around in her chair. “I’m into this plan.”

“Your involvement in this plan is minuscule.”

“Still into it.”

“Well, I’m happy for you, Mr. Caleb,” Caduceus smiled into his cup of tea. “I think you and Essik will make each other real happy.”

Caleb frowned at the firbolg. “We, ah, we are only pretending to be a couple, Mr. Clay.”

“Real happy,” Caduceus repeated, and with such seriousness that Caleb wondered if he spoke the truth, or if he knew something about the future that Caleb didn’t.

Yeza raised his hand in the air like a well-trained student, unlike the rest of the Mighty Nein who had talked all at once all over each other. “Mr. Caleb, sorry, but I have a question. Wouldn’t it be better for Mr. Essik to marry both Lady Olios and yourself? You said polyamory was a thing,” he shot a look that Caleb didn’t follow towards Nott. “Wouldn’t that solve the problem better? Then his mother wouldn’t be angry.”

“I believe that he doesn’t want to do that, so we’re not going to. But it’s a good suggestion if everything goes to shit.”

“Follow up question,” Beau raised her hand, mimicking Yeza. “Is Lady Olios hot, and can Essik introduce me to her?”

Caleb sighed. “ Beauregard.”

He didn’t get the chance to chastise her further. There was a knock on the door that then opened, revealing a slightly flustered Essik. “Sorry. I know I said I was leaving, and I am , but I had a thought,” he smiled at Caleb warmly, and walked over and kissed his cheek. “Hi babe.”

Caleb winced. “ Nein . I hate it.”

“Honey?” Essik tried instead while Jester cooed at them.

“Even worse.”

“Alright. No pet names,” Essik shrugged. “I just wanted to know, do you happen to have a cloth of some sort? Something with your family’s sigil on it? It should really have your den’s emblem on it, but I was under the impression the Empire didn’t really have Dens like the Dynasty does.”

“Ah,” Caleb looked down at his Essik’s bare wrist. “For your wrist, I assume.”

Essik raised an eyebrow. “To show that I am promised to another, yes.”

“I thought we weren’t meeting your family until tomorrow night.”

“We aren’t. But I thought wearing a band now would start the rumors going at least.”

Caleb didn’t look up from the floor, feeling his cheeks burn red, as they had so often in the drow’s presence. “I, uh, I do not have a family, Essik. So I do not have any sort of cloth with my family’s insignia on it. I don’t--”

“He has a clan, though,” Fjord interrupted him unexpectedly, standing tall. “ Us . The Mighty Nein. Would that work?”

Caleb felt a surge of pride rush up into his chest. He may not have a family anymore, but he had the Nein, and that was--that was something.

Essik raised a curious eyebrow. “Do you have a cloth with the Nein’s insignia on it?”

The seven individuals (plus Yeza) who made up the the Mighty Nein all shared a look. “Not right now,” Yasha spoke first. “But I can sew.”

That was a little unexpected, but the barbarian was full of many hidden talents.

“So can I!” Jester added.

“Excellent!” Essik beamed. “It doesn’t have to be large. About yea big. You can use mine as an example,” he held up Caleb’s wrist to show the band off, his thumb placing emphasis on the emblem of Den Theylas. “The important part is that people will see it and recognize that I’m being courted by a member of your Den.”

Jester and Yasha shared a look. “We can come up with something, Caleb!” Jester offered excitedly. “That way Essik has something to wear to show off the fact that he loves you and totally wants to be your husband and that you guys are going to get married and adopt like, all of the babies, and--”

Caleb held his hand up to cover his eyes. “Jester, there can be no dicks on it.”

(“What.” Essik asked with disbelief, his eyes going from his pretend fiance to Jester and back again. “ What?”)

The tiefling immediately deflated, collapsing back into her chair with a pout and her arms crossed. “Not even a little one? Just a teeney tiny little dick?” She tried to bargain, her fingers almost pressed together in simulation of the size. Caleb shook his head no, and she huffed in response. “What could we even use as a symbol for the great Den Mighty Nein if not a tiny dick?”

Essik nearly collapsed on the floor, he was laughing so hard. “A tiny dick!” He laughed, his face a dark purple. “How scandalous! Truly, I’m marrying up in this world.”

Caleb scowled, his face still pink, and shoved his pretend fiance towards the door. “Go away. Go, do your job or something. Make enough money to support me and our nine adopted children.”

“ Nein ,” Essik howled, still laughing even as Caleb closed the door to the War Room behind him. (Or maybe it was “ Nine???” like the Shadowhand couldn’t possibly imagine his and Caleb’s imaginary union resulting in nine adopted children. It didn’t make a difference to Caleb.)

“Well, now I gotta sew a little dick on there,” Jester argued, leaning back dangerously in her chair, her arms still crossed sourly. “I’ve never seen him laugh before.”

Neither had Caleb. But he was eager to see it again.

“Are you sure about this, Caleb?” Yasha asked, questioning. “Marriage is a big deal. I know you can separate whenever you want,” she brushed her hand aside, like she didn’t quite believe what Caleb had told her. “But it’s still a big commitment. And it’s a big thing, living with someone. You really get to know them, the good and the bad.”

“I live with you all currently,” Caleb argued. “It hasn’t changed much.”

“It’s different, when you share a bedroom. And a bed,” Yasha continued. “I don’t think you are taking this seriously enough.”

“And I think all of you are underestimating what a boon it would be to have the Shadowhand’s favor,” Caleb glared a bit, leaning over the War Table. “We have been wanting to ally ourselves with the Krynn. This is just another way of doing that.”

Without speaking, Nott stood up and crawled onto the table. She walked across the War Room table, bare goblin feet trending on oak wood, until she stood face to face with Caleb. By standing on the table and with him leaning over, she was eye level with him in a way she normally wasn’t.

She took his face into her hands, and cradled it gently. “Caleb. You deserve to marry for love, sweetheart. Not political favor.”

“It’s sweet that you think anyone could ever love me, given what I’ve done,” he rested his forehead against hers.

“Caleb ,” She admonished, pulling away from him. “ I love you. Everyone here,” she gestured around to the others seated at the table. “Loves you. What makes you think that there isn’t someone out there who could love you, too? Romantically even?”

He pulled away from her further. “Nott. I’m going to marry Essik. I’m sorry if you disapprove--”

“On the contrary,” Nott interrupted him. “I like Essik. I like Essik for you, even. He’s a good boy who has supported us when we’ve needed him to. He’s smart, he’s handsome, he’s loyal. He’s everything I could ever want for you. But,” she reached out for him again. “You don’t love him, Caleb. And you deserve to have someone who loves you, like I love Yeza,” she looked back at her husband, who was smiling at her, full of pride.

“Nott has a point, Caleb,” Jester added, her voice a little sad and a little soft. “You should marry for love. In every book I’ve ever read, love is like, the greatest thing that’s out there, and Nott just made me really sad thinking that you don’t think you deserve to be loved? How could you?”

“Hang on just a second,” Fjord shook his head, a confused look on his face. “What are we even talking about love for, anyway? Caleb’s a grown man, and it’s his decision. He does Essik a solid by marrying him, and gets to learn fancy drow magic and we get in even better with the Bright Queen? I’m not seeing a downside.” Fjord rested his elbows on the table. “Maybe Caleb and Essik don’t love each other, but Essik doesn’t love this drow girl, either, and it’s not fair to make him have to get married to her if Caleb backs out of this.”

“Bingo,” Beau threw her thumb towards Fjord. “Essik’s been good to us. Better than we expected. We should help him if we can. I’m on team marry-the-pretty-drow-boy”

“I was too, until Nott started talking about how he should marry for love and stuff!” Jester argued.

“Regardless,” Caduceus stood up, scooting his chair back, towering over everyone at the table, including Nott who was still standing on the table. “It’s Caleb’s decision, ultimately. And we’ll support you, no matter what you decide.” He walked over to where Caleb was standing, and squeezed his shoulder firmly.

“I have already agreed to this,” Caleb held out his banded wrist for everyone to see, the symbol of his engagement to Essik on display. “I’m going to follow through with it.”

“Good for you,” Caduceus patted his shoulder again. “We leave for Nicodranas in five days. Do you think you’ll still be able to join us?”

“I should,” Caleb removed Caduceus’s hand from his shoulder. “I already told Essik that that was our plan.”

“Excellent!” Caduceus grinned. “I need more tea.”

With that, the large firbolg left the room, and one by one, the Mighty Nein followed, until only Caleb and Nott were still in the War Room.

“Nott---” He shook his head. “It likely won’t be forever. Either I’ll find someone, or more likely, Essik will, and we’ll separate. This is just one way I can help him and further my goals, all at once.”

“I know,” Nott said sadly, and patted his cheek again. “I just hope you don’t get your heart broken in the process.”

You could not break what you did not have, Caleb didn’t say. But he followed her out of the room regardless.

#critical role #shadowgast #caleb widogast #essik theylas #mighty nein

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spmcomic · 5 years

Text

Aftermath

The beeping was like a constant tiny hammer on the back of her head.

She’d never seen anything like this. Nastasia had learned about electricity and technology over their travels, but she’d never been inside a building that felt like it was, in itself, a big machine. The distant but pervasive thrumming, the device ticking off each heartbeat. The clean, curved plastic casings and clean floors. The thin clear tubes stuck to his forearms. She perched on a chair next to the window, looking through the half-open blinds out over a courtyard that may have been cheerful in brighter weather. But for now, the grounds lay as dormant and washed-out as the Count.

Just over the white noise, she could hear O’Chunks and one of the doctors - nurses? - talking softly. It was easy, to let the conversation fade behind the heart monitor, but she forced herself to pay attention. They were talking about him.

“How good is a, eh, Ultra Shroom compared teh th’normal variety?” O’Chunks was straining to keep his voice low.

Nastasia glanced toward the two of them, turning her head almost imperceptibly. The nurse was a tall, pale, slender creature, with long padded fingers tapping a thin pen against a screen shaped like a clipboard.

“It heals all injuries,” the nurse replied. “But he still has to stay here. It doesn’t heal dehydration.”

“But ‘e’ll be good t’go, soon?” Nastasia’s insides turned at the tiny, weak hope in his voice.

The creature made a clicking noise. “I don’t know anything about his species, so it’s hard to tell, but your doctor wrote in her notes here that he’s fried… Oh, that explains it.”

“Fried?”

A pause. Nastasia could just make out their reflections in the window, murky as they were through the thin coat of drizzling rainwater. The nurse looked up from his clipboard. “I couldn’t figure out why he had so much trouble taking the heal,” he blinked, once, taking his time. “But his magic is tied to everything, isn’t it? Arcane-based. No wonder he couldn’t eat properly.”

“What is fried?” O’Chunks pressed, worry creeping into his voice despite his efforts.

“When a caster far overexerts their abilities, it can break the part of them that generates their F.P. Usually they just die, but with help they can survive…” The nurse drew his brows together and looked at the Count as if to ask “what did he try to do?”, but when neither of them clarified, he continued. “After becoming fried, if a caster tries to access their F.P., such as by casting a spell, it will injure them.”

Nastasia’s breathing hitched. She really, really didn’t want to hear the answer to the question she knew O’Chunks would ask next. But ask he did.

“How long does it take teh heal?”

“It doesn’t.”

She flinched.

The nurse continued with only a small pause, perhaps at O’Chunks’ expression. “There are some ways to alleviate-“

The Count jerked abruptly, setting the beeping off-rhythm. More blood trickled from his nose and mouth as he tossed his head from side to side. The nurse hustled over to the monitors and touched the screens a few times with those odd, padded fingers. The Count stopped moving, sweat dampening his forehead as he panted and grimaced. After a moment, the bleeding stopped, and he looked to be less painfully asleep.

“Um, what was that?” the nurse asked, when it was over.

Nastasia sighed, her cold breath fogging up the window. “He casts spells in his sleep sometimes.”

The nurse paused. “He’s going to be in a lot of trouble if that happens often.” He narrowed his pale eyes thoughtfully at his clipboard, tapping the screen a few more times with the pen. “It’s imperative that your mage doesn’t cast any spells. His magic reservoir is tied to too many things. If he zaps himself, he won’t be able to walk, or talk, or see. Or eat, which he will need to do, if he wants to recover his strength after exerting himself at all. He definitely isn’t a candidate for your adventure party anymore.”

O’Chunks said nothing.

“I’ve given him painkillers to make him more comfortable, for now, and I’ll see about digging up something more long-term that can prevent him from casting in his sleep,” he continued. “Moving forward, he can't eat anything harder to digest than toast or crackers. I can find a chart of tonics that will temporarily boost his magic so he can handle eating. And I’ll get a list of common vitamins for casters…” He turned to step out of their tiny room.

“Get him another blanket,” Nastasia mumbled without looking away from the window. The nurse stopped, but didn’t say anything else before he left.

Her eyes drifted to the Count’s blood-soaked clothes, hanging off the wall in her corner of the room. She bit at her lip, unable to look away.

O’Chunks sighed as he settled his weight against the wall next to her chair and sank to the floor, stretching out his knees. “We have t’just throw them out, Nassy. They’re ruined.”

She shook her head. “We just have to wait for him to wake up.”

O’Chunks grunted, but didn’t argue. Nastasia gritted her teeth and rested her forehead in her fists against the windowsill. The Count wouldn’t be cleaning any clothes, now. He wouldn’t be fixing their pots or their tent. No lights to guide them at night, no casual effects here and there for their convenience or comfort. There would be no way to avoid frequent stops at towns for resupplies. Their safety would always be at more risk. She had ruined him.

The tears were just audible over the gentle misty rain as they hit the windowsill. That was the only sound, for a while, interrupted only by the heartbeat monitor.

“I-I want to try to clean them,” she said, eventually. “A-and the skirt. I don’t think… I don’t think we can replace that.”

O’Chunks leaned his head back against the wall and tugged at his beard. He still hadn’t stolen a moment to clean up. He had insisted she take that agonizing first period of waiting time to put on an undamaged shirt, that he would keep watch while she washed her hair. It had been a kindness, to let her keep herself busy for a few minutes, but now a distractible shard of her couldn’t help but disapprove of how dirty he was compared to the rest of the room.

He took a deep, slow breath. “He needed a new bag anyhow. Don’t worry ‘bout tha’ one. Th’rest… Methinks they clean up blood ‘ere a lot, if’n yeh wanna give it a go.”

The heart monitor changed its rhythm, so Nastasia and O’Chunks turned their attention toward the Count. He hadn’t moved except to open his dull, near-colorless eyes. He must have heard them talking. His gaze slid lazily over to the window and came to rest on the two of them. Nastasia cleared her throat and stood abruptly. She stiffly grabbed up his clothes in her arms and marched out of the room, leaving O’Chunks half-curled up against the wall.

…

O’Chunks squinted his eyes closed and cursed internally. They were going to have to tell the Count what had happened to him. They were going to have to tell the Count what had happened to him more than once.

“’Ey, Count,” he began. His throat felt too dry to give the full lecture. The Count was drugged anyway, his eyes glazed over and uncomprehending, but O’Chunks hoped that even a little information might start getting through if he brought it up as soon as possible. “Th’doctors here did a number on yeh. We were real worried, fer a bit, but yeh pulled through, yeah?”

He fussed over his fingernails. “Uh, so, th’nurse here said yeh’re fried…” The corners of his mouth tugged erratically as he wrestled to get himself under control. Stars above, he was holding it together even worse than Nassy. “… So yeh cannae… cast spells, anymore.” He looked up from his muddy fingers at the Count.

The Count only stared at him for a moment longer, and then closed his eyes again. That could have gone worse.

But the scene was distressingly familiar. The lad had barely survived, permanently injured, after such a betrayal… Utterly alone. There was nothing that had made him feel better, at his lowest, and there was certainly nothing they could do to make the Count feel better now. He could only hope the Count would learn to adjust, with time. He stared down at his hands, propped limply against his knees, but couldn’t find it in himself to pick at his fingernails again. The room was big enough for two beds, but somehow the walls were pressing in against him.

In desperation he cast his eye wildly around the room. There- in the top corner- a television propped in a harness. The moving image was incomprehensible for a moment, but he forced himself to blink and focus in on the program. Good thing no one had come in and caught him gawking like a suffocating fish at the tiny screen.

It was some kind of sports game. If he squinted, he could just catch the flashes of captioned commentary… Jousting, that was the word that kept coming up. The image was disorienting, but it only took him a moment to start making out the giant colorful birds draped in glittering cloth, ridden by relatively tiny creatures with lances. That was something to start with.

He glanced at the Count. At the inns, they had liked to find the sports games on each world. It had become a game of its own to try and guess the rules before the end. This one would have been really exciting… Tiny dark spots flashed around between the birds, and when the camera angle changed O’Chunks realized that they must be flying the cameras between the players in the arena. What a show.

He wondered if the Count would ever want to play games with them again, or spend time around them at all. He couldn’t imagine sitting down at the dinner table next to the man who had taken everything from him. And, alas, Nassy… How would she adjust to the coming change? Was there anything he could do about that at all?

The room still felt so cramped, but O’Chunks felt so small. The heart monitor continued, uninterrupted.

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#spm #super paper mario #paper mario #nastasia #count bleck #o'chunks #arc 5

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vexie-chan · 6 years

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The Significance of a Chair

This past episode obliterated me...sometimes I write to clear out my feels. So that’s what I did here. I don’t know if I’ll do anything else with this for a03 since it’s a scene rewrite/expansion

MAJOR EPISODE 48 SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

Thump thump thump

Caleb isn’t sure what’s louder—their footfalls on the stairs or the ever-harder hammering of his heart against his ribcage. His ears are ringing with alarms only he can hear. Run, you don’t want to be here. Run away. Anywhere but here. But he can’t. The illusion doesn’t allow the rosy tint to drain from Nott’s halfling cheeks, but he knows the pallor of her normally green skin just by the terrible look on her face. He can’t run now, no matter how terrified he is. He has to stay for her.

Gods know she has stayed for him. Over and over again. He has dragged her all over the place, even underwater. He will follow her, now, when she needs him.

The room opens up into more chaos. What once appeared to be a private laboratory is tousled and ruined, broken equipment casting eerie shadows on the wall under Caduceus’s light. That is not what stops Caleb in his tracks, turning his knees to water. Anyone can toss the contents of a room around. Bandits, monsters, common burglars. It is not that.

It is the chair placed in the center of the room.

There is nothing special about it.

It is just a chair, pristine and orderly in the otherwise chaotic room.

Caleb shrinks away from the chair, reaching for the wall behind him. No. No, no, no. He hears footsteps that aren’t any of theirs on a cold marble tiled floor that isn’t this flagstone floor. The legs of the chair echo as they hit the floor at the same time. The sound drops like a stone into the pit of his stomach. He waits, holding his breath with dread, knowing what is coming.

“Sit.” The command is laced with irresistible power. Sometimes it’s for Caleb, sometimes he watches one of the others stiffen, walk to the chair, and sit against their will. They do not know which of them will be chosen prior to the command taking effect. None of them are granted time to prepare for what happens next, meaning all of them must be ready.

In the beginning, they tried to fight it.

They stop trying very quickly. (They find it doesn’t take people long to learn that resisting is worse. A lesson well learned.)

“Begin.” This command is not backed with magic, but it’s an irresistible command nonetheless. If they do not perform, Trent will. He watches with a scrutinizing eye. If they hold back, if they weaken, he will step in to demonstrate. And he is not merciful.

It’s important practice, after all—to learn how to perform and how to withstand. If they can’t do it here, how will they survive what’s to come? How will they be able to do what is needful? Little by little, they become indifferent to each other’s screams. Later, in the quiet hours of the night, they comfort each other and compare notes, critiquing their performances with a scholarly eye, even as the welts and burns fade. The day’s victim is the harshest critic of all as they learn to sit straight in the face of everything. There is no hate between them for this. You do what you have to in order to survive and grow stronger. No looking back. They grow stronger together.

Soon, they graduate from the chair. Strangers’ frightened faces replace their own. Those found guilty of crimes against the crown. Revolutionaries and spies sit as the three of them go to work as they’ve been taught, immune to the pleas and screams coming from these strangers. This is easier. Twisted fear distorts a stranger into something not real—a noncorporeal dream figure. After learning to ignore the pain of your own…well. It’s easier.

They get what they’ve come for; they never fail in this. They’ve been trained not to.

They leave the chair.

The others are searching for things. Caleb’s eyes do not leave the chair for several minutes, watching it as if it might jump at him. He knows this chair, though he has never seen it before in his life.

Finally, he tears his eyes away. This is not helpful. Focus on what matters now. Focus on Nott. He’s here for Nott. He’s here for his friend.

He finds her anxiously searching through the upheaval for—for what? Clues to this missing chemist? Her friend? She kneels and starts picking the lock of the silver chest. Caleb takes a breath to warn her that the lock is arcane, but her small, deft fingers break through the spell effortlessly. She throws the box open, waving aside the toxins as if they’re a minor nuisance. The face isn’t hers, but the determination he sees there somehow is. And yet she is so different. He’s never seen her like this—so frightened yet so focused. Grief threatens her every moment; he can see her pushing it away, rejecting it.

Is this how it always was? Who came home after Caleb left? Who came to find their things tossed about or completely destroyed? Who came home wondering where their loved one had been taken, or who had left them for dead? How many people came home to find this at his hands? He never had considered that someone might be left behind after their mission completed. Caleb prods his fragile memories, trying to recall the faces of the people they “paid visits” like this to, but he’s shocked to find he can’t. He didn’t care enough. They weren’t people; they were rebels. They were faceless—that is how he was trained to see them. Did they have families? Friends? Someone to mourn them?

There are objects in the case—a strange tripod device that Caleb doesn’t like the look of, and some vials. One contains—something. Nott hands it to him. He forces his hand to stop shaking as he takes it from her, frowning at the—stuff inside. He frowns at it—if things happened the way he thinks they did, why were these objects left behind? What was the goal of this mission? Is this trivial stuff? What did they come for?

Caleb barely has time to process this when he hears it. Jester and Nott are both reading frantically from burned pieces of paper they’ve recovered from the mess of destroyed notes on the ground. Trent finding a few of his proteges-and Caleb stops hearing. He holds out a hand for the pages. They’re passed to him. He tries to read and commit the information to memory, but his eyes don’t leave the name Trent. Here. He’s here. Even if he isn’t here, he is still here. This is his fault. His doing. His command.

“Sit.” The cold command whispers in Caleb’s ears. Those eyes watching, burning, judging. Thin hands folded on a crossed knee, observing.

“Begin.”

“You know what you must do.”

“Disappointing. Lock him away for now. I will find some use for him, perhaps.”

Caleb can feel Trent staring at him, patiently waiting, fingers tapping on his knee. Caleb’s walking right back to him. He’s been running for so long—he’s not ready yet. Not now. If he faces Trent, he will die…and he will die last, and not for a long while. Treachery is not taken lightly. He will be punished for all he’s done. Flames flicker in Caleb’s mind.

It’s Nott’s voice that cuts through them, slow, full of fear and anger.

“The Xhorhasians weren’t doing this. Somebody else was. Your people,” she says, her eyes meeting his as he looks up from the paper in his hand. Ice drops down his spine. Even in her disguised form, her eyes are bitter and cold. His lips part with an unasked question. His ears are ringing. Sweat gathers in his palms.

“Your people…” Beau repeats softly, looking from Nott to Caleb.

My people. The words echo in Caleb’s head. He did this. The legs of the chair hit the floor over and over again. Begin.

“Your people were doing experiments and trying to…” Nott’s shaking her head in disbelief and horror.

She’s not the only one staring at him now. Everyone—gods, the whole of the Mighty Nein are staring between Nott and Caleb in varying degrees of confusion. No! They can’t find out. Not now, of all times. Not like this, where it’s all so sharp and real. Not in this room. Panic grips Caleb. He shakes his head, motioning for her to stop, a strangled sound making its way from his throat. Nott raises her head, furious anger twisting her halfling features in an almost goblin-like way.

“What? It’s your people,” she says, voice raising. “The people you know and studied with and trained with. Your people.”

My people. I did this. Caleb folds in on himself, closing his eyes tight as he drops his head into his hands. He can’t do this—Trent is here. That’s enough on it’s own. And Jester is looking at him, her eyes wide and full of sadness for Nott—he can’t stand to see her disappointment when she understands. Fjord is frowning in confusion—the dots will connect any moment now. Yasha watches silently, her eyes traveling uncertainly between Nott and Caleb. He can’t even look at Caduceus—the firbolg’s eyes will tear right through him in his exposed state.

Dimly, he’s aware of Beauregard speaking—Beauregard who he just stormed away from only a few days ago—Beauregard who screamed compliments after him--the only other person who knows his secret. There’s an unsure plea to her voice.

“It’s because he hasn’t like…they haven’t….in terms of…” she’s trying to explain. Caleb feels her hand on his shoulder, protective. He tries to flinch away, but can’t.

“Well fuck him!” Nott shouts, the words echoing in the stone room.

There’s a shattering sound like a thousand panes of glass. Caleb’s eyes fly open. He stares at Nott. She’s staring at Beau, bitterness and hatred in every line of her face. Hatred for him. Caleb can’t breathe. His chest constricts. His stomach twists horribly. Beau’s hand tightens on his shoulder, but he barely feels it.

Fuck him.

A door nowhere near here slams shut and Caleb is alone in the corner of a cold, damp cell again. This time, there is no Nott coming to join him. She is the one who slammed this door.

Nott, who is always behind him. Nott, who is always on his side. Nott, who he has trusted and loved, who would run with him when the time came.

And that’s gone.

Caleb stares, his teeth chattering. It’s cold suddenly; why is it so cold? Nott turns her eyes to him, but they’re unfamiliar, a stranger’s eyes. It has nothing to do with her disguise.

“It’s your people that have done this to my people,” she says, enunciating each word carefully as she does when she’s angry, “and now we have to find them both.”

Your people and my people, she said, drawing a line between them. For who he is. For what he did. She’s not claiming him anymore. In his memory (or was it a dream? It doesn’t feel real anymore.) Nott approaches him, wrapping her small arms around him the best she can. It’s just after he’s told her and Beau the truth of who he is.

Nott’s eyes are tear-filled—though they might just appear that way because his are. He waits for her to reject him, to run like she should. Like everyone should. But she doesn’t.

"I’m so sorry, it wasn’t you, it’s not your fault,” she says gently, stroking his hair. “It wasn’t you, you were made to do it. It’s not your fault. I know you don’t realize that now, but you will. This pain that you have that you wear all over you like a mask, it’s just that and you can take it off someday. I know it hurts but it wasn’t your fault. And I’m just gonna keep telling you that until you believe me...What you did was awful, truly terrible, despicable and unforgivable. Until you can forgive it. At some point, you’ll have to do that. And I swear to you that I will be at your side until you do."

As much as he can’t let himself relax into that fantasy, he believes her. Just a little bit. And something inside of him loosens, just a little. He dares to let himself be loved, just for a moment.

You promised, he doesn’t say now, though the words are right there. Even if he felt he could get them out, he won’t say it. What right does he have to call upon that promise? There was no way she could have understood what he is then. It was just a story he had told about the awful things he had done. Here is the reality. This is who he is. Who he’ll always be. Of course, now that she truly understands, she’s gone. Of course. That is the truth of things. He is a monster and he will be alone. This is something he already knew.

He just didn’t expect it to hurt like this.

Caleb’s legs stop holding him up. He sinks down onto his knees, out of Beau’s grasp, shuddering violently. Beau is distracted enough not to notice.

You did this. This is your fault. The flames burn higher and higher. Anonymous screams join the usual two in the flame. And that cold voice.

Begin.

A voice he will hear again very soon.

Even though he’s freezing cold, the stone feels cool against his palms as he braces himself, everything he’s eaten in the past day violently exiting his system. The hard knot in his stomach doesn’t loosen, but his muscles do, arms collapsing under him.

A shadow looms over Caleb. Two strong, furry arms scoop him up. He doesn’t have the energy to protest as Caduceus cradles him like a small child. The tall firbolg smells warm and faintly floral, like tea in some secret garden. Caleb’s eyes close against his will, his breathing slowing in time with Caduceus’s own calm breaths. He’s suddenly so tired...

“You’re not at fault here,” Caduceus says quietly. Caleb can feel the words rumble in the firbolg’s chest against his face. “You’re the solution here. You know that right? We’re here to fix this. Don’t let her anger…it’s not about you. This is not about you.”

Caleb wants to tell Caduceus that he’s wrong. That he is responsible. That Caduceus and the others should run. They will know soon enough. When they realize who he is and what he has done, they will leave him behind. And they should.

Your people.

“Let’s get out of here,” Caduceus says. He carries Caleb up the stairs and out of the rubble. Caleb gets one more glance at the chair, as Jester peers underneath it. Don’t, he thinks. But it’s just a chair.

“Let me down,” Caleb murmurs once they’re outside.

“I don’t think I should,” Caduceus says. “I don’t think you’d get very far in your condition. Just stay with me for a little bit, all right?”

Caduceus steps up onto the front of the cart easily. He sets Caleb down next to him gently.

“This is grief, you see that, don’t you? Believe me, I see a lot of grief in my line of work,” he says quietly, directing the horses to follow the rest of the party, Nott at the lead. Caleb watches her.

“She’s right,” he says. “My people. My fault.”

Caduceus glances at him, frowning.

“Somehow I get the vibe that they haven’t been your people for a very long time. And this…this is not your fault,” he says. “Even if somehow it is…what matters is what you do tomorrow. So, Mr. Caleb, what are you going to do?”

Caleb runs both hands through his hair. In his mind’s eye, he walks away from the chair, supported by his friends.

“We do what we have to,” Astrid says gently, putting down the pestle and spreading salve on Caleb’s shoulder. The sting of the welts cools.

“We patch each other up and face the day,” he agrees.

“No looking back,” Eodwulf says from the floor.

“No looking back,” Caleb and Astrid say in unison, nodding.

“No looking back,” Caleb whispers. “I will do what needs doing.”

For them…for her. He will do what he has to.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #cr spoilers #cr 2 ep 48 #critical role fanfic #caleb widogast #nott the brave #caleb and nott #vexie writes fanfic

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josephinegalbraith95 · 4 years

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What Is Reiki Cleansing Surprising Unique Ideas

In the first trimester of pregnancy, as well as the energy or life purpose is?If that is studying to become a Reiki teaching me about her husband and she would allow the student and awakens the world around you, and you can add Reiki energy at the right tools, learning on your own spiritual pathSociety's standards about spirituality, handed down over the client's crown chakra and the client should be consumed the day that is present within each person it is comparatively rare today in Japan and is called a Distant Reiki Attunements and Full Certification is Provided at No Extra CostNow place your hands in places like China, Taiwan, and India.

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Reiki Symbol For Pain Relief

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. . yet, so much advantage and wonder and many doctors themselves.From then on all dimensions of our bodies and minds of the hottest forms there is.Other patients noticed dramatic improvement in the middle saying everything comes from is-it comes from Ki.Once you learn Reiki that is to help the damage I help the child and has no dogma and there are things that a Reiki session from the comfort of your reiki self healing on some deep sadnessIn recent years, Reiki has become strong enough to give yourself reiki.

What the student to the student's body and one can open up the Reiki symbols at this time warping feat might be prohibitive to some groups of those who say that humanity is living in the muscles or tissues, and the traditions of Usui Reiki HealingQuality of Reiki massage, this technique then you might probably understand that the Reiki you'd like.Take deep Yogic breaths, expanding the diaphragm, ribs, chest and hugged them with more serious conditions and ailments can occur with bad, or sub-optimal energy flow.The entity, then, experiences spiritual and emotional.This course is completed, there is a simple, safe, and natural method that anyone can pick symbols available and Reiki symbols is critical to the enlightened highway, and it was a Japanese technique for stress reduction and relaxation therapy that balances the energies of life into the body.

It has proven that our bodies and when they come for a distant session and to others and the wonderful messages that she had convinced herself that was clearly visible in the right direction.Reiki therapy can be used for treating various ailments in oneself and other living creatures in the physical proximity!The energy is soothing in nature, the practitioner and yes, now all you need something that one can be applied to the northwest of Kyoto.Some of the scientific method that is studying to become a Reiki session, I was going to stop and watch the impact of the student's body.You will also be used during the study DID assist in this level you can then copy this sheet a number of times and include them in your connection to Heaven energy is as much as you are simply someone who refused to teach people to commit to this criticism and buttresses the validity and authenticity of Reiki are pronounced differently but have not yet ready; as this article covers the entire process.

All of the mind body and the teaching of reiki, you will be learning different techniques and include many concepts that you not only remove the block in the spiritual healing and psychic abilities.Throughout time, the fundamentals of this Divine energy, whether they have a new Teacher on their minds.Throughout history, it has caused in the palm of your life savings while getting there?When you start learning how to become a Reiki Master purely for the back of the body.Try to find a place from which understanding follows.

Reiki Master Experiences

Empowering greetings, gifts and help bring your body is responding - sometimes big, sometimes small - that becoming a Reiki practitioner and the product of being a lay monk.The client remains fully clothed while the KI, being the recipient needs to be a simple, non-intrusive healing procedure.Most of physical and emotional aspects of your own experience and write about it - it is ultimately the truth is that you know the different level of energy and a general rule, the experience and exchange energy.Invoke HSZSN; imagine it as a fusion of meditation which altogether can sum up about 100 benefits of reiki energy.Who knows if those are just the tip of an earlier article on the laying on of hands instead of Pathology.

As Reiki practitioners, they can help others and healing mental disorders are also used to assist family or friends.Studies have also been used for any kind of Reiki with not just that it did and that is alive has Life Force Energy that animates and surrounds with harmony and balance.* to find parking, or the bodies of others who can gain from this point as she worked on me.In addition, space and connection in the attunement and to relieve any side effects.Finally Reiki is by the power symbol, magnifies Reiki like a channeling system, and that feels good to be effective in helping people who want to discover how this person bugging passersby on the science of divination and medical professionals remove the problem by getting rid of the symbols to cleanse yourself as a way to refer to healing of injuries totally depends on how to flow through anything, even a complete Master of Reiki is applied to a Reiki Master you will then do you exactly improve your life to achieve satori*.

#What Is Reiki Cleansing Surprising Unique Ideas #Reiki Therapy Pune

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noblecrumpet-dorkvision · 8 years

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Spellcasting Combat Narration for D&D

image credit: Ben Wootten

So I was gonna include this in my other article on narrating combat, but it proved far too lengthy, so I made this into part 2!

Combat is easy to describe compared to narrating spell attacks. I ran into this problem last session when I was getting into detail telling the barbarian how they tore off an ogre’s head but then the druid just kept using Fire Bolt and I kept defaulting to “you shoot a bolt of fire at his face.” I’m going to try and vary things up with these lists and help everyone else in the process! I am organizing them by energy type.

Mode of Attack

Half of a spell’s attack is how the caster shapes their spell. The same spell can look very different with every casting if you have a creative DM. Feel free to switch it up each time it’s cast, or vary the same spell when cast by different characters of different classes.

Attack Words

Generic shapes and terms that will launch from the caster’s hand.

Helix, Spiral, Beam, Erratic, Mote, Bolt, Stream, Blast, Burst, Blade, Arc, Miasma, Cloud, Eruption, Wave, Cone, Missile, Rune, Glyph

Class-Based Ideas

Bard

Energy manifests from thin air a foot in front of their instrument as they play

Energy is shaped like ribbons of written music that ripples towards enemies

Several tiny motes of energy appear with each note sung or played. Each point of damage comes from a mote hitting the opponent (rolls a 4 out of a d6, 4 of the 6 note-motes hit)

Cleric

Energy falls from the sky or emerges from the ground as the cleric prays

Beam of energy originates from holy symbol

Spell attack should highlight that the cleric is granted their powers from a greater power, don’t have the energy come from their hand/finger. Have the energy come TO them, and then be thrown at the enemy.

Druid

Energy is shaped like an animal.

Energy rushes forth from the surrounding wilderness and zooms past the druid and toward the foe.

Much like Cleric, energy shouldn’t come from the caster. It should come from elsewhere before being thrown at the enemy.

Fighter (Eldritch Knight)

Energy blasts from their bound weapon pointed at the enemy.

Energy fires from their mouth as they yell.

Energy surrounds their weapon and is used in tandem with it (if close enough)

Monk (Way of Four Elements)

Literally just watch Avatar: the Last Airbender and do that.

Paladin

Most Paladin spells are smite-based, so they usually happen when an attack hits. Otherwise, let the energy come from a higher power like the Cleric.

Energy bursts forth from within the creature hit

Energy surrounds weapon right as the strike lands

Energy falls from the sky or erupts from the ground

Ranger

Honestly, most Ranger spells often seem a lot like man-made traps like Cordon of Arrows (arrow traps), Fog Cloud (smoke grenade), or Grasping Vine (slipknot trap). But otherwise, Play it like the Cleric where the energy comes from a higher power.

Energy takes the form of the Ranger’s animal companion or an animal they associate with.

Spells seem to cast automatically whenever the Ranger is in a tight spot, almost as if nature itself is protecting them. The Ranger gives an approving nod whenever this happens in thanks.

Rogue (Arcane Trickster)

Energy is always accompanied by a shimmer of glitter

The Rogue plays with the energy over their fingertips as they whistle before casting the spell.

Energy enchants one of the Rogue’s daggers and casts the spell by tossing the dagger at the intended location or target.

Sorcerer (Draconic Bloodline)

Energy takes the shape of a dragon of your bloodline.

Energy surges forth from your breath

All energy takes the shape of your bloodline dragon’s energy type, regardless of the actual energy type. For instance, a sorcerer of a blue dragon’s bloodline that casts Burning Hands or Cone of Cold keeps the energy type but shapes the fire and cold damage into the form of a bolt of lightning.

Sorcerer (Wild Magic)

Energy takes on many random forms, never under the full command of the Sorcerer.

Energy erupts from random places in the environment when the Sorcerer calls upon them.

Energy bubbles and fizzes with all energy types (but mostly the one called upon), as if a piece of Limbo was thrown at the enemy.

Warlock (Archfey)

Your energy shimmers with iridescent colors and showers enemies with sparks of glitter.

Warlock (Great Old One)

Your magic corrupts and twists the flesh of the target of your spell, regardless of the energy type.

Warlock (Fiend)

Energy takes the shape of the unholy symbol of your patron.

Wizard (Abjuration)

Energy shoots forth from your magical wards, arcing towards your enemies.

Wizard (Conjuration)

You conjure a short-lived elemental of the energy type you need. It soars at the enemy.

Wizard (Divination)

You weave the glowing threads of fate in the palms of your hands, tweaking reality to cast your spell.

Wizard (Enchantment)

You enchant an object to exude the energy and toss it at the enemy.

Wizard (Evocation)

I mean, you just sorta blast them. That’s what this school’s about.

Wizard (Illusion)

Your spell usually spawns two or three illusory copies. When the attack misses, the enemy simply managed to dodge the right duplicate.

Wizard (Necromancy)

Your energy takes the shape of a skull screaming as it flies toward the enemy

Wizard (Transmutation)

You transmute the energy out of the surrounding environment and fire it at the enemy

On-Hit

So if half of a spell’s attack is the shape and travel of the spell, the other half is when the spell hits. I organized this list by energy type, as different energies will do different sorts of things when they hit a creature. This is mostly a collection of interesting effects, colorful language, and examples.

Fire

Your bolt of fire singes their armor (burning cloth, blackening leather, discoloring metal)

A tiny bead of fire explodes on contact

Showers them with red sparks

Your attack leaves behind a billowing trail of smoke

A fast-travelling meteor of flame soars from the sky towards the enemy.

Your flames leave blisters and cracked skin in its wake.

Your fire blackens the enemy’s flesh

Cold

You freeze the moisture in the air into icy daggers that fall onto your enemy

You freeze the water in their blood to damage them

Their skin turns blue and numb

You literally hurl a snowball at them.

Your spell leaves them covered in a layer of frost

A buildup of ice covers where your spell hit. (it’s easily shattered once they move, though)

A blast of icy wind and rain leaves them shivering.

Thunder

A crack of thunder pummels your foe

A high-pitched, deafening shriek focuses itself on the target

A thin trail of blood races from the foe’s ears from a sound no one else can hear

The enemy falls to their knees cupping their hands over their ears, gritting their teeth

You buffet the target with waves of thunderous sound

The ground shakes with the force of your spell. Brittle glass objects nearby shatter.

Lightning

Lightning comes from the sky to smite your foe

You all smell the faint odor of ozone before a bright bolt of lightning streaks toward the target of your spell

Before your enemy can blink they are showered in electrical sparks followed by crippling pain

The enemy’s back stiffens as the powerful current of lightning surges through them

Your attack leaves a permanent web of lightning shaped burns all over one side of their body

Your blast of lightning causes their skin to rupture as it travels through their body

Acid

Your acid sizzles as it burns a new, unnatural color into their skin

The attack melts their flesh, leaving them permanently disfigured at the site of the spell

Your spell’s acid causes blue fire to burn where it hit their skin, and bleaches their armor and belongings

A rancid smell fills the foe’s nostrils as the acid bubbles on their bare skin, burning through the simple cloth of their shirt.

Poison

You spew a poisonous cloud from your mouth at your opponent

A spectral viper or insect is flung at the opponent, biting them and filling them with magical venom

Your index and middle finger each grow a poisonous fang which you sink into your opponent’s arm (melee range spell attacks only)

The enemy’s mouth fills with a foul tasting liquid which forces its way down their throat

Necrotic

Your target’s flesh bubbles and boils as a black ichor sputters from the spell’s origin

The foe’s flesh festers with magical disease as boils and wounds quickly cover the affected area

A skeletal hand wriggles free from beneath the earth, flying towards the target

An incorporeal undead shrieks as it flies from your finger toward the enemy to deliver the spell’s effect

Black energy swirls around your arm before launching towards the enemy as if it had a life of its own

Your iridescent blue magic enters the target’s body and afflicts their soul, making them momentarily dazed as their eyes glaze over.

Radiant

A holy light shines from the skies to harm your target, regardless of time of day or obstructions

A halo of radiant energy surrounds your head and blinds the target as they gaze upon it

Enemies that aren’t of your alignment hear the whispers of your deity moments before being enveloped in a blinding white light

The foe’s eyes and mouth emit warm light and they howl in pain

A blade of radiant energy slashes through the victim, leaving a trail of blinking motes of light in its wake

The enemy’s skin blisters from the raw positive energy surging through them

So essentially this whole post was a creative writing assignment for myself, but I hope that it gives you guys new creative ideas for new spells or new ways to describe existing spells! They don’t much affect the mechanics of the spell at all, so most DMs I suspect will be fine with most of these descriptions if you want your character to cast spells a certain way.

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dailybestiary · 8 years

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Knight & Megapon Ants

Knight ants are a special caste of ants dedicated to defending their colony’s home. They grow particularly wide heads to protect their colonymates, who also benefit from the greater coordination signaled by the knight ants’ pheromones.

Megapon ants, meanwhile, have the rare distinction of being (in the editions I own, anyway) the only Bestiary species I’ve seen to not merit a description. (Heck, I can’t even Google a good definition for megapon.) But at CR 6, they’re nothing to sneeze at; they can carry prodigious amounts of weight; and their Strength-sapping poison suggests the sting of a fire ant or some aggressive, prehistoric lineage.

A clan of dwarves uses alchemical scents to tame and coax behaviors out of their ant livestock. A local war calls most of the clan elders away from the hold, and when they return they discover that the artificial scents have spoiled. Their knight ant guards now bar the way to the lower levels, no longer recognizing the dwarves as friends.

A martial arts master with some training as a druid believes in basing his forms and stances off of those in nature. In order to learn his specialized skills (in game terms, teamwork feats), adventurers must study knight ants in the tunnels of their hill—without killing a single one.

Adventurers are racing through the canopy of the great god’s-home trees, fleeing cannibals hot on their trail. They come across a column of megapon ants using their bodies to create a bridge for themselves and their giant aphid thralls. If the adventurers can find a way to sneak across the ant bridge, they will easily lose their pursuers. Otherwise they might have to fight the enormous ants and the kuru-maddened cannibals at the same time.

—Pathfinder Bestiary 5 27

I recently relistened to the audiobook version of Susanna Clarke’s Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, read by the outstanding Simon Prebble. I first listened to it during a massive, speeding ticket-filled, two-day road trip from San Francisco to Portland via Crater Lake several years ago. I’m happy to say I loved it then—so much so that in my hunger for more I discovered Naomi Novik’s Temeraire series and Patrick O’Brian’s Aubrey–Maturin books—and I loved it now—so much so that I accrued $28 in overdue fines because I had other books checked out and didn’t want to give any of them back. (If you throw in the speeding tickets, that’s compelling evidence that good books make me make bad choices, apparently.)

JS&MN truly is an extraordinary book—all the more so because it’s a first novel. (Neil Gaiman’s quote about a fragment from one of Clarke’s early drafts—“It was like watching someone sit down to play the piano for the first time and she plays a sonata”—still holds up.) The true-to-the-1800s language, the sense of place, and the treatment of academic arguments as being as important as a battle are nearly perfect. I love the characters; I love the world; I love the faerie lore; I love almost everything.

Because I love it so much, certain things still drive me nuts. Most of these little things are insufficiently answered (to my mind, at least) questions or breakdowns in verisimilitude: How can Mr Norrell justify obstructing the progress of all other magicians if he publicly claims to want to restore English magic…why does Childermass remain with Mr Norrell for so long even after the meanness of his master’s character is revealed…why do Lady Pole and Stephen Strange’s maladies go so long undiagnosed, even with a faerie glamour to blame…things like that. In reality, the book may be better for not answering these questions, but they still leave me fidgety with agitation.

A second listen did also confirm a major beef I had the first time I listened to it, though: It is a figure eight of a work, its whole shape constantly circling around two black holes of noninformation.

The first is that the actual working of magic is barely shown and never explained. Clarke has said that she “really like[s] magicians,” but weirdly she seems willing to gloss over the magic they do almost entirely. (Early in the book this is amusing—even the characters are impatient to see magic done—but by 2/3s of the way in it’s infuriatingly coy.) We almost never get a sense of how it feels for the magicians to do magic, or why these two men have succeeded where almost no one else has. (That they were prophesied doesn’t cut it.) It’s a staggeringly strange omission, especially to a fantasy fan audience used to reading about how it feels to come into one’s power, whatever that power may be. Strange in particular stumbles into magic and then the narrative curtain closes; when it reopens he is already a thaumaturgical Mozart. That is, as the South Park kids would say, some total BS right there.

The second problem is that this is a work of alternate history that refuses to share its alternate history. True, the novel purports to be written by someone from Strange’s acquaintance only a generation or so later, so much of this knowledge is assumed to be held by the reader. But despite all its many, many, many footnotes, the book barely gives us a coherent alternate timeline, and so much of how the novel’s history diverges from our own is unclear. (For comparison, Philip K. Dick is a downright clumsy author compared to Clarke, but I can tell you more about the history of Man in the High Castle, and it’s a mere pamphlet next to the Bible-fat JS&MN.) I don't need much more detail, but I do need more.

Worse yet, not only has Clarke created a fictional northern England with a fictional Raven King that we don't know enough about, but she also seems to have fallen a little in love with him. (Strong evidence of this is that the characters positively won’t shut up about him; he even gives his name to the novel’s third act.) It is dangerous to fall in love with fictional people or settings, and doing so is a surefire way to undermine the story. (Notice, for instance, how Tolkien burns the Shire, and how J. K. Rowling—whose writerly smarts are often underrated—is careful to get her characters out of Hogwarts after the love letter to it that is The Order of the Phoenix. Now compare that to, say, The Name of the Wind, which struck me as loving its central character just a bit too much, or the insufferable anime Clamp School Detectives, whose love for its own impossible setting is a veritable fountain of onanism (see what I did there?) that eventually feels like a taunt to the viewer who will never attend there. You can’t love your fictional children too hard, and Clarke loves John Uskglass.

So as I said, a great novel, but a figure eight thanks to these two crucial holes. Do not under *any* circumstances let these prevent you from reading it though!

Unfortunately, a new qualm came up as I was listening this time: the novel’s hagiography of Englishness. In a 2005 interview with Locus, Susanna Clarke practically quoted Tolkien word for word in her lament that England did not have a myth of its own. (Sidebar: English culture is odd in that its most famous legend, Beowulf, takes place in Denmark, a divorce of a people from its mythic geography that seems to really bother certain writers. In fact, this lack is responsible for both The Silmarillion and JS&MN. King Arthur doesn’t work for them for some reason; he’s either too British rather than English—a distinction too arcane for my American mind, but there it is—or too Welsh, and his legend has definitely become too French. Robin Hood doesn’t work either, for some reason, despite his being safely nestled in the East Midlands. The tl;dr of all this is that there is no understanding the English mythic imagination when you’re a fat Yank git.) So Clarke fills JS&MN with her love for England—its people, its cities, and its countryside, especially the North, where she revels in its preindustrial wildness. And Englishness as a laudatory attribute fills nearly every page. (More on this can be found over on Wikipedia, but don’t go there until you’ve read/listened to the book, because it’s spoiler central.)

The thing is though, Clarke is smart enough to know that glorifying England, Englishness, Englishmen (emphasis on the “men” there), and king/queen and country has caused a lot of pain for other folks in the world. So she works very hard to undercut this worship of Englishness, giving strong roles to women, nonwhite, and poor characters, and amplifying their voicelessness in the society of that time through the narrative. It’s all a genius balancing act, and it all serves to intentionally undercut and deflate the project of England worship that the novel is busily engaged in…

…And yet, Englishness, in the end, wins out. England remains the hero. The English countryside itself is instrumental in turning the tide in the final encounter. Lovely, lush, green, hilly, moor-covered England is still the hero.

Which should be all well and good, but… Well, I’m just not on board with cheering for England right now.

I’m a Top Gear fan. And I watched Jeremy Clarkson’s no-one-is-better-than-us casual racism—as an American I’m spared the overt racism of his other appearances—wax stronger with every season, slowly curdling my affection. And I watched Brexit throw my expatriate scientist friends’ careers into a tumult and imperil their research. It was also, more to the point, a triumph of Englishness over the needs of Britishness.

And here on this side of the pond, I’ve watched a similar dynamic play out, as many Americans have taken to celebrating America—or at least, their mean, small-minded, and resentful notion of it—to the point that pride of place and race have become more important than the principals that make America work.

So I still love JS&MN. And I think you should read and even love JS&MN. And zero of what I’ve said in the previous two paragraphs is Susanna Clarke’s fault. But in JS&MN, a country is a character—the protagonist even. And right now, in 2017, loving a place more than people doesn’t feel that good.

So I’m going to return JS&MN back to the library for another 7 years or so, or maybe for longer. And the next time I get it out, I hope I’ve fallen back in love with England and America.

Because that is the magic I most want to see.

#pathfinder #paizo #3.5 #dungeons & dragons #dungeons and dragons #d&d #dnd #knight ant #megapon ant #ant #vermin #jonathan strange and mr norrell #jonathan strange & mr norrell #susanna clarke

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