#i love my tiefling daughter she deserves so much

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Astarion Very Happy Ending

So full disclosure, my Tav was a Selunite, and I can't stop thinking well if Bhaal can have a mortal chosen one, why can't Selune?

Also, spoiler warning, stop reading here if you don't want, but like damn girl I freaking turn a Shar priestess away from her god back to you, free a man from his devil's contact, high-key save the world, kill bhaals chocen, convince my vampiric lover to not sacrifice thousands of people, stop an entire goblin army from murdering Tieflings and druids alike, and literally free your daughter. A reward is in order!

This is that reward:

Astarion was slowly getting used to living in the shadows again, as loathe as he was to admit it. It was quite the transition, despite the fact that his time in the sun had amounted to less than a year. But what a lovely year it was. Nearly a perfect one in comparison to the rest of his life. And the promise of more of the same was a suitable balm to being cursed back into the darkness.

It was difficult, but with the love of his life by his side it was more than tolerable. Borderline beautiful in fact, to be able to live his life so freely despite the infuriating complications.

The money also certainly helped.

That was one thing Astarion always had over his brothers and sisters, his fantasies of a better life had always surrounded around Cazador's murder. Not his approval. He may have been completely unaware of the horrifying dungeon beneath their feet, but he did know where the deed to his estate and other properties were kept. And now had enough connections with the higher up's of Baldur's gate for some frankly exquisite forgeries. It had been a particularly satisfying feeling to sell all of his former master's possessions off, even more so when it came to the land. Almost like he was tearing apart his legacy and handing it off to the highest bitter, piece by piece.

Though, being there with you to find and settle in your own little corner of paradise was an even better feeling. Maybe it didn't quite reach his past dreams of grandeur, but it turned out settling in a quaint and poorly lit townhouse in the upper city was more than enough for him to be satisfied.

It was a good charming life, one that Astarion was sure he didn't deserve. But that certainly wasn't going to stop him from enjoying it. Though as much as he adored where he ended up, he'd be lying if he said it was perfect.

No, perfect would have been finding a way for him to ascend without becoming a monster, living in a world where he could be with you fully, completely, out in the sun like the kind of lover you deserved. It made him feel... startlingly inadequate. Everything you did had to be in accordance to his schedule. His lack of capabilities. And just because you always insisted it didn't matter didn't fix the feeling of inadequacy. He hated it, hated the fact that there were so many hours of the day that you couldn't share. He didn't regret his choice, not for a moment, but that didn't mean he was fully satisfied with the consequences.

But in his own defense, he did make up for it in other ways. Mildly frustrating and draining ways, if not a bit rewarding. It had been his own fault, falling so utterly and completely for such a goody two-shoes. A zealot to Selune, as fierce as she was compassionate, always trying to do what was fair and just. Always dragging Astarion on for the ride of her cleric duties.

But he couldn't blame you for all of his new do-gooder ways. Not when he was nearly the leader of a bizarre cult of repentant vampire spawn.

It was just the slightest bit exhausting to so often be playing the part of their heroic leader, fighting all of his murderous instincts to work for a better future for himself and the brethren he had personally damned. Though he'd be lying if he said he didn't get any satisfaction from it. It felt... good to teach them new ways to live. To give them the chance at the beautiful life he had managed to secure for himself.

He wouldn't do it forever, just until he was confident enough to be sure that his departure wouldn't lead to a massacre on either side. Then the two of you would be off to explore the lands, working to do your goddesses work with just a touch of hedonistic activities on the way.

Astarion was looking forward to it. He hadn't done all that work to be selfless forever. No, he was going to be forced to insist on a few years of having you all to himself, with only the occasional bits of volunteer work for the temple as interruption. Then the two of you could go back to galivanting about the lands being local heroes. But he had earned an extended vacation.

One that, luckily, he hadn't had to fight you on too much. That was just one other thing he loved about you, your complete understanding that Astarion would always be a little selfish, especially when it came to you. The one person who had ever really been his, who loved him, who understood him, who believed in him. Could he be blamed for wanting to have you all to himself?

And admittedly, he did have you more often then not. Even if on occasion he did have to share with your beloved goddess.

Astarion sighed as he watched you pray in the moonlight, completely absorbed in your quiet, mystical chants. Despite his distaste for the length of your prayer sessions, Astarion did like seeing your more ritualistic side. Just... maybe not for the morally correct reasons.

He was well aware that being so involved with a vampire was clearly against your religious doctrine. But it didn't matter. You still choose him, despite how the knowledge nearly made you an outcast amongst your own kind. But he mattered more than your reputation, more than the lessons you had been taught your entire life regarding love and evil.

You still had your faith, but you never let it shake the faith you had in him, something that he valued more than he could ever express. It was perhaps a sick thought, but it also made him feel exceedingly powerful, to know the true extent of your feelings. Even more connected. It was almost... like he was defiling you, corrupting a beautiful flower to turn away from the sun to something even brighter. A love that Astarion doubted most could ever hope to feel.

Perhaps that was not the best outlook on your religion, but oh well. He'd keep those thoughts to himself. What you didn't know wouldn't kill you. Besides... if anyone had been corrupted it was him, plagued with a new sense of loyalty and gods, justice. All from the beautifully strange woman kneeling in the moonlight.

Though, you sure were taking awhile tonight. Nearly twice as long as your usual nightly prayer. He hated to interrupt your worship but this was starting to cut into his time a bit here.

"My dear," Astarion called out, swinging his legs over your shared bed to stand, "Don't you think that you've been kneeling there for a touch too long?"

But you didn't respond, still muttering under your breath, even faster than before.

Astarion narrowed his eyes as he walked closer towards you, confused by your lack of response, "Darling-Tav?"

Astarion stopped, eyes wide as he got a solid look at your first. Your eyes were wide open, body rim rod straight as your irises glowed a vibrant blue light.

What in the nine hells was happening? Astarion kneeled next to you, his heart in his throat as he shook your shoulders, "Tav, love, can you hear me? What is this?"

You didn't answer, you didn't even acknowledge his presence. But you did start floating in the god damn air. Astarion stared, helpless as he watched you levitate, words that he didn't understand spilling from your lips.

Then just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. You fell unceremoniously to the floor. Astarion scrambled towards you, his heart in his throat as you started to come to. He settled your head in his lap, his hands shaking as he touched your face, lost on what he should be doing.

You blinked your eyes open slowly, that angelic glow still radiating from your irises. But you didn't look frightened, more... excited.

You grinned up at him, your voice slightly cracking when you murmured, "We've been blessed."

Astarion stared at you, brow furrowed. He was happy you were alive and speaking but...

"That's lovely?" Astarion tried, "But severely lacking in terms of an explanation. Are you okay?"

You nodded eagerly, suddenly sitting up with an unexpected amount of energy, "I'll explain later, we don't have much time."

What was it that compelled you religious types to be so cryptic? But you didn't give him anytime to question. Instead you wrapping your arms around his neck and smashing your lips together, kissing him hard enough to take his breath away.

He wrapped strong arms around your back, pulling you in closer, always helpless but to return your affection. But something about this was different. He could feel it, holy magic spreading through him through your lips, down throughout his veins, changing something inside of him. It wasn't unpleasant per say, but it certainly was startling. Startling enough for him to almost push you away, if it wasn't for the fact that he trusted you with everything inside of himself.

Neither of you pulled away until the blue fire in your eyes had died out, and Astarion was left with the intense sensation that something had changed, irrevocably inside of him.

You stared at each other, Astarion in confusion while you looked nothing short of gleeful, "Do you feel it?"

He felt... strange. A warmth still spreading through him that was settling. Astarion raised a brow at you, exceedingly impatient when he asked, "First, how about you explain to me what in the hells that was?"

But you didn't answer. Instead you stood with an adorable hop, lending a hand out to help him up, "Do you trust me?"

Astarion almost rolled his eyes as he took your hand, annoyed that he fell for someone that had just as much of a flair for the dramatic as he did, "You know I do."

You helped him to his feet before you started to mumble again, a startlingly familiar incantation seeping from your lips. It was the spell for daylight, the very same that you had used to help defeat Cazador. The kind that could now kill Astarion in mere moments.

He was too shocked at your audacity to even protest, believing for a split, terrifying second that he was about to die a fiery death. Sunlight suddenly filled the room, bright enough for Astarion to tightly shut his eyes.

Then...nothing. No burning, no pain, nothing but the sounds of you both breathing.

That didn't-how was he-what did you just do?

Astarion stared at you, absolutely flabbergasted with his mouth hanging open, staring at the borrowed daylight like a simpleton, "But how?"

You were still grinning ear to ear, looking happier than Astarion had ever seen you before. You grasped his hands in yours, your smile gentle as you explained, "I told you. We were blessed. Our Lady of Silver gave me one gift, and this is what I choose."

If sunlight wasn't already staring him in the face, Astarion would never believe it. But here he was, alive and standing under it's warmth. A gift from a goddess, spent on him of all creatures.

"It can't fix everything," You clarified with the slightest frown, "But it can fix this."

He could feel the truth in your words. He was still... wrong. A creature born of something awful, doomed to eternity and a life of bloodlust. But part of that wrongness had been culled, curling up and dying from Selune's holy magic, from your enduring love.

It was a dream he never thought possible. One that he had accepted never having. But here he was, here you were, continuing to give him the impossible.

It was enough to bring tears to his eyes. Astarion reached up, cupping your face before confessing the truth he couldn't quell.

"I don't deserve you," He whispered, voice hoarse, "I'll never deserve you. Words can't express my thanks. You have given me everything, while I have nothing but myself to give in return. But it's always yours. Everything inside of me."

He meant every word, he always would. Until his last breath.

You shook your head, gentling cooing at him, "This is a time for celebration my love, not for doubt. You've earned this."

He hadn't. And he doubted you'd ever be able to convince him he had. But he'd still take it. Gladly.

"I love you," Astarion murmured, helpless to say anything else. He pressed his lips against yours, the gravity of his new life just starting to settle in his mind.

He was free, as free as he could ever hope for. You had achieved what Cazador could not, all without a hint of malice or horrifying sacrifice. But through kindness, love, and perseverance. You had already freed him once from his own mental shackles, his last remaining ties to the tyrant that made him.

And now you've done it again, saving him from at least a portion of the taint on his soul.

It was beautiful, wonderful, and Astarion would never waste a moment of it.

[changeling-fae]

1, 14, & 21 (not Nemo, haha!) for the Dark Urge askmeme! also any other numbers you desperately want an excuse to share ^^

I’ll post for both my Durge’s, Nym and Casira.

And also I apologize for its length. It’s a chonker.

Nym:

1. What circumstances led to your Dark Urge becoming their class/subclass?

Nym’s an abyssal tiefling (granddaughter to Graz’zt) and her bio-father (not Bhaal) was a divine soul sorcerer to Eilistraee, so normally she’d be a a divine soul sorcerer but I have her as a wild magic sorcerer because her abyssal blood and her spark of divinity doesn’t play nice with each other. It’s a constant war inside of her.

She’s a bhaalspawn because her abyssal cambion mother basically at one point had sex with a bhaalspawn, and I headcanon that succubi/incubi steal the essence of people they sleep with and their bodies then corrupt it with whoever they knock up/get knocked up by. I know technically cambions aren’t succubi/incubi but being the daughter of Graz’zt, I’m giving her some leeway. So she stole the sperm/essence of a bhaalspawn and for funsies, mixed it in with the child of the divine soul sorcerer man she was currently tricking/banging. So Nym has three parentages technically.

But yeah, she’s mechanically a wild magic sorcerer because her particular concoction of existence doesn’t play nice with each other.

She’s multiclass bard because she loves music and her day job when not doing stuff with the cult (which she was already trying to pull away from) is entertainment. Only time she ever feels at peace.

14. How good of a liar is your Dark Urge? How do they feel about lying?

Nym is an excellent liar and feels nothing when she does it. She’s not a habitual liar, she only does it when she feels she needs to to protect herself, but she has no qualms about doing so. I think if she has to do it around someone she cares about, is the only time she feels some guilt. Or at least, discomfort.

21. What are 2-3 songs that your Durge would relate to?

Paint It, Black by Ciara - Nym feels so much darkness and bitterness and she doesn’t want to.

Big God by Florence and the Machine - Definitely one of her main songs, not just for lyrics but the dancing in the music video. She secretly worships Eilistraee as her father did but she’s so conflicted and desperate for some form of salvation but also laments and despairs against the gods.

Death Wish by Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit - My girl has got bad depression and she’s definitely the girl in this song’s scenario. The lines “Who’s gonna save you, who’s left to pray to? What’s the difference in a breakdown and a breakthrough?” fits her like a glove.

Bonus question for her:

2. Did your Durge have any romantic and/or sexual relationships prior to their illithid adventure? If yes, who was it with and what was it like? If no, how did they feel about being single?

Ok so Nym has a very complicated and messy relationship to both sex and romance. She’s had a few romantic partners, whom she usually breaks up with because she feels she’s a danger to them and/or she feels they deserve someone without her baggage.

She was in a relationship with one of my Tav’s, Cillian Baker, and he was her last serious romantic relationship before she broke up with him.

She’s rather hyper-sexual but uses it as way of self-harm tbh. She’s a CSA survivor and her relationship with sex is rather unhealthy. She likes sex in the moment but afterward deals with extreme self-loathing. She also tends to choose dangerous or questionable men for ONS because sometimes she wants an excuse to murder someone, always a toss-up.

Right before the game, going on for several months, she actually had a relationship with Raphael at the Devil’s Den. It wasn’t sexual or romantic; she originally came to his presence because a woman she was close to and had feelings for liked to party (using it as a coping method herself) and they ended up in the DD.

Nym clocked him for a devil right away and he knew she was Durge and found her a novelty/would be a yummy soul but more an idle interest. She was worried her friend would get in trouble around him (I’m picturing him catering intimate sinful little parties for him to find souls in).

They slowly danced around each other over the course of months, and came to play lanceboard as a regular occurrence. Eventually her friend basically met someone and got clean and while Nym was happy for her, she’s just so damn lonely. I’ll probably post a separate post on her and Raphael’s relationship because it’s long but basically she comes back to the DD and resumes their game nights.

He finds her amusing and they have a weirdass connection that can’t quite be described. At some point they do get into a tiff, she got too close to his little spark of humanity on accident and it made him lash out.

She doesn’t show up for a number of weeks and he doesn’t think much of it and then oh, would you look at that, she’s one of the abducted and has some memory loss. That’s when his interest spikes immensely and then the ingame stuff. She feels a connection to him but doesn’t know why and it pisses her off, lol.

Ok, now onto my second Durge:

Casira:

1. What circumstances led to your Dark Urge becoming their class/subclass?

Casira is a cleric of Selûne (light domain). How that happened is basically, the Bhaal cultists used the corpse of an aasimar of Selûne (one of Aylin’s sisters) in a profane ritual that used Bhaal’s blood to fill the empty vessel. Created a baby bhaalspawn but that tiny spark of Selûne remained.

She grew up conflicted, raised in the cult but never feeling right. Selûne tried to reach her a few times in her life but it was too dangerous/Sceleritas Fel was always watching and it put Casira in danger.

Her cleric powers really only came forward once Casira was abducted and no memory because Selûne took that as her chance to influence her.

14. How good of a liar is your Dark Urge? How do they feel about lying?

Not that good, tbh. She’s fairly honest and upfront if you ask her questions. She finds lying difficult to understand and doesn’t like doing it. It gets her into a lot of trouble.

21. What are 2-3 songs that your Durge would relate to?

Eva by Nightwish - Definitely her in both lyrics and vibes.

The Moon Will Sing by The Crane Wives - “I shine only with the light you gave me” is very her.

Fake Wings by Kajiura Yuki - The solemn/melancholy tone fits her.

Bonus question for her:

25. How does your Durge feel about Sceleritas Fel?

Terrified. Even without the memory loss, she was terrified of him. He was put in her life because he/Bhaal could sense Selûne on the sidelines. If she didn’t do the murders and rituals enough times or ever showed reluctance, she was severely punished and Bhaal would overtake her body and control her (where the really nasty Durge lines happen, like necrophilia, etc). So she learned that to keep her body in her control, she had to do the serial killing.

His “naughty naughty” was usually a precursor to her punishments so when she got that dream in the third act she was so terrified of falling asleep for weeks.

[baldurs-kinfessions]

to /756728269194313728/ : another parent! hello! and how our stories overlap, my god

i was a tiefling abandoned by human parents and thus grew up in several homes that never acknowledged my personhood. i don't yet remember how i met my daughter—aside from the fact she introduced herself to me as Song—but i *do* know that i was seeing the exact same behaviors i had exhibited when i had been in those homes. i was filled with so much anger at the world for allowing another child to suffer as i had, and a fierce determination to do my part in changing that

i was well into my mid-life when i adopted her, so i'd already had a number of years to unlearn what she now needed to unlearn. of course, it wasn't easy on either of us: the reminders and memories of those homes were detrimental and i came close to relapsing a number of times; my daughter primarily struggled with paranoia and so trusting me was going to take significant effort on my part to make *our home* safe, and proving to her that i was someone safe to be around

as difficult as it was on both of us, she became my reason to keep breathing. my little song. i dedicated everything to ensure i could set her up for success, give her the love she deserved (at her own pace, of course), hope i could instill in her a confidence i had only built not long before meeting her, and just… be her father. i had been in her life just over a year before being scooped away and tadpoled and forced to journey home, but all that work we put into our relationship felt like it had been all worth it when i *did* arrive home and there she was, in a team of all kinds of folk—younger and older—searching for missing persons. she had been searching for me all that time

it was all worth it when she re-introduced herself to me with the name she had picked for herself: valnirith. my sweet, wonderful song, valnirith

anyway, ramble over, but it brought me so much joy to see another parent in our niche little community haha! a little voice in my head likes to tell me that perhaps our daughters could have been good friends

#🔨🙏🏽, tavkin, ockin

🐙

[thetavolution]

Tav Party

I want to try something and see how it pans out, just for fun!

I'd love to see whose Tavs would be in a party with mine. Just send me an ask with the name or names of my Tavs that you could see your Tav(s) in a party with! And be sure to tell me about your Tav(s) or link me to a profile/info about them.

If you feel up to the task, you can add a little emoji to represent how your Tav might approach them. I'll answer with whatever I think my Tav would do in response.

Your Tav would want to be friends: 💛 Would become family: 💚 Would want to be lovers: ❤️ Would be enemies: 🖤 Would murder them: ☠️

Don't worry about any Origin characters for this thought exercise.

The Tavs:

Tessa

Human Rogue Monk

She's the daughter of a thief and mercenary who is a beloved "member of the family" in Zhentarim circles.

Despite being a professional thief, Tessa is a kind-hearted person. She always overflowing with joyful enthusiasm. Tessa is outgoing and funny. She has a big heart and it’s easy to take advantage of it, especially with a good enough sob story. She has a good-natured sense of humor, but she's not averse to dark humor either. When she’s angry or hurt, or just talking to someone she hates, she can be particularly cold and scathing.

Tessa is far from morally perfect, of course. She’s made peace with stealing, focusing on targets that “deserve” it. That said, she doesn't believe in hoarding wealth. She keeps what she needs (with some left over as a little treat) and spreads the rest of it around to those who might need it.

Bex

Tiefling Bard

Bex is intelligent, but flippant. Not very many things upset her, but when they do anger her, she goes from 0 to 60 in the blink of an eye. She can typically diffuse tense situations simply by a lack of reaction or by telling a joke. She generally keeps a cool head, so much so it seems like she doesn’t care. In reality, she’s tired. She’s seen some shit and she is over it. She is in a constant state of existential dread and it's led to her having a very "is that all there is to a fire?" attitude about life.

Her philosophy is life is hard, why make it harder? She’s way too tired for that shit. She's friendly yet apathetic to most people when she meets them at first. She doesn't hate a lot of people either. Someone would really have to press her buttons or give her a reason to hate them. (I.E. I'm talking like Cazador vile.) She’s the type of person who prefers to stick up for the underdog.

She struggles to trust people on a deeper level, yet she continues to seek out connection with others. Under all her bluster, she has a good heart. She's just used to taking care of herself with little to no help from anybody else. Some people see her as trashy and she'd tell them they're correct.

She’s blunt, but she’s never intentionally hurtful. Sometimes she just sucks at wording herself. She’s never been one to brush off someone else’s hurt feelings with “I’m just being honest” either.

Minty

Shield Dwarf Selûne Cleric

Minty is excitable and bubbly. She’s kind-hearted, friendly, and cheerful. She can be one-track minded, especially whenever she has a new obsession. This can make Minty seem rude when she’s just bulldozing right past someone’s point. 

She’s a little too confident in her knowledge as a cleric, believing she can handle whatever is thrown at her. She's not "stupid" after all. But going out on this adventure teaches her a bit of humility.

Sometimes she can get so single-minded that she doesn’t think twice about her actions. She’ll accidentally hurt people when she becomes obsessed with getting her way. When called out on it, she'll try to make amends as best she can.

She’s a family oriented person. While her father has passed away, she’s very close to her mother and older sister. She’ll do anything to help or take care of them.

She’s quick to adopt friends into her family. So when she puts her family above all, that includes her friends. Even if she doesn’t always see eye to eye with her loved ones, she draws her strength from her family.

Laura

High Elf Draconic Bloodline Sorcerer

Laura is sarcastic, but not cynical. She has a deadpan sense of humor without being unnecessarily mean. (She's only mean to people she believes deserve it.) Laura is blunt about her opinions, but she has some sense of tact. She can be a total dork when she gets excited, especially when it comes to magic. She's as giddy as a school girl whenever she finds a new spell or magical item.

Laura is a natural born leader. She’s talented and brilliant, but she doesn’t trust people easily. She struggles with her self-worth and PTSD, preferring to fight her inner demons in private. Laura doesn’t reach out for help nearly as often as she should. She keeps trying to set aside her trauma and hope it'll sort itself out. She’s a humanitarian at heart and she’s not a judgmental person. At least, not unless what you’re doing is hurting someone else.

She does show signs of someone who has been traumatized. She can be irritable, even when she doesn’t understand why something is upsetting her so much. She’s easily startled and she can have a full on panic attack if something reminds her of her past. When not adventuring, she has to work to keep her mind busy to avoid thinking too much. It's near impossible to get her to talk about what happened to her before she left home. Whatever it is that haunts her, she's trying to keep it firmly in the past.

Paloma

Seldarine Drow Monk

Paloma is the quintessential older sister. She’s protective, responsible, determined, and bossy. She’s also short-tempered, high-strung, and sarcastic.

She grew up in an orphanage as one of the older kids. She stepped up to take care of the younger children and she took responsibility for them at a young age. Even after they reached adulthood, she continued to clean up after them and care for them like she always did. She has a habit of stepping in and doing things for other people.

Paloma believes she has to "earn" the right to be in people's lives, which means taking care of them. She has a very dry sense of humor that can sometimes go over people's heads.

She avoids getting help from others, and she reassures everyone she can take care of everything herself. It's a lot easier for her to ignore her own problems if she spends all of her time solving everyone else's. She actually gains a lot of pride and satisfaction from taking care of other people. She just needs to learn to take care of herself... and let other people take care of her every once in a while.

Lamia

Rogue Bard Changeling

I have to use a half-drow to make her in BG3 due to the lack of Changeling options.

I don't have her profile up yet, but soon! Lamia is Paloma's adopted younger sister. They grew up in the same orphanage together and neither were adopted due to the prejudice against their species. They aged out of the system instead. She typically hangs out with her Dragonborn Barbarian buddy, Allie.

Lamia's a con artist and thief. She considers herself as more intelligent than most people. She’s smug and her ego is often her downfall. She likes to be perceived as tough as nails and cocky, but she’s a lot more sensitive than she lets on. It doesn’t take much to hurt her feelings, especially if you imply she's stupid. She can be callous toward strangers and acquaintances. She assumes people are cruel until proven otherwise, so why go out of your way to help anyone?

Due to her ability to shape shift into any humanoid, Lamia is able to blend into any crowd. She has the skills and brains to take care of herself. It’s just that her bloated sense of self-importance always lands her in hot water. She's actually a pretty smart cookie though. It's what makes her attitude so frustrating sometimes.

All of her bravado hides a lack of self-confidence and a fear of being abandoned. The only people she trusts with her whole heart are Paloma and Allie. She's so afraid of everyone leaving her that she pushes others away before they can hurt her first. She never had a safety net in life and now it's everyone else's problem.

Ingrid

Deep Gnome Circle of Spores Druid

Ingrid is soft-spoken and timid. She can be shy, but once she feels comfortable, she loves to talk! People are surprised at how at ease she feels with the dead and the spores, but it makes perfect sense when you get to know her. She respects all aspects of nature, including death and decay. Oddly, it’s become a way for her to confront her own fear of death.

She’s a pushover and she lacks assertiveness. Or, at least, that’s who she was before she started traveling with a ragtag team of certified weirdos. She had to get it together and get over her bullshit. Her bravery comes from how terrified she is. If other people weren't counting on her, she’d probably curl up in a corner and cry. When other people are relying on her, she quickly musters up every ounce of courage she has and powers through her terror.

She always comes through in a clutch. Even when scared out her mind, she’ll never abandon anyone. She’ll just go have a panic attack after it’s safe. She has an incredibly kind heart and strong sense of empathy. 

[dawndiggidydagger]

The Hunter & The Moment

please enjoy this unedited flash fic I wrote for my current DND campaign

TW: mild depicitions of violence, deep anguish

The night was dark. The black seemed endless, like the anguish in Aranrus’ soul. He was on his knees, his kneecaps pressing hard into the bare, stone floor as he tried to ground himself. His heart was beating so hard he thought it might break his rib cage. He pressed his palms against the cool ground, his claws scraping against the stone. Every breath felt like he was drinking in blood, and not air. 

Before him sat the sword. Shiny, black metal that had beautifully forged into a versatile blade, an ornately decorated hilt and pommel. And in the pommel, the blood-red gemstone, which seemed to stare at him like an unblinking eye. It was being held delicately by stone hands, on its pedestal.

Somewhere in the castle there was laughter. His beautiful daughter, Inphi. She was likely chasing the castle cat again. Tears forced their way up against the back of his eyes, and he took in another shuddering breath. Through the stone floor he could feel the rumblings of the great party below him. He knew the room would be filled with merriment in the form of candlelight, and royals talking, and good food, and music. He should have been down there, laughing with his best friend. He should be there watching Prince Aelfhere and his chosen advisor, Tenkori. He should have been sitting beside the great throne, watching his beautiful wife hold their new son, his infant face nestled against her. 

Instead he was on his knees, feeling as if his blood had been replaced with burning flames. They licked against his bones and made his skin itch. Every breath was painful. Instead of becoming better friends with the little girl, Alice, Inphi was chasing a cat. His oldest son was sick in bed, the clerics’ skilled hands and desperate prayers the only thing keeping him on the mortal plane. He didn’t know where Sarlith and his son were, but he hoped it wasn’t at the party.

He had no choice, he tried to remind himself. He’d heard it all. He’s dreamed of what he’d heard for nights. Even now, the tendrils of darkness and hatred that he had sensed coming from Aleksandr’s mind were creeping in.

Aleksandr was going to take everything from him. He was going to massacre the tieflings. Aranrus was the only one who could stop it. But did he have the strength to? Aleksandr was like a brother. They’d done so much together. They’d fought in the war together. They’d expelled the deepspawn from their land. They’d bathed in blood, hand-in-hand to protect everything they’d loved. 

And Aranrus thought that the blood had finally dried. When Valrut had been born, a healthy baby boy with the light of stars in his eyes, Aranrus thought that perhaps he’d finally been forgiven. But perhaps the blood would never truly be dry. Perhaps his hands would always be stained. 

Was this the price he had to pay? Had the gods doomed him to forever bathe in blood, so that those he loved would never have to suffer the same stains on their souls? When he was born had some divine creature decided this was his fate, to be the Hunter? Were the Nine Hells not full enough? Were some souls birthed just to fill the space? After all he’d done, there was no way he’d go anywhere else. Aranrus worshiped Lathander, but he was not convinced the Morninglord would welcome him once he died. But was it what he deserved?

The thoughts of Aleksandr were drifting into his brain. They seemed to rise through the floor and into his head. They were dark, horrible thoughts. Sarlith was down in the throne room, and Aleksandr was hoping she’d drop their son so he could watch the infant break against the marble floor. He was glad that Aranrus was absent. He thought about the ravaging he might do after the party had quieted down. About the blood that he might spill in the guttering candlelight once the music had quieted.

Aleksandr’s mind had not always been like this. But how much blood could a king and a tiefling spill before it started to warp their very souls? How much breath could they steal and how many souls could they cut loose before it began to come back to them? Aranrus saw the faces in his dreams. He woke up screaming from nightmares. Aleksandr had to suffer in similar ways.

The idea of Aleksandr suffering sent waves through him, one warm and beckoning, the other cold shock. He didn’t want to hurt his friend, his brother, his King. But he deserved to suffer, just for the thoughts he dared think about Aranrus’ family.

Aranrus pushed himself off the ground, wiping the tears from his cheeks and dragging in a steely breath. He reached out and grabbed the hilt of the sword, cool and heavy in his palm. The weight grounded him, and he filled his burning lungs with air. The thoughts were louder now. Tomorrow… tomorrow… tomorrow… 

This had to be done now. If Aleksandr lived until the sun rose again, every tiefling would be killed. His sons would be beheaded in their beds. His infant son, lying in a pool of his own blood. The thought pushed itself into Aranrus’ brain and dragged a sharp sob from deep within his chest. If Aleksandr lived then Inphi and Sarlith… they might live as well, but he’d wish death for them. 

Aranrus clutched the sword in his shaking fist and dragged his heavy body to the stairs. Every step echoed and rang through the staircase, like cannons in his head. Cannons. He remembered the cannonballs ripping into the side of the pirate’s ship. The whoops and cheers from Aleksandr and the small village, finally rid of the tormentors. 

Everything passed in a blur: the bottom of the stairs, the long halls, milling with servants and royals. Then he was standing outside the open doors of the dining hall. It was as merry a time as it could be. Aleksandr turned as he stepped into the room, a false grin splitting across his face. “Aranrus, good of you to join us! Are you feeling well?” 

Tomorrow. Die. Tomorrow. Die.

Prince Aelfhere and Tenkori were sitting at the table. Sarlith was beside them, cradling his child. The little Alice was nowhere in sight. All eyes were on him now, but he couldn’t hear any more words. The blood rushed in his head, like swelling oceans. Tomorrow. Die. Your sons and daughter. Your wife. Die.

“Aleksandr…” The voice was hardly his own. It was the growl of a cornered beast. A mother bear protecting her cubs. A god protecting his faithful children. A thunderstorm. 

“You brought a weapon to a party, oh Aranrus, when will you learn that you’re finally safe?” Aleksandr said, standing. He was laughing at him, mocking him. But he wore a sword too. His hand was reaching for the hilt. His eyes flickered between Aranrus’ wife and himself. Sarlith stared at Aranrus, clutching the child to her chest. 

Aranrus could not wait to see what his brother in arms would do. He could not risk his family, his wife. With a cry from Aranrus, a string of lightning burst from his fingertips and wrapped itself around Aleksandr, pulling him abruptly forward. Aleksandr fell to his knees in front of Aranrus with a gasp that was echoed by everyone in the hall.

Aleksandr looked up at him, his face full of anguish and surprise. But Arnarus was already lifting the sword. He held it tightly in his hands over his head, staring down into the face of his dearest friend. But as Aleksandr’s eyes pleaded, his thoughts flashed in Aranrus’ mind. The terrible things he was going to do once he was on his feet.

Aranrus brought down the sword, and the blood sprayed across his torso and face. It dripped down his cheeks, mingling with tears, as the body fell sideways onto the ground. He staggered a few steps backwards, nearly losing his grip on the sword. 

Mourning would come later.

He took a shaky breath and gripped the sword tightly. Aranrus lifted the blade and pointed to the crowd that had been shocked into silence. “Bow before your king, Aranrus the Hunter.”

[divinitysouled]

jester lavorre vs all of the blame she puts on herself when she gets hurt/has to be healed because she ran into the fight instead of hiding to protect someone else vs internalizing all of the traumatic stress it puts on her when she almost dies vs internalizing her fear of being left alone by the nein vs 

[mihidecet]

Sbi&Co d&d AU: Niki Nihachu Character Analysis

Alright friends, it's time for another character creation fun time! Is that English? I have no idea. Who cares, it's d&d time!

So this has been a request from the lovely @awebo ! Thank you so much for this, I do hope you'll enjoy it! <3

Niki has been in the works for a actually a pretty long time! Me and Lando have been talking about her since probably mid September, but then the smp picked up and I started the WritingTober so it never got finalized ahahah

But I have to say I'm quite glad! The last couple of days have really changed which class I think would fit her best ahah

In the beginning, Niki was supposed to be a cleric. While clerics are the standard support class, with access to the most powerful healing spells and various different types of ways of helping your teammates, it's safe to say that clerics are absolutely not "just healers".

For example, if I were to make a d&d version of Thor, I'd choose a cleric of thunder, which is one of the most badass clerics there are (second only to the light cleric which can cast Fireball, the best spell ever).

We'd picked a nature cleric for Niki, because the nature theme does fit her very well with her attitude towards plants.

Another option was a druid. Which could still fit, as druids are badass support and healers. Maybe a druid with circle of the Shepard, so that she can have many animal companions, in honour of her many irl pets.

In the end I'd excluded the druid option simply because we already have a druid. This is not to say that you can't have two characters with the same class in the same party. I just like to change things up.

What I am as of now really sure about, is this. Niki as a Paladin, with Oath of the Ancients.

Niki, who stood up (in the Dream SMP) to Schlatt's tyranny the most, who was the most vocal, who survived mostly on her own? Who was so hecking determined to bring back the true spirit of L'Manburg? Who instantly saw how bad Wilbur's gotten, and knew which side she wanted to be on?

Yup, that is 100% paladin behaviour for me.

Paladins are one of the most op classes you can get in d&d, and honestly, she deserves that (she also beat Techno in pvp once, and we have to respect that).

Oath of the Ancients too is a very good subclass, and it's generally connected to nature and ancient spirituak guides, which still fits the original theme we'd chosen.

Also, while in general paladins are hard-hitters with mainly all strength and no brains, dexterity based paladins can also exist (Techno for example is paladin+rogue, with focus on dexterity).

And, the second most important abilty for paladins is charisma (used to cast spells) and Niki is deffo a lot charismatic!!

So yeah, Paladin with Oath of the Ancients is my final choice for her.

As for race, there is nothing more clear to me than an Aasimar Niki. Aasimars are the descendants of humans with traces of godly entities in their blood - basically the opposite of Tieflings.

They look like humans mostly, except for a general etherealness, but after a certain level they become able to temporarily transform and sprout wings - either normal angel wings, or fire wings by becoming literally the human torch, or skeletal bat wings that terrify everyone around them.

For personal reasons, I can see Niki being the sort of Aasimar that sprouts normal wings (protector aasimar).

As for the background, I'm not quite sure yet.

Probably an Acolyte, meaning someone who's spent their entire life in a temple, working to learn what needs to be known in order to take care of the faithful and to guard the temple itself.

Judging by where she ends up, it might not have gone that well, but maybe she just wanted to help in another way. Her own way.

Niki 100% chose her own path. Nobody's going to ever tell her what to do.

So, in summary:

Niki is born from the union between a noble lady and a respectful good spirit, who fell in love and wished all of the best for their soon to be daughter.

Not that she'll ever know about it, as the moment she is conceived she is sent off to a temple on the other side of the county, to hide the shame of the illicit relationship.

Niki is raised between the walls of the temple, by the love of her tutors and for the love of the patron of the temple she resides in.

She grows strong, with a heart of gold and the spirit of a lion, and one of her tutors sees it in her - thankfully. Her training as a scholar is quickly shifted into training as a defender, and she is taught all she needs to do to heal the sick, protect the innocents and slay the evil-doers.

She is trained well, and the goodness in her heart guides her to do better in her world.

When she'd started her training, her mentor had chuckled and said she'd be better than him one day; Niki had never expected that, as she grew up, she'd come to realise the incurable sickness growing inside the structure she'd grown to love.

The realisation shakes her, but the acceptance of it frees her: she leaves the temple, and chooses to work on her own, to do better, to make up for the stains left by the ones who taught her.

Promising to herself she'll do better by her elders, to make them proud but also to let them know how wrong they were.

And maybe this choice of going against what she'd been taught, will bring her on a path not so clearly right.

[elfcow]

64-67 for all ur gorls!

Readmore for mild campaign spoilers:

64: Mercy or Justice

Saoirse:

Saoirse is very much all about mercy and second chances. She believes Marley is good, she wants to think the best if the rowdy tiefling boys, she's all for Feldspar and Adonis being cool even though they're both masked strangers.

I think it's the FUNNIEST thing that Adonis got a very non-stereotypical "stay away from my daughter" talk from Rachel alakdkfkf. No hetero vibes, he's just wearing scary cult armor akskdk.

Rayna:

Rayna is very complicated and hypocritical here. Because on one hand she's trying very much to fill this ruthless pirate persona. Because deep down she's terrified that she doesn't deserve mercy, for her failures and for her Lycanthropy, and so she has this hair-trigger response of either take someone out before they can hurt her or see herself in someone's predicament and lay down her life for them.

Vera:

Vera is not a creature of vengeance or violence, not even against the villagers that banished her for witchcraft. She just wants to make her way in the world and make cute little potions and stuff.

67: What makes them laugh?

Saoirse:

Saoirse will giggle helplessly at Murray, her dragon familiar's, antics and dotes on him endlessly. She also has an easy cheer and laugh to her (sunshine gal!)

Rayna:

Rayna loves terrible sailor's songs and stories and jokes, she's all over those.

Vera:

Vera will laugh all the time at her Witch girlfriend Holly's jokes, and she loves the little antics of the fairies and creatures she meets. She's very emotionally in tune with the world so she has a sense of wonder and joy over the smallest things.

[parasite-core]

You've been visited by the random OC question fairy! :D ~☆

What influences your character's morality more - their own moral code, or the moral code of the people around them?

Thank you for the ask 😊 I’ll throw in pretty much all my characters into the mix for this one because I love thinking about their morality or lack there of.

Umbrolus: Umber’s moral code is very simple because of his sheltered upbringing. You’re either nice or mean, and either bad or good. You can be mean and good, or nice and bad, but if you’re bad you have to be stopped, and are fair game to be fought against. If you’re good he can work with you and maybe even be friends, even if you’re not always nice (see: Celeste sometimes). If you hurt Kleio, you’re automatically bad. Or his other friends, but Kleio especially. And it is very hard to move from that category in his mind, he holds a grudge. He does tend to look to Kleio for moral guidance to a certain extent because he’s aware he doesn’t really know what’s socially correct in many situations, so he tends to trust their judgement on if someone should be labeled good or bad.

Kaius “Hawke” River: Kaius doesn’t so much care about morality as he does debts. You do something to hurt him or his family, and he’ll hold a grudge and seek vengeance. You do something to help him or his family, and he’ll owe you. Do something to protect his daughter and he’ll lay down his life for you. The closest thing to morality for him outside of that is that he has a soft spot for young people who made bad choices because of their situation in life but who can still turn their lives around. He very much believes in people ability to recreate themselves and to become better, especially young people, and he highly encourages it. As far as who affects his morality...just himself, and maybe his daughter. He’ll definitely try to put a little more effort into doing the ‘right’ thing if she’s around. Usually. Unless he’s teaching her to lie and steal. ‘Because those are useful skills in the real world.’

Roland Terrasold: Roland is pretty set in his ways about his morality, he follows his moral code, which is based on the teaching of Sarenrae, and changing his stance on moral questions is anywhere from difficult to impossible. He believes in redemption, and the ability for anyone who truly wishes to better themselves to do so. He believes a second chance should be offered to those who sincerely seek to atone. He also believes those who do evil gleefully and who can and will never seek to be better deserve to be destroyed before they can do further harm. He believes in protecting the weak and defenseless, and in seeking out evil and corruption and stopping it before it can spread and fester and do more harm. He’s opposed to excessive and gleeful violence, preferring to subdue an enemy or kill them in the most quick and merciful what possible, even if the enemy in question is a particularly vile person. He doesn’t believe in an eye for an eye, vengeance begets more vengeance and doing excessive harm just leads to you being more okay with violence it doesn’t solve any problems or help anyone to be sadistic or take joy in killing. This might have a lot to do with the sort of person his extremely sadistic ex Ashton was. Also due to Valoria’s teachings after Sarenrae’s death, Roland also believes that the use of necromancy is not necessarily evil by default, if used on willing volunteers and towards noble ends.

Kiyo Alvara: Kiyo is extremely set in their way about their morality. Like Roland, they believe in doing the least amount of excessive harm, although unlike Roland they don’t have any qualms about revenge. They don’t believe in harming someone who’s helpless, even if the person in question was a vile person. Although they might make an exception if Rolth Lamm were helpless in front of them. I don’t know if they’d feel bad about it afterwards. That’s pretty personal. They believe in honesty unless a secret or lie is vital to someone’s safety, or the safety of Korvosa as a whole (ie they have no problem with keeping Blackjack’s identity secret since that’s vital to keeping Korvosa safe). They are slow to trust again when their trust has been betrayed, they’ve lived for so long and seen so few people change their innate nature, that it takes a lot for them to believe someone’s changed their ways.

Sai Gwenn: Her morality is extremely black and white, and extremely influenced by Hayden. There are good people and bad people, and the bad people need to be taken care of before they can harm the good people. Failing to get rid of a bad person is itself bad, because it enables bad people to harm more good people. Sometimes good people are in a bad situation which makes them have to do bad things, and those people should be given a second chance to be good in better circumstances. Who is good and who is bad is entirely based on Sai’s perception of them. Her morality is a little fucked up honestly. She’d forgive an assassin despite trying to kill her and her friends because she was conditioned into her position her entire life, but was so angry at a gargoyle for harming her friend that she polymorphed it into a bug and kept it in a jar until her friend was healed, then released it into the wild to inevitably live a short and terrified life trapped in the body of an insect with the mind of an intelligent creature.

Lucien Anasia: Part of me wants to say Lucien doesn’t have a moral code since he decides so much on the flip of a coin due to his worship of luck. But he does have some moral qualms. He believes in helping people suffering in front of him. He believes in sharing, and trying to help people to feel happy, and in leaving people’s lives a little brighter. He wouldn’t feel comfortable doing excessive harm to people, although that’s exactly what his cursed starknife does.

Haruki Himura: Haruki’s morality has been shaken to the core recently. He used to follow the teachings of the Nameless Father, but since being turned into a drow and the Nameless Father turned His back on him, Haruki’s been unmoored. Without something to believe in, he’s pendulum swung in the opposite direction, being willing to assassinate people he doesn’t like, violently slaughter creatures with his crystalline curse, and all around give into his anger and desire to make others hurt the way he currently is. He draws the line at harming innocents. He does harm to those who did harm first. Random civilians deserve to be able to just live their lives.

Khazrae Kulata: Khazrae is an erinyes devil, and as such she doesn’t have much in the way of a moral code. She gets her morality 90% from Maxwell and 10% from the rest of the Shadow Slayers. Her morality typically boils down to ‘if I do this will Maxwell be upset I did’. She sincerely likes the party and she owes them an eternal debt for how they saved her from a millennia of torment, so despite very much being an evil creature by nature, she does sincerely want to do right by them. However since she doesn’t always have a firm grasp on human morality, she does make the wrong call on occasion and does something evil without thinking it’ll be a big deal to everyone else, such as when she helped Claudia to kill a helpless prisoner to help another devil get revenge.

Eccardian Drovenge: Eccardian’s morality is a bit grey at the moment. He spent much of his life manipulated and possessed by his infernal father Mammon, so now that he’s finally free he’s feeling out how he actually feels about things without a literal devil whispering in his ear. He takes a lot of cues from Erik on how to be a better person, and considering whether Erik would be disappointed in a choice does go into his decision making. He’s okay with grave robbing and is gleeful about getting revenge on those who have harmed him. He has no qualms about killing to remove a threat to him and his organization. However he’s not going out of his way to do harm anymore, and is actually trying to funnel his resources into doing good for the city and the country as a whole, to help make things better for tieflings like him and ‘lesser’ citizens as a whole.

Chammady Drovenge: Chammady is a pragmatist. Her morality centers her family—which in this case means her brother and the Shadow Slayers—and anyone outside of them is fair game. She took the lessons of both nobility and the thieves’ guild to heart, and is willing to do what has to be done to protect herself and hers. She is skilled at the double talk of nobility, and the necessary manipulations to navigate politics. She’s good at making others underestimate her, playing the role of vapid noblewoman and leaning into people’s expectations and biases, although she’s done that less since becoming mayor as now she has a position of true power, where a different sort of face is both expected and necessary. Like her brother, she has no qualms about killing those who might obstruct her goals or harm her inner circle. She is fiercely protective of her inner circle.

[achaosfilledworld]

mod walrus.

pleasure to meet you all, my main blog would be @cathedralrefuge (but i mainly use @imagine-the-walrus). i do go by some names, like... walri, or... waws (kou's nickname for me HAHA), or kenway (silver's nickname for me). and no i will not include the canon characters ^^;

basically, i write and draw a lot, so nothing distinctly special about me, just an old artist/writer hag.

anywho, it's time for me to bring you to the character introductions!

the DnD chat:

Nathala – a Tiefling Bard who actively does not perform in taverns (due to her bad reputation... of starting bar fights) and doesn't get paid for her songs—but for her... “contracts” (a.k.a, she kills for money, putting her bard and sword-fighting skills to the test). Has a tall beautiful elf girlfriend named Elyscia :>, and she also takes care of Connor!... (Though, she would need to protect them both a lot more now. wink wonk). Is against the Seven Deadly Sins (especially Greed—we will come to that) due to her mother's involvement with them (accidentally inhaled Greed's venom during a fight and died in her bed).

Elizabeth White – AAAaaa aa A. Half-Elf Rogue! (she's actually an assassin's creed oc sheesh) After the murder of Christian Raynott she doesn't have a permanent home and so she sets up camp anywhere as long as it's far enough from the manor she ran away from (...well she burnt it down, but repairs are being made), is now trying to find a way to get back at the Seven Deadly Sins squad (that's what she calls them) alongside Hypno, Illusion, Beep (she's just taking care of him), and of course, taco man (...Haytham.)

Tsarra – ew disgusting. She's an antagonistic character, the leading Elf Sorceress in the Seven Deadly Sins (the Pride). Ever since Beth killed Christian Raynott she and the other Seven Deadly Sins sought to either beat her up (well, that she accomplished) but then later decided to fully kill her, as merely beating the shit out of her did not satisfy her thirst for revenge. Overall, she's a bitch.

Sylthyra – another disgusting vermin (hah!), she is the Greed listed in previous names. She is another Elf Sorceress that can shapeshift to a King Cobra—but now she has a gauntlet strapped to her forearm that allows her venom-infused blood to shoot out. She's bloody dangerous, and she will kill Nathala on sight should they ever cross paths (have I mentioned how strikingly similar she is to her own mother?).

Sudar – the Lust in the Seven Deadly Sins. Lusting for power most especially, he was the one who made Tsarra realise she had made a grave mistake of sparing Beth right after the nearly-fatal beating and instead should kill her right there and then—but slowly and definitely painfully (and to add insult to injury to burn her).

Baby Myrmi – a baby Myrmidon (...creatures I made up for a realm, hehe... I'll post about them in the future) that integrated with humanoid species for too much that he now can speak words. Favourite fruit is GRAPB (grape) and loves BIG and FIBBY (fluffy) and PIBBY (pretty).

the Earth chat:

Earth!Kenway – a killer with a cause who hopes her son, Beep, would be able to choose what he is able to do, not what she does. Regrets her killings the first ten lives she took, and she painfully admits that she started to grow used to herself being the sole cause of many lives dead, by her own blade and hand. Is now looking for a very important diamond which first started as a simple treasure hunt and now a race against time.

Earth!Alex – the Vulture. Has killed much more than his cousin, Kenway. Has mommy issues (:'>) and often sees visions of the corpses that were mutilated by him and he still didn't realise that was caused by his demons that only overtakes him by said visions. Doesn't feel emotions that much and evidently hates it because once he did feel something, he doesn't know what it is even though he is very intelligent for his age. Well... he has a strained relationship with Lilian, his mother, after finding out that he wasn't her biological son and that she wasn't able to save him. Well, now he's a double agent, and of course Lilian doesn't know that he's helping his cousin and her merry band of Assassins.

Earth!Lilian – a struggling mother from the Order who failed his son and now is trying to help Hypno, and slowly starts to see Kenway as not a manifestation of her own issues but only a mere representation of her mother. Has severe stress due to her conflicting views and her hidden desire to resist against the Order just to protect Hypno. A higher-up due to her intelligence and quick-thinking.

Milaeth – basically, a Sorceress from said realm—Mivuris (from the Buvalon Kingdom). Takes care of Silver and teaches him everything she knows that Earth would share some materials with Mivuris. Plans to teach him to craft an extremely lethal potion that would disintegrate your fingers upon touching it, all in good time.

Adult Myrmi – YEP YEP YOU FUCKIN GUESSED IT. GROWN UP BITCH!!! This time this BIG man is THE war general in MIVURIS! In the Öuryia Kingdom!!! Beheaded the Ekredian War General during a war and that was how he was granted this position. Now on Earth for... reasons

Jennifer Flores – a CIA Agent with ties to both Kenway and Alex, aiding the both of them for the said powerful diamond with weapons-dealing, covert tactics strategies and such. Hardened by battles she fought, there is a reason on why she always wears fingerless gloves.

Hyelius – The Mother of Gods. Ekredian Empress Goddess, may she cleanse your soul from its wrongdoings. May she save you all with her Crescent Moon and Spherical Sun interlocked with one another, living as mere murals behind her. Do not test her patience even though she is generally warm, for her fury is unmatched to a thousand fuming suns.

Mycelia – lol ghost edgy kpop man. But in all seriousness, he drags deserving souls to Hell. The Wrath of the Ember's Chains, he is unforgiving towards those who had committed wrong and is now carrying out said tasks to horrible and cruel criminals that the Eternal Damnation should hold—the Perdition.

the Space chat:

Kenway – think paranoia and killer instinct mixed into one person. That is her. Ran to the ship to escape from the Order, with Alex's help. Went through Hell and back, Kenway stresses more when she started to take care of Beep along with a parasite that gave her new abilities but there are drawbacks, negatives to positives.

Alex – same as the earth tbh lol. But the relationship between him and Lilian are further strained.

Lilian – afraid of failing her daughter as she did Alex, again a struggling mother who questions her allegiance to the Order as she takes care of Hypno.

[luckyjak]

abandoned fic: Caleb the Time Traveler

I’m not ever going to finish this fic (rest in peace Molly) but I like what I have, so I thought I’d share it with you all. The plan was for it to be an eventual Widomauk piece, but I’m just not inspired to write Widomauk anymore, given that Molly is dead and has been for 2 years now.

In the end, it was all frighteningly simple, really.

Killing Trent had been easy. Most things were for a high powered wizard, which Caleb was at this point in his life. And while disintegration was too quick and too kind of a death for a man who had caused as much pain at Trenk Ikithon had, Caleb didn’t dare try to take any chances.

He would have thought there would be more to it. Maybe the gods themselves would intervene and stop him, or maybe someone else, a mysterious figure from an even worse timeline would try to stop him, but no. One quick spell, and Caleb had altered the timeline for the better.

He sat on his hands for a while after that, not quite sure what to do now that Trent no longer existed and could be the focus of all evil in both the world and in Caleb’s mind. But there was still corruption in the Empire, and there was still darkness, even at the Soltryce Academy. 

So he rolled up his sleeves, and he got to work.

Little by little, he changed the world. By the time a young Bren enrolled at the Academy, it was a legitimate school for magic learners, and the Empire was a brighter, better place. There was an Empress now instead, a distant cousin of King Bertrand, and while she made mistakes occasionally, she had a good heart--of that Caleb was deadly certain. 

After that, he got more selfish in his pursuits. Traveling back to this time had been a one-time deal: he would never go back to his own timeline. Theoretically, such a timeline no longer existed. He would never see his friends again.

Therefore, he did what he could to make their lives better in this timeline.

Bren was taken care of: Bren would have parents and a girlfriend and a boyfriend and hopefully never be any more ambitious than teaching at the Academy for the rest of his days. Honestly, Caleb could hope for nothing more for his younger, alternate self. 

But the rest of the Mighty Nein? He did what he could, for them and their happiness.

He couldn’t stop Fjord from being bullied or from being an orphan, but he could modify Vandren’s memory and make him think he was Fjord’s biological father. It was a lie, but a small one, and it ultimately made both men’s lives better. In Caleb’s world, that was a lie worth telling, a spell worth casting. From there, it took only the wise words of a “friend” to encourage Vandren to give up on the orbs for Ukatoa, and to take an interest in his young son instead. A gentle nudge, a small trade of coin, and the Tide’s Breath would find it’s port in Nicodronas instead of Port Damali instead. Another nudge, another slight but gentle push, and a young Fjord would find himself drawn into long midnight conversations with the mysterious Sapphire of the Sea, standing beneath the window to the Lavish Chateau one evening when he could not sleep, and neither could she. They would become fast friends, and while Caleb could not fix all the world’s problems, he could make sure that two of his friends were no longer lonely. 

He could only help Jester so much: he respected Marion too much to modify her memories, and no silver tongue could convince the woman to let her daughter have just a bit more freedom. So he sent Fjord her way instead, and before that, when she was younger, Caleb would visit her, often, under the guise of night and with a heavy cloak of magic. It was a small thing, keeping a young girl company, and he liked the tricks and jokes she learned to play from him. If she happened to call him the Traveler--well, that was her name for him, not his. As far as the actual Traveler was concerned, he must have found it amusing, because Jester still became a cleric in the end. When she ran away from Nicodronas, Fjord’s father offered her a job on his ship, and she learned all she needed to from a Tortle named Orly. 

Beauregard was a trickier friend to help: he could not make her parents into better people, nor could he ever guarantee that they would love her the way she deserved. So instead he kidnapped her as a baby, and left her with his own parents instead. A rational decision that took little convincing, in his mind. It was surprisingly easy, no more difficult that killing Trent, and Beau would be happier for it. His parents were loving and kind and had always wanted another child, although they had never been able to afford one. They were surprised to find the infant girl and the sack of gold on their front steps, but they loved her nonetheless. And Bren could do with a sister: lord knows it had helped Caleb, in time. The only oddity was when he stopped by occasionally to check in, and heard Beau’s rough voice grow up with a Zemnian accent. 

He fixed other things, too. When Caduceus Clay was eleven, making mud pies in the backyard with his sisters, his parents received a letter telling them exactly what was causing the corruption in their woods, and how to fix it. When the goblins attacked Felderwyn, Veth and Yeza Brenatto were on their honeymoon in Whitestone, an unexpected gift they hadn’t planned on that they had received anonymously in the mail. When Yasha and Zuela ran away to be together, they found they suddenly had the money and transportation and paperwork to make it to the Empire together, far from the consequences of their clan.

Caleb was, at last, at peace. The world would be well. 

He “retired” after that, finding his way back to the Academy in a nice, quiet teaching position, content to live out the rest of his days as a silent guardian of Exandria. It was lonely at times--there was no one he could ever tell his story to, and no one would ever believe him. 

He had forgotten nothing, left no stone unturned, had fixed every problem he could think of. His world was, for once, finally perfect.

Which was why the purple tiefling in front of him startled him so.

“Mollymauk,” he said out loud, on reflex, although the man before him wasn’t Molly, and wouldn’t be for another few years, at least. He was young, tall and lanky, no older than 20, if he was even that old. The man’s hair was shorter, shaved down so that only the barest bit of black fuzz showed, and there was nothing ornate about him: there was no jewelry in his horns, and the clothes he wore were plain and simple and dark. There were no bright tattoos to catch his eye and no flashy tricks or smiles, and yet there was no mistaking it: the man before him was Mollymauk Tealeaf, or would be, one day.

He seemed impossibly young, full of energy, and just looking at him made Caleb feel like an ancient dragon, staring at an impossible, unearned hoard.

(He had forgotten Molly. How could he have forgotten Molly? He had killed Lorenzo and the Iron Sheppards when they were so young and yet he never once thought to check in on Mollymauk. But Mollymauk didn’t exist in this timeline yet, did he? He would be Lucien now, and Caleb had no idea how to find Lucien--except that he was here, now, in front of him. And in his timeline, the one he came from, Molly had been dead for five years, and yet the universe saw fit to send this other Molly his direction anyway.)

“Er, no?” The voice was mostly the same, but different--a different accent, at least, as far as Caleb could tell from what little he’d said.  “Sorry?”

“My apologies,” Caleb said quietly. “You--ah, you reminded me of someone. My mistake.”

Shorter hair, no tattoos, darker clothes--but still fundamentally Molly. The same eyes, the same horns, the same crooked grin--that’s what really sealed it for him. “A good someone?” The non-Molly asked, sharp teeth pointed out of his smile. 

“An old friend,” Caleb answered honestly. “A dead one.”

The not-Molly cocked an eyebrow at that, but didn’t question him further. “Perhaps it’s fortune, then. I’ve been meaning to speak with you, Master Widogast.”

That was interesting. “Oh?”

“I’m told you are the brightest wizard the Empire has to offer,” The not-Molly was certainly charming, he’d give him that, although his voice had more of a Krynn inflection than what Caleb remembered-- “My name is Essek Thelyss--”

“It is not.” Caleb stopped him, not letting the not-Molly speak.

The not-Molly, not-Essek didn’t move, but he didn’t stop smiling either, as if he was used to being caught in a fib and knew how to get out of it. “Oh? What’s my name then?”

“I do not know, but I have met Essek Thelyss, and you are not him,” 

Again, the not-Molly didn’t seem stirred. “How do you know I’m not Essek Thelyss, and whoever you met just happened to steal my name?”

He didn’t have a good or clever response to that. “Something tells me that’s not the case, however,”

The not-Molly’s eyes sparkled as he talked. “Then what’s my name?”

“Lucien,” He took a stab in the dark, the name of Molly’s past life, and that got him a hearty laugh.

“I’m afraid that’s not my name, either, darling, but I do like it more than Essek. Easier to spell. I think I’ll keep it.” He grinned, and held out his hand for Caleb to shake. “Call me Lucien.”

“Mr. Lucien,” Old habits died hard, it seemed; Caleb shut his book, finally. “How might I help you?”

“I’m in need of a wizard of a particular caliber of skill, and I’m told you are the best the Academy has to offer. Unparalleled in his field, they told me.”

“It won’t work,” Caleb brushed him off.

“I haven’t even told you my plan yet!”

“You don’t have to. I know it ends with you in an early grave,” Caleb shook his head. “You are no wizard, Mr. Lucien, and I doubt you have the temperament to start now. Whatever you are trying to do, you’d be better off if you stopped it now.”

“You must help me,” Lucien pleaded, his voice desperate. “If you don’t, I--I know your secret,”

“I rather doubt that.”

“You’re a time traveler, from the future.” That stopped Caleb dead in his tracks. “That, or you are the most convincing seer I’ve ever met.”

It was dead silent for a moment as Caleb’s thoughts raced through his head. How? How did he know? How was it even possible that this not-Molly would have even the slightest idea of who he was?

“Holy shit, I’m right?” Lucien laughed, louder than Caleb thought he might’ve intended. “You are a time traveler. I was just guessing, but I’m right, aren’t I?” He cackled. “Luxon above, you’re from the goddamn future. It’s why you recognized me. You called me--Molly? Mollymauk? Not the best name I’ve ever used for a con but honestly not the worst either. It’s growing on me, actually. Tell me, was I still handsome in the future? It’s a very important question--”

The hold person spell was up before Caleb even though to cast it. “Shut. Up.” A moment, then two, the not-Molly’s face frozen in time as Caleb struggled to catch his breath.

He took that moment, and then he released the spell. He expected another barrage of inane questions, but the not-Molly was silent, waiting expectantly.

“How did you know?”

Not-Molly smiled, not unkindly. “Essek Thelyss is a not even a hundred years old in the Krynn Dynasty. He’s a smart but reclusive boy, doesn’t have a lot of friends and most people wouldn’t know him because he keeps to himself. His mother is currently grooming him to be the next shadowhand, a fact that is not known to many. For you to know him well enough to recognize on sight that I’m not him? He must have an impressive future indeed.”

“What’s your name, really?”

Not-Molly didn’t want to answer that one. “Some call me the Nonagan. That will suffice.” 

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I have for you.”

“Hmm,” Caleb sat back down at his desk, trying to appear calmer than he felt. “So what if I am from the future? I won’t help you. I already told you that your plan doesn’t work--it ends with you in a grave.”

“Well, Mr. Caleb--can I call you Mr. Caleb? Master Widogast seems so terribly formal--”

“No,”

“-- from what it sounds like, it sounds like my plan works perfectly.”  The Nonagan batted his eyelashes. “You see, my plan is to die. Permanently.”

“What are you on about, exactly?”

“I am over a thousand years of the Krynn Dynasty’s attempts at perfect consecutation.  I am a Beacon made flesh. I am the Luxon’s divine light, and the closest thing this world has ever seen to genuine immortality. I cannot die.” He paused. “Well, I can, I suppose, as any creature made flesh can die. But I always come back,” he rolled up his sleeves, and showed Caleb a tattoo of a red eye on his wrist. “It takes a while. And I don’t remember anything at first. But with enough time, the memories come back. And I would, with your help, like them to stop, if you please.”

[duelrite]

@helltcngue​: never forget you’re my favorite. and I am so sorry. (VIA)

        Who could have predicted that such tragedy would befall the tiefling?   After so much grief and heartache already wracked his heart,   leaving a husk to fearful to live but too cowardly to die,   karmically he’s owed a reprieve,   is he not?   In the story his tragedy fades into nothing more but a grey horizon replaced by the happiness he’d deserved,   a scene full of hope and the love he’d so deeply craved.   Good thing comes to those who wait.   Suffering will always end and find offset.   Tell yourself again and again. 

            Maybe it would have ended that way.   But Ulrich knows the deepest truth of himself will never change.   He is a coward.   And would rather let himself be strung along than be alone.   And strung along he was.   

     After becoming so familiar the pale hand on his cheek burns anew.    Itzaleous may as well have dropped whatever shambles of pretenses remain and struck him.   Ulrich wants nothing more than to shove him away but his body won’t move.   He doesn’t know if it’s his own response or if he’s held there purposefully.   There is no fight to be had here,   anyway.   He,   the useless,   pathetic excuse of a person,   could never bring himself to strike Winslow back.   He couldn’t bring himself to attack Itzal.   All that has changed between now and then is that now he is very certain he will die.   And this time he finds his voice in the well of rage and hurt that spills over in his stomach. 

      ‘   Fuck you.   ‘   his voice is quiet,   faltering from the lump in his throat.   But as soon as the first words leave his mouth his expression finally twists from shock to the mix of emotions running through him.    ‘   Your favorite what?   Your favorite fucking play thing?   Your favorite new vice to use up and throw away to try and feel something other than your own fucking misery?   I really thought I would be too fucking run down and pathetic for a goddamn devil to waste their time on.   Are you so fucking shit at your job you can’t corrupt someone who’s actually happy and has a goddamn life?   You have to pick some kicked dog like ME?   ‘

           It doesn’t mean anything,   none of this does,   he knows Itzal doesn’t care.   But,   Ulrich knows he’s dead as well.   He knows it’s pointless.   He’s suffered once,   he’ll suffer now,   he’ll suffer forever.   Tears spill over and a twisted grin pulls at his features  --  he has one thing on the devil,   at least.

    ‘   You know,   I met your daughter one night.   I bet she’s going to fucking HATE you for this.   ‘

[hawkesvarric]

Masterlist of my D&D Characters

⚗️ ARTIFICER ⚗️

Breena Boddynock. Forest Gnome. Alchemist. Criminal. Twin sister to Brocc, a monk. She’s an inventor who sells her creations to the highest bidder, not terribly concerned with “morals” or the “law”. Currently traveling through the Underdark to return a magical hammer back to the duergar clan it rightfully belongs to. (After she stole the hammer in the first place, but let’s not split hairs here, shall we?)

🪓 BARBARIAN 🪓

Cormyn. Human. Ancestral Guardian. Archaeologist. Grew up in the wilds among a tribe of barbarians, though among the clan there were also healers and magic users. He loves learning about ancient histories and digging through the abandoned ruins lost in the mountainside. The spirits of his ancestors speak to him, telling him of the past. He has a wife, another human barbarian named Galatea, and they have a son together named Tiran. A mysterious illness overtook a large portion of their clan, including Galatea, and now Cormyn seeks a remedy to bring home to his people.

📯 BARD 📯

Bonejangles. Skeleton. Whispers. Charlatan. He woke up in his own grave and had to claw his way to the surface. No tombstone, no memories, and no name. People either feared him or tried to kill him, so he learned how to disguise his skeletal features and how to forge fake identities for business purposes. In his past life, he was a powerful warlock named Romero Marivaldi who had struck a deal for eternal life. However, one should be very careful what they wish for when striking a bargain with a fey. Has (had?) a wife named Damiana, who had her own twisted part to play in Romero’s unfortunate fate.

Altair. Human? Lore. Entertainer. Once, Altair was a half-orc named Kash. He was the son of the chieftain, training to one day take his fathers’ place. Then a dragon attacked, slaughtering most of his clan including his father. Including him. Barely managing to escape, his fathers’ adviser Grimon drug Kash’s body away from the carnage, using the last of his magic to return the boy back to life. Only the spell had unintended consequences. For now Kash was in a completely different body, that of a human. He fled once he learned of the clan’s fate, leaving Grimon behind. He took on a new persona, Altair the Wanderer, hoping to leave his past behind him.

🩸 BLOODHUNTER 🩸

Red. Human. Lycan. Haunted One. Unwilling test subject in an experiment performed by wizards on behest of the king to try and create more powerful soldiers for his armies. It worked, though perhaps better than they anticipated. Red managed to break her chains on the night of the full moon when she transformed and slaughtered everyone in sight before escaping. Now she seeks to find any others like her so they may unite and kill the king. Maybe blow the whole kingdom up while she’s at it, she hasn’t decided yet.

⚕️ CLERIC ⚕️

Keothi Ogolakanu, the Wolfkiller. Goliath. Life. Outlander. Grew up high in the mountains, longing to discover the rest of the world. But Keothi’s role was to be the clan’s healer. She had all but accepted her fate when a pack of winter wolves attacked. The goliaths fought back, but were overwhelmed by the wolves’ numbers and ferocity. They began to corner a child, teeth gnashing violently, when Keothi heard a whisper in her ear: “Protect.” She used a magic she never had before, killing the wolves single-handedly. The spirit that spoke to her was that of the Pathfinder, one of the old gods her people still worshiped. It was now her destiny to leave her clan behind, following wherever the Pathfinder’s path might take her.

🌿 DRUID 🌿

George “Pebble” Pebbleton. Half-elf. Moon. Hermit. As a child, she wandered into the woods all by herself. She has no memory of where she came from or what her name once was. A pair of bears found her and, perhaps because they could sense the magical energy inherent in her or maybe because they had just lost a cub of their own, they took her in. Of course, she still interacted with people from time to time. Travelers and adventurers, the occasional bandit, etc. It was from one of them that she heard about a local tournament being ran in a nearby town. So she decided she was ready to leave, though her bear guardians still follow her around to make sure she’s safe. On the tournament registry, she made-up the name George Pebbleton on the fly, hoping it sounded normal enough.

⚔️ FIGHTER ⚔️

Kimbatuul Sora. Dragonborn. Champion. Outlander. Sora was always a braggart, a show-off, and a ham for attention. But for good reason - she really was the best fighter in the Kimbatuul clan. Her father had a seat on the council while her mother ran the market. Life was great. Until her adulthood celebration, that is. Sometime during the night of revelry, a council member was murdered with her trademark halberd engraved with her name. Sora tried to defend herself, but the evidence against her was overwhelming. The punishment was traditionally a battle in which the accused could “prove” their innocence by withstanding a barrage of attacks from the council. However, her father couldn’t stand the idea of raising his sword against his own daughter, nor could he idly stand by and watch the others do so, so he managed to convince them to banish her instead by forfeiting his own council seat. Though alive, she was now disgraced by her own people, being deemed guilty and dishonorable for not fighting. She was banished into the neighboring woods, becoming a sellsword in order to provide for herself.

Seymour Quincy. Warforged. Eldritch Knight. City Watch. On the fringes of a magical college dedicated to cutting edge education, a team of dwarven wizards were tasked with studying the mysterious entity we call the soul. They had performed many experiments with little to no success. Either the souls wouldn’t bind to the objects chosen or they would go on a murderous rampage after being untethered to their own humanity. Just as their research grant was about to be taken back, one of them suggested using a younger soul. Hence Experiment #57 was born--er, created. After a short observational period, it was deemed a success. No unbinding, no stabbing. The experiment even seemed to possess a personality. Perhaps a bit more personality than the dwarves would’ve liked. #57 didn’t like being called a number. In fact, #57 didn’t like being referred to as ‘it’ either. He decided he ought to have a proper name--Seymour Quincy. The research team indulged him at first, still glowing from their success, but it was quickly made clear that #57--Seymour wouldn’t function the way they had hoped. They couldn’t sell him to the military as a soldier. He was physically strong, even capable of performing magic, but he was more interested in searching the woods for stray bunnies. The only times Seymour would fight were when he believed somebody innocent to be in harm’s way. For now, he has a “job” with the local city guard so the researchers can continue to observe his soul’s development and hopefully find a way of making some sort of financial returns off of him. If only he’d stop wandering off because he thought he saw a kitten.

👊 MONK 👊

Rikeo Sepret. Human. Open Hand. Gladiator. Born in the gladiator ring, Rikeo was forced from childhood to fight for nobles’ entertainment. These fights were not only brutal but to the death. He learned early on how to use his body as a weapon so as not to rely too heavily on swords and such. Rikeo also learned how to put on a show. If he was forced to have blood on his hands, then he was determined to be the best at it. His grandiose personality combined with his over-the-top combat maneuvers and his undefeated track record granted him a bit of freedom. Just enough for him to knock out the guards and escape. Now he travels, armed with only his fists and his wit.

🛡️ PALADIN 🛡️

Giselle Baldric. Human. Ancients. Folk Hero. When her hometown was destroyed by a dragon, the Baldrics took up residence in a neighboring city as humble workers. Giselle worked on the docks which required much heavy lifting, though she never minded. She loved listening to people’s stories and the docks had all sorts of interesting folk coming and going. And she loved to help others, always doing little odd tasks here and there. Locals began spreading the word that if you needed help, just look for the red-headed woman on the docks. One night, as she was about to head home for the evening, a mermaid appeared in the water. The mermaid claimed to have heard of Giselle’s heroic nature and decided that she must be the one destined to wield this sword called the Storm Breaker. Giselle took the sword from the mermaid and vowed to protect all that is naturally good in this world.

Kraven. Tiefling. Oathbreaker. Mercenary Veteran. As a mercenary, Kraven did a lot of bad things in the name of conquest. She looked out for her own interests and betrayed people along the way, even allies. None of it mattered to her, so long as she came out on top. But one day, she was hired to bring in a smuggler alive so her client could have a “talk”. She found where the halfling lived and told him to come outside. He refused. Kraven decided a little fire ought to motivate him, so she set his house on fire. Only she was shocked to discover there was an infant there. She had done terrible things, yes, but to other assholes who deserved it. This was too far. She ran inside, seeing the halfling man dead from severe burns, and recovered the child. Kraven took the baby to a local temple to be looked after, but her client was furious. Not only was his man dead, but his mercenary went in to save a child instead of her target. He placed a bounty on her head and Kraven fled into the night. To make matters worse, now she had all these...feelings. That maybe she had been a bad person before, but it wasn’t too late to change. Her magic even began to change too, her previous oath broken. Now she was lost, caught between her past and her uncertain future.

🏹 RANGER 🏹

Don’t have one who is very developed yet :(

🗡️ ROGUE 🗡️

Arkade Vrago. Tiefling. Inquisitive. Investigator. Worked with the local city watch, solving crimes and catching criminals, before opening his own private investigative business. Arkade wishes to retire peacefully on a beach somewhere, but keeps getting dragged into cases. Grumbly, but secretly nice.

🔮 SORCERER 🔮

Jono. Human. Draconic. Inheritor. Slowly morphing into a dragon, no big deal. Jono is very laid-back and chill about most things, but even he is a big concerned that one day he might not be a human anymore. He has a mysterious amulet in his possession that he is hoping is the key to stopping the progression. Oh, and he kinda accidentally got married to the Fey King’s daughter, so the Feywild’s sort of out to get him. No worries, brah!

🌀 WARLOCK 🌀

Andella “Andy” Wroth-Mooncairn. Half-elf. Raven Queen. Noble. Rich, spoiled, and bratty were the best words to describe Andy. Not that she cared what others thought. She considered herself above everyone else. Growing up in a castle named after you tends to do that. Her parents arranged a marriage for her to a neighboring lord’s son, a real nerd. But Andy had little choice in the matter if she wanted to continue living off mommy and daddy’s money. At the wedding, an undead horde led by a powerful lich attacked. It turned out that Andy’s groom-to-be had stolen a cursed spellbook per his own ambitions, but had neglected to take into consideration that the wizard might not be so much ‘dead’ after all. Before he was ruthlessly ripped apart by zombies, he passed Andy the spellbook and told her to keep it away from the lich. She barely managed to escape the carnage, running out of the castle in her bloody wedding dress and clutching the spellbook to her chest. Having witnessed so much bloodshed, she vowed to personally send every undead abomination straight back to Hell where they belonged. And that’s when a mysterious raven landed in front of her with an interesting proposal...

✨ WIZARD ✨

Mialee Zolerii. Eladrin. Evocation. Acolyte. Attends the most prestigious academy, but couldn’t exactly afford to pay for it herself. So she also works at the school as the beastkeeper’s assistant. Her ex-gf may or may not be a dragon. (Although, in Mialee’s defense, she wasn’t in her dragon form at the time, okay!) Always tries her best, but things still tend to explode around her. Currently on a semester abroad, studying any new creatures she happens to come across in her travels. Will she wrestle any of them? Probably!

Bartok Abbadon. Drow. Invention. Guild Merchant. Bartok knows he grew up in the Underdark. He remembers being a weak child who was picked on constantly until he began to show real promise in his eldritch studies. Then he was sent to Menzoberranzan with a small handful of other promising candidates to work and study in the city’s largest library. But that’s where things start to get a little fuzzy. He knows his memory has been manipulated, but still he cannot fully recall his time at the library. Small flashes of things come to him and then they are gone as quickly as they came. If he tries too hard to grab on to the memory, his nose begins to bleed. So, at some point, he decided to stop trying. Especially because his last clear memory of the Underdark was rather horrifying. The library was on fire, bodies everywhere, and when Bartok looked down at his hands, they were covered in blood. It haunted his nightmares for some time after he fled to the surface. What happened there? What were they all doing there that had to be protected so badly they needed to alter his memories? And, worst of all, what if all that flame and death was his fault? Bartok tries not to think of it now, as he has a shop to run where he sells various herbs and inventions of his own creation. His homunculus familiar, Batty, keeps him company. And that’s that, right? No way his past can come back to haunt him all the way up here...right?

[thelastarchangelaskblog]

Session 19

We were almost all in attendance for Session 19! But for Zira ( @heliocentricgeometric​) and she was sorely missed. Unfortunately, two of us got sick halfway through the session so it was cut short.

However, we had Highsummer shenanigans! Quite a bit of them.

So without further ado...

**

(Read more.)

We’re back in Ankh, and Gabriel has let Balthazar know (with kind sibling love) that the party is back in the city. Balthazar is very happy about this, I assure you.

Rhodey ( @rebaobsessions​) and Tony go shopping at the beginning for a pouch for Tony’s magical amulet that has an unfortunate tendency to burn him. The pouch is a bit too big at first.

Reba: Worst comes to worst, Rhodey can sew. 

Alatar ( @the-grey-hunt​): If you make it with love, it insulates better.

Awkwardness ensues once we’re on the first day of Highsummer; no one speaks.

DM: I do need someone other than me to say something eventually.

DJ (doxblogsstuff) is woken up very rudely by the sun. Zira is gone because helio is gone but the in-game reason is that she was too excited for presents and so had to excuse herself because otherwise she would start snooping.

DJ: Whyyy did I pick an east-facing window?

Downstairs, questions are had about what exactly goes on in Highsummer?

Tony: What does the first day of Highsummer normally entail?

Reba: Alatar, what does the first day of Highsummer involve?

(There’s so much; I’m not listing all of it.)

Balthazar is supposed to join us! As is Hannah! (Because yes, they’re both in Ankh!)

DJ: Probably a good idea for me to get to know Uncle Balthazar anyway.

Tony: Are you going to call him that to his face?

DJ: Maaaaybe.

Bob ( @lynnnnnnnnnnmnnnnnnnnnnnnnmnnnmn​ [with...too many ns and ms and no]) and Luna ( @imagine1117​) are downstairs with the cats.

Lynn: Hug with the cats, or without? 

imagine: With.

DM: They deserve to participate in this.

There’s jousting going on as well! Tony suggests Rhodey can join because he’s good at that kind of stuff, isn’t he?

Rhodey: I never learned how to joust.

DM (quietly): It's a lawless sport.

(Rhodey is against joining jousting, much to Tony’s [not serious] disappointment.)

Balthazar and Hannah join us now, so the group gets to meet the distant member of Gabriel’s family they haven’t seen before.

DJ: If that's Uncle Balthazar, does that make you Aunt Hannah?

DM: Balthazar has a look like he's not sure whether to be insulted.

Discussion is had on what the group would like to do, with options for the feast/sacrifice at the temple or the joust.

Bob (softly, with feeling): Joust.

Hannah (raises hand): I have to agree. Joust.

Some others agree. Tony’s not really for or against it.

Hannah: One more? 

Luna (quiet, deadpan): Joust.

It’s decided to do the joust!

...Only when we go there, the joust hasn’t started. It’s still being set up. So, disappointed, the group decides what to do now.

Who wants to go to the temple?

DM: It's perfectly acceptable to go over to Pelor's temple and say "Hey, thanks for making the sun."

Bob and Luna decide to go to the temple and check things out there. I think the rest of the party was like “we’re gonna wander around randomly” and check out the noodle stand Balthazar and Tony found the other day. And JARVIS did a thing?

DM: Tony's like, "This isn't what I build you to do!" and JARVIS does not care

inu: Exactly.

Bob and Luna get into shenanigans at the temple when they meet a jouster who will be jousting in the joust and ask the jouster how one can join (they’re angling to get Rhodey into the thing).

Knight Nonzuemver: Anybody could buy a shield and a horse and paint something on it. The shield, not the horse.

(The jouster is supposed to have a Russian accent. Alatar has no idea how to do a Russian accent.)

Luna: Nice to meet you, Nonzu--(trails off in a mumble) 

DM: Perfect! Got it in one.

The two get information on joining the joust and now have a plan of action.

Bob: You know that this means!

DM: ...I do?

Luna: No?

(sad sound of crickets)

Bob and Luna epically fail their quest to try and sign Rhodey up for the joust, which is for the best because Rhodey would have been greatly displeased at the unexpected surprise.

The joust does start the next day, and our entire party (plus Balthazar and Hannah) are there.

DJ sits on Rhodey's shoulders for the joust.

Tony: Your height is built on lies.

DJ sticks his tongue out.

Tony: Well, Zira's not here, so someone's got to point it out.

DJ is unexpectedly hired by the Alchemists’ Guild for a job while the joust is going! Tony goes with him because DJ looks nervous and he’s not that interested in the joust.

DM: That's right, I put some plot in here!

DJ doesn’t know what’s happening.

Dox: That's the closest I can do as a woman to having my voice break.

The job is interesting and DJ will do just fine as Tony assures him.

DJ: I think being me is the worst thing possible. I don't think they want this to blow up in their faces.

Later, Rhodey gets into an arm wrestling competition because Tony encouraged him. ;) He wins.

DM: They give you a pamphlet on the way out.

Tony flatters Rhodey’s strength.

DJ: Rhodey...Tony thinks you're stronk and manly.

(Well, wouldn’t you??)

DJ starts the job and does pretty well! It’s interesting stuff; they’re dealing with the highly illegal substance of...blackpowder. DJ is so tempted but also being very responsible.

DM: After a few days DJ starts smelling like black powder [...] Just a vaguely combustible smell.

Back at the joust, sometime in the morning, we are approached by a jouster who thinks she’s being sabotaged. She was pointed our way by someone...familiar.

inu: who do we know who has white hair and - oh! Zira!

imagine: That's bad parenting, Tony, not even knowing what your daughter looks like.

(To be fair, it’s not like we go by character descriptions all the time.)

(Also Tony: I don’t have a daughter - what are you talking about?)

The course of our investigation leads us to a tiefling we’re suspecting is behind the sabotage, but we’re still trying to find out who it is and where they are when two of our members are taken out at the knees by being sick.

So that’s where we left off for this session! Next one is more Highsummer shenanigans and presents.

[pickle-inspector]

Fictober Day 8 | original fiction | 1304 words 

“Can you stay?”

“I didn’t come all this way just to leave immediately. How’s she doing?”

“They, ah, they kicked me out a bit ago,” Sylmore Burnett admitted, looking anxiously at a nearby flight of stairs. “She started yelling at me about how it was all my fault and–”

“It is your fault,” Belxari interrupted.

“I suppose.” He could feel his cheeks burning. “At any rate, I got kicked out–”

A pained cry rang through the house, causing them both to look in the direction from which it came. Sylmore’s face paled, but he did not make any motion to go help. Belxari watched the concerned half-elf in silence, then grabbed his arm and began to lead him toward the front door.

“They’ll come get you when it’s time,” she said nonchalantly, waving her free hand dismissively. “In the meantime, there is nothing you can do, so you should... I would say relax, but that’s not going to happen.”

Sylmore said nothing, allowing himself to be led by the young goddess. She chattered away about some nonsense, attempting to provide a distraction for him, but his mind was wholly focused on the events transpiring in an upstairs bedroom in the Burnett estate.

He was no stranger to blood and violence. His youth had been filled with too much of it, and his years with the troupe had been filled with even more. But this was one of the worst things he had ever experienced. Perhaps it was because it was Azaria. Maybe because Azaria was angry about it. Somehow, she was almost never angry, but today...

Another cry reached their ears, and even Belxari faltered at the sound. Her eyes shot up to the window of the room Azaria was in. Sylmore could see her debating flying up on her broom to make sure everything was going well. The tiefling decided against it and swiftly turned her attention back to him.

“She’ll be fine.” She might have been reassuring herself, but he noted the effort she was making.

He smiled at her, half-hearted perhaps, but genuine enough. “Yeah, she will be.”

It was sort of funny that the woman before him was so worried. Surely this was nothing compared to what she had experienced in her life. Her first kill had come when she was barely a teenager, and she had herself nearly been killed many times over.

He shook his head to rid it of those thoughts. He had to focus on something else, something better, something happy. Something significantly less frustrating.

Belxari leaned down to look him in the face. “Hey, man, are you okay?” she asked, concern evident in her voice and expression.

He wasn’t sure when he sat down. The heat of the stone steps leading to the front door seeped through the material of his clothes, as did the heat from Belxari’s hand upon his shoulder. He placed his own hand on hers and offered her an attempt at a smile. “I’m scared,” he said at length. “Dealing with Caius might have been easier.”

Belxari flinched at the name, but remained where she was. “You’ve done this before. You’ll be fine.”

“It’s different this time,” he whispered.

Belxari looked over his head, the movement somewhat more jerky than was typical of her.

“Sir, you’ve been allowed back in the room,” came Porter’s voice behind him.

Sylmore turned to look at the butler, then at Belxari. Porter’s expression was almost professionally neutral.

“I’ll let you have some time together before I come up, if that’s alright with you,” Belxari said. She had a mischievous grin on her face. If he thought he could ever make her stop, he would ask her to; the expression was unsettling most days.

“You’ll definitely stay?”

“Of course,” she said with an inclination of her head toward him. “Family is what I’m all about, Sylmore.”

Sylmore nodded and rose unsteadily to his feet, and followed Porter into the house. This had been his home–legally and emotionally–for a number of years now, but sometimes it still felt foreign to him. Now was one of those times, as the fear in his gut reached up and gripped his heart in its cold fingers.

He reached the door before he expected to, out of breath, having apparently broken into a run. He gripped the door handle, but made no motion to open it for several long moments. He focused on breathing. Opening a door was hardly the most difficult thing he had done, and yet it took all of the strength in him to do so now.

Azaria was propped against several pillows in the bed, blankets piled up beside and on top of her. His wonderful, perfect, exhausted, sweaty, gorgeous wife. She looked at him as he entered, and she smiled. Gods, how did he manage to be so lucky.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she said softly as he sat on the bed beside her.

“I deserved it,” he said, moving a stray strand of hair from her forehead and placing a kiss in its place.

The blankets in Azaria’s arms yawned.

He looked down at the source of the sound, then back to his wife, finally able to smile. The fear was entirely replaced now with excitement. He wasn’t alone; they would do this together. Sylmore searched her eyes for a moment, then reached down and removed some of the blanket that had fallen over his child’s–his daughter’s–face.

For the briefest moment he froze, taking in his first view of his daughter. She had a lot of hair for a newborn, pitch black and sticking straight out like the fluff of a dandelion. He could see crescents of silver peeking out at him as she hovered the border between the waking world and her dreams. He brushed his thumb against the soft red skin of her cheek.

Then he wrapped his family into a hug, kissing Azaria’s temple fervently. “She’s beautiful.”

“She is,” Azaria breathed. After a moment she added, “This will... pose some difficulties.”

“Luckily I have some experience in raising tieflings,” Sylmore said lightly. “She’s going to be amazing.”

Azaria smiled and leaned into her husband, cradling their daughter closer to them both.

After a few moments he chuckled, “We’ll need to invest in earplugs. An infant with Thaumaturgy is a literal headache.”

The couple sat together with their newborn for some time, softly discussing names and whispering loving things among themselves. Eventually, Sylmore asked that someone fetch Belxari. She had been the only one able to travel with the speed necessary to arrive so close to the birth; everyone else would likely arrive over the next few days.

Belxari seemed to be taking the situation rather seriously, Sylmore noted as she knocked gently on the door before peering around it. He had expected her to teleport directly into the room. He waved her over, smiling in amusement. With practiced ease, Belxari slid into the room and padded over to join them.

“Well?”

“It’s a girl,” Azaria whispered, smiling at the goddess as she leaned over Sylmore to look at the infant.

Sylmore felt a sudden surge of pride. He was unsure whether Belxari’s domain ever manifested in a way that could be felt, but in that moment he would have believed it could. It was rough going, but somehow his first “unofficial” daughter had accomplished more than most parents would ever dream for their children.

The temperature dropped noticeably as Belxari backed away from the bed, abject terror on her face.

“Bel, what’s wrong?” Sylmore asked, half-rising from the bed, worried.

She tore her eyes away from the child and looked at Sylmore. She shook her head–or he thought she did, the movement was so small. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. A soft pop punctuated the statement, and Belxari was gone.

[part one] [this is part two] [part three] [part four] [part five] [part six] [(part seven)]

[your-reference-here]

[Prompt: one of them is sick and the other takes care of them :D]

[Haha I see what you did there, and I like it ;D Thanks for the prompt @fireonlyaircanputout]

“Are you sure this will help?”

“I mean, probably. It’s peppermint so it will help with the coughing, plus I think Jester will like it.”

“I can always add some whiskey to it!”

“If you put that flask anywhere near this tea cup I will end you Nott.”

“Beau, relax, it’s just a cold. It’s not like Jester’s up there dying.”

Beau glared hard at Fjord. Now was not the time to be making jokes like that. Jester was sick, and as her girlfriend—she was still getting used to the idea of being someone’s girlfriend, let alone Jester’s girlfriend, but damn Ioun if she was going to fuck this up—it was her job to take care of her. The only problem was that Beau really didn’t know the best ways to help someone who was sick. Sure she knew some stuff from her studies at the Cobalt Soul, but she never actually put any of it into practice. Whenever she got sick she just toughed through it until her body physically couldn’t, and then after a couple days in bed she could force herself back into the game. She was never one to get sick for very long anyways.

Jester, however, was going on day two of being in bed with a low-grade fever and Beau was getting anxious. This wasn’t something she could punch into submission, this was something that required care and time and patience.

Caleb put a hand on her shoulder to pull her away from her withering gaze at Fjord. “This will pass Beau. It’s a common cold. We just have to be there for Jester when she needs us.”

“Dude, she needs us now,” Beau retorted. “All those books you read were about humans getting colds, we don’t know what they do to tieflings. What if creates some weird reaction in her that makes it worse?”

“Well, why don’t we start by getting this tea to her,” Fjord suggested, reaching over to take the cup from Caduceus before Nott could slip any liquor into it, “and figure it out from there. I’m sure a visit from you would also make her feel much better. Baby steps.”

Beau stared at the cup angrily for not being a miracle cure, but she took it and sighed. Damn Fjord and his stupid level head. As much as he could be an idiot in his own right, Fjord was always good at reeling her in. And he was right; small steps were better.

Beau left the kitchen and made her way up the stairs to her and Jester’s room, which had been effectively quarantined even at Caleb’s insistence there was nothing contagious about this. She knocked on the door gently with her free hand and listened.

“Come in,” came Jester’s weak voice, and she pushed the door open. Jester was tucked in up to her chin under the covers of their bed—they’d long since pushed their two bed frames together to make a single large one—and had a wet rag on her forehead. A side table nearby held a half-eaten bowl of soup, also courtesy of Caduceus, and a mostly empty glass of water. Beau was glad to see she’d managed to eat a little something, but the exhaustion she saw in Jester’s eyes as she looked over confirmed that it hadn’t done much to improve things.

“Hi Beau,” Jester said, offering a weak smile. Beau smiled back as she walked to the chair still left at her bedside.

“Hey Jessie,” Beau replied softly. She moved the soup bowl to the floor and placed the cup of tea on the table before reaching over to remove the now warm and damp towel from Jester’s forehead. “Feeling any better?”

Jester sniffed, and Beau could hear the wheeze of air attempting to move through a very stuffed nose. Jester sighed heavily. “No. Being sick sucks.”

Beau chuckled. “I know babe. Caduceus made you some tea. It’s peppermint. He thought you might like it.”

A tiny sparkle lit up Jester’s eyes. “That sounds great.” Jester began to move the sheets off and sit up, but she groaned and her eyes squeezed shut.

“Whoa whoa, easy Jester,” Beau said quickly, reaching out to help Jester up. “Not so fast.”

“My head feels like it’s going to explode,” Jester whined, right before a heavy cough racked through her. “And my chest. And everything else.”

“Well I’ll do my best to keep you from exploding and decorating our walls with blue tiefling guts,” Beau replied lamely, but Jester still chuckled.

“I’m like a little blue pimple waiting to pop.”

“Ugh, gross, did not need that mental image.”

Jester laughed more, and then coughed more, and then sighed. Beau reached over and placed the cup in her hands. Jester slowly brought it to her lips, and after taking a sip she hummed contently.

“Caduceus really does make the best tea,” Jester sighed happily.

“He really does, even if it is from dead people.”

“Old, moldy, dead people,” Jester sing-songed as she took another sip. Beau smiled, happy to see that despite being sick Jester’s playful nature was still up and fighting through it. Still, she wished she could do more.

Something in her expression must have caught Jester’s attention, because she felt a warm hand rest on her cheek and draw her eyes to tired, but appreciative lavender ones.

“Thanks Beau,” Jester said with a smile. “You’ve been a really good nurse.”

Beau smirked. “With all the caregiving I’ve been doing lately, I think I at least deserve the title of doctor.”

Jester rolled her eyes. “Alright, Doctor Beauregard,” Jester drawled teasingly. “But really, thank you. You’re doing great.”

“I just wish I could do more,” Beau lamented as she placed her hand over Jester’s. She turned and placed a gentle kiss to her palm.

“Maybe I could message my mama?” Jester offered. “She always knew just what to do to make me feel better.”

Beau stared back at Jester for a minute, an idea forming in her head. “We can message her later. Right now you should finish that tea and get some more sleep.”

Beau stayed with Jester for a while as she sipped on the rest of the tea, and after replacing the warm cloth with a new, cool one, Beau gave Jester a soft kiss on the cheek and left her to rest. Once the door was shut she practically sprinted down the stairs, nearly dropping the bowl of now cold soup. Her idea would take a little convincing, but hopefully not too much, to work.

----------

About an hour and half later the sound of the Xhorhaus’ teleportation circle activating filled the bottom floor. Beau, Caleb, and Nott stepped through, along with Marion Lavorre herself in a comfortable but stylish traveling cloak.

“So this is where you live in Xhorhas?” Marion asked, glancing around the study and the main entrance hall as the group continued on. “I must say I’m impressed, you’ve all found yourselves a cozy home.”

“You’d be surprised what returning an important religious artifact can get you,” Nott replied. Marion gave her a curious look, which Beau simply shrugged at while Caleb gave Nott a subtle maybe-not-the-best-time-for-this-conversation look. The group separated, with Nott and Caleb detouring to the front door while Beau led Marion upstairs.

“Caleb and Nott’ll grab the stuff you asked for in town, shouldn’t take too long,” she explained as they reached the landing. Before she could go any farther she felt a hand on her shoulder stop her.

“Beauregard,” Marion began as she turned around to face her. “Thank you for looking after my Jester.”

Beau blushed and looked away. “It’s no big deal, really.”

“But it is.” Marion’s finger lifted Beau’s chin up so they were eye to eye again. “I won’t claim that I did the best job in preparing her for the world outside our chateau, but I must have done something right if she was able to find people like you and your friends. It brings me comfort to know she has such a caring group around her, and that she’s found someone as special as you to walk through this world with.”

The sincerity in Marion’s eyes was overwhelming, and Beau felt her heart swell. “She’s already all the world I’ll ever need.”

Marion’s eyes watered as they shared a moment of mutual love for the girl just down the hall. She took her hand away to wipe them before turning back to the hall.

“Now, which room is my little Sapphire in?”

Beau led her down the hall to the room, and with one more appreciative look, Marion stepped into the room to greet her daughter. Beau watched from the doorway as Jester’s eyes went wide and she wrapped her mama in a tight hug. Just as Beau was about to walk away, Jester called out to her. She turned back around with a smile and walked in to join the happy moment.