#i rolled so many clerics

[coolgoodandfine]

day one and i'm already so busy with other things i don't even know if i'm going to be finished with the drawing before the day is over lol.

[roll-for-charisma]

i have zero self control and made another tav. brân, a war domain cleric. he’s gonna romance gale because i have two tavs romancing astarion and i need to give gale some love.

[haarute]

i got back into BG3 to finally end my main run buuuuut i woke up today and decided i'm going to get work DONE and THEN play. let's be responsible for once god damn it.

[longroadstonowhere]

so

i’m playing a knowledge cleric in my dnd campaign, and the religion we’re using is a really loose structure, half teacher half librarian kinda vibe (and yes i decided to play this character before the library school thing happened), but clerics are something a little extra than just a follower of a religion, right? like, you get your magic powers from your god, so i figure there’s something more happening there for whatever cleric you play

but me, i’m not one for pages and pages of backstory, i’ll figure things out while i’m playing but i mostly just give myself sketches and outlines to work off of, so i present my dm with ‘i had a dream that god told me to look for something, but i don’t remember what i’m supposed to be looking for, and i’m not even entirely sure it was god’

and that’s where we start the campaign, dude in his early forties with a fair amount of knowledge and a not-insubstantial understanding of people finally striking out into the world, and the first major event he runs into involves someone he trusted turning out to be a blood cultist, and he doesn’t really learn from that because surely that was just a one-off weird thing, like not every person you run into will be lying to you, that can’t happen

and it’s happened again and again and again - he finds someone who is scholarly, or helpful, or even of his faith, and he trusts that they’re genuine, or at least that they won’t harm him, and then he is betrayed and it’s getting worse and worse (bodies are starting to pile up around him and some of them are those he created, when he barely took the martial training offered at his temple, only accepting because any knowledge is knowledge worth having, but now death is at his fingertips), and he still wants to believe

the worst of it is that he’s been getting visions, and at first he believed they were from his god, because why wouldn’t he? who else could get inside his head this way? but he’s found that these visions (at minimum, some of them) are coming from a former brother of the cloth, someone who believes their god is lying to everyone and is willing to destroy the entire faith because of it, and he’s recruited so many people of my character’s faith that they can no longer be implicitly trusted, and they’re even being forced to attack and die for this man’s beliefs

so my character is finding that he can’t trust anything implicitly - his siblings of the cloth, the world they live in, even the thoughts in his head - and he still wants, so much, to believe in the inherent power of information, of knowledge, in knowing that even if it’s the worst pain you’ve ever known, knowing is still better than not knowing

and it’s so rewarding to play through faith in this way, to be presented again and again and again with the same choice, the same burden - do you trust this person? do you believe they are who they say they are? how many lies can you hear before you stop believing anything at all?

but lies can tell you the shape of the truth, and that’s all that my character can hold onto sometimes

[protagonistscum]

dnd is SO funny

so our group split into two

this led to the druid, the bard, and the paladin to get into a fight with the cult leader. as they all had decided to go down a well and found that there was a secret room.

the fighter/cleric and rogue were in a locked storeroom, OBLIVIOUS until they heard screaming through the walls. as none of us can pass a perception check to realize there's a secret door. (none of them noticed the stairs into the storeroom. they deadass just jumped into it.)

for several combat rounds, the cleric couldn't get a high enough strength check to kick down the door. the rogue couldn't get a high enough dex check to pick lock the door. the paladin couldnt roll high enough to pass the wis saving throw for hold person. leaving the bard and druid to fight the cult leader.

[plinchy]

Tymora! Protect your follower!

[renegadeontherunn]

guys i know all the dnd ones this is great

[chadleys]

moon sick. | astarion

›› pairing: astarion x f!reader

›› wordcount: 2.5k

›› genre: smut, established relationship

›› rating: 18+, mdni

›› synopsis: whilst on the road, you get your period. astarion, being the loving, caring, supportive boyfriend he is, offers to help. he has no ulterior motives. obviously.

›› warnings: period sex, bloodplay, unprotected sex, oral sex, dirty talk

you wake with a start, astarion’s cold arm a comforting weight across your waist. you can’t think what could have possibly woken you up so suddenly, as you listen for any untoward noises around camp. but there’s only astarion’s steady, gentle breathing behind you and gale’s obnoxious snoring echoing from the other end of the clearing.

as you settle back down on your bedroll, however, you become aware of something sticky and wet between your legs. could be that a wet dream concerning your beloved has you in such a state, but you don’t remember dreaming of him last night. no, now that your senses are returning to you, you remember that last night was reserved for another visit from your so-called guardian. so what … ?

you toss your end of the blanket aside and groan, throwing your head back against the pack you’ve set out for a makeshift pillow. doing so earns you another yelp; must have made contact with one of the stems of the many apples wedged into your supply bag.

astarion is on his feet in an instant, startling you; you weren’t even aware he was awake. not that elves ever truly sleep. it always slightly unnerves you to feel him levitating beside you in his meditative state. ❝ you’re hurt. ❞ his voice is rough, thick with inertia. ❝ i swear i’ll find whoever did this and bleed them dry. we should never have trusted that damned cleric; shar this and shar that. i’ll shove her blessed shar right up her — ❞

he’s already kicking his own pack aside to stomp his way out of the tent when you hiss, ❝ astarion! ❞

luckily he’s not too aggravated to stop and give you a glance back so you can explain in a low murmur, ❝ it’s my cycle … ❞

astarion stops short, one pale hand clutched to his chest. ❝ oh … i — ❞ he waves that same hand now toward the opening of his tent. ❝ i thought … ❞

❝ i know what you thought, ❞ you sigh, more weary knowing what’s to come over the next 7 days than you are of him, than you could ever be of him. ❝ but it’s not. so just come back to bed. please? ❞

❝ i thought you’d never ask … ❞ he purrs, back to his normal self.

unfortunately, you’re doubled over in pain before he’s even halfway back.

❝ i knew you were in pain. ❞ astarion’s back at your side in a flash. ❝ just tell me who and i’ll — ❞

❝ i am, ❞ you gasp, ❝ in pain. but … not because anyone hurt me. well, more like mother nature cursed me. ❞

a particularly bad cramp seizes you and your hand flies out, clutching the front of astarion’s silky tunic. you press your fingers in to feel his cold, broad chest. the sensation calms you a bit … until yet another bout of pain rolls through your midsection.

icy fingers find yours, ghosting over your knuckles. ❝ shall i … see if the druid can make you something? ❞

you shake your head, tugging at his shirt. ❝ just lay with me. please. ❞

astarion’s skin is blessedly cool against yours, as it always is. you lean into him, pressing your face against his frigid neck, soothing your burning cheeks.

his glacial hands find the edge of your tunic, and then the small of your back, which helps more than he could possibly know. you shudder against him, pushing, trying to get more of him.

❝ you know … ❞ astarion sniffs, delicate voice very close to your ear. ❝ i have heard of one thing that is guaranteed to relieve moon sickness. ❞

pulling back, you glance curiously up at him.

he has that rakish grin on his face that you’ve come to know all too well in the past weeks. his reddened eyes roll away from you. ❝ come now, pup. you must know what i mean … sex. ❞ your heart jumps into your throat at the thought; you’re sure astarion can feel it beating harder against his own chest.

suddenly, his mouth is just under your ear, teeth rasping against the exact place he’s fed from you dozens of times before. ❝ i can smell it, my love. ❞

you don’t answer immediately; while you can’t deny the thought appeals to you, if for no other reason than to rid yourself of these damnable cramps, you’re also apprehensive. astarion feeding from your neck is one thing — still intimate, but relatively normal by vampire standards. to have astarion feed down there, on that blood, feeding from your womb …

❝ you’re right, it’s a bad idea, absolutely disgusting. i don’t know why i — ❞

❝ do it. ❞

❝ eh … hm? ❞

❝ do it, ❞ you repeat, grasping onto him for dear life as another squeezing, crushing shock of pain settles in your stomach. ❝ please, astarion. i can’t take it anymore. ❞

it’s been many moons since your cycle has been this bad. traveling on the road without proper food or rest may finally be catching up to you, exacerbating things. not much you can do about that until you reach the city, though.

other than letting your vampire lover drink your blood, of course.

laying you gently back without another complaint, astarion slips the blanket off of you and reaches to undo your breeches.

anxiety overtakes you; there’s already blood on your trousers and the blanket, you’re going to have to wash them in the river as soon as you’re able. you can’t even imagine the scene underneath your pants … but you’re about to find out.

gently, astarion prizes the trousers from your legs, then gasps softly. ❝ oh, my love … ❞

prying your eyes from the ceiling of the tent, you finally look down. astarion is there, of course, looking lovely as always. except, however, the lines on his face look deeper, almost carved, and the dark circles under his eyes are darker, his eyes redder.

another spell of panic grips you; bright red blood is smeared across your inner thighs.

astarion looks dizzy as he takes you in, cold hands cradling the outsides of your legs. you’re about to apologize and shove him away, tell him this is a mistake, in fact you will ask halsin to make you something — and that’s when astarion mutters, ❝ you are exquisite, ❞ and dives in to have his first taste.

the feeling of his tongue on your thighs makes you shiver, and the cool night air wafting in from the tent flap isn’t helping. you grab the clean end of the blanket and drape your upper half, canting your hips up to tell astarion what it is you truly want.

because even through all the anxiety, there’s also a bubble of arousal blooming between your legs. astarion can’t tell, of course, not through all the blood down there, but you sure as hell can. you have the most perfect creature you’ve ever set eyes on between your legs; how could you not be aroused?

❝ all in due time, ❞ astarion chuckles, voice muffled against your thighs as he continues to clean you up. thoroughly. too thoroughly.

❝ you always tease, ❞ you whine, knocking one of your knees against his ribcage.

this time when his gaze flashes sharply to you, his eyes are the reddest you’ve ever seen them. it makes you shake.

astarion’s nails dig into your hips, deliciously, wickedly. you tremble, reaching for him. he chuckles and kisses the inside of one of your wrists, which leaves a smear of blood. ❝ always such a needy little pup for me, aren’t you? ❞

you don’t even have time to nod before he dives back in, his mouth exactly where you want it this time. his lips suction around your clit, tongue lapping out lower down to scoop a sizeable pearl of blood into his mouth.

this time, astarion is the one who shakes. he lays his cheek against your still-bloody thigh and shudders. ❝ you’re going to be the death of me, ❞ he sighs, and you can see him skirting his tongue around his mouth, flitting over his lips, savoring you.

you huff. ❝ you’ll be of me, too, if you don’t keep going. ❞

❝ so pushy, ❞ your lover mutters, but there’s absolutely no heat in his words as he obeys your command and buries his face back into your blood-soaked cunt.

for a while you just lie back and enjoy yourself, and let astarion enjoy himself as well. his arms are strong around your legs, holding you in place so you can’t squirm away. it feels way too damn good, you may have been tempted to try. but as it is, you can’t do anything but revel in the silky feeling of astarion’s tongue lapping up everything you have to give him, his fangs catching every so often on your clit, making you see stars.

at some point, you glance down at him and gasp. ❝ your shirt! ❞

you know how much he prides himself on his physical appearance, and now there’s blood staining the front ruffles of his normally immaculate tunic.

he glances down and tuts, frowning. ❝ oh well. it’ll have to go with the rest. ❞ just like that, he rips it off and tosses it with your soiled trousers.

he must be in heaven, you suspect, if he’s willing to discard his cherished clothing for you.

now shirtless, astarion gives one last gentle kiss to your clit and then slowly starts to climb your body. there’s blood dripping from his chin, staining the rest of the blanket wrapped around you. but more importantly, his broad chest is skating up the expanse of your bloody cunt as he comes, and your clit throbs seeing all that red coating his torso.

❝ astarion! ❞ you gasp, and he grins, mouth full of your blood.

❝ i’m loathe to ask you for a kiss, ❞ he whispers, so low you can barely hear him. ❝ just one. i promise. ❞

you swallow thickly, and he waits for you to lean up, pressing your lips to his in the softest kiss you can manage. blood squishes between you, and you can feel it coating your lips as you lie back down.

one lap of your tongue against your bottom lip and you grimace, spitting and rubbing at your mouth with the back of one hand.

astarion laughs heartily as you mutter, ❝ ugh, not for me. ❞

❝ more for me, ❞ astarion says, almost gleefully.

he’s obviously preparing to get back to it, but you keep him close with your hands on his shoulders. ❝ i want you. ❞

brows furrowed, astarion squeezes your waist. ❝ darling, you have me. ❞

❝ inside, ❞ you beg quietly, which you know enjoys immensely.

your next step might be a mistake, but you decide to chance it. bracing yourself with your legs wrapped around him, you thrust up, dragging your wetness along the front of his trousers. you can feel that he’s hard, and now there’s blood all over his pants. you’re hoping he won’t mind, considering his tunic is already ruined for the night as well.

luckily he doesn’t seem to, dark gaze sweeping down over the two of you covered in your blood, and then back up. ❝ i thought you’d never ask. ❞

his trousers quickly follow his tunic, erection jutting up between your legs.

❝ he looks happy, ❞ you giggle, as his swollen head prods at your blood-soaked entrance.

❝ to see you? always. ❞

having astarion inside of you is normally a relief, a release of all the rampant, pent up emotions this journey has bestowed upon you.

tonight is different.

with all that blood flowing south, your womb is aching, you're sore and swollen as astarion’s cock spears through your lips. every thrust sends a fresh flow of blood down his shaft, which earns you a tight growl from the vampire as he takes the backs of your knees in hand and shoves your thighs back toward your chest, eager to get even deeper inside of you.

and you’re eager to have him, nails digging into his chiseled back, the hard marble of his jaw knocking against your shoulder as his lips, slick with blood, find your ear again. ❝ are you feeling better, pet? does my cock soothe that ache inside of you? the ache that raged inside of you, until you met me? until i filled you up in every lovely way possible? ❞

his words make your brain go haywire, knees shaking around his ribcage, toes curling, your mouth rubbing comfortingly at his cool shoulder.

more than that, you do feel better. the more aroused you become, the more blood flows out of you, the less painful your cramps become. until you’re pushing down against him, trying to ride him at the same time as he’s shoving himself inside of you with reckless abandon. until you can’t remember why you started this in the first place, other than to wind up begging for him to finish inside of you.

❝ inside. please, astarion, inside … ❞ it’s hard to even think clearly enough to form words, your mind consumed with the sight of his beautiful body moving atop yours.

you assume he’ll make you beg, as he so often does; he loves hearing the desperate, pleading tone in your voice that tells him all he needs to know — you belong to him.

but he doesn’t. he fucks into you as hard as he ever has, his thick cock gliding against your engorged walls, making your eyes roll back.

and then the talking starts. the words that make you wish you knew whether or not vampires can actually have children. ❝ you want me to get you pregnant, love? want your belly to swell with my child inside of it? i will wait on you hand and foot, i promise. i would love seeing you walk around knowing you hold my heir, that you protected my seed so well that it grew into a child inside of you. ❞ astarion pauses momentarily to laugh, tugging your earlobe between his teeth. ❝ with all this blood, i know you must be fertile. ❞

both of you share a laugh, briefly.

and when you cum, together, he sinks his teeth into your neck with nothing but a quiet grunt, cockhead twitching and spurting inside of you.

you mewl softly, feeling the vampire trembling and shaking as he empties himself into you. your hands pet through his hair, soothe the back of his neck, across the scars circling his back.

the pain from before is nowhere to be found, replaced instead by a warm, fizzy feeling sitting low in your gut. astarion is bracing himself on his elbows above you, with obvious effort.

you pull him down to lay atop you; he’s not exceptionally heavy anyway.

❝ i love you, ❞ he sighs, nestling his face, chin still slick with blood, against your collarbone. ❝ and … promise me we can do that again. ❞

❝ i love you. and i promise. ❞

[villadiodatis]

Give it up for the Bad Kids at level 14!

After acing the Last Stand and their junior year, the Bad Kids have gotten a well-deserved level up to 14! Let's see what's in store for them. (As always, my previous recaps for levels 11, 12, and 13 can be found at these links!)

Adaine: Wizard 14. Adaine learns two new 1st-7th level spells (in addition to whatever she's learned from her downtime rolls, which as of this episode is MANY new spells). She also gets her final subclass feature, Greater Portent, which lets her roll 3 portents every long rest (improved from 2). She can also now prepare 19 spells a day (previously 18).

Fabian: Fighter 6/Bard 8 (was Fighter 6/Bard 7). Fabian gets a second 4th-level spell slot and learns a new 1st-4th level spell. In addition, he's increased his charisma by 2, taking it to 20--he is now the most dexterous and most charismatic you can be without magical help! Maximum Legend indeed. With this increase, his modifier goes up to +5, and his spell save DC, attack bonus, and all CHA-based skills (Deception, Intimidation, Performance, Persuasion) go up by one. He can also now use Bardic Inspiration 5 times per short rest, improved from 4.

Fig: Bard 10/Paladin 3/Warlock 1 (was Bard 10/Paladin 2/Warlock 1). Fig has reached her paladin Sacred Oath subclass! We don't know which it is yet (although many people have speculated Devotion), but it will include access to two new spells specific to her oath and two Channel Divinity options, which she can use once per short or long rest. I believe her spell slots remain the same due to multiclass shenanigans, but please correct me if I got that wrong. She also gets Divine Health, which makes her immune to disease.

Gorgug: Barbarian 5/Artificer 9 (was Barbarian 6/Artificer 7). Gorgug continues to swap around barbarian and artificer levels! With this change, he loses Mindless Rage (so he can now be charmed or frightened while raging) and gains an unknown feat, access to 3rd level spells and two 3rd-level spell slots, and an unknown Barbificer subclass feature. (EDIT: I had forgotten he's not a Battle Smith anymore; thanks to @lookin-reproachfully for reminding me!)

Kristen: Cleric 14. Her Destroy Undead ability can now destroy undead creatures of CR3 or lower on a failed save, which includes ghasts, ghouls, poltergeists, and skeletons, although there are a lot of undead Brennan could throw at them. She can also now prepare 19 spells a day (previously 18).

Riz: Rogue 14. We saw Riz put his new feature, Blindsense, to great use this episode! He is now aware of any hidden or invisible creatures within 10 feet of him, as long as he can hear. (Hopefully he can use that against Kipperlilly too…) He also learns one new 1st-3rd level spell, which can be a Wizard spell from any school.

And across the board, everyone's HP goes up and they get another hit die!

One little bonus--this episode, we discovered Kipperlilly is a Mastermind Rogue. An ability of hers that might come in handy is Master of Intrigue--if she has observed a creature for 1 minute, she can "unerringly mimic" their speech patterns and accent. I'll let you all speculate on what she might do with that, and I'll see you all if/when we hit level 15.

[foldingfittedsheets]

So tonight in DnD. I have laughed harder than I have in a very very long time.

As background knowledge, we have an “Oops All Dragons” party. We’re modified young dragons so it’s not a huge advantage but at this point three fourths of the party are dragons.

We get called in to usurp two warlords. The setting is like fantasy mad max desert. One warlord was a warlock, the other a centaur fighter. Our first plan was that our dragons would dye themselves a different color to pretend to be rogue dragons and attack the city. They would take out the warlord. Then our bunnyfolk barbarian was gonna run in and take us down afterward to become the figurehead for the city.

But when we turned up the warlord had a pact with a demon who threatened that if we didn’t throw the fight he’d destroy the town with meteors. We started trying to scope out the magical trigger for the threatened spell. Our cleric-dragon started trying to sense magic.

After swooping all over the town we realized the magic was centered on the warlord. But we didn’t know for sure. And one dragon swooping close was just gonna be a target. So I said, “Hey… this one time my younger siblings loosed their… feces… after a dive”

The resulting hilarity took a while to calm down but finally the DM was like, “You want to try to blind him with your shit?”

Yes. Yes we did. But none of the dragons wanted to be the only one raining shit. It was embarrassing. So we decided that all three of us would try this gambit.

My dragon went, they doused him with a face full of poop but didn’t blind him. The Druid-dragon went next and did similarly well.

But he got the jump on the cleric-dragon, and furious, covered in dragon shit, he cast a fireball at her. Unfortunately for him, she has the ability to steal a spell. So the fireball launched then sling shotted straight back into his face.

There he was. A steaming flaming pile of burning shit. And then she shit on him too.

My dragon managed to dispel the rune circle we’d detected with the gambit, and he fled into the crowd to be torn apart by his oppressed people.

Then we did a WWE style fight with our barbarian and he managed to almost kill our Druid on accident and the dragons fled on schedule.

Success- after a fashion! We usurped the guy and shit all over the town.

There’s a second warlord we need to target. We decide what’s a little identity theft so our cleric posed as a grunt we’d killed previously called “The Haboob Wraith.” A haboob is genuinely a desert sandstorm but it was hilarious regardless.

We roll into town deciding to duplicate our piggyback tactics from the last one on one fight we had. The party was escorted into a champions tent and presented with the finest things before their fight to the death. The finest thing in this case is…. Milk.

We all paused and out of character said, “Did you just say milk?”

“Yeah! Like nice cow milk! It’s rare in the desert!”

I lost my fucking shit that the finest thing on offer was milk. So the Haboob Wraith strode into combat with a stomach full of milk.

The centaur warlord said, "I hope you've prayed to your gods, you're about to meet them."

"The gods pray to ME!" she shouted and went on to slaughter him.

We installed a second puppet warlord and rode off into the sunset, all of us staggered by the utter silliness of the whole session, and said goodnight with many a shit pun.

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

K follow me Astarion just sees tav like loving on children wherever they go and hes like?????

And tavs like ive always wanted my own child but i didn't wabt to ask you with every

This sends poor starion into a crisis does he was children how many

I think I have followed you. Let's see!

So for this one we got a lil time jump, ambiguous and vague setting and timelines with game spoilers present. M/F pairing because that is my go to and pregnancy is mentioned. Vampiric pregnancy also so there is some weirdness there (i made it up no idea if it's dnd accurate). Vague Tav backstory of a wonderful mother and going off to become a cleric.

~

Astarion was well used to your antics by this point. You had a severe lack of instincts linked to self-preservation, which led to a consistent pattern of doing, frankly, stupid shit. Stupid, but kind. Nothing that Astarion hadn't adapted to, after nearly two years of being attached at the hip you became pretty attuned to your lover's personality.

He could even go as far as to say that he had grown to love your annoying predilection for pious morality. Perhaps he loved talking you out of certain virtuous dangers more, but still. He appreciated who you were, he adored who you were. But Astarion was no saint, despite his insistence on attaching himself to one.

Which is exactly why he was far from amused when you signed him up to babysit a couple of brats. All for acquittances he barely cared about.

But you at least had the good grace to look guilty, "I didn't mean to! But she looked so tired and she said their anniversary was coming up and it's not like we got anything for their wedding-"

That was a nice try, one that Astarion wasn't falling for, "We didn't know of their existence when they got married darling. Just because I can't remember their names doesn't mean you can trick me."

"I'm not trying to trick you!" You whined, arms crossed as you pouted. It sure felt like a trick, especially when Astarion knew that you were well-aware how easily he fell for your sulking. Adorable little monster that you were, "It's only three kids and a baby for one night, it won't be that bad! You don't even have to help-"

Astarion rolled his eyes as he sat next to you on the bed, "I didn't say I wouldn't help."

That seemed to do the trick to get the pout off of your face. You perked up immediately, looking at him like you couldn't quite believe it, "Really?"

"Yes, really," Astarion sighed as you tugged you closer. Sure he liked to bitch, but he really would do anything for you. Even extremely annoying things like this, "I'm not going to sit back and feed you to the wolves."

"They're not wolves! The oldest is barely five," You laughed as you let him manhandle you, settling you into his lap, "And I am sorry, I really wasn't thinking. I promise it won't happen again."

Astarion doubted that, not when he was well-versed of your weak spot for children. No matter where you went you couldn't help but fawn over them, not to mention the insane lengths you would go to keep any child safe. It was a complete and utter blind spot, your kindness extending to them all, even the little scam artists and hellions.

It was sweet, if not extremely worrying at first. Astarion had been terrified of you finding out his past. The things that he had been forced to do, the innocents whose lives he had destroyed. But not only did you find out, you were forced to see it. Both of you were, and it had been worse than anything Astarion could have imagined. He had always found a slight comfort knowing that those he captured would at least die quickly, that at the very least they wouldn't suffer the same agonizing fate as he, just an agonizing death. But no, even that small comfort had been a lie. The horror of finding them all down there has yet to be matched. He had never felt more self-loathing, more pure disgust than the moment he had found those children, tortured and pale, all because of him.

How you didn't see him for the wretched thing he was after all that, Astarion wasn't sure. But he was grateful. You were too good for him. A fact that he was devastatingly aware of, but that wasn't going to stop him from keeping you.

He still thinks about it on occasion, despite the fact that he had done all he could to right his wrongs. They all at least had a chance now to have a life worth living, Astarion could only hope that it would be used. Their future was out of his hands now, a small comfort.

But despite his complicated feelings towards children, he was more than capable of handling them for one evening. And in all honesty, he truly didn't have to do much. He was on self-mandated baby duty, because of course you had to help out the infant that would scream bloody murder unless it was being held. Keeping her tucked against him was a move of self-preservation, if he ever wanted to retain his hearing.

Most of the night was spent amused as he watched you entertain a gaggle of toddlers. You were so... creative with the ways you could defuse their antics. It came to you so naturally, nearly like you were a born mother yourself. It wasn't exactly surprising that you were fantastic with children, he had seen it time and time again. Arabella, Mol, Yenna, all of which still wrote you letters, visited occasionally. Staying forever attached, even from a distance.

Now that Astarion thought about it, it was odd that you weren't a mother. Odder still that you hadn't never even brought up the possibility of having children together. You were usually so open with your wants and always encouraging the same from him. Just one more thing he loved about you. But... why hadn't it been mentioned? Astarion had always assumed it was because you didn't truly want any of your own, that you enjoyed their fun innocence while avoiding the more laborious responsibility of raising them.

Though watching you take care of them all, changing diapers and negotiating silly arguments with a soft smile of your face had him rethinking his assumption.

"You're good with them," Astarion said eventually after you had successfully set the older three down for the night, the baby still stubbornly clinging to him, "I don't think there's a child we've met that doesn't adore you."

You laughed quietly, walking over to kiss him softly on the cheek. Your eyes wandered to the sleeping infant in his arms, still holding a piece of his shirt in it's little fist, "You don't seem to be too bad with them either."

"Newborns don't know any better," Astarion dismissed as he tried to put her down in their borrowed crib. Tried and failed, considering how the thing immediately started to whine the second he attempted to pry it's little hand away.

Oh for fuck's sake. Astarion wasn't even going to try and argue. Instead he unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall into the crib with her, seemingly doing the trick of stopping her from waking completely.

When he turned back you were staring at him with soft eyes, looking lovestruck at the simple act of him laying a child down, "Looks like she has pretty good taste to me."

"I don't think your judgment should be trusted," Astarion huffed as he walked over to you, grabbing your hand to drag you to the bedroom. He glanced back at you, his heart nearly skipping a beat from the sweet way you kept looking at him. It had his mind wandering again, those questions still nagging him.

Questions that he didn't have the courage to ask until dead of night, when he had you half asleep against his bare chest, "Have you ever thought of having children?"

He hadn't meant to blurt that out in the middle of the night, but Astarion apparently had a knack for starting important conversations at inconvenient times. Not that you minded.

You just cuddled into him closer, nodding against him with a sigh, "I've always wanted my own children. My own mother, Gods bless her soul, made it all sound so magical. Pregnancy, the early years, puberty, all of it. She loved it all. And I guess it rubbed off on me. It used to be all I could think about, before real life got in the way."

Astarion listened, a little annoyed at himself for not putting the pieces together sooner. You had talked so lovingly about your late parents, how you always wanted to be like your mother. Of course you would want children. How had he not connected the dots?

"But then I went off to the temple," You continued, "I completed my training, went off into the world to do good, blah, blah, blah. You know the story."

"So you grew out of the idea?" Astarion asked.

"Not exactly," You admitted, sounding a little guilty, "But I would never ask that of you love, it's not something you have to worry about."

That-what?

Astarion stared down at you, brow furrowed, "What do you mean?"

"I mean I know that the topic of children is... difficult for you. Considering everything you've been through-"

"I think you mean to say everything I've inflicted on others," Astarion interrupted, unwilling to allow himself grace. Especially when it came to the children of the Gur, "It was much worse for them than me."

You nodded, knowing better than to try and fight him on that particular topic, "I understand, but my point is that I can live without them. You're all I need."

It was comforting to hear, an immediate balm to a brand new set of insecurities that Astarion hadn't been prepared for. But even so... he hated the idea of you sacrificing even more for him. It felt wrong, "But-"

"But nothing," You interrupted softly, setting a quick kiss to his mouth, I'm serious Astarion, you don't need to worry. I'm happy, I love you, and everything is fine."

"I love you too," Astarion murmured, at a loss to say anything else. But the conversation didn't end there.

Astarion couldn't stop thinking about it, even long after the temporary children were sent back home. ou seemed so... sure that he didn't want children, and a week ago he probably would have agreed. But that was back before he knew that he was actively keeping you away from something you wanted. Something you had dreamed about since you were a child. And it felt wrong to be the reason for that, so, so wrong.

He didn't even know if his true feelings on the matter were real. He didn't want children for many of the same reasons he never wanted a partner. The attachment to another was dangerous, he was beyond unequipped to deal with others, let alone care for them, and the entire ideology behind love was ripe for manipulation and heart break. But then he met you and everything changed. Suddenly, caring for another didn't feel like a weakness, it felt like the strongest aspect of his entire self. Taking care of you wasn't an unwanted duty, it was intimacy. Something that he now craved. If all of those steadfast ideals could fall apart simply through meeting you, whose to say he could even trust himself when it came the thoughts around having a child?

Would having one truly be so bad? A little piece of the two of you, alive in the world? And perhaps children were annoying but... Astarion would be lying if he said he didn't have a soft spot for them. He had kept his distance before, but now he was fully confident that he wasn't a danger, no with Cazador burned to nothing bus ash and his own bloodlust well controlled. And it's not as if he was incapable of being a father, worse men than him did it everyday.

It was a confusing place to be, this tightwire of indecisiveness. Confusing enough for him to start a bit of research. He was vaguely aware that it was possible for his kind to breed, but finding out the details was disheartening, to say the least. First he had to parse out the different horror stories of babes eating their way out of their mother's wombs with actual facts, which wasn't exactly pleasant. But the truth was that it was more than possible for the two of you to have child together. It had the potential to either be as noneventful as any pregnancy, with the cavate that the babe coming out looking slightly... dead wouldn't be a permanent state of being. Or it could be as risky as carrying a child could be, with pains and complications galore, even legitimate worries of internal bleeding from the wretched thing prematurely growing claws. Not to mention the occasional, intense blood lust that could occur, an experience that Astarion would prefer you didn't have to go to.

Looking into the reality of the choice didn't help as much as he had assumed it would. If anything it just made the whole situation more real. Even if he wasn't a vampiric spawn, childbirth was risky. Maybe not as risky for you considering how Astarion would move the heavens and hells to get you the best care possible, but still. The thought of you passing, leaving him alone with the child you wanted and would never see, would destroy him. Completely and utterly.

But then again... there was the magical alternative of everything working out just fine. The two of you were both beyond lucky in that regard, considering how you'd overcome mind flayer parasites and fought and won against a near god. It was more than possible that everything would be fine, that you would have a beautiful pregnancy that would end in an even more amazing child. Then two would become three, a family of his very own.

That... didn't sound too bad. Astarion was torn. On one hand, he was almost certain that he was willing to go through with it. Not just because he loved you and wanted you to be happy, though it was the main reason. But also because... he could be a part in making something good. A child that would never suffer the way he did, the way countless others had. One who would be loved, who would have the help they needed for their inevitable unholy hungers. Someone precious for the two of you to fret over, to adore and care for. He... wanted that. Or at least he would if you still did. Now if he could just figure out how to bring it up, maybe something could actually happen.

But luckily enough for him, you did the job for him. He had been pouring over another book dedicated to recording the births of Dhampirs in the area, only to be distracted by you loudly sighing behind him.

"What's wrong love?" Astarion asked, his eyes still scanning the page in front of him.

"Oh I don't know," You sighed, rounding the corner to sit on the edge of his desk, "I just can't help but wonder when you're going to explain why you've suddenly become obsessed with parenting books. And..."

You trailed off, ignoring his surprised expression to read the cover of what was in front of him, "'Vampiric and Mortal Love & The Spawn They Create'. It's not exactly your usual reading material."

Part of Astarion wanted to be surprised that you had already figured him out. He had at least been trying to hide things from you slightly, not that it mattered when you could read him like a book. And he supposed that blatantly reading things like this in front of you would eventually have an effect, even if he tried to obscure the titles.

But that didn't stop him from stuttering through a response, "Well-I, okay. I've just been thinking about options lately. Which you can't really do if you don't understand what they are. Hence the books."

You frowned at him, one leg crossed over the other, "Star, I already told you that you don't need to worry-"

"But I want to worry," Astarion interrupted, deciding that ripping the band-aid off would be the best course of action, "And if there is something I can be doing to make you happier than I should at least consider it."

"I'm not going to force you into this for that," You said softly, reaching out to twine his fingers against yours, "This isn't the kind of thing you do just for someone else."

Astarion was aware of that, there was an important truth to your words. But... "What if it wasn't just for you?"

You paused, your brow furrowed as you stared at him, "What do you mean?"

"I mean what if, and consider this purely hypothetical, what if I wanted one as well. What then?" It was as far from hypothetical as Astarion could get, but by the look on your face it didn't seemed like that needed to be clarified.

You swallowed, looking just shy of hopeful as you played with his hand, "I... well. I guess in that case we would have a lot to talk about."

That wasn't quite the answer he was looking for. He pressed on, "So if in theory, I did want one. Would... you still be interested in having one?"

With me?

He left that part unsaid as he waited for an answer, uncharacteristically nervous as you mulled it over. But you were smiling, bright and wide, giving his hand a little squeeze as you spoke, "I think that would be the only scenario where I would want it. If that's something you wanted."

"I think it is," Astarion answered honestly, done with being coy, "I don't know how, I... I'm not quite sure how I feel about you carrying something that could be dangerous. But... in general yes. I think I want this. I do want this. With you and only you. Whenever your ready."

The next part Astarion did see coming, his arms already open by the time you launched yourself at him. You straddled his lap, kissing every part of his face as you babbled, "We can wait! It doesn't need to be now but-I just-yes! Adoption, childbirth, I don't care. All I need is to have them with you. That's all I want."

"And that I can give," Astarion laughed, delighted at your reaction. He still had concerns, plenty of them in fact, but they were hard to consider when the woman he adored was so ecstatic.

He gripped your chin, chuckling at the whine you let out for him interrupting your onslaught of affection. You didn't have to wait long, not when he directed your mouth against his, kissing you deeply as a new wave of exciting, and slightly nauseating feelings worked through him.

He didn't know exactly what was going to happen in the future. He had no idea if he would be a good father, but he knew that he would try his damndest. He didn't know how the two of you would even procure a child, but he did no one thing.

With you by his side, it would work out. All of it, no matter how hard the road turned out to be. And that was all that mattered.

[vixensdungeon]

Alright, time to talk about one of the hot button issues in D&D today: skills, and how they've evolved over the 50-year lifespan of the game. We'll start, of course, from the beginning.

Dungeons & Dragons (1974)

So there actually isn't a skill system here. But the primordial origins are there, in the various neat little procedures of adventuring. Firstly there are languages. Humans know the "common tongue," which at this point isn't a single language, it just refers to the local Lingua Franca. I think all non-human player characters are assumed to be in 20% of other creatures who speak the language along with their own one. You also know an alignment language (Lawful, Chaotic, or Neutral), and one additional creature language for every point of Intelligence above 10.

NPC reactions. This is rolled on a simple 2d6 table for recruiting hirelings. Another 2d6 table is for monster reactions.

Surprise rolls. There are no stealth or perception skills, and adventurers are simply assumed to be sneaking around while in dungeons, with surprise rolled when monsters are encountered.

Doors can be listened at and secret doors found, with simple d6 rolls.

There's also a chance of getting lost in the wilderness, which sort of implies a general ability to not do so in most situations.

And that's basically it! You can already see several different skills we know today forming in the primordial soup.

But you feel like something is missing, right? Ah, of course! We must take a little detour to

Greyhawk (1975)

Did you know that in the original game, the only classes were fighting man, magic-user, and cleric? That's right, the now classic thief would not be introduced until the first supplement! And with them came for the first time actual named skills.

Thieves could open locks, remove traps, listen for noise, move silently, pick pockets, and hide in shadows. Additionally they could read languages, treasure maps, and even magical scrolls at higher levels.

Now, these skills are only for thieves, so what are other characters to do? Well for most of them, nothing. It simply is not a fighter's job to pick pockets, or a cleric's job to open a lock. Certainly an item can be forcefully taken from an NPC, and a door bashed open, so they are not completely helpless in these tasks. But the thief simply excels at doing such things with superior ability and grace. And of course any character can hear noises behind doors, thieves are simply better at it. Moving silently and hiding are two slightly odd skills, as they overlap with surprise rolls but don't interact with them. It can be assumed that a thief moving silently can scout ahead and report back without actually encountering the monsters they find, and a hiding thief can let wandering monsters pass by even when there isn't sufficient cover (as only shadows are needed, other characters can obviously still hide behind cover if they are aware of the need to do so). Other characters can also climb using ropes and other tools, but won't be able to climb sheer surfaces unaided like thieves can, so again the thief can simply do something general in a superior manner.

There are many classes with their own skills to be found in various magazines, but I'm not going to dig through them. So let the totality of original D&D skills be the above.

Next time: we get Advanced

[thehistoriccemetery]

Heya 👋 I enjoy reading your headcanons, and I love your prompts… could you write the ladies for #5 Tav fainting from a hidden injury?

Tav Faints Due to Hidden Injury

Hey! I always enjoy reading yours as well! Feel free to use any of those prompts as I’d love to see your take on them.

I probably won’t do anything more injury prompts for a while; there’s only so many ways I can hurt poor Tav.

Here’s prompt #5 for Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Karlach, and Minthara.

On the way into Baldur’s Gate, while all of your companions watch the lands free themselves of the shadow curse, you manage to walk carelessly into a broken cart handle. You’re no healer, but you know Shadowheart is going to have a thing or two to say if you ask her to patch it up. You decide it doesn’t look that bad, and patch it up yourself. It’s an exciting day, finally arriving in the city. Why bring down the mood with a fresh gash in the side?

Shadowheart

The two of you are taking a short walk to familiarize yourselves with the new camp at Wrym’s Lookout.

You had been trying to keep your cool, but as you climbed up ladders and dodged rumble, you felt the ache in your side start to grow.

You stop and lean against a beam for support, clutching your side and breathing heavily.

“Are you alright, love?” Shadowheart asks tenderly, approaching you slowly before you quickly collapse on the ground.

She rushes over, trying and failing to catch you. She rolls you over on your back, lifting your shirt.

She sees the makeshift bandages you’ve wrapped yourself in and carefully slices away at them with her dagger.

She flinches, seeing the deep gash in your skin. Luckily, you just happen to be in love with one of the best clerics around. A cure wounds spell patches you right up.

You wake up almost immediately to a very unhappy looking Shadowheart.

“Care to explain the massive laceration I just found under your shirt?” She quips. “Or, are we just withholding such information with one another these days.”

“You’re one to talk about withholding information,” you attempt to joke.

She does not laugh. “So I suppose you’ve just forgotten how you acquired such a wound?”

You sighed. “It was on the bridge on the way over. I-I impaled myself with a piece of wood.”

She hits the back of your head with the back of her hand. “Ow!” You shout.

“It would’ve taken me two seconds to heal that wound up fresh. Now you’ve probably got a variety of different diseases swimming around from how poorly you packed it.”

She reaches out a hand to help you to your feet. “Let’s go,” she says. “I’m going to teach you how to properly wrap a wound.”

Lae’zel

You and Lae’zel walk alongside the city walls, just outside the city. Looking for clear signs of damage from the Netherbrain.

She comments a few times on how you are moving slower than usual. “We cannot afford to be so sluggish in the days to come,” she tells you.

It isn’t until you fade paler than Vlaakith herself that she notices something is seriously wrong. You fall to the ground before she can think to catch you.

She notices blood beginning to speckle your undershirt. “Tsk’va!” She curses, cutting away the fabric entirely.

You’re too far from camp and losing too much blood for her to get you back in time. She’s going to have to deal with this herself.

But she couldn’t tell you the first thing about closing a wound.

Hair. She remembers a ghustil sewing her up with a strand of her own hair. She plucks a hair from your head and gets to work.

You wake up halfway through the delicate operation, half crying from the pain of the repeated rough stabbing of your already tender wound.

“Silence!” She shouts, lazer focused on the task at hand. It doesn’t take a psionic tadpole connection to tell that she is angry.

When she’s finally finished, the wound looks… unpleasant to put it mildly. But it should be enough to get you back to camp.

“I didn’t think I needed to explain to you the stupidity of hiding grave afflictions,” she spits.

You open your mouth to apologize, but she cuts you off. “I will not hear apologies, only promises that it will not happen again.”

Karlach

Growing up on the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate, Karlach is all too excited to revisit some of her favorite places with you.

Her excitement makes for an easy distraction. She is so focused on her surroundings she doesn’t notice the way you grind your teeth together in pain.

“Hey Soldier, check this out,” she shouts excitedly, walking back towards you with some cool plants she found.

You try to smile, but whiteness clouds your vision as you fall to the ground. She drops the plant and runs to hold you up.

“Soldier? You know you’re not supposed to go and pass out on me. I don’t know how to…”

Panic starts to rise in her chest and she lays you gently on the ground. “Alright Karlach, you got this,” she assures herself.

She lifts the base of your shirt, starting to panic again when she sees the blood soaked bandages.

She gingerly removes them revealing the nasty gash underneath. “Oh boy, you really did a number on yourself,” she says.

She looks around, trying to find absolutely anything that could close the wound. She didn’t know any spells, nor did she know anything about sutures.

She sighed. She had an idea, but she didn’t like it. “Okay soldier, I’m just gonna need you to stay asleep for a little while longer. Can you do that for me?”

Dammon had fixed up her engine so she didn’t burn so hot anymore, but she was pretty sure she could just get hot enough….

She pinched the wound together, then, with clenched teeth, she placed her other hand on top of it. She channeled all of her anger until she smelt the burning of flesh.

You jolted awake with a scream and she pulled away. The wound was now replaced with a cauterized burn.

“It worked! You’re okay!” She exclaimed, rather impressed with herself. “You are never allowed to do that to me again.”

You groan, sitting up. Your head is still spinning from pain and blood loss. You sway ever so slightly.

“Woah, slow down there soldier,” Karlach says, gently pushing you back to lie down. “Again does include right now, you know. Come on. Let’s get you back to camp.”

Minthara

You and Minthara take a stroll around the outer city, allowing her to take in a surface city for the first time.

Not far into your walk though, you begin to feel lightheaded. “Minthara I think I need to sit-“ you are cut off abruptly by your own collapse.

You fall limp onto the cobblestone on the city streets.

She is quickly down beside, cooling your face with her cool hands. It’s only then she notices the bloody bandages under your shirt.

Confused, she cuts away with them away, revealing your injury.

Her face immediately pales. The wound is mild, nothing she is incapable of handling with a simple laying of hand. But you kept this from her.

She patches the wound with a gentle touch. But her mind continues to race. Why would you not tell her? Do you not trust her? Should she trust you?

You stir awake with a whine. The pain in your side is dulled, and you’re able to sit up with relative ease.

Minthara stares harshly back at you, silently awaiting an explanation. When you don’t offer one she asks, “why have you kept this from me?” She tries to hide her hurt behind anger.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “It’s just- I knew you were excited to see the city- and it was a stupid injury anyway I just- I didn’t want to be a bother.“

She looks dissatisfied with your answer. “We do not keep such grave secrets from one another. My trust is a fragile thing.”

You sigh, defeated. “I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

[thydungeongal]

Broadly speaking I fuck with the OSR playstyle even though I find that in places there is a tendency towards historical revisionism. For an example, claims that the OSR is rediscovering lost modes of play I think are somewhat overblown: I think it's better not to retroactively apply these playstyles discovered through interrogating these texts through a more modern system-matters-pilled lens onto these games, but simply view them as new interpretations of old texts. (Like, I do think there is some truth to "OSR as playstyle" being more grounded in how these games were played in the old days, but I think it is an universal truth that D&D players have always ignored large swathes of the rules: so "discovering" a new playstyle through strict adherence to the rules might actually result in a playstyle not necessarily recognizable to those old geezers.)

But there is one specific claim often made about the OSR as a playstyle that doesn't quite sit right with me: the idea that OSR games test "player skill, not character strength."

There's a few things wrong with this. I understand where it's coming from though: it's contrasting old-school style "you just roll up a random asshole and then try to keep them alive" play with more modern "you lovingly craft a guy who you then throw against adversity" types of play. But where it goes wrong is in the implication that the latter also does not involve a test of player skill. System mastery itself is a player skill and one that can be tested when the rules are treated as a system.

And OSR play isn't even immune from testing player system mastery. So you rolled your 3d6 down the line badly. What do you do? Well, you pick a class that is less reliant on ability scores (this could arguably be all of them, but since the things that ability scores mostly inform are usually relayed to combat you'll want to pick a class that isn't expected to engage in direct combat) or you pick a class with enough non-ability score related bonuses to offset your character's low ability scores.

Combat still rewards system mastery and actually knowing how to best utilize the rules. If you're playing AD&D bows have a separate Rate of Fire stat which means multiple attacks in a combat round even at low levels. Sleep does not give a saving throw in many older editions. Protection from Evil straight up prevents creatures with immunity to non-magical weapons from attacking the target. A 1st level Cleric with no spells is still useful because they can pretty much end an encounter with the undead in an instant!

Of course there is a difference in kind of the type of player skill that is being tested, but I feel the claim that the OSR playstyle tests player skill more than post-TSR D&D is somewhat ahistorical but also dismissive of the types of player skills cultivated by 3e/4e/5e and their derivatives.

[dailyadventureprompts]

The Mechanics of Baldur's Gate 3

As someone who's constantly tinkering with the mechanics of my favourite RPG, I LOVE a lot of what Larian has done with D&D; not only accurately translating the base system but improving upon in ways I never thought of.

Playing BG3 feels good, and I want to see how much of their work I can adapt for my own table. As such, here's a breakdown of a bunch of little tweaks they've made to 5e (taken from the bg3 wiki) and whether or not I think they're a good fit for regular pencil and paper d&d.

Shove is not a part of the attack action. It is a bonus action available to all characters. Shove only pushes the target back an amount that depends on the shover's strength and the target's weight. It normally does not knock them prone unless they are shoved off a high ledge.

This might be THE best design Larian implemented and is instantly going in my games. Bonus action shoving is such a natural addition to combat, gives so many more tactical options. My one protest is that I am NOT calculating the weight of every creature and object ( mainly because I'm terrible at guessing weights for things) so I'd go with the distance calculation based on the creature's size and con score.

Gaining inspiration based on backgrounds

Gee, a mechanical reward for roleplaying your character, one that's way more straight forward than the DM arbitrated "ideals, bonds, flaws," system. From now on I'm going to give each of my players an upfront " You gain inspiration when you ______" note on their character sheet based on their backgrounds.

The party is limited to two short rests per long rest. Short rests restore each ally's hit points by an amount equal to half their maximum HP (rounded down). There is no hit die rolling. Long rests require camp supplies, which are food items that must be looted or purchased. In towns you will be able to rest at an inn.

This is a mixed bag for me only because I like hitdie as a mechanical abstract and I don't want to see them removed. Tbh I wish more mechanics interacted with them and they were called something abstract like "stamina" or something. That said I ADORE the camp supplies idea because it not only gives you something minor to reward exploration with besides GP. On the otherhand tracking all those supplies without the game's inventory management would be tedious as hell so it'd need to be highly simplified.

I especially like the idea of limited short rests/supplies in larger survival based adventures where time isn't at a premium like it is inside a dungeon.

If you hide while not in a creature's sight cone, you automatically succeed. If you try to hide while in a creature's sight cone, you automatically fail. If you are hidden and enter a creature's sight cone, you must roll stealth against the creature's passive perception. This may be a straight roll, advantage, or disadvantage, based on the creature's senses and the level of lighting. Some creatures with different senses such as blindsight may follow different rules

Congrats on fixing stealth rolls Larian. No notes.

LOTS more opinions under the cut.

When a creature is at least 10 ft above their target and makes a ranged attack, they receive a +2 bonus to the attack roll due to high ground. When a creature is at least 10 ft below their target and makes a ranged attack, they receive a -2 penalty to the attack roll due to low ground.

This is fine, and quite inline with a lot of fixes I've seen for flanking rules. I'm fine with a little extra battlefield math in order to make moments of advantage (spending inspiration, reckless attacking etc) shine.

The game does not stop a character from casting a leveled spell with both an action and a bonus action

Mixed on this, on one hand I've played enough clerics to know how much it sucks to have to use your bonus action to do a necessary spell and then be stuck with a so-so cantrip or melee attack for standard. On the other hand there's some design balance issues at play here.

Help is an Action. This ability allows characters to aid an ally in combat and remove negative Conditions. Using the help action on a downed ally brings them back to 1 hit point and leaves them prone.

Love the idea of help doing multiple things AND being a solution to minor status conditions. and giving everyone the ability to help means I can be a lot more aggressive when it comes to knocking character to 0. if I had to further patch this, I'd say that this also allows for a medicine check to allow a creature to spend a hitdie when they're downed, or allows the helping character to make a "SNAP OUT OF IT, WE'RE YOUR FRIENDS" charisma roll for charmed allies.

Jumping is a bonus action which consumes 10 ft of movement speed. With a Strength score of 10 or below, a creature can jump 15 ft, and this increases by 5 ft for every two points in strength above 10. At 20 Str a creature may spend 10 ft of movement speed and a bonus action to jump, and can travel 35 ft effectively increasing the creature's movement speed by up to 25 feet.

This, combined with the prone rules (see below) is JUICY, as it allows for risk-reward battlefield mobility . That said I'd add some caveats/clarifications: The jump always succeeds in moving you, but if you're taking damage, jumping up or down more than 10ft, or into rough terrain you need to make an acrobatics check not to beef it and fall prone (ending your turn). Your jump is likewise a buffer for how far you can willingly fall before taking damage, but if you fall after your jump, you always land prone.

Weapon actions, 'nough said.

It's more complexity than I'd give to first time players but HOT DAMN if it isn't a great idea to give the martial characters some options instead of just making the same attacks over and over again. I've actually been sockpiling 3rd party versions of this for a while now and I can't wait to add them in.

All The conditions are great:

Blinded: In addition to the other effects, ranged attacks are limited to 15 ft range. Blinded creatures can also make opportunity attacks.

Frightened: Creatures which are frightened are unable to move at all (rather than being unable to move toward the source of their fear), unless the effect instead makes them "fearful" which gives them the frightened effect as well as making them flee.

Prone: Being prone gives disadvantage on Strength and Dexteritysaving throws, attacks against a prone creature have advantage out to a range of 10 ft rather than 5 ft, and ranged attacks against a prone creature do not have disadvantage. Your character cannot do anything while prone. Starting the turn while prone will cause you to automatically use half your movement to stand up. Becoming prone during your turn automatically ends your turn.

Wet: This is a new condition that prevents the character from burning (e.g. from Searing Smite) and grants resistance to fire damage, but also makes the creature vulnerable to lightning and cold damage

[yourplayersaidwhat]

Lore dump on players at Royal Banquet looking for information on killer Vampire.

*In a side room*

Count: Back in the day, my ancestors used to be vampire hunters. Dedicated ones. So much so, they asked a god to curse our bloodline to, well, make our blood toxic. We'd hunt vampires with both the stake and seduction. That probably put a surprise upon many of their faces.

But, nowadays, as the Shade Council has made vampires adhere to the rules of society, we live quietly as Counts. Now, as for the reason you've come to me, we know of this sir Levenor you speak of. He-

Elf Wizard: May I taste your blood?

Dm: ...No.

Elf Wizard: I just want to study it. I'm sure it's not that bad.

Gnome Rogue: Eh, let him have his poison.

Human Cleric: If you die, it's me who has to take care of you after.

Dragonborn Paladin: I agree, yet I'm incredibly curious. I'll expend some lay on hands for this experiment.

Human Cleric: ...Fine, but if I have to use a diamond, you're paying me back.

Elf Wizard: Deal. So, sir Count?

Dm: ...

Count: Very well, but the responsibility is your own. *Takes out a knife, nicks his finger, and drops a few blood droplets into a coffee.*

Elf Wizard: *Drinks coffee.*

Dm: Hang on, I gotta roll 40d12.

Elf Wizard: Wait, what?

Human Cleric: Oh.

Dragonborn Paladin: *Hiss* Ow.

Gnome Rogue: Oh, wait, now I remember. I learned this, *Looks nervous around table*, just now.

Dm: Be glad you're not undead Elf, this is Radiant damage.