#lord phaesus

[bearlytolerant]

masquerade

[riftstone-of-the-calm]

as if everyone can't tell who you are in those fancy ass robes you stupid asshole (< said with begrudging horny-ness)

[orinthered]

Finally got around to finishing the post game and gotta say, if DD1 was 50% of what they wanted to do, DD2 felt like 70% but the other 30% was the story and Battahl. I loved the game, but it really suffers from the lack of a narrative.

the game's story really does feel like a rough draft that was somehow polished up into a full game. sometimes not even that: more of like a pitch that got tossed around like "ohh yeah i guess we could do that"

the most egregious part for me is now that i'm in ng+ i can really think about just how fucking weird it is that after act 1, where lord phaesus gets the big "i'm the bad guy looking disdainfully out my carriage window, onto you, the arisen, whom the camera states i see as lesser" cutscene the rest of the game just pivots to us working with him and his assistant, i guess.

a lot of stuff in dd2 also feels like it exists out of necessity because "well, we had it in dragon's dogma 1, so it has to be in this game!" largely the beloved system. we don't have a character like duke dragonsbane who really just exists to justify the idea of having a character you're willing to give up for ultimate power and seeing what that effect might have on someone, because in dd2 you just see the dragon (who isn't named! what!) clutching your beloved, 99% some random fuck npc if you didn't manage to get the ring off the sphinx, and you just have to laugh because like there's a good chance the player has no emotional attachment to this character bc they're just pretty faces with stock personalities and the game doesn't treat the arisen as a person so what reason does the player have to do the same?

i also like briefly talked about this on twitter but when i was looking through the design documents for dragon's dogma 1 and you see how much concepting went into cassardis, the starting area... it makes it really hard for me to buy the conceit of the arisen in dragon's dogma 2. games that just drop you into the action without any backstory work really good if roleplaying was a major aspect of the gameplay, but for dragon's dogma 2 it's not. the point of being chosen to be arisen is that you have the ability to show courage in the face of futility — in dragon's dogma 1, the arisen throws away their life in order to save the village that they love.

in dragon's dogma 2... what, you push some pretty girl out of the way? you're maybe like a village guard? ulrika has like so much more motivation to be chosen as arisen it's kind of mind-boggling. dd2's arisen is a cipher but they need to be an actual character for the conceit of the arisen's will changes the world to make any sense.

this screenshot actually made me laugh out loud but in the way that one might laugh in the face of oncoming traffic. what do you even mean man. the only characters with any story relevance for the entirety of the game's plot are brant, sven, and phaesus lmfao you could get rid of everyone else and it wouldn't matter whatsoever

i mean i love this game. it's easily an 8/10 for me but it's so much harder for me to ignore a good game's bad story than it is for me to ignore a good story's bad gameplay. and if dd2's story is markedly worse than dd1's in every single possible facet...

[lisa-and-shadow]

I didn't realized you had shared the prompt list!

If you are still willing to do it:

Different! from glimpses of the past prompt list

for Lyra!

DIFFERENT for a scene from my muse's past that they feel changed their outlook / personality / etc, for the better or worse

“I can’t just walk in and take the documents we need. We aren’t bandits.”

Lyra waved her tankard and huffed with exasperation as she sat huddled around the tavern table with her pawn Ambro. He favored a more direct approach in all things, while she relied on her social graces to solve problems when possible.

“I’ll just speak with Ser Hewet and convince him to give them to us. He’ll probably have us do him a favor in return,” she sighed, “like everyone else. Or perhaps I can charm him into handing them over immediately.”

“Did Ser Brant not tell us time was of the essence?”

“When is it not?”

Ambro chuckled, “I don’t mean to hurry you, Arisen. I know I am oft accused of such.”

Grinning, Lyra took a sip of her ale, “Yes. I have heard that before.” She set down the mug and let out a deep breath.

“Look. I was taught from the time I could walk how to make conversation with nobles and then later on how to make favorable business deals with those same people. I’ve trained my whole life to talk to rich old men,” she wrinkled her nose in disgust. “That really sounds awful.”

“Are you sure we can’t perhaps slip in through the garden?”

Lyra glared at him.

“Alright. Fine. We’ll do it your way.”

—----------------

Arriving at Ser Hewet’s estate on the fringes of the Checkpoint Rest Town, Lyra and Ambro approached the massive front door of the manse and were greeted by a servant in livery.

“You are expected, Arisen.” The man nodded toward Ambro, “He will need to wait outside.”

Lyra and Ambro shared a glance at one another, assessing the situation. Not knowing this Ser Hewet and what she would find inside, Lyra decided to press the issue.

“Oh I must request, by my right as Arisen, that my Pawn be allowed to stay by my side.” She looked sternly at the young man by the door, “That won’t be a problem will it?”

The colorfully dressed footman swallowed hard, “No ma’am. You may enter.” He opened the door for them both.

Entering the massive foyer, it took only a moment for Ser Hewet to appear. A plump, crimson cheeked, flaxen haired man of middle age dressed in the finest silks rounded the corner and stopped abruptly.

“What is this?” He asked, visibly distressed.

Lyra cleared her throat then extended her hand, “I am Lyra of House Ansgot, the rightful Arisen and future Sovran. It is an honor to meet you, Ser Hewet.”

“Oh.. yes.” He looked to her and nodded, then looked to Ambro, “You brought your, your pet.”

Lyra heard a small snort escape from Ambro, but silently thanked him for not laughing out loud or throttling the man.

“Pardon? Ambro is my Pawn. As Arisen my sacred charge includes the command of the Pawns of the Rift. And he is my companion. Not my… pet.” 

Ser Hewet was looking at Ambro with a mix of awe and slight horror. “Ahh yes, yes of course. I’m familiar with the tales.” He leaned toward Lyra and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper, “But he’s a beastren.”

Lyra blinked several times, “He certainly is.” She decided to try to salvage the conversation.

“Ser Brant in Vernworth said you might have something that would aid me? I would be grateful for your help.” She plastered on a tight smile.

“I believe I do. Documents regarding a Battahli noble and some rather odd shipments passing through my warehouse.”

Lyra recognized the telltale signs of more of the mysterious Lord Phaesus’s handiwork. Perhaps these documents could shed some light on what he and Disa were working on and what their plans were.

“I would be very interested in those documents. You would be aiding me in my claim to the throne as Sovran. A deed I would not soon forget.”

Ser Hewet’s mouth pressed together in a thin line, “Yes. Well I was going to go fetch them from the study but knowing you associate so closely with beasts. I’m not so sure that’s the sort of Sovran Vermund needs on the throne.”

Lyra nodded her head, sighing softly, “I’m very sorry to hear you say that.”

She drew back and with a closed fist, struck Ser Hewet hard and fast under the chin, driving his entire body upwards in an arc. He landed in a graceless pile on the plush carpet of the foyer, dazed and quite unconscious, but alive.

“We need to find those documents and get the hell out of here.”

…………………….

On their way back to Vernworth, Lyra was mentally kicking herself for how poorly their meeting with Ser Hewet had gone. For someone who prided herself on her negotiation skills it was an utter disaster. 

“Master, you’ve hardly spoken. Surely you can’t be that upset?” Ambro drawled in his usual carefree tone.

“I’m not really. I should probably thank you and Hewet both for teaching me a lesson. Sometimes the direct path is better.”

Ambro chuckled, “It’s certainly more satisfying. You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy punching that jackass?”

“Oh I did. It felt great,” Lyra laughed.

Ambro clapped her on the shoulder, “That’s my girl.”

[bearlytolerant]

Lord Phaesus

[bearlytolerant]

masquerade pt 2

[bearlytolerant]

[bearlytolerant]

[bearlytolerant]

[bearlytolerant]

[bearlytolerant]

Tagging whoever sees this and wants to share.

Figures spin in an array of silks. Donning masks feathered or scaled or embellished in some format or another. And her eyes watch from the shadowed corner of the room.

Blonde hair. Braided bun. Blue plumed mask.

Blonde. Braided. Blue.

The description plays on repeat for her target of a delivered letter. A noblewoman who can be swayed to the side of the arisen. To her side. Not that she cares for her position but she cares for Ser Brant and Sven and they are pulling all the strings. She’d made an attempt at convincing Brant to let a pawn go in her stead but it failed. Miserably. So she resigns herself to her task. At least she can wear a pretty dress and drink and dance. Besides, their hard work on her behalf should be rewarded, no?

More masqueraders filter through the doorway and something new plays on the lyre, soft and sensual and half the candles are blown out, creating quite the moody romantic atmosphere. Roses in a vast array of pinks and reds in vases around the room but the sweet floral fragrance cannot drown out the scent of sweat and sex that permeates the air.

Gwyn manages to spot a woman matching the description she’s searching for but the woman is caught up in a dance before she can even peel herself off the pillar. With slumped shoulders, she sighs and mindlessly adjusts her own black mask with lavender colored feathers curving up the right side, matching her heavily made up eyes.

A shiver runs up her spine, as if she’s being watched and she averts her gaze from the dance floor and scans the shadows. A tall figure, dressed in black robes with gold accents and a mask to match catches her eye. A half smirk tugs at those lips. So she carries herself over.

“Might I have this dance?” she boldly asks.

[bearlytolerant]

[bearlytolerant]

Fandom: Dragon’s Dogma 2

Pairing: Phaesus x Arisen

Chapter Rating: E (explicit smut content)

AO3

Chapter 5 excerpt:

Phaesus

He is not one to lie in grass and dirt, serpent he might be, but Gwyn is there nestled amongst the moon glossed flowers with stars in her eyes.

“Would you care to join me?” She asks.

“I am no stranger to dirtied hands but to lie in the grass like some—some—”

“Cur? Wastrel? Heathen?”

“I was going to say worm but any of those will do.”

“I know. The ground is certainly beneath you, surely.” She smiles at that, overly pleased with herself. “But if you get dirty, I will draw you a bath, my lord. Scrub behind your ears even.”

The prospect of that appeals to him more than she realizes and he pushes aside the disdain for the ground and finds himself lying next to her, staring up at the dark, starlit canopy.

Another pleased grin and she points. “See that smattering of stars there to your right?” She speaks an elvish word that he doesn’t know. “The dragon,” she translates.

He squints and tries to piece some sort of imagined picture with a line connecting stars in his head but he simply doesn’t see anything. Let alone a dragon.

“My childhood memories are filled with my father, pulling me up the ladder to the rooftop of our home. The sights stretched on as we kept watch over the goats, defending them from wolves and singing them lullabies until eyes grew heavy. Whilst they slept, we would take to stargazing. And I believe, if my memory serves me correctly, that pocket of stars is the dragon. But, in all honesty, I could never really see what he saw.”

This makes him smile, brief and fleeting. “Lovely story, but I see no dragon.”

“Really? No dragon at all? Fie, I must’ve pointed out the wrong ones. Oh well. I suppose that family tradition started and ended with me.” She chuckles to herself. “What of you? Do you recall any fond childhood memories?”

Phaesus sighs, pausing as Gwyn focuses her gaze on him. Tucks an arm behind his head. He has not thought of his childhood in what feels like eons, let alone memories he is fond of. Every one of them feels tinged with touches of sadness. Broken memories. Broken bodies. Heat and flame and fear but he dives past all of that, pulling his father’s smiling face from the debris of reveries.

[bearlytolerant]

Lord Phaesus

[riftstone-of-the-calm]

Arisen: hey. hey lord phaesus look at me

Phaesus: what?

Arisen: bitch

[bearlytolerant]

Tagged by @fangbangerghoul thank you 🙏 and tagging @ellstersmash and anyone else who wants to share.

“There were whispers of you sharing more than one dance with the same woman and then disappeared. There was also mention of a locked storage room that wouldn’t open even with a key.”

“Hmm,” he hums apathetically.

“And that there were very very loud moans coming from that same room.”

He can’t help but think of her—the Arisen. Indeed her moans were astonishing and far more captivating than the conversation he’s currently caught up in. And he remembers, closing his eyes, the way her mouth parts.

“Does it aught have to do with you?”

He hears her question but he’s lost in the way he accidentally ripped a small seam in the Arisen’s bustier, desperate to grasp her breast and draw her nipple into his mouth. Her first moan, a pleasant little sound as his tongue circled and played before enveloping it fully with his lips, sucking and occasionally dragging his teeth across her delicate skin, recycles on repeat with the image in his mind. She had liked that. Just a hint of pleasurable pain. His only regret—

“Lord Phaesus!”

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” Phaesus says and rolls off the bed. Throwing his robes on, he leaves her flustered. He must search out quill and ink to pen a letter.