#straight to your handler and i didnt even have to whistle: wyll ravenguard

[shimmerbeasts]

Initially waking up in Avernus had been as expected. The memories of his human life, his death, had stuck him and his entire lemure body was racked in pain. He had known of what would become of him, but he hadn't expected this level of pain. Yet, unlike many others who had been cursed to this fate, he had left an unforgettable impression on his patron. As such he wasn't left alone long before Mizora found him. The transformation into whatever he was becoming was equally as painful as being a lemure. He could feel limbs growing, and bones crunching into place. Words were being said as it was happening, but he simply couldn't hear over the exquisite pain. Eventually he blacked out, unaware of his new form. When he awoke again, he found himself over stimulated by the sound surrounding him, from the imps and cambions moving about to the screaming of something else for mercy, maybe lemure by sounds of it. The next thing to happen was his eyes fluttering open and almost immediately he could see that he was something entirely different now. Wyll could feel a set of legs, where he hadn't had them before and his head was heavy as if he once more had a set of horns. He was just starting to move when he heard a younger cambion girl greet him, followed by the aroma of something delicious in front of him; a bowl of flesh, with various spices added in. His mouth watered at its smell and instantly made his way to the bowl, devouring it as if he were starving, ravaging it. What followed was a satisfying hum, his devilish tail swinging happily as he finished his meal. The mention of Mizora caused his ears to straighten up, his tailing continuously swaying back and forth at the prospect of seeing her. 'Mizora? Did she change me? I don't remember having limbs before. Where is she?' No words cames out of his mouth, but they went directly into the cambions mind, though he was amazed he could do so. 'What am I?'

The Cambion girl smiled satisfied at Wyll emptying the entire bowl in seconds. Reaching down to pick up the bowl, she said: "Lady Mizora will be happy to know you are eating. Do you want another plate? She gave specific instructions that you are to eat and drink as much as you like."

Hearing the dog's telepathic thoughts, the girl grinned at how quickly he seemed to be able to pick up on his abilities, if only in part. The lady of the house surely knew how to pick who deserved to be more than just game for her. Having finished the fish platter, the Cambion girl picked it up to carry it to the room, where the hellcats tended to longue. They were rather spoiled and preferred more eloquent meals than just spiced lemure flesh.

The Cambion said: "Yes, Lady Mizora did change you, Wyll. You must have left quite a favourable expression on her. Few newcomers to the menagerie are treated as well as you do. In fact, I don't think I have ever seen a lemure become a harakin so fast before. The lady of the house must really like you. She is likely in her private chambers. I can deliver you to her if you are not hungry anymore."

She cupped her chin as she eyed his horns crucially, biting her lips. The maid remarked: "We might wanna give your horns some polish though. After all, if you are to meet Lady Mizora in her private quarters, you might wanna make yourself look presentable."

@faerunscursed cont. from here.

[shimmerbeasts]

I agree with all of this, but I also would like to add something probably a bit controversial. If we look at this from Mizora's angle, the fact that Wyll is a heroic person who is forced by very bad circumstances into becoming a warlock, also explains why Mizora for example hangs out in our camp after we freed Wyll from the pact. I know a lot of people hate and complain about this fact, but consider the following:

Mizora likely has made many deals in the past. And like OP and many of the reblogs said, warlocks are usually power-hungry or well, more clearly connotated as something evil. Wyll, as we saw, is none of that stuff. For Mizora, that would make him immediately memorable and explain why she loves toying with him and pushing him this much.

Wyll is not your typical warlock. Him, being suited for another class, is not just affecting him in my opinion, but it also affects Mizora and why she is as creepily invested in him as she is. After all, if Wyll was just like any other warlock, then her "losing" him so to speak, would not matter. Mizora could have just gotten herself a new warlock. No biggie.

Wyll, on the other hand, yeah that type of personality and those circumstances would not return that quickly. Of course, she becomes spiteful enough to attempt to hurt Wyll by seducing Tav. Of course, she plans on killing Ulder if we somehow manage to save him and break Mizora's contract. She just lost a very unique type of investment and a pretty damn effective bloodhound (something she specifically calls Wyll in his origin run) for herself.

Naturally, she is gonna be an arsehole about this!

In short, both Mizora and Wyll are shaped by the fact that Wyll is not a traditional warlock. The fact that people cannot notice that nuance will never not drive me up a wall.

"wyll shouldve been *insert class here* instead!" i mean, im glad you picked up on that, but thats kinda... the whole thing? he wouldve taken any hand before he resorted to mizora, but mizora was the only one who offered one. his line "the only thing a gods ever given me is a cold shoulder" is dropped casually, but crucial to his character. he shouldve been anything other than a fiend warlock. when he reunited with his father all those years ago, he shouldve been imbued with the power of fuckin, like, tyr or something. he shouldve been made a paladin or a cleric or even just a normal lvl 1 guy who got some greater power to do all that shit for him. the devs expected a target audience of d&d players, so him being a warlock at all was supposed to surprise players

[shimmerbeasts]

☕ - Mizora ranting about Wyll being a goody-two-shoes

Coffee Rant||Accepting.

"I presume you mean Wyll's heroism." Mizora's lips twitched in a way, which made it hard to say whether or not she was smiling or grimacing. "I have mixed feelings when it comes to that element of his."

Her wings opened and curled inward. Mizora brushed her fingers over the leathery folds, checking them for any signs of damage, dust or just some foolish bloodsucking insect, trying to find purchase. It wasn't that the Cambion really needed to groom herself, however, she had discovered that the pleasant sensation had something very relaxing to it. It helped her stay focused and redirect her impulses whenever they wanted her to commit a particularly vile act.

"A large part of me is not too fond of it", the Cambion remarked, clicking her tongue against her sharp fangs, "His moral codex is probably the most puzzling to me. After all, normally, when someone makes a deal with me, they eventually turn greedy and selfish, out for their own ends. Some even become quite ruthless. Yet here you have Wyll! Little pupster is so obsessed with fairy tales and the heroes of legends and wants to be like them, he thinks he can reap the rewards while still relying on darker powers. His mercy and wish to save complete strangers are things, which can and will get him killed!

"I didn't teach him to be ruthless because I wanted some remorseless killer. I taught him to be ruthless, vicious and cunning because it increases his chances of survival. As a sword for hire, morality and goodness should be the last thing on his mind! The worst part is, that he completely understands what I mean. I see moments where Wyll is as crafty and clever as I hope for him to be, where he is willing to take risks and commit acts, which are not completely aligned with his whole Blade of Frontiers persona. I often feel like seeing these moments, is like seeing the true man behind all his pretences and posturing."

Her grin turned vile. Mizora said: "For while I loathe heroism for its own sake and the attempts to claim some moral high ground just because you happen to save the day, I recognise the fantastic smoke screen it provides. The Blade of Frontiers has the potential to be the greatest ruse of all time. If only Wyll was willing to fully embrace the mask it provides him and commit the atrocities he needs to do to succeed. After all, nobody would accuse a hero of committing evil if they claimed it was done to save the poor villagers from the monster. Wyll has all the charisma and flattery to make his farce work and appear so genuine, nobody would even question him! Stupid pup could have his cake and eat it too! But nooo... He has to keep sticking to his niceties and principles. How many times did I have to clean up after my pet?! Too many! At least, his soul gets darker and darker with each day, so that makes this almost bearable. Seriously, I cannot wait for that pungent stench of goodness to be driven out of his soul. It does nothing but burn the nose hairs."

[shimmerbeasts]

So, as I was reblogging some fan art of Jinx, one art piece made me think of Mizora and Wyll. This one made me go: If you picture horned Wyll strangulating his past self with Mizora basically guiding his hand, you get a really scary visual and an even darker implication.

And I think what I really liked about this thought experiment was the fact that it felt incredibly unsettling and creepy. It felt unnatural and strange, which really fits the whole fact that at the end of the day, Mizora is a devil. She should be allowed to have moments where she even frightens Wyll with her behaviour.

I couldn't help but think about how paranoid Wyll must be if that instance happened to him in a dream. He would probably be wondering after waking up if he was dreaming or if Mizora invaded his dream. What would make it even worse, is if his motion is halfway there. Like he already reaches for his past self's throat before Mizora picks up his wrist to guide him the rest of the way, maybe even encouraging him to continue the motion. Maybe even whisper into his ear that he would enjoy this action.

Heck, it would be even scarier if Wyll ended up breaking his neck in the dream. I dunno... I just feel like this whole scenario would feel extremely like something, Mizora would do. Intentionally guiding Wyll to embrace amorality instead of his good moral compass and values. And I feel she would absolutely use such a dream sequence to mess with Wyll's head. What would be even worse if Mizora was not even behind the dream and yet it still ends up happening. After all, that would imply there is some inner darkness in Wyll, which might long to break free.

I dunno if this is a meta or just me rambling or some possible roleplaying wish.

[shimmerbeasts]

One of the things Wyll enjoyed about the Emerald Grove was that he got to help train young warriors. Thus when he was not running about attempting to find Karlach, or out on other hunts that Mizora sent him on, he was here. Many of them knew the Blade of Fronters here, especially the children who often looked up to him. These children often came to him for lessons, which he was doing now. "That's a good swing, but you have to adjust your posture," Wyll instructed calmly as he knelt down before the small tiefling child. He brought up his hands to straighten the child's back and shoulders, then guided his hands to his hands. The rapier the child was wielding was adjusted to a more regal hold. "Like that. Now follow my lead and keep this pose." Wyll stood up and mimicked the pose with ease, pointing his blade at the mannequin ahead before them. A normal human and stone eye briefly flickered to a female figure approaching them, Mizora. Thanks to his eye he would always feel her, no matter the disguise he would always know it was her. There was a glint of grin then, before he turned his attention back to the mannequin as he craftfully thrusted his blade forward, landing a precise blow.

"Exactly like that, if you need do a little dance with your feet, pace back and forth. Now you try." Wyll backed away a bit to get out of their way, moving closer to Mizora. "Come to check in on me, did you?" He whispered into her ear, though never taking his eyes off the tiefling as they followed his instructions. "Perfect strike! Keep that up and you'll be like the Blade of Frontiers in no time. "Do you have any pointers, stranger?" His eyes gleamed with recognition at Mizora, his grin widening. "You look like you could teach him a thing or two."

The Emerald Grove masqueraded its tensions and agitations with warm colours and a group of treehuggers. Even now, Mizora could sense the anxiety and fear, lacing the air like the smoke of a hidden fire. The druids saw nothing but hellions in the tieflings, meanwhile, the tieflings feared they would be turned on at a moment's notice. All the while, not too far away from the grove, the goblin pack was ever encroaching upon their territory.

It was a disaster, waiting to happen, and while Mizora normally would have delighted in such things, right now, she didn't care much for the fate of the grove. Wyll was using this as a distraction. Idling around, trying to play the hero once more when he had a hunt to fulfil. Karlach was still out there, breathing, and Zariel had been livid about her escape. So livid in fact that her mother cared little for whether or not, the tiefling would be brought to her dead or alive.

If Karlach died, then her soul would respawn upon the Styx and Zariel could claim it for herself. That blasted tiefling would finally be below Mizora in status! So below in fact that Mizora would be able to get away with torturing Karlach and have very little fear of repercussions. At the same time, the mere thought of getting to eat Karlach's head... Mizora rarely engaged in openly vile acts, but this would sathe her appetite quite nicely.

To avoid aggravating the tension between the tieflings and druids even more, Mizora had intentionally taken on the shape of a beautiful woman with cream-rose skin and luscious, strong, golden-orange hair. Nobody in the grove questioned her presence. If Mizora wanted, like any devil, she could fool with your senses and make you accept her being there. At the same time, she also knew exactly how to draw your attention exclusively towards her.

Right now, Mizora's sole focus was on the young, brown man, who stood on a wooden podium with training dummies. Wyll's rapier gleamed in the light. He was surrounded by a small flock of tiefling children. They kept just enough distance from Wyll, so that he might show one child in particular how to wield a small sword, which looked already way too long for the brat. Mizora climbed up the ladder and stopped by the staircase's post, crossing her arms before her chest as she watched Wyll finish his little striking lesson.

Like the good bloodhound, he was, the famed Blade of Frontiers heeled immediately and stopped by her side. Their eyes met for a few seconds before, both Cambion and warlock chose to focus on the tiefling child trying its hardest to mimic their steps. Mizora replied: "You have found yourself a nice, little place to idle, Wyll. But remember: Our arrangement still stands. Karlach is still making the Sword Coast unsafe. As entertaining as this little detour is, you must remember your priorities."

She fell silent when suddenly the tiefling children approached her and Wyll curiously. One of them, a young, red-skinned girl with a bandage over what must have been an injured eye, looked between the two of them and gave a cocky grin. She said: "Well, well... Will you look at that? The famed Blade of Frontiers has got a special someone after all? Don't you think you are dating a bit up the ladder, buddy?"

Shock gave way to a swell of laughter. Mizora bent forward and waved her arms a touch as she laughed hysterically, silver eyes closing a touch. The tiefling child shouted: "Oih, what's so funny, Harpy?" Mizora gasped for air and brushed across her cheek with a knuckle as she finally managed to settle back down.

She said: "I am very sorry for laughing, deary. It is just... You are mistaken." Mizora leaned forward to be more on the tiefling's eye level. "I am a very treasured friend of the Blade, not his lover. We go way back. One might even argue, I know the Blade's beginnings."

"Ooooooh", made all the tiefling children in excited union as Mizora rose again and flashed Wyll a grin of her own. However as he suggested that she might be able to teach the children a thing or two, a frown crossed her face. It was hard to pinpoint whether the suggestion was spoken in jest or earnest.

Her red eyes drifted over the tiefling children, who looked between her and Wyll in curiosity and expectations. If her tail were visible, it might have twitched now. Still as Mizora took them all in, an idea sprung into her mind. Curling her lips, she resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she thought: Alright, puppy. Let's indulge that stupid idea of yours.

Mizora squinted her eyes as if she was indeed thinking about what she might be able to bestow upon these children. Rubbing her chin, she suddenly smiled and said: "I might only know how to handle a rapier, but I feel you little rascals would have a much better chance if I taught you something only you can do. Did you know you are naturally capable of creating fire?"

@faerunscursed cont. from here.

[shimmerbeasts]

Mizora gave a low hum of understanding as Wyll spoke of his usual morals. The Blade of Frontiers tried to be a selfless hero for the masses, usually, with her commanded hunts being an exception. However, as Wyll looked up at his patron, for once, his expression bore none of that detestable altruism. Instead, his eye was darker, and rage brimmed through his entire body. Wyll spoke the thoughts, he would never dare to admit in front of his friends.

Mizora smiled and dipped her head in his direction. She said: "You have always been the gallant, selfless hero, Wyll. That selflessness meant you never looked after your own needs. At least, nothing which did not concern your immediate survival like food and shelter. You should be allowed to have kills, which are motivated by anger and righteousness. After all, Gortasch is trying to take a position, he didn't earn. He is trying to shoo your family's legacy down the drain. Your father never realised this until it was too late for him. But you, Wyll, oh, you are a clever, little pupster. Gortasch could never fool you, sweetheart."

This time, Wyll shared his intrusive thoughts with her, quite intentionally. Mizora let out an almost orgasmic moan at the visual, she was being presented with: Gortasch with his chest pierced by Wyll's rapier, his body convulsing in the thralls of death, as his thick, viscous blood coated Wyll's hand, rapier handle and face. The coldness in his gaze and the harshness of his actions made heat pool in her nether regions. Mizora's wings opened wide and trembled as she let the sensations wash over her. Her mouth watered and she licked her lips. Wyll's breath caught in his throat was hers and their hearts thundered in unison as they held the images to the point their chests constricted.

Their gaze met. Wyll's lips were twitched into the faintest of grins, showing his own enjoyment at his thoughts. Slowly, they both came down from their highs. Wings, bathed in sweat, softly beat back and forth before they folded themselves upon her back. There was a hint of purple colour on her blue cheeks and her lips shone from the spit.

As Wyll spoke about how after Gortasch were dead, his intrusive thoughts would stop - a helpful lie -, Mizora could not suppress a smile fully. She said: "Of course. And well, Grand Duke Wyll Ravenguard has such a lovely ring to it. Imagine the statues they'll build, the songs they'll sing." She stopped and gave a soft playful gasp. "But I am getting ahead of myself, pet."

Mizora walked a few feet away from the log, they had been resting on. Looking back at Wyll, she said: "I believe, we stretched this conversation far enough. As much as it is a pleasure to talk to you, Wyll, I can see dawn creep upon us. Your chumps will wonder where you have been. Do head in the direction of Baldur's Gate for me, pet. And try to stay out of trouble, particularly with the blind passenger in your skull. Tata for now."

~The End~

Pride resurfaced once more at the half-fiends words. Oh how easy her praises sunk into the cracks of his fragile mind, burrowing into it and making it their home. There they would fester and make his pride swell even more. The Blade of the Frontiers; it was a name he had earned for his deeds. Nothing could take that from him, not even his devilish appearance. It didn't matter that the power in which he used came from a darker source, he would use it for good. Most of the time.

He spared one more glance at the young Wyll Ravenguard before him. No longer was he a child who was young and naive, whom knew very little about life outside of Baldurs Gate and its cruelties. That boy had died the day his father had tossed him aside. Now he was a man hardened by those same cruelties, shaped by the pain he had suffered. No longer did he live through rose tinted glasses. He was the Blade of Frontiers, a blade for hire for some, but ultimately a man who knew what he had to do to play the role he was meant to play for society. But in his own way, not his father’s.

For all the secrets he had told his friends thus far, which wasn’t much, they were would never learn of the part of him. No one needed to know of the boy he was before, none except for Mizora. Another secret kept amongst the warlock and his patron. One whom he could never truly hide anything from, nor would he.

“I’ve always prided myself on doing using my gifts for good, to be a selfless hero to the masses.” He finally spoke after moments of silence in attempt to calm himself down. Try as he might, though, just thinking about Gortash made his darker urges continue to resurface, and he couldn’t wait to sink his sharp nails into him. His eye seemed to take a darker shade as he shifted his attention to her. “But his death, it won’t be because someone else wants or needs it. It will because I want it, I want to watch as life flickers and fades from his eyes.”

A brief image of his rapier piercing the lords heart briefly flashes in both their minds. The hilt of the blade against a chest as its owner spewed out blood that splayed across Wyll’s face. There was no warmth in his eye and he watched Gortash take his last breath, with cold satisfaction. When the body laid against him for support, he pulled the blade out and tossed the corpse aside.

Wylls breath hitched at the image, his heart continuously racing. This was side of him no one else could see, lest he wish to ruin his reputation of the hero they knew him as. “It must please you, to see these impulsive thoughts. But once he is gone and I’ve taken my Fathers place, that’s where they stop. You know that, don’t you?” He took a deep breath, telling something that he knew would likely be a lie. “The blade is a symbol of justice, after all.”

[shimmerbeasts]

"What do you know about Raphael?" Astarion asked cautiously. He didn't trust Mizora in the slightest but she was his only source of information. There was also little harm in asking as long as he didn't agree to give anything in exchange. He trusted Raphael far less and saw little appeal in the deal he offered except as a last resort. Astarion would much rather control the power of the tadpole than give it away but if it was that or becoming a Mindflayer, well... He did still have some sense of self-preservation left.

Mizora was already waiting for Astarion and Wyll in the camp. Even though the Cambion did her best to look as unfazed and unbothered as possible, the irregular flicks of her tail spoke a different story: Mizora was fuming! Raphael may have tried to get Astarion to agree to a deal with him, but more so, he had had the gall to teleport everybody accompanying him to the House of Hope, including Wyll.

Wyll was her warlock! As far as Mizora was concerned, Raphael just had the gall to invade her territory by merely forcing Wyll into Avernus and the House of Hope. Sure, her pet's soul was already forfeited and belonged to her, but it did not change the insult, she felt had been done to her.

Thus Mizora had already waited for Astarion and Wyll to return to camp, if only so she could demand answers from her favourite pet. Sure, she had already seen the whole encounter, thanks to the sending stone in the young warlock's eye, but she had to make it clear that Wyll should not even think about trying to take another deal. Certainly not to someone as pompous and self-important as Raphael! Mizora would not even grant him a nibble of Wyll's soul!

Astarion did not disappoint. He came barging towards her with Wyll close in toe. Mizora could not even get a single word out - she did not need to, anyway -, before she was already met with one heavy question. It at least showed that Astarion was harder to make a deal with and even had an inquisitive and clever mind - something, Mizora was already well aware of. As far as she knew, the vampire still had not touched her little welcome gift.

Mizora's wings did the briefest, little flutter, coquettedly masquerading as an expression of surprise. She placed a hand on her chest and let out a quiet, well-trained gasp, completing the image of surprise, shock and maybe even a hint of mild outrage. Neither Astarion, nor Wyll deserved to know just how deeply invested she had gotten into their dilemma and how much offence she had taken to Raphael visiting them.

"Raphael is a Cambion like me", Mizora began, "and one of the most self-absorbed, entitled people, you can probably meet. If he claimed he is a saviour towards either of you two, do not believe him. His so-called generosity never comes without a cost. He is as ruthless and vindictive as a devil comes."

She placed her hands on her chest and with a softer tone, continued: "I know you do not trust me, Astarion, but at the very least, Wyll, my darling, little pupster, can vouch for the fact that as complicated as I can be sometimes, I have given him more leniency than Raphael will ever grant either of you."

She now looked at Wyll, staring at his devil's eye and the horns curling on his head. Mizora smiled generously. "After all, despite you not following my orders and letting Karlach go, I did not drag you down to Avernus and make you a blob of stink flesh. Even though the contract easily would have given me the right to do that."

Mizora cleared her throat, raised a finger and cited: "Clause Z § 13: 'Should the promised soul refuse obeyance or neglect duty, the pact-holder shall cast the promised in Avernus as a lemure.' And yet, here you are, puppy. Still breathing, still walking Faerun's soil, with just a new head decoration." She chuckled, cocking her head aside. "Further more, I have left Karlach be. I have not come after her myself, nor have I reinstated Wyll's task of killing her."

Mizora curled her fingers into a loose fist, and for a few seconds, Wyll swallowed tightly, hand going for his neck as if he was trying to loosen his invisible collar a touch. The Cambion said: "I don't think I have to state how incredibly lenient, I have been. If anything, I am giving Wyll an autonomy few warlocks have the luxury of possessing. It certainly wouldn't be a luxury either of you get if you sign a deal with Raphael.

"He is so incredibly spiteful and temperamental. If he does not work you to the bone, he might just eat your soul if he happens to get a bit peckish. He can call himself your saviour all he wants. At the end of the day, he is a slave trader. Nothing more, nothing less." Mizora gestured a hand in a low circle as if she was inviting Wyll and Astarion to confide in her. "I hope, neither of you considered taking him up on his offer. After all, you have another alternative in me. And Wyll here" Her nails trailed across the scars, surrounding Wyll's eye socket. "knows me better than anyone else."

@runes-menagerie cont. from here.

[shimmerbeasts]

That voice he knew better than anyone else's. There was a time, not too long ago, when they first interacted, first met, that she could succeed at making a shiver run up Wyll's spine with just her voice alone. Now, he's reluctantly used to her making these impromptu appearances. He couldn't even say they were unwelcome because he fully expected Mizora to make an appearance at this party. One could say he was waiting for her, too. "Mizora." He said in both a grunt and in greeting. She made a valid point. He should be with them, trying to celebrate, trying to siphon what little cheer he could after the Archdruid's ominous words about the fabled Moonrise Towers to the north and what laid in wait for them there. He didn't have the heart to do so, though. Having not listened or fully absorbed the devil Karlach's pleas when she stated she was not Zariel's lieutenant but a victim of the Blood War ... Wyll's mind kept cycling through to the memory of her death and wondering ... wondering if he had done right. "My mind is otherwise occupied, as I'm sure you are well aware," Wyll gave an obvious reason that required a bit more elaboration. Why else would he be so reclusive and hidden away from the others. Mizora probably knew why already but Wyll was not quite rude enough, even with her to keep it from her. They say a pact between warlock and patron was something unique, that had no real secrets. Whatever he kept from her would surface in eventuality if she so wanted anyhow. "You told me she was a devil, Mizora," Wyll went on, eyes on the vast spanse of lake in front of them as he took a sip from a much less impressive wooden goblet. "She didn't seem like one. When I connected to her mind with the parasite ... I saw something different. She was fleeing in fear, scared for her life. No devil I know could pull off a trick like that, it was a memory. All of what I felt from her mind was torment ... and fear. Why did you ... Why did you lie to me?"

Many fiends might have taken offence to be spoken to so roughly, however, Mizora did not mind Wyll's tone. He had been made an outcast by his father and through that had lost the privileges, he had enjoyed in Baldur's Gate. The last seven years had been rough on her pet, dragging the softness out of the boy's features and wounding themselves around his neck like a tense noose. Wyll had gone from a clumsy puppy with paws too big for his steps to a lithe and agile hunting dog. He still needed a sharp call back to his hunter regularly, but they were getting there.

Karlach had just been another step in that proper direction.

The Cambion gave a low hum when Wyll remarked how his mind was occupied with other things and that she surely knew of that. Red eyes lingered on her pet without really meeting his gaze. Mizora did not push him. Sure, the pact allowed her to easily unearth whatever she might want to know, but she preferred it if her little bloodhound spoke up himself. While Wyll was a skilled enough liar towards others, he could not lie for long around her. Eventually, he always blurted out what was on his mind like a clumsy apprentice.

Ah, there was the issue. Wyll's mind still circled over the dead Tiefling, whose body was sinking into the mud. Zariel no doubt had already claimed Karlach's soul, which due to the nature of Infernal Machinery would have found itself on the shores of the river Styx. Mizora had to admit: She was almost jealous that she would miss Karlach's slow and torturous transformation into a fiend. But she had her own chosen soul to think of. If Wyll was to become what she meant to lay claim to after his passing, he needed her guidance every step of the way. And right now, he needed her more than ever.

"And why do you believe that emotions like fear or terror are only reserved for beings, which are not fiends?", Mizora asked as she properly looked at Wyll, "I know that I try to keep myself as calm and collected as I can be around you, but that is because as your mentor, I have to keep an eye on the bigger picture and quickly respond to your little Blade shenanigans, especially when they put our arrangement in danger. But that's not all."

Her claws gingerly stroke over the deep grooves around his eye socket. Their touch was gentler than they had been when Mizora had first given him his bloodstone eye. Back then she had gotten carried away by the scent of the blood and her urges to the point that she had needed to see Wyll convulse and jowl in pain. She did not fully regret that little slip up, but it required meticulous work to soothe over and make Wyll once more trust the beast he had tethered himself to.

"I am also trying to stay calm because I don't want to frighten you", Mizora continued, "Even now, I am fighting with the urge to somehow have someone's party be sullied through spilt blood or other things. But I know that it wouldn't do me much good, save for maybe some temporary excitement. And you'd just hate me for it. I cannot afford such a leap in misjudgement."

Her touch continued to trail down Wyll's cheek, a thumb cupping over his lips like she was tempting him for more. The Cambion took a step back and held onto her wrist with a hand. Mizora said: "The point is: Fiends can feel just as much terror or fear as you can. Avernus just teaches us that being afraid is not a good idea as it often makes things a lot worse." A long, pale scar snaking its way along the base of her wing flashed into visibility as her wings briefly opened and folded.

Mizora explained: "As for Karlach... I did not lie when I said she was heartless. She does not have a heart. That thing in her chest is an infernal engine, Wyll. It was optimised to operate inside of Avernus. Take her to Faerun and it becomes a death sentence, not just for her but for everyone around her. Surely, the Blade of Frontiers normally does not shy away when he knows that the lives of many are at stake. After all, you would not have helped Karlach by sparing her. You would have prolonged the inevitable. She was going to die in Faerun sooner or later. You did not just do the world a favour. You did her a favour. Even if she were not a devil, you mercy-killed someone who was on death's row."

@ravengrd cont. from here.

[shimmerbeasts]

Wyll was still new to the hunts, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t easily catch up to the imp, whose wings had been injured to point of not working. He watched it resort to the scampering by foot, unphased by it. The main target he’d been sent to hunt summoned it in attempt to ambush him. Yet this imp knew it stood no chance of winning the fight with its master dead. What it didn’t know, was that the young warlock could be in front of him in an instant. The imp had gotten decent headway when Mizora riled him up with her words. Wyll lifted his hand for a moment; watching red magic dance in his palm. The fire entranced him, brought forth by dark magic he knew he should he ashamed of using. Magic his father would have relentlessly judged him for, the cause of his banishment with a devils aid. He was no longer his father’s son, though. The cruel grin forming on his face as he turned his attention back to the imp was an indication of that. Wyll without another second to waste Misty Stepped in front of the imp. “Dolor.” Two bolts of red, hit the imp with a forceful impact, killing it instantly. To ensure its death wyll tapped the unmoving corpse with his rapier. “As if it could run away from the blade.” Wyll knelt down pressing the edge of rapier against its neck. “Would you like its head?”

Dealing with an imp on its own could hardly be considered a big challenge. The little fiends were a greater trouble when there was a swarm of them, though one of them would do nicely as a distraction. Which no doubt was what the now-dead devil had intended for this imp to be. However, her pet had taken swift care of it. Maybe even a bit too fast. Instead of just letting the imp retreat back into the safety of Avernus' bowels, Wyll had struck after it with a stray spell, damaging its wings.

The imp was now scampering away on foot, skittering across the dirt path like a little rat. It was almost too tempting to not rile Wyll up when it came to this little dilemma. The moment Mizora had whispered about how the little creature of evil was getting away, a change seemed to come over Wyll. Dark red magic danced across his palm and reflected in his eyes. He seemed strangely transfixed and curious by the power thrumming through his being.

"Go on, puppy", Mizora crooned with a bloodthirsty smile on her lips and a malicious glee in her red eyes. She cradled Wyll's wrist in her hand, making the infernal magic spark and flare up higher and higher. "Use it. That's what it's for, is it not? To vanquish evil."

It did not matter to Mizora that Wyll was essentially using her powers to do good, according to his own words. If anything, she found the contradiction absolutely mouthwatering. Who didn't love having a fraud as a pet? Her little monster hunter. Such a precious thing and what an eagerly japping puppy! So eager to prove himself to her. It was almost like Mizora was Wyll's princess and he wanted her hand in a jousting tournament.

Her warlock misty stepped in front of the fleeing imp. The little fiend shrieked in shock and skittered across the floor, trying its best to halt its assault. Coming to a stop only a few feet in front of Wyll, the tiny devil bared its fangs and flexed its claws. It snarled and snapped at Wyll, however as bolts of ominous, bloodred magic manifested in Wyll's hand, ejecting from his palm, the imp's eyes widened. It was struck by the eldritch blasts, flung backwards and died instantly before it even had a chance to hit the ground.

"How right you are, tiger!" Mizora punched the air with an elated smile. "Nobody can run away from the blade for too long. In the end, it always finds its mark." The Cambion tilted her head aside, her lips tugging into a mocking, bemused smile. How quaint! Her pet remembered her preferences. An imp's head would hardly qualify as a good enough morsel, but she would not mind suckling the skin from its skull.

Mizora offered Wyll her open hand. "Go on", she said, "Chop off its head for me, pet. I think I can go for a little snack. After all, why not suckle on a mint for a while?"

@faerunscursed cont. from here.

[shimmerbeasts]

I really like that Mizzy got a bit of a colour change from concept art to the EA art. It makes her more distinguished, especially when you put her next to Raphael or the Sisters of Justice. They would have all looked really samey if they were all red.

EA and Concept art.

[shimmerbeasts]

Send "play" to play with the tail - Karlach with Wyll's tail

Touch The Tail||Accepting.

His tail was fire-resistant; who knew?

Wyll stared down at Karlach's hands, which had looped around his tail. Its black colour and sleek texture seemed to absorb the heat almost instead of being scorched by it. Karlach, enraptured and fascinated, brushed her hands down the length of his tail before she halted at its corpse-blue tip. She then very quickly shook her wrist back and forth to make the tip swish back and forth like mad.

The prattling sound of his tail caused Wyll to giggle. He could not help it. Karlach was so goofily excited about his tail. It was adorable. Whenever she was like this around their companions, it was easy to forget that she had a fury, which could easily match the fires of Avernus in her chest. Wyll would forever be grateful that he had spared her, for as powerful as Karlach was as an ally as terrifying she was as a foe.

Wyll cleared his throat and as Karlach looked at him with her pupils, filling out her bright yellow eyes, it took every ounce of willpower to not start uncontrollably laughing. Karlach reminded him so much of a cat like this with how she played with his tail and stared at it with the brightest eyes as if it was the most exciting thing she had ever seen.

"Are you attempting to turn my tail into a musical instrument?", Wyll teased his companion, however, he made no attempt to pull his tail away. It must feel good for Karlach to be able to interact with something without the fear of burning it severely.

[shimmerbeasts]

Send "wrap" to let the tail wrap around a part of your body (from Wyll to mizora)

Touch The Tail||Accepting.

"Pet?"

Mizora appeared behind Wyll, who was standing by the river's shore where they had made camp. Behind them, in the camp, they could hear the laughter and joyful singing of the tieflings, who were celebrating the defeat of the goblin horde and their three corrupt leaders. Even the rest of Wyll's playmates had gotten swept along in the festivities, laughing and drinking. They all looked like they were having the night of their lives. All, except for Wyll.

"My poor little pupster, all by his lonesome. Do you need me to drag you to the rest of the group?"

Mizora was teasing, however, upon noticing Wyll's sunken expression and dull eyes, she stepped closer and gingerly scooped up his limp tail with hers. Winding them around one another, Mizora opened one of her wings to cover Wyll's back with it. Her red eyes shimmered with concern, which she only ever truly showed towards her warlock.

"Wyll?", Mizora asked, "Is everything okay? Shouldn't you be proud?" She did her hardest to suppress the eye roll, which wanted to accompany her next sentence. "After all, you got to be the hero again. The famed Blade of Frontiers, saving the innocent from monsters. Just like you always wanted to be. Though I must admit: Goblins are hardly worthy opponents for someone of your stature."

[shimmerbeasts]

Send "caress" to gently touch the tail - @carefuldarlingibite to Wyll

Touch The Tail||Accepting.

At first, the suddenness of the touch caused Wyll to draw in the air in surprise. However, upon realising how soft and gentle the touch was, he relaxed somewhat. All the while trying very hard to not think about how gentle Mizora could be with him when she wanted to be. However, he could also tell that this wasn't her touch. As far as Wyll knew, Mizora did not touch someone's tail with her hand.

Turning his head, he spotted Astarion, who had taken his tail into his hands and ran his fingers across it. His transformation had given him a long, sleek tail with a thining tip. It was as black as charcoal, the hide leathery, yet smooth, and it ended in a corpse-blue discolouration at its tip. The same tint of colour, which Mizora had. Wyll had tied a dagger to the tip with a small scarf. Astarion continued to idly trace his hands over his tail, examining it like he was seeing it for the first time.

Wyll gave a soft huff of breath as he remarked: "Now, you suddenly care for it?"

He could not help but examine Astarion himself. The pale elf with his tuffy curls as white as snow did not look like his deal with Mizora had changed him outwardly. However, Wyll could detect the same smell, he was surrounded by: Sulphur, Avernus' fiery blaze and the sickly sweet undertone of orchids. Mizora's own personal scent mark.

Wyll carefully eased his tail out of Astarion's grasp and let it fall on the floor. He inquired: "Why did you not tell me that you intended to do this? It would have been nice to know what you were doing instead of having Mizora spring that all on us blindly."

[shimmerbeasts]

receiver finds sender cleaning up a kill in a daze (wyll and mizzy)

Blood, blood, gallons of that stuff||Accepting.

Sometimes, the hunts, Mizora had to send Wyll on, were more about his self-preservation than hers. While she made sure that nobody on Faerun ever knew of her involvement with Wyll, the Nine Hells of Baathor were a different story. Quite a few Baatezu with enough influence regarded Wyll as a thorn in their eyes and thus tried to get rid of him.

Of course, few were willing to go up against him directly and thus sent a member of their own forces after Wyll. Mizora had learned through espionage, torture and manipulation of information that a Cambion had been sent out to find and kill Wyll. Naturally, she had immediately let her pup know of the threat and ordered him to kill his pursuer. After all, she couldn't have some lesser devils assume they could just get rid of the bloodhound, which she so regularly sicced on them.

Mizora shaped herself out of the gore, viscera and blood, which had come out of the dead Cambion's body. That already cued her in that something was off as usually, she had to make the ground boil and bubble to get up. But here Wyll had created such a bloodbath that it was enough to support a plane shift. While Mizora was no stranger to gore and gruesome sights of death, as even the torture of Baathor could get you killed, it was a rarity to see that happen with Wyll.

Even with her puppy being a devil himself now, adorned with horns and a tail of his own, Wyll usually had at least some reservations when it came to blind butchery. He may have gotten more aggressive in his style, but even then, there was usually a sense of precision to his strikes. Devils, while easily capable of butchery, were more concerned with getting the job done. That meant as swift a death as possible. If a devil drew your suffering out, that meant you had pissed them off.

Having manifested properly, Mizora inspected the carcass of the Cambion with a look of disgust on her face. The wings had been cut off to prevent the creature from flying away. One of the hands had been chopped, leaving the arm a stomp. Looking around, Mizora found the missing hand a few feet away, still clutching the sword, it had swung. The Cambion's throat was cut open, and that should have been the end of it, but that clearly was not the case.

The throat wound had not been deep enough to kill. It had been a knick, which caused you to bleed out slowly. Wyll had maimed and disarmed the Cambion, making sure that it was fully awake for what he was about to do next. Placing a clawed foot against the Cambion's shoulder, she rolled the dead on its back to reveal Wyll's gory masterpiece. The stomach had been cut open and the innards half pulled out and chopped and hacked into bits. Wyll must have knelt down, taken out a dagger and stabbed rigorously until his arm hurt.

My poor, little puppy... What prompted you to do that?

Looking around for him, her brows jumped up as Mizora spotted Wyll kneeling on the ground, a drenched towel in his hand. He was desperately rubbing over a bloodied body, which did not look infernal at all. As Mizora stepped closer, she could make out that it was an innocent high elf, a civilian, judging by her clothes. Wyll was trying to clean a wound on her back. The flesh around the wound's edges was scorched and sizzling. It seemed like Wyll had maybe tried to open the fight against the Cambion with a blast of burning hands, but the high elf had somehow gotten struck in the back by some of the flames, instantly dying from her burn wounds.

Wyll's eyes were wide and his expression a mask of terror and shock. Too stunned to speak, he just kept pressing the wet towel on the wounds of the elf as if the moisture could somehow take the burn away. "Pup?", Mizora called softly, but Wyll did not react. Even his mind felt like it was surrounded by a thick wall or cotton. It was hard to make her presence known.

"Wyll", Mizora called again, deliberately using his name this time, "You couldn't know this was going to happen." She stepped beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Put the towel down, puppy. We will bury that little nobody. An unmarked grave is better than nothing at all. Besides, it will do more than just trying to clean a wound, which is already too severe to cure."

Her hand reached for his wrist. Mizora peeled the wet towel out of Wyll's grasp. She closed her fingers around the warlock's palm. "Come on, puppy", she said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze and thug, "On your feet. That's a good boy."

[shimmerbeasts]

Now that Wyll was a devil, there was something different to the hunts in which Mizora sent him on. Not because of anything on her end, in fact she had simply sent him after targets that were no different from the ones before. No, what was different was him, more specifically the thrill in which he seemed to get from these hunts. How the flames of Avnernus felt like they were bursting through his chest. The way it made his heart race at the thrill capturing and killing his prey as if never stood a chance. This had been a hunt he hadn't told his party about, in fact he had snuck away, simply told them he would be back soon. Nothing more for them to know. The blood of his prey was stained on his finger tips as he sat silently at his tent, which he had just returned to. Heterochromic eyes in the form his his red iris and stone eye glanced at the blood, as if in a trance. It wasn't until he heard the flames announcing Mizora's presence, accompanied by the smell of sulphur of orchids, that his attention shifted to the half-fiend. The Warlock took in a deep breath, inhaling the scent in its entirity. Of course she hadn't come empty handed either, as he noted the jewelry in her hands, jewelry that was too long to go around his neck, or any limbs. "To earn the presence of Mizora herself with a gift? I must have done really good." There was the hint of pride in his tone as he didn't shy away from her approach. In fact the high of the hunt was still in effect, causing him to be even more relaxed with the half-fiend's presence. "I must tell you, I haven't worn jewelry in years, but you know that."

Yet still the warlock made no attempt to stop her from putting the jewelry on his horns. "What does this do? I assume it has a purpose other than to look pretty."

Their pact, and its subsequent arrangement, still stood, however, due to the Illithid tadpole in Wyll's head, Mizora had to be a bit creative when she was sending him out to hunt. Her pupster could not afford to stay away from this gang of misfits for too long. Not only because their leader had pocketed the astral prism, but also because they would start to question where he was. It did not matter that the group knew of the deal between them - they still regarded it and her with utmost content, or loathing, if they happened to be Karlach.

While the hunts had to be adjusted a bit in their frequency, not much else had changed. Mizora still had Wyll target fiends and devils alike, whether those were people, who had betrayed Zariel or were actively working against her. Once every while, she even went after people, who had angered Mizora herself. This hunt here though had been the former. A hobgoblin, who had conspired with a devil from another ring in the hopes of furthering their own goals and intruding upon Avernus in the process. Judging by the blood, soaking Wyll's fingers, these plans had been cut fairly short.

The flames of Avernus died down around her, masquerading her smile in their smoke. Mizora's grin revealed her pointy fangs in all her glory as pleased eyes inspected Wyll from top to bottom like he was the prized winning dog at a dog show. Ever since her pupster had been made a devil, he had become more susceptible towards her suggestions and the darkness in his heart. The way, he inhaled the air around her, taking in her scent, the same scent, which bonded them together, proved just how much he had grown. Few warlocks would so openly engage with the devils upon their shoulders. A lot of them liked to pretend that they had at least a shred of dignity left.

Mizora laughed a soft, pearly ring and laid a hand on her chest as she teased back: "Ever the charmer! But then why should I not delight in such a spectacular hunt, my pet! Goodness me, I am still all tingly from it." Her wings rustled the air and her tail swayed from side to side, tip curling upwards. "I have to say, I was almost tempted to join in on it myself. You made that hobgoblin squeal so lovely. It was magnificent to hear!"

"So, of course, you earned yourself a little treat", Mizora continued as she stepped closer towards Wyll. The decorative chains with round clasps swayed softly from her arms. The glistening golden links were adorned with crusted gems and pearls. Amber topas, deep ruby and dark amethyst glittered tantalisingly in the evening sun. Silver pearls rolled across the links like tears. The jewellery radiated both beauty and power at the same time, making it hot to the touch.

"And I know, puppy", Mizora purred as Wyll remarked how he had not worn jewellery in a long time, "That's quite alright. I will put them on for you." Lean, fine fingers of corpse blue brushed over Wyll's horns as they dandily opened the first clasp, affixed it near the tip of his horn, wound the golden chain around the horn and then attached the second clasp near the base.

As she moved to affix the other horn decoration, Mizora said: "You are right, pet. It is not just supposed to look pretty. This decoration will allow you to cast the spell Command without exhausting you too much. Furthermore, if you can bring yourself to tap into your darker nature, it allows you to cast Crown of Madness. Both of these spells can serve you well in fights when utilised properly."

@faerunscursed cont. from here.

[shimmerbeasts]

27. Party banter with Wyll ( maybe a nice three way convo with jinx and mizora there?)

Tav/Durge Unique Voice Lines||Accepting.

[Conversation triggers after failing the mirror test in the abandoned pharmacy in the blighted village]

Wyll: What the hells? Jinx, your little claim on balsam almost got us killed! Jinx: Hey! Do not blame me! Blame Shovel. Mizora: One would think that after being pacted with me, you two would know not to trust a quasit. Jinx and Wyll: Mizora, shut up!