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grandmother-goblin · 1 year ago

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Field Study - Chapter 10

Ao3 - Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Astarion has made a huge mistake, but how much does it really matter? Cas doesn't really mean anything to him, right? So what if she's upset? But when Astarion finds a surprise in his tent, he realizes how far he has fallen and how much he has to lose. And damn the gods, he doesn't want to lose her.

Relationships: Astarion x Female!Tav

Rating: Explicit (18+) for eventual smut.

Word Count: 5k

Chapter Tags: Astarion gets a portrait, awkward conversations, Astarion is going after what he wants, confessions.

Content Warning: Astarion thinks some not-so-nice thoughts about Gale. The thoughts he has are reflective of his character, not of me. I love Gale. Astarion just happens to be a bit pissed at him a bit in this chapter.

Astarion spent the rest of the night trapped in his own head. When he had reconvened with the others, it was like his disastrous rendezvous with the drow had never even happened. Gale and Wyll had appeared none the wiser, quietly preparing for the night ahead while Cas went through the plan one more time.

If Astarion didn’t know any better, it seemed like Cas had already pushed their argument from her mind. Yet, she couldn’t quite meet his gaze. Any time he tried to make eye contact with her, she found something to distract herself in an apparent effort to avoid looking at him all together.

Then there was the proximity. He had grown used to all of her little touches; her fingers against his hand as she passed by, a friendly bump against his shoulder, or a playful whisper in his ear. That had all stopped.

Cas was cordial, polite, and outwardly friendly. But she had distanced himself from him in a way that only he would notice.

And it fucking hurt.

So he turned his focus on the task ahead of him. Raw frustration, anger, and pain writhed within him like live snakes waiting to strike. He itched to hurt something else because it would distract him from the sharp ache in his chest.

Unfortunately for him, Cas’s plan aimed to avoid fighting and bloodshed. Initially, Astarion thought it was a great plan. It was quick, efficient, and didn’t put them in any more danger than necessary. Now that he wanted to kill something, he hated the plan.

Yet he still went along with it because if he didn’t, he’d likely get himself killed. Or end up getting Cas physically hurt. Both of which he would rather avoid. He didn’t even think about the repercussions for Wyll or Gale because he simply couldn't care less.

Cas and Gale had mapped out the temple and located the sleeping quarters for each of the three leaders ahead of time. Gale had called the plan cowardly, and maybe he was right, but even the walking encyclopedia couldn’t argue that it wasn’t effective. Like an assassin, Cas slipped into their rooms under the cover of darkness and slit the throats of the goblin leaders before they could wake.

Only one of the leaders, the hulking hobgoblin called Ragzlin, managed to put up a real fight. Thanks to a silencing spell courtesy of Gale, Ragzlin couldn’t call for help. But that didn’t stop the brute from flinging Cas against a wall like she was nothing more than a child’s doll when he awoke with her blade to his throat.

In that moment, Astarion saw red. He wasn’t sure how he did it, but he killed the hobgoblin himself. By the time he could safely go check on Cas, Wyll was already helping her to her feet with a healing potion in hand.

Other than that hiccup, the rest of the mission went rather smoothly. They found Halsin locked in a dungeon and they had to take out a few goblins to get to him, but that wasn’t any trouble. In the end, they were able to slip out of the encampment before sunrise with the druid in tow and without risking their necks more than absolutely necessary.

During the walk to the closest teleportation rune, Astarion was itching to talk to Cas. He wanted to pull her aside and apologize again. But he didn’t get the chance to. Instead, he stared at the back of her head as she chatted away with Halsin, absolutely engrossed in the research the archdruid had done on the tadpole. Astarion couldn’t find a good way to interrupt them without making things weird, so he didn’t.

He just watched, wishing Cas was talking to him instead.

Astarion’s whole body ached by the time they made it back to camp. His head pounded, the bottoms of his feet were sore, and his eyes burned from exhaustion. Thankfully, Halsin had split off from the group to return to the grove and they didn’t have to deal with that mess right away.

He ducked into his tent and another pang of emotion lanced through his chest. The bedding was still rumpled from the night before. The memory of her laying beneath him rushed to the forefront of his mind. The way her legs wrapped around his hips as he sank into her welcoming heat, the feel of her mouth against his as they stifled their moans of pleasure, and the way her eyes locked with his in the darkness….

He mentally shook off the memory as he spotted something different among the mess in his tent. Something new.

On top of his pillow sat a piece of paper, loosely rolled up and wrapped in a cheery yellow ribbon. Beneath the neat bow that tied the whole parcel together was a small rectangular card. He didn’t even need to look at it to know who it was from.

Astarion let the flap to his tent close behind him and sat on the end of his bedroll, staring at the gift as he unlaced his boots. Though his mind burned with curiosity, his desire to get comfortable won out. He quickly removed his light armor and changed into more casual clothes. Yet, when he was finished, he hesitated. If the gift was from who he thought it was from, would she still want him to have it? Should he give it back?

No. Even though the present had to have been left before they went to the goblin camp, before everything with the drow, it was still for him. He carefully picked up the parcel and slid the card out from beneath the ribbon.

Crisp, neat, handwriting that was all too familiar scrawled across the parchment and his heartbeat quickened as he read.

Astarion,

Thank you for being my friend and making me laugh. I drew this from memory since I wanted to surprise you, so it’s not as good as looking in a mirror, but it’s pretty close.

Love, Cas

P.S. I hope this isn’t weird. P.P.S If this isn’t weird, maybe I can show you how I draw nudes. P.P.P.S Okay, that part was weird but I don’t want to rewrite this note again.

A combination of amusement and disbelief pulled a chuckle out of him and he shook his head. Somehow, the mental image of Cas agonizing over something simple as a note so much that she rewrote it brought a flutter to his stomach. If she was there with him, he definitely would have given her some inspiration for a nude drawing just to show his appreciation.

But she wasn’t there, nor did she want to be.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Astarion untied the ribbon and let the paper fall open. Despite having not seen his own face in over a hundred years, he recognized himself in drawing immediately.

It was a portrait, but not the kind that wealthy people had adorning their homes with bored faces and stiff postures. It was a vibrant work of art.

Cas had drawn him in sunlight.

It almost looked like he was in motion. The smile he wore showed the tips of his fangs and his blood red eyes demanded attention with a piecing, wicked, gaze. The bright colors and dramatic shading weren’t completely realistic but they were beautiful. And the piece came together into something he couldn’t put into words.

Pressure built behind his eyes as he traced over every detail; the bite mark on his neck, a little scar on the corner of his mouth, the fall of his white hair and the embroidery on his clothes all rendered in a way he didn’t know was possible with mere colored pencils.

Astarion stared at the drawing as if he was afraid it would vanish into thin air if he looked away.

It was him.

For the first time in hundreds of years, he saw his own face. And it was all thanks to a woman he had so carelessly hurt.

“Why did she do this?” he muttered and dragged his palm down his face.

He glanced toward the entrance to his tent. Had Cas had already begun her meditation? Perhaps he should check and see. But the weight in his chest kept him pinned to the ground and it was probably for the best. Cas needed her space. He had to respect that.

With a heavy sigh, Astarion let his head fall onto his pillow. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the fabric. Inhaling deeply, he clutched the portrait against his chest and closed his eyes, knowing his meditation would not come easily with the mess of thoughts running through his mind.

—

Astarion’s trance lasted longer than it usually did. It was most likely due to physical exhaustion, but some part of it was because he dwelled on what he was going to say to Cas.

He had made a mistake with the drow. Hells, he knew he made a mistake long before he even killed the man but seeing Cas’s reaction only solidified that unfortunate realization.

Technically, he didn’t cheat.

Cheating implied that he and Cas had some sort of official relationship, didn’t it? It wasn’t like she didn’t go off flirting with Wyll, so why was it a big deal that he just happened to go a little further? He was allowed to explore before committing to something official, wasn't he?

So much of his existence had been tainted and controlled by Cazador, he wasn’t even sure what to do with the emotions he felt weren’t anger, spite, or fear. Something as warm and gentle as the feeling Cas stirred within him felt uncomfortable. It felt fake. And he had endured enough pain in his life to know that the more comfortable he was, the more it would hurt when it was all ripped away. He didn’t want to wait for that blissful little illusion of happiness to collapse around him, so he shattered it himself.

In a way, it felt like he had escaped one master only to immediately chain himself to another.

Even as he rolled the argument over in his mind, he couldn’t convince himself of it. What he did was unfair to Cas, no matter how he tried to make himself believe otherwise.

He was the one who asked for something more with her, and she agreed to see where things would go. It wasn’t an official commitment, but it was something. And that something was going straight into a ditch never to be unearthed again if he didn’t try to fix it.

Sunlight slipped through the loosely tied entrance of his tent, slashing a stripe across the portrait still clutched to his chest. He stared at it again, inspecting every inch of the page like he was seeing it for the very first time. It was so well done, so lovingly detailed and precious. His throat felt tight as realization set in.

Cas must have been working on the portrait for some time. Before they even spent the night together, maybe even before they went to see the hag and he was attacked by the Gur. She was so busy keeping everyone alive and seeking out a cure for the tadpole, that fact that she had found time to make him such a lovely gift only meant one thing.

Cas cared about him.

Cas cared about him, and Astarion was an idiot because he cared about her too.

Jealousy and his possessive nature had gotten the best of him, and he shouldn’t have let it. If he hadn’t, Cas would probably be snuggled against his chest right now, warm and preferably naked. He wanted her to be the first thing he saw when he roused from his trance, not an empty tent.

Apart from Cazador, Astarion was his own worst enemy.

After tucking the portrait away somewhere safe where it wouldn’t get damaged, Astarion dressed and stared at the entrance to his tent. Cas was almost certainly outside working on something around camp. As much as he needed to talk to her, he hesitated. Despite his hours of meditation, he still didn’t feel ready.

To procrastinate longer, Astarion brushed his teeth and went to the river to bathe; both of which took much longer than normal. At one point he wondered if he was just putting off the conversation, or if he was just trying to make himself look the best he possibly could in hopes the effort would somehow work in his favor. Maybe it was a combination of both. He ended up waiting until his hair dried before venturing back to camp, giving him a few more minutes to find his spine.

Cas sat next to Shadowheart in front of an unlit campfire. It was midafternoon, but the sun was strong, and the two women were keeping cool by sharing a bottle of chilled white wine as Cas recalled a story about her brother.

If the wine was cold, that meant that Gale was probably awake and loitering around somewhere since he was the one with frost spells. Gale was the last person Astarion wanted to see. Not just because the know-it-all was insufferable on a good day, but because said know-it-all had been right. Astarion hadn’t been thinking of anyone but himself and his own egocentric world and ended up hurting Cas, just like Gale said. Just imagining the wizard’s smug superiority made Astarion want to punch him in the face.

Not wanting to run into Gale, Astarion gave himself exactly two more seconds of nervously fiddling with a loose thread on his shirt before he interrupted the conversation.

“I hate to intrude, but may I borrow Cas for a few minutes?” he asked, forcing a lightness to his tone that he did not feel. Anxiety gnawed at his stomach like a swarm of starving rats and he hated every second of it.

Shadowheart leaned back on one hand and swirled her wine with the other. “Only a few minutes?” she teased, giving Cas a conspiratorial smirk. “I suppose I can spare her.”

The smile from Cas’s conversation with Shadowheart lingered on her lips but faded from her eyes when she looked at him. She finished her glass of wine and set the glass down at her feet. “Sure,” she agreed with phony alacrity. “You can come with me to pick some blackberries.”

Foraging for food sounded about as appealing as stepping in horse dung, but what choice did he have? He didn’t agonize over this conversation all day for nothing.

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Shadowheart raised her glass to her lips, mischief in her eyes that said she fully expected them to be doing something else entirely.

Cas only laughed as she picked up a metal bucket from the camp’s pile of supplies. “We’ll be back in a bit.”

Shadowheart waved them off. “If you don’t come back with blackberries, I’ll be sorely disappointed.”

Judging by Cas’s tight smile, it was clear to him that she was appeasing him rather than looking forward to their little field trip. She cocked her chin toward the copse of trees bordering their campsite and started walking. Astarion swallowed down his nerves and kept pace beside her, suddenly not knowing what to say despite having the day to think about it.

Something about being around Cas made his mind go blank. It was absolutely infuriating.

For a while, they just walked together without saying a word. Nothing but the sound of songbirds overhead and leaves and twigs crackling beneath their feet accompanied the thick air between them.

Words danced on the tip of his tongue, but whenever he found himself about to say something, he bit it back at the last moment. It quickly became clear that he was the one who would have to start the conversation. Cas seemed perfectly content to walk beside him in excruciatingly awkward silence.

He glanced over at Cas’s face to try to gauge how she was feeling. It was completely impassive. In fact, she almost looked bored. His eyes traced over the thick black lashes that framed her dark eyes to the delicate slope of her nose to the smooth skin of her slender neck….

Wait.

His bite mark was gone.

A lead weight settled in his stomach as he looked over her unmarked skin. On some primal level, he felt the need to fix it. To bite her again. To claim her as his. His fangs ached with the sudden urge, but he resisted. But still, after so many days of seeing those little puncture wounds and bruised skin… the sight of her unmarred flesh felt wrong.

As if she felt the intensity of his stare, Cas swallowed and pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear and said, “It’s a bit humid today."

Great. Her bite mark was gone and now she was talking about the bloody weather.

Astarion made a sound somewhere between an exasperated sigh and a groan. The awkwardness between them was like a thick fog that obscured his train of thinking. The apology he had been mulling over in his head lingered on his tongue, but instead of saying those words he said, “Thank you for the drawing.”

‘Thank you’ didn’t begin to cover the depths of gratitude he felt for the gift, but it was a start. It was better than saying nothing at all.

“Oh.” The corner of her mouth twitched as something like disappointment flashed across her face before she schooled her features into a pleasant mask, wooden and empty. Instead of looking at him, she passed the bucket she was carrying from one hand to the other by the handle. “No problem. I’m glad you liked it.”

Silence fell between them once again like an inescapable shroud. Somewhere behind them, a crow cawed, mocking him and the death of the best relationship he could remember.

Without saying anything, Cas stopped beside a blackberry bramble that bordered the trail and set the bucket down. The bush was taller than her, though some of the branches were heavy with ripe berries. She plucked a few, gathering as many as she could hold in her palm before dropping them into the bucket with a metallic thump.

For some reason, Astarion hadn’t thought she had been serious about the blackberries. They had more than enough food at camp, there was no reason for her to go out and gather more. But he knew she liked to be prepared and always needed something to tend to.

At her core, Cas was a nurturer. From day one she had been working tirelessly to make sure everyone had what they needed. Food, water, shelter, supplies….

Astarion thought back to that very first night after they escaped the mindflayers. Cas had lied to him. She had given him a bedroll, claiming it was a spare that she found and he didn’t realize it was her own until the next morning. She laughed it off, saying that he looked like he needed it more than she did.

When she had learned he was a vampire, she gave him the very blood in her veins. Not because she had to, but because she wanted to. Simply to be sure he was taken care of and she knew he would prefer it to the animal blood he had been choking down.

And when he went missing in the goblin camp, bleeding and poisoned in a cold and dusty chamber, she was the one who went looking for him. Even when she learned what he had done, she still took care of him when another might have left him to his fate.

Astarion picked at that pesky loose thread on the sleeve of his shirt. Taking a breath, he willed himself to look at Cas.

Dappled sunlight chased shadows across her face as the full tree branches above swayed in the gentle breeze. It was fitting. Almost poetic. If she was the sunlight, then he was the shadows. And he never craved the sun’s warmth more than he did at that moment.

“Cas,” he started, his voice not much louder than a whisper. “I’m sorry about what happened with the drow. Truly.”

Cas tossed a handful of berries into the bucket but didn’t look at him. “Why are you apologizing?”

Somehow the innocuous question felt like a slap to the face. Astarion’s brow drew together in bewilderment, his conciliatory air vanishing in an instant. “What do you mean ‘why am I apologizing’? You know why.”

“No, I don’t.” She said the words so nonchalantly while she worked, she might as well be talking about the weather again.

Astarion frowned, the tender feelings he had been ruminating over were warring with his incredulity. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

He blinked at her. That wasn’t how she was supposed to respond. He didn’t expect her to forgive him immediately, but to question why he was apologizing in the first place? Did he have to spell it out for her, or was she just being petulant?

Cas continued not to look at him. She stood on her toes to reach a couple of large berries at the top of the bush, exposing a delicious sliver of skin when her shirt lifted with the movement. It was unfair how attracted to her he was.

A couple more berries landed in the bucket and Cas shifted to a new spot on the bush. Another minute passed in silence as Astarion unconsciously followed her movements, his mind a mess of incongruous thoughts.

Cas breathed out a sigh. “If you aren’t going to help pick berries, you should head back to camp.”

Astarion hesitated. If he turned around and headed back to camp, he might as well close the door on his relationship with Cas for good. No matter what, he couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t. So he found a cluster of blackberries and started picking.

“Why don’t you help me understand what happened,” Cas said after he had picked a couple handfuls of berries.

“You saw what happened,” he said stubbornly. It was one thing to give a vague apology, but another thing entirely to lay his sins out bare for her perusal. Saying anything more felt like handing Cas his heart and a knife and begging her not to stab it repeatedly. He wanted things to go back to the way they were, to go back in time and beg his past self not to let jealousy get the better of him. But the best he could do was try to repair the damage he had already done.

“I saw you got hurt.” She tossed another couple of berries into the bucket. “I saw the drow had some bite marks, only one of which was bloody, and some rumpled clothing. I saw that you were in a similar dishabille....”

Astarion focused on his hands as he worked, suddenly unable to look at her. “I let things go too far,” he said. “I should have stopped him.”

“But you didn’t want to.”

“Not at first, no,” he admitted, although that wasn't the whole truth. The whole truth was far too complicated for him to bring up with her at that moment, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to. “But after a certain point…”

After a certain point, the only person he could think about was Cas. But he didn’t dare say that, so he let the statement hang in the air for her to draw her own conclusions.

“Then why did you do it?”

Because he was jealous. But more than that, he was scared. Terrified of losing Cas. If Wyll didn’t sweep her away, then it was only a matter of time before Cazador got to her and did who knows what. He was going to lose her either way.

He didn’t get to keep things that made him happy, so why should Cas be any different? It was his pitiful attempt to soften the blow disguised by some twisted need for revenge. He didn’t want to lose her to Wyll, so he lost himself to another person just to prove he never needed her.

Oh how wrong he was.

Instead of telling her any of that, he said something incredibly stupid. “He was practically throwing himself at me. I would have been an idiot not to take the opportunity.”

From the corner of his eye, Cas squished a berry between her fingers. She flicked the ruined fruit into the dirt below and continued as if nothing happened. “You should go back to camp.”

“The opportunity to drink his blood,” he quickly amended, almost stumbling over his words in his effort to pull his foot from his mouth. But it was too late. Cas was already turning away from him.

Astarion abandoned his section of the bush and caught her by the crook of her arm. “Cas, wait.”

She roughly shrugged her arm from his grip. “If that’s all there is to it, then we’re done here.”

Cas picked up the bucket, now filled to the brim with plump blackberries, and started back down the path.

His fingernails dug into his palm from how hard he clenched his fists. Even though she didn’t say it explicitly, he knew this was his last chance. He needed to tell her the truth. It was the only card he had left to play.

But did he really want to do it? Was it worth it? Or rather, was she worth it?

Watching her retreating figure, he felt his opportunity slipping away with each step. It was now or never. He had to try something.

“This is your fault, you know,” he called after her.

Cas stopped. A few berries tumbled to the ground when she abruptly turned on her heel, stalking back towards him. She jabbed a finger at his chest, her voice surprisingly calm when she said, “You’re the one who wanted to explore a relationship with me and then you immediately went off with someone else. How is that my fault?”

“Because you make it impossible for me to think straight!” The words shot out of his mouth before his brain could even register what he had just said. Blood drained from his face as a wave of fear washed over him. Admitting that out loud felt like opening a vein, leaving him feeling raw and exposed.

Was there any chance he could use the tadpole to erase Cas’s memory? Because that would be great.

He ran his fingers through his hair, stopping at the tips to pull as if the bit of pain on his scalp would help him gather his wits. But the words were already out. There was no taking them back.

Well, he made it this far so he might as well keep going. At least then when she rejects him, it will be a nice reminder that being ‘honest’ and doing the ‘right thing’ never worked out. He was never good at those things anyway.

“I can’t remember the last time I wanted someone the way I want you and I…” He swallowed and smoothed his hair, needing something to do with his hands. “When I saw you on Wyll’s arm I did something stupid. I thought if I was with someone else, these blasted feelings would go away. But no. I couldn’t do it. I just kept thinking about you. You’re as entrenched in my head as the damned tadpole.”

His pulse pounded in his ears. It wasn’t the whole truth, and it certainly wasn’t romantic, but it was out there. Did his words come out the way he wanted them to? Not exactly. But he wasn’t about to just let Cas walk away without trying. If that meant unlocking the cage around his heart, then so be it.

The past day had proven that Cas had found her way into every fiber of his being. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Couldn’t stop wanting her.

A moment passed. And then another. He wasn’t sure if it was seconds or it was minutes, but Cas didn’t say anything. When he finally braved a glance in her direction, he wasn’t sure what he expected. A cruel smirk? Laughter? Pity? Something to make him regret everything he just said. But it was none of those things.

Cas set the bucket down and folded her arms across his chest. The look she gave him was… thoughtful. Not good, but not bad either.

An unpleasant feeling slithered through him as his mind suddenly went to Cazador. Groveling, begging for forgiveness, waiting to hear whatever torture Cazador decided on as punishment. But he mentally shook off the feeling. This was Cas, not his former master. It wasn’t the same thing. But still, the memories lingered in the back of his mind like a phantom ready to cloak his mind in darkness.

“So what do you want to do?” Cas asked, her tone gentle and curious. Not patronizing, not pitying, not mocking. Just genuine curiosity.

He ran his hand through his hair again. “I want to forget that whole incident ever happened,” he said. “I want another chance.”

Cas’s eyes turned downcast and she pursed her lips. Then, with a sigh, she picked up the bucket and said, “I’ll think about it.”

It wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear, but it was better than flat out rejection. He would have to take what he could get.

“Thank you,” he said, not knowing how else to respond. “How long do you think you’ll need?”

Cas shrugged. “I don’t know. But I’ll let you know when I figure it out. And we should get back before Shadowheart starts speculating.”

Feeling a little numb and very exposed, Astarion nodded.

He desperately wanted to come out of the conversation with a concrete answer, but all he got was a ‘maybe.’ All he could hope for is that that ‘maybe’ would eventually turn into a ‘yes.’

Maybe, one day, Cas won’t want to let him go either. Maybe she’ll want him just as much as he wanted her.

And maybe, Astarion would finally get to keep something that made him happy.

---

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#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #field study bg3 fanfic #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3

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m-for-musings · 6 months ago

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Three drows walk into a dungeon

A Baldur's Gate Multiplayer gameplay featuring:

Nyssala — the ex-lolth-sworn bard, who was snatched by a nautiloid on her day off work in Baldur's Gate.

Jaleem — a seldarine paladin who sworn to never spill drow blood and dreams about unifying all drow. He's never been in Menzoberranzan.

Ilya — a half-drow sorcerer who can't quite control their power, and for some reason is very sure that Jarlaxle Baenre is their father, and wants to meet him.

Saving Halsin

Saving Minthara (part 1)

Saving Minthara (part 2)

#fanfic #fanfic writing #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #drow

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dndhistory · 1 year ago

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52. Gary Gygax - G3: Hall of the Fire Giant King (1978)

The third and last of the G series of adventure modules, the first adventure modules published by TSR, came out at the same time as G1 and G2, but it's almost double the size of those modules. This makes sense for what is a pretty climactic module, as the players finally find who is behind the alliance of giant races and get introduced to one of the most infamous of D&D races: the Drow.

This is the first appearance of the Drow in a story, there is a previous mention of the Drow in the Monster Manual as "legends", but they don't even have stat blocks, the first stat block for the Drow is actually at the end of this module. The module extends through three levels with the first level being the actual Hall of the Fire Giant King, which makes it pretty likely that you will find him, his queen and his retinue right at the start of your adventure. I've never played this module, but it does feel like a good one for TPKs, the challenges are astonishing. If you manage to get through the Fire Giants and their allies which are no walk in the park, you will have to deal with Drows, armed to the teeth with magical weapons and spells.

After you finish the three gruelling levels of the dungeon you find the exit... but it's an exit that goes down, deeper into the earth, into the Underdark, as you will follow the Drow to their homelands in the modules that will follow this (D1-3). No rest for the wicked. A true epic conclusion to the giant storyline and the start of something else, a great classic module. Some great art in this as well, particularly David A. Trampier's Fire Giant on one of the back covers.

#adnd #ttrpg #dnd #ad&d #d&d #dnd art #dungeons and dragons #dungeons & dragons #gary gygax

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chronicallybloodless · 1 year ago

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Heavy to Hold - Chapter 14

Safe Space

Pairing: Astarion x enby!tav Status: in progress Rating: Explicit (18+ only) Genre: angst/comfort | slow burn Alternating second-person POV Contains spoilers for the whole game basically TW: it's an astarion fic: descriptions of trauma, abuse, sexual violence, etc. | smut | full tag list on AO3 Read from the beginning: AO3 | Tumblr Listen to the Playlist

“I have to admit that I’m generally not on the receiving end. I’ll defer to your expert judgement.” You felt the anticipation building in your body. It had been a long time since you truly relaxed and enjoyed yourself. The stress of your current situation and your nights with Astarion had you feeling pent up. The idea of turning over control to someone else sounded positively refreshing.

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Tav's POV

Things weren’t going particularly well for Team Tadpole.

Your merry band of misfits all had a lot of personal issues going on. Wyll’s patron was mad at him for not killing Karlach. Karlach was on the verge of exploding. No one could tell when Shadowheart was being purposefully edgy or just an amnesiac. Lae’zal couldn’t understand why walking directly into a Githyanki creche was perhaps a bad idea for a group of people who were predominantly not Githyanki. Gale was cursed to eat magic shoes on a regular basis because he fucked up a gift for his ex, the literal goddess of magic.

Despite all those issues, at the moment they were mostly concerned with whether Astarion, your resident vampire spawn, was going to drain them in their sleep. He wasn’t.

He was too busy drinking from you.

While his impromptu murder of a monster hunter hadn’t inspired a lot of trust, everyone agreed that the most important task of the moment was finding a way to rid yourselves of your Illithid stowaways before anyone sprouted tentacles. Unfortunately, you weren’t having much success there either. Every healer you had come across was unable to do anything about the parasites slowly burying themselves in your brains. Your best lead so far was an archdruid, but he was of course being held captive in a stronghold of goblin cultists.

Or at least, you hoped he was still being held captive and hadn’t been served up as dinner.

Entering the stronghold had proven an easier task than you had anticipated. The guards outside saw that you were a Drow and started bowing and scraping like you were an authority figure. They also seemed afraid that you were going to flay them. The assumption that your first instinct as a Drow was to enact cruelty on them made you uncomfortable, but it did seem easier to go along with it than try to fight your way to the druid.

So, your group found themselves in a former temple of Selune that had been converted to a goblin fortress. You assumed your druid was being held in the dungeon, but to get there you would have to make your way past a horde of goblins.

As luck would have it, the goblins were mostly wasted and what few braincells they still had up and running were enough to tell them they should be afraid of you, so you were able to enter the main hall with no danger to yourselves other than stepping in goblin puke.

“Ahhh, the smell of debauchery in the air.” Astarion smirked as he threw his arms wide dramatically.

“It’s not quite a hells party but it is certainly something.” Karlach mused.

“Don’t tell me this is your kind of party, Astarion?” Shadowheart questioned. Ever since she found out what was going on between you and Astarion, she had taken to picking on him at every opportunity.

“Well….it does lack a certain glamour.” He frowned as he examined the goblin’s taste in decor. “But a handful of drunken Baldurian Patriars wouldn’t be too out of place here.”

Shadowheart was about to respond, but a blood-curdling scream rose over the din of noise to echo through the chamber.

“Is someone being tortured?” Karlach looked around, trying to find where the noise had come from. She changed off, leaving the other three of you to scurry after her.

When you caught up with her, she was peeking into an open doorway.

“Shhhh….there’s some kind of torture chamber in here.” She whispered as the group huddled in the shadows. “We have to rescue whoever they have in here, they may have seen our druid.”

Just then, a young human stumbled out of the room with a dazed look on his face. You recognized the expression—it was the same one many of your “guests” would have as they left Sharess’ Caress after a long evening.

“Karlach, I don’t think it’s—” You tried to interject, but she had already grabbed the bewildered man and pinned him to the wall.

“What? Is this part of it? I thought it was over once I said pumpernickle?” The man protested.

“Now now, if you want a turn, all you have to do is ask.” A slender man wearing a dramatic collared outfit was standing in the doorway. The dim candlelight cast flickering shadows over his scarred skin.

Karlach released her hold on the man, dropping him to the floor. She leered at the man in the doorway as she stood head and shoulders above him.

“Are you more faithful who have come to beg penance from the Maiden of Pain?”

“Maiden of Pain….” Shadowheart folded her arms as she examined the man, trying to identify his order. “Are you a Loviatan?”

“Ahh, you know her? Splendid! That does save me my usual explanation.” He sighed and shook his head. “I was asked here to help assist these goblins with their techniques, but they do not seem to grasp the complexity of Loviatar’s rituals.”

“With what techniques?” Astarion asked, his eyebrow raised inquisitively.

“Torture.” Shadowheart said flatly. “Loviatar only answers prayers offered to her in blood.”

“Torture is such an ugly word for it.” The man waved his hand dismissively. “Loviatar is the goddess of pain, in all of its exquisite forms. She may not particularly care if her penance is doled out to…reluctant…worshipers, but in my experience as a priest, I’ve found that the most beautiful prayers come from the lips of those who truly enjoy their penance.” His eyes met yours; you could tell he was trying to gauge your interest.

The clergy of Loviatar were somewhat infamous in your line of work. The kinds of elaborate rituals that they would perform would make anything you ever did with a client look positively mundane. You had to admit, it was an intriguing idea. You generally only had the opportunity to give out punishment, not take it, and who better to entrust your penance to than a master of the form?

There was, however, the matter of your companions. You weren’t sure how they would feel about you participating in such an activity voluntarily while you were technically supposed to be on a rescue mission. There was also the matter of Astarion. The two of you had been fairly intimate to facilitate his hunger for blood, though it had never progressed past that. You also weren’t sure if his history with Cazador would make this an uncomfortable situation for him. Perhaps this particular bucket list item would be best skipped for now.

“Forgive my manners.” The priest smirked at you knowingly as he held your gaze. “My name is Abdirak. I haven’t seen many non-goblins during my time here. You are a welcome respite from their primitive approach to pain.”

“I’m sorry, are we ranking types of pain now?” Karlach frowned. This was clearly not her cup of tea.

“Oh, now that sounds like fun.” Astarion cooed. Perhaps he was more interested in this than you had anticipated.

“How refreshing it is to be in the company of those who understand the value of Loviatar’s Love.” Abdirak sighed. “I must admit, it has been too long since I offered a proper penance of my own.” He turned towards you as he spoke. “There’s a shortage qualified individuals around here, and I’ve always found that penance is more effective under proper supervision.”

Gods damn it. Even a priest of the goddess of torture wants to bottom.

“Tell me, if one of us helped you with this…penance.” Shadowheart still looked skeptical as she spoke. “Would you be willing to tell us more about the cultists here?”

“Oh, I do love a good torture for information.” Astarion looked…excited? You couldn’t tell whether it was genuine or he was just trying to maintain his reputation in front of Shadowheart and Karlach.

“An intriguing offer.” Abdirak placed his hand on his chin thoughtfully. “I think if I were able to give and receive penance, I would have some time left over to discuss the cult.”

Such a greedy switch.

“And just who do you think needs to receive penance?” Astarion placed his hands on his hips. There was a tension in his voice. You needed to make sure he wasn’t picked to receive.

“I believe I could handle both roles.” You volunteered. Abdirak’s face lit up—clearly you had been his first choice. He extended a hand towards you to lead you into his chamber.

“Now wait just a moment.” Astarion protested. “What exactly are you going to be doing with them?”

“That will be up to the Maiden of Pain to decide.”

You had to hand it to Abdirak—he had a very solid set-up. All his equipment was meticulously maintained and organized with care. He asked you to start his penance with the whip—a nine-tailed scourge with barbed tips that felt heavy in your hands. It was a bit more extreme that what your clients generally had a taste for, but you were a quick learner.

You soon had him moaning his prayers with delight as the deep red welts developed on his exposed back. He tried to say he was done after eight lashes—but he had agreed to nine and had yet to utter your agreed upon words. Perhaps he wanted to test your commitment, or perhaps he was the type who liked to be pushed ever so slightly past his limits. Either way, you delivered your final strike harder than the last. He screamed his thanks, both to you and to Loviatar.

“Something tells me you’ve done that before.” He chuckled breathlessly. You handed him a cup of water before turning to prepare ointment for his wounds. He raised his eyebrow at you. “Okay, now I know you have.”

“What comes after is just as important as what happens during.” You said with a practiced patience as you tended to his back.

“A beautiful phrase. Loviatar reminds us that we must tend to each other so that we can endure more pain for her in the future.” He smiled at you. “Tell me, who do you serve? Your technique was…different, from what I’m used to.”

You paused for a moment to consider your answer.

“Sharess.”

“Ahh,” he nodded knowingly. “The Maiden of Pain and the Dancing Lady are so rarely worshiped in tandem.” He stood, carefully tensing his back to test the extent of his injuries. “Well, I hope that the experience you’ve granted me was up to your Lady’s standards of pleasure. I certainly enjoyed it.”

You had to admit that Abdirak was a much more pleasing companion than most of the others you had given similar treatment to. So many of the people who came to you for punishment reveled in the shame of it—theirs was a psychological pleasure of being dominated, corrupted by Lolth. Yours was the role of the cruel mistress, the defiler come from the monstrous Underdark to corrupt the surface. It was hard to enjoy such a dynamic when the suspicion that image brought to your kind always crept at the edges of your interactions with people.

In contrast, Abdirak’s pleasure was physical. He ached for the sensations you brought to his body and he reveled in the pain you inflicted as a representation of his faith and devotion. He wore his injuries with pride and seemed to respect you as a skilled practitioner.

And, he hadn’t called you mistress once, which was always a refreshing change.

Now, it was your turn to be penitent.

“Tell me, what sort of pain would bring you the pleasure of Sharess?” He asked, his heavy breathing revealing his excitement.

“I shall endeavor to do my best.” He pointed you towards a set of leather shackles mounted to the wall.

“Try not to draw any blood.” You remarked as you walked towards the wall. Your blood was spoken for, after all.

In true Sharessan fashion, you undressed, leaving only the intricate straps of your undergarments. Abdirak raised an eyebrow.

“Ah, is this the how Sharess prefers her worship?” He smirked at you as he started to remove his elaborate collar. “Far be it from me to disrespect a goddess.”

“My friends just call me Tav.”

“Ha!” The religious pretense fell away as you faced each other, bare skin lit by candlelight as you stood on the cool stone tiles.

You watched as he surveyed your body. Other than a few bruises, your unblemished skin stood in stark contrast to the scars that covered practically every inch of his. He hadn’t looked close enough to find the bite marks that Astarion left on you each night.

“Such an exquisite canvas” He placed a hand under your chin and gently lifted your head towards his. “It will be hard to control the urge to leave my mark on it. I’ll have to be content with bruises.” There was an intensity to his eyes as he spoke—not of bloodlust, but of passion. He reveled not in inflicting pain, but in feeling. Whatever he had in store for you, it would not be soon forgotten.

He twirled a finger slowly, signaling you to turn and face the wall. A shiver ran down your spine as you pressed your skin against the cold stones. Abdirak bent down and spread your legs apart, locking each of your ankles into a shackle. He repeated the motion for your wrists, leaving you exposed and standing on tip-toe. His hand rested gently on your hip as he leaned close and whispered in your ear.

“Looks like there is someone leaving marks on you after all. I hope they don’t mind sharing.” He gave you a swift slap on your bare ass. You yelped at the unexpected sting. “Are you going to scream beautifully for me, dear one?”

You thought about the marks on your thighs and how wet you had been as Astarion placed each one. More often than not, you had returned to your bedroll and imagined what it would have felt like for him to indulge in more than just your blood. You wanted him, but you hadn’t been willing to risk him turning you down and ending what pleasure you did get from him.

You bit your lip as you let your mind wander, imagining the hands on you were his. Every stroke and caress, every strike, serving only to intensify your fantasy. Soon, you found yourself moaning aloud, begging for release.

“That’s my pet.” Astarion’s voice echoed in your mind.

“Aahhh~” You moaned aloud as Abdirak delivered another blow.

“You’re doing so well for me.” You swore you could feel his lips against your neck.

“AAAAhhhh!” You squirmed, trying to find any kind of friction you could from your bound position.

“Come for me.”

“Astarion!” You screamed his name as you fell over the edge. Your legs buckled underneath you as the waves of pleasure overtook your body, leaving you briefly suspended by your wrists.

Abdirak threw the small crop he had been using to the side as he moved to remove you from your shackles. You collapsed into his arms on the floor as you tried to catch your breath.

“You make your Goddess proud.” He chuckled. You could feel his hard cock pressing against you. “If I weren’t devoted to Loviatar, I would be tempted to convert.”

“Do you...want help with that?” You blushed, your breathing still heavy. You suddenly felt guilty for using him to get off.

“While that is a very enticing offer, I think we both know that your attentions lie elsewhere.” He smiled at you. “Thank you for an absolutely exquisite experience. I hope that whoever has your heart appreciates your talents as much as you deserve.”

“I hope so too.”

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #bg3 spoilers #astarion x oc #astarion x mc #astarion fanfic #bg3 tav #bg3 fanfiction #astarion baldurs gate #astarion angst #astarion romance #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfiction #fic: heavy to hold

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galimation · 6 days ago

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My current DnD 5e group is encouraging each other to write session recaps in the form of journal entries for oneself. Obviously I can't comply normally - because of course - and I recap my Prologue Session/Session 0 as an interrogation scene happening afterwards.

(Dusty and his partner Thorne got imprisoned at the end, because the campaign itself starts off with the entire party in prison)

Here's my session recap after the cut <3

Interrogation Log - Svirfneblin Prisoner - 01

Guard: "Our writer is set up now, so let's get this started. What's your name again, svirfneblin"

Prisoner: no response

Guard: "What would you want me to call you?"

Prisoner: stays silent

Guard: "No answer? Alright, I'll keep going with dark gnome then. Why did you come to our wonderful capitol of Aldea, dark gnome?"

Prisoner: "…Would you be happy if I said sightseeing?"

Guard: "I sure would be, but we both know that's not the actual reason, is it"

Prisoner: "I wouldn't tell you any other reason. Are we done now?"

Guard: "Not so fast. What you're saying is, you have another reason… Anything to do with all that treasure we confiscated?"

Prisoner: "I'd like that back, by the way"

Guard: "Yes, yes of course. Once you tell me what's up with it"

Prisoner: "No way in the nine hells-"

(a thump can be heard as the Guard slams the Prisoners head down the table)

Prisoner: "Darn Drow, what's wrong with you?!

Guard: "Please tell me what's up with that treasure of yours"

Prisoner: "Nothin'! Can't an adventurer run around with a bit of money in his pocket?! that hurt, ow"

Guard: "Not if they wanna enter our glorious City; there are customs to pay and paperwork to be filled out. You don't think we just let any scoundrel waltz in"

Prisoner: "You almost let me"

Guard: "Yes, thank the gods we noticed. You were barely visible without any moonlight, I'll give you that"

Prisoner: "Sure, thanks…"

Guard: "Back to it, what's up with that treasure of yours?"

Prisoner: "Like I said, I'm an adventurer. That's all"

Guard: "I know what types of adventurers are out there. Most of them are better off behind bars if you ask me-"

Prisoner: "I didn't-"

(a heavier thump can be heard as the Guard slams the Prisoners head down again)

Guard: "Don't interrupt someone while they're speaking to you. Now where was I?" Guard: "What type of adventurer are you? Murder for hire or opportunistic thief"

Prisoner: "Dungeon delver, if you can believe it… Effin Drider, that hurt like hell"

Guard: "Speak loudly so I can hear your mumbling" Guard: "'Dungeon Delver', ok… Fits with how easy you're missed. Tell me about your latest excursion and I just might not put another hand on you"

Prisoner: "Geez, you're a pain. I'll talk" Prisoner: "My partner and I heard about a sunken temple to some deity, I don't know which one. We roped down from a hole in the top and began exploring. Further in we found goblins in a weird trance. A couple were just standing around, others walking in circles; it was weird man"

Guard: "The goblins just stood around?"

Prisoner: "Yeah"

Guard: "And then? Keep going dark gnome"

Prisoner: "We arrived in the deepest chamber, just in time to deal with a newly summoned demon-"

Guard: "Describe them in detail"

Prisoner: "… If you let me speak? A newly summoned demon, purple skin, with spikes all over him and wings resembling a cloak"

Guard: "Sounds more like a 'Spined Devil' than any demon"

Prisoner: "What does it matter now, it's dead. Anyway, in said chamber we found that treasure you're asking about" Prisoner: "Then we had to buck it out of there, as the remaining goblins snapped out of their trance and started chasing us"

Guard: "You didn't clean up as you continued?"

Prisoner: "After we got rid of the first three we noticed they would just ignore us if we ignored them"

Guard: "Ridiculous… So what then. Why did you take your treasure here?"

Prisoner: "To sell, obviously"

Guard: "You're not from here, dark gnome. You could have sold it closer to the dungeon, but you came here… Any reason?"

Prisoner: "Sightseeing, of course"

(the Guards chair clatters back as an even louder thump erupts)

Guard: "We're done for today. Put that gnome back in his cell and bring me his partner. He seems like the more cooperative type"

Prisoner: "Bastard"

End of Interrogation Log - Svirfneblin Prisoner - 01

#creative writing #ttrpg writing #dnd 5e writing #oc writing #original writing #interrogation scene #Dusty Lightfingers #ellipsus #I used ellipsus as my writing programm and it's nice

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theshakespearetrash · 1 month ago

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5. What is your PC’s idle animation?

I am not ashamed to admit I had to look up what this was BUT. As I am terrible at making decisions I will answer it for all the PCs I've played. >:)

Jago (half-elf Bard/Rogue who returned as a clone of himself after getting bitten in half by a Sphinx and later accidentally became a necromancer and taxi driver of giant flying vampires, also commandeered a pirate ship): noodling on his lute

Talbot (Edward Kelley expy rogue, probably also a half-elf because I went through a Phase, created for a one shot): forging documents

Theophilus Rex (ostrich bard because it was a bird adventure, proficient with brewer's supplies): brewing and drinking beer

Andreas Naszló (Drow monk, alchemist, escaped ex-consort of Lolth priestesses, I played him in Curse of Strahd and my claim to fame was poisoning some monsters with the weird dream pies and setting the hag windmill on fire with a crafted Molotov cocktail): doing chemical experiments

Gned the Gnome (artificer, specifically a jeweller, had to be carried by the Warforged for the duration of the adventure because everyone else in the party was Very Large martial dudes, accidentally averted a TPK combat by offering a ring to some Dryads in the cursed forest, oops he has three Dryad spouses now): tinkering or making jewellery, probably with his Dryad posse

Godot/Pozzo/Lucky (it was a dog themed campaign where everyone had animal companions and I asked the DM if I could play as a stack of two dogs and a goose in a trench coat disguised as a human; each member of the stack had a different class and the goose bard had to play half the campaign solo when the dogs got yoinked by the Wild Hunt and later bartered the warlock's pact with a genie to free all the dogs): discreetly arguing and Definitely Acting Like A Normal Human

Katz (Tiefling?? I think he was a paladin?? Oath of vengeance or some shit I keep forgetting he was a paladin): cheffing it up

Alasio (Autognome barbarian, formerly SOUP (security operations unit processor), got their name yoinked by the party's resident Fae on their journey to sentience, had dogs hit int but rolled mad lucky every time and thus tinkered with themselves to make a Chamber of Holding, give themselves Darkvision, and weld insane armour to their body plating, has a cloak of useful things and accidentally set a ship, a dragon, and two NPCs on fire in session one by ripping off a patch for fireball): either tinkering or standing guard

Borya (Tiefling barbarian, became a wild magic barbarian, DM created a custom subclass for him, walking armoury, got the tavern brawler feat by beating off skeletons with a barge pole while steering a raft and also acquired a teleporting sword in a fucked tower dungeon which was instrumental in the unhinged 5 am solo combat in which he, at level 4, killed the CR11 demon that one-shotted (they were alive, just unconscious the whole fight) another party member in the first hit by rolling a crit, getting the option to teleport 80 feet in a direction of my choice, learning there were no nearby cliffs aboveground, and choosing to drop the demon off a 60 foot tree instead: mf got impaled and the bloodstained tree is apparently part of the lore now): tending to his weapons, or finding work in a tavern

Cyrus (Changeling rogue with dogshit stats who is part of the IRL party that tried to prevent an assassination, got framed for it instead, and has spent the ensuing sessions breaking out of prison and running from the law; Cyrus' claim to fame was disguising himself as the captain of the guard to get into the prison, having the disguise fail because some guard rolled a nat 20 to see through the disguise, using the captain's extra strength to clock the head of the artificers' guild with a bench to steal his insanely powerful magical arquebus, and then shooting said captain in the face with it): pottery, while trying to avoid being seen

Barlow (human artificer who has a lil clockwork lizard as a familiar, captain of the space pirate ship, has a child he didn't know about and a penchant for making shit go boom): piloting the mf ship

Klae (some sort of Fae wizard, I made them for a one shot and fucked up all my spells, I hate low level wizards): magic shit probably

Havoc the Halfling (unhinged bard/barbarian/sorcerer multiclass, plays the bagpipes, lives in a trash can, Rakdos cultist, yelled at sentient evil trees and convinced them to stop chasing the party, turned themselves permanently green by doing too many dragon drugs and also accidentally killed a god because of an effect of those same drugs that one shotted the last creature that did damage to them if it was below a certain number of HP): playing the bagpipes in their trash can or setting things on fire, possibly both at the same time

Alwyn (Kalashtar oath of the watchers paladin, except apparently he wasn't really a Kalashtar but some unhinged dream creature relevant to the world lore?? He had lost all of his memories and hallucinated ghosts. We killed the campaign through miscommunication in text rp so we will never find out the lore): people-watching in a quiet corner

Wick and Corin were PCs I made for a one shot; Wick was some sort of glass thing and Corin was a dwarf but I remember nothing else about them so they get honourable mentions

Lot (Goliath blood hunter, member of the city watch, Big Fuckin Stronk, was not paid enough to deal with the fake investigators along on the adventure): on the beat

Ellas (human rogue, or the Shadowdark equivalent, a highwayman by trade, his husband owns a tavern that accidentally became an adventurer's guildhall and Ellas would go out and steal from rich people to make ends meet, acquired a Goblin little sibling and got into shenanigans with Elves, also killed a human-sized bee and kept the stinger, named the Stonger, as a drinking horn): travelling and exchanging tales with people he met on the road

Talon Tassos (halfling fighter who I'm planning to multiclass into sorcerer eventually, also lives adjacent to a trash can, also plays the bagpipes because I wanted to meme our dm, is currently embroiled in furniture shenanigans): busking in the alley

#thank you for the tag this was so fun!!#this has been tam rambling about OCs for half an hour #thank you and good night #ask game #dnd pc #dnd pc asks

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theultimatesandwich · 2 months ago

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DnD OC Fic: Part Three

Guess who got motivation to try and finish this writing project? This guy! Working on the final part now but thought I should at least post the next installment before anything else. Enjoy!

TW: torture, violence, bit of stabbing

Word count: 1.3k

Part one here Part two here

The screams echoed around the stone dungeon walls, contained to the room by a silence enchantment. Unfortunately, that meant Annahael could still hear them.

“Oh please,” she said, pulling the dagger out of the man before her. “If you had just told me what I needed to hear in the first place we wouldn’t be in this situation, now would we?”

“Please…” he begged. “I already told you…I don’t know anything…”

“And as I’ve already told you,” Annahael dragged the dagger across the man’s chest, adding another streak of red to her collection. “Our reports say otherwise. Now just tell us where your hideout is, or this-” She pressed the dagger against his face. “-will be a lot more difficult.”

“Alright, alright, I…” the man sighed. “Nicodranas. A small hut, right on the coast. Just please!” The man looked up as Annahael walked away from him. “Please don’t hurt them.”

“That is a noble request,” she said, drying off the dagger. “However, you’ve already wasted enough of my time here today.” She sheathed the dagger, pulling out a metal pole and extending it into a scythe. “So let’s make the rest of this quick, ok? I have a very important meeting I need to attend, and I really don’t want to be late.” ===========================================

“It’s about time.” The Tzel Mavet tapped her foot impatiently on the teleportation circle.

“My apologies, Tzel Mavet.” Annahael sprinted towards the circle, attempting to make herself presentable. “The prisoner was…less cooperative than I had hoped. But I achieved my mission.”

“With barely a moment to spare.” She motioned to the nearby attendant. “Help clean her up, please. I don’t want to be made a fool of in front of the others.”

They nodded, sending a wave of magic over Annahael. Her hair straightened, her clothes smoothed out, and the specks and smell of blood were erased. She stiffly bowed her head in thanks.

The woman next to Annahael should have been her grandmother. Or someone to be next in line as Annahael ruled. But that wasn’t the case. The previous Tzel Mavet had died, and it was agreed that Annahael wasn’t ready yet. Luckily, another woman, Khaya Ojet, a loyal steward of the family, made herself known. She claimed to possess a boon from Hela herself, a gift meant to aid the Kroxa family and the Organization until Annahael came of use…”Apologies, of age,” she had said. Annahael’s parents had objected, but her other aunts and uncles, particularly Brynn’s parents, seemed to welcome her openly.

“Let us be off, then.” With a nod to the attendant, the two of them vanished in the teleportation circle.

Once on the other side, Annahael found herself in a grand hall of dark oak gilded with gold. Candlelight illuminated a pair of massive doors opening into a meeting room. In the center sat a circular table, accompanied by thirteen throne-like seats and thirteen standard chairs.

Many of the faces and names around Annahael were familiar, either from her history books or from the handful of meetings she’d attended in the past. Half-elves, humans, drow, and even a dragonborn, all of them with the power to control the world. At least, that was the goal.

She held the chair for Khaya then settled into her own seat slightly behind. Thankfully they weren’t the last one’s to arrive. She never would’ve heard the end of it. More likely it would be the last thing she ever heard.

One of the attendants cleared their throat, signifying the start of the meeting. As always they led with the titles of the attendants and their seconds in command.

“Tzel Ahavah, First of her name, lady of love…”

“Tzel Seder, Third of his name, lord of order…”

“Tzel Mavet, First of her name, lady of undead…” Annahael perked up, attentive to the title that would one day be hers, knowing it would be followed by her current one.

“Tzel Mavet Atidah, First daughter of the Setting Sun, Rider of the Great Storm, Angel of Death, Annahael Kroxa.”

She nodded in acknowledgement as the names continued to be read. She would be quizzed on them later, she was sure, but that didn’t make them any less boring to sit through. Still, they did imbue one with a sense of importance. As they should, she reminded herself. These individuals before her were the most powerful people in all the realms. They were tasked with the responsibility of finding and guarding the shards, elemental beacons of power that could cause catastrophic damage if put in the wrong hands.

Thankfully the Organization was here to ensure that never happened.

It was all laid out in the prophecy, passed down through generations. “Gather the shards, make them whole; this must be done to have extol.” Following the titles, the attendant began to read The Great Prophecy.

Supposedly it told of a group of adventurers who would be the ones to possess the shards. Once found, this group would combine them to cause untold destruction across the planes. Thus it was up to the Organization to find the shards first, using the prophecy as a warning of individuals to be cautious of.

Seven passages, seven individuals. One of the passages used to nag at Annahael, but of course that was ridiculous.

“Thunder and Lightning may not strike twice, follower of one not so nice.

Darkness follows one so lost, by Moon and Sea cast in frost.

Heed my warning, one so free, you shall not live past the Xi.”

She knew what path fate had laid out for her. She trusted her family, her goddess, her mission. Some words written thousands of years ago were not going to change that.

The attendant concluded their reading as the meeting officially began. Most of it wasn’t anything new. The Love shard was obtained and successfully guarded. The Air shard was in the elemental plane of Earth, but raising a force against Terra wasn’t right yet. Theories on locations, updates on protections. Nothing new of note. Annahael was beginning to wonder why this meeting had even been called when someone finally said something of interest.

“A new adventuring party has been spotted in Marquet. They were only six, but many of their descriptions are identical to those mentioned in the prophecy.”

Murmurs began to ring out. Who were these adventurers? Where would they travel to next? How would their movements be tracked?

“If I may,” Khaya interjected. “I would gladly offer my resources and those of my sect to this cause. Dare I say, I believe we can infiltrate this group by sending in one of our own.” She glanced back towards Annahael, a sly smile playing on her lips.

A chill seemed to grip Annahael by her shoulders, her entire body feeling like it was dunked in icy water. The only warmth came from a breath on the back of her neck, as if a large wolf was sizing her up, deciding whether to raise her as a pup or make her a meal.

Own this moment, child. A terrifying yet comforting woman’s voice seemed to echo around her. This is your doorway to greatness.

Annahael sat up straighter, trying to make herself look powerful and intimidating. Those around her began to discuss the possibility favorably. Little risk, high reward. A direct source of information from one of their own.

“Very well,” said one of the Tzel’s. “This responsibility is entrusted to you and the Tzel Atidah.”

Annahael tried to hide her excitement, replacing her expression with one of professional gratitude. She was already looking forward to discussing this meeting with Azula, when the voice of Khaya crept into her mind.

“Be sure to prove yourself useful, young one.” Her voice echoed in Annahael’s mind, while her face remained pleasant as ever. “Either you reflect favorably on me, or don’t bother coming back at all.”

#sandwich writes stuff #dnd oc #my dnd oc #my dnd character #may everyone find the energy to finish some of their WIPs #tw torture #tw violence #tw stabbing

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beyond-abyss · 2 years ago

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CHAPTER TWO

*~*~* (sorry I posted three before two)

Never before had Noa set foot on a migrating island, but this was to be a day of firsts, she thought, as she threw herself after Diumer and onto the forested back of a humongous dragon-turtle. "This is the drakback Riin, and we who dwell upon her back are the Riintons," Distinguished Diumer said by way of introduction. "In time you'll meet everyone, but today we prepare to depart, so Jenrock will need help from you two."

Noa glanced back at the rowboat which Velkyn struggled to climb out of with his dignity intact. She smirked and made a mental note of his discomfort around water, filing the information away to destroy him with later.

The forest growing out of the mossy back of the drakback was unlike anything in the world Noa had come from. The trees were not dissimilar to birch, yet somehow leaning and occasionally shaped into nests high above. Covering the open sections of the tree-coves were patchwork blankets, accessible by rope bridges here and there. Noa saw frogs jumping about the mossy ground, purple snails along the roots of trees, and four-armed monkeys swinging along the rope bridges above. Noa began to smile in awe of such a place, when Velkyn spoke up.

“What a dreadful place,” he grumbled, catching up to Noa and Diumer. “There’s too much…light.”

Noa looked again at the environment, and realized that the frogs glowed faintly, and fireflies of green light bobbed about the denser areas of trees. In the higher branches, large birds of black and white stripes had feathers so soft they reflected sunlight. “Get over yourself,” Noa said, and slammed her shoulder into Velkyn as she stomped past to meet the dwarven woman ahead.

“Jenrock!” the eladri Diumer sang as the dwarven woman accepted the hug. “I have two new helpers for you,” they said, winking at Noa.

Jenrock raised an eyebrow at the drow boy and human girl. “Aren’t those the hot-headed idiot kids tearing the town apart last night?”

“The very same!” Diumer smiled, swishing their robe.

The dwarf sighed, “And now they’re our problem?”

“Indeed!” Diumer said, and skipped away.

Jenrock put her hands on her hips and chuckled. “Alright then problem children, come on. I’ll teach you the ropes."

“Is there anywhere here that would count as indoors?” the dark-elf scowled, following behind Noa and Jenrock through more trees.

“Afraid not, lad. But…” and she reached into her satchel, tugging out a long, brown cloak and passing it to Velkyn. “Here, that should help shield you from the light.”

Noa frowned as she watched him wrap himself in the cloak and pull the hood low over his sharp features. “Are you allergic to sunlight or something?” she scoffed.

“Yes.”

No one said anything as they walked, and finally it hit Noa. The race of elves which had long ago been forced into the Realm of Darkness, Nokt and became the drow over thousands of years, and now found themselves unable to tolerate direct sunlight. “Oh,” she whispered as they walked, recalling stories her older brother Aureli used to tell about deep dungeons and deadly dragons.

Jenrock stopped at the hollow base of a tree. Scattered about were crates and bags filled with food. “I’d like you two to help me put away our groceries. Departing is sort of… Well, it can get a bit shaky sometimes living here atop good old Riin.”

Awkward silence followed Jenrock’s absence as Noa and Velkyn stored food in the various cabinets in the tree’s hollow. When two crates were emptied, Noa stood still and waited until the drow made eye contact. “I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I said I’m sorry. The comments I made about sunlight earlier.”

Velkyn grunted and went back to unloading boxes and bags. Noa let out her breath and focused on the task at hand. Even if he was a jerk, apologizing assured Noa that she was not.

After an hour, the very ground on which they stood lurched, and Noa heard all the food in the shelves shift. “Looks like we finished just in time,” she said, but the dark-elf walked past her and sat under a tree, keeping his new cloak wrapped tight around him. Noa sighed, but followed it up with a deep breath as a cool breeze dashed through the forest. She glimpsed the shoreline of the town being left behind as the drakback moved downriver. “No going back,” she mumbled to herself.

Velkyn continued to sulk in the shade as Noa began to climb a tree. About halfway up, she was startled to find herself face to face with a hoblin boy. Big, wide eyes watched Noa as she nearly lost her balance, slamming her butt into a rather pointy branch to avoid slipping backward. "Uhh… Hello there," she said, the big green eyes unblinking.

"...You aren't one of us," the hoblin stated, still unblinking.

"I just got here. Diumer is helping me."

The creature chuckled. "Diumer helped us all. They can't seem to stop picking up strays." The little boy finally blinked and shifted on his branch to reveal the green-rainbow poncho he wore. "So…what kind of stray are you? Lost, or abandoned?"

"I'm sorry?" Noa felt as if the small creature were studying her, perhaps even reading her mind with his keen eyes.

"Are you coming or going?"

Noa shuffled her feet and smiled, "Well right now I'm…hanging out!" and she let all her weight onto her hands as her feet dangled. The hoblin boy did not answer. And he did not blink.

"Lame!" came Velkyn's drawl from below.

"Mind your own business, Stray Number Two!" Human Noa felt like her usual middle-child self, caught between a cool older sibling and an unimpressed younger sibling. Her face heated with blush and she sighed, then climbed down. On the mossy ground again, she trudged past Velkyn wearing his hood and jerkish smirk and walked until she found the food pantry, where she sat alone with her thoughts.

Noa sat, feeling the breeze on her brown skin, wondering if anyone at home had noticed her absence. Being the middle of nine children meant that she had to fight for any attention at all, but now solitude felt like her only friend. Noa was so deep in her thoughts, she didn't notice Diumer until their robe swooshed as they sat beside her. No one said a word for another prickly moment.

"I heard you met Mobo," Distinguished Diumer nudged away the silence. "The young hoblin boy? Likes to hide?"

"And ask cryptic questions?" Noa added. Diumer chuckled and nodded. "He kind of reminded me of my family. I have a lot of younger siblings…"

The eladri understood her change of tone and asked, "Do you miss them?"

"I guess I do. But I've only been gone for two days."

Diumer shook their head, waving their spring-colored hair. "No, I think not. Time moves differently in this realm, so perhaps you've only been gone two minutes."

Noa frowned. "Magic is weird," to which Diumer replied with a chuckle and a nod. "Can I learn magic?"

"No, problem child. Humans do not have magic and cannot sense it. That's also why they're so rare here in Daeun. Humans can only be guided to portals."

"Guided?" Noa locked eyes with the elven companion. Those deep electric blues picked up on Noa's intensity. "No one guided me to the portal I came here through. I was just wandering in the woods, and felt a tingling buzz in the air nearby."

Diumer continued to study Noa's brown eyes. "Hm. How unusual," they eventually concluded. The eladri stood, swooshing once more, and held out a hand for Noa. "Come. Let's help Jenrock prepare dinner for everyone."

Taking the slim fingers, Noa stood and asked, "How many people live here?"

The pair began to walk and Diumer admitted, "Today? Nine. But Riintons are always coming and going."

"The child…Mobo? Said that you like picking up strays."

Waving to Jenrock setting a tablecloth upon a large stump ahead, Diumer smiled. "Travelers looking for a bit of peace are always welcome here with Riin and I."

Noa hesitated, stopping short of the stump. "I don't think I'm looking to find peace," she said quietly, running her fingers over the tablecloth.

Diumer gave Noa a sideways glance. "Looking for something and finding it are two very different things."

*~*

Dinner was a strained affair, as Diumer and the other Riintons tried to ease the murderous tension between Noa and Velkyn. Nine people, and still the drow and human managed to create awkward silences.

Diumer, the fey-elf, formally introduced everyone. "Lunnoa and Velkyn, meet the Riintons. Jenrock Ironfast you've met," the elegant host started by nodding to the dark-haired and brown-skinned dwarven woman Velkyn had come to know as rather stoic. "This is Rose-Heart," the next nod toward a shaggy, grey, wolf-elf woman eating with her hands, "and Fei Song," Diumer continued. The pink-and-white cotton-candy-haired young woman with beautiful, curved, violet eyes was neither eating nor blinking. Velkyn thought she looked vaguely elvish, but he'd never seen anyone like her.

"I'm Mobo Horrible!" the small, evergreen hoblin boy announced with a chicken leg in each hand. Diumer smiled and ruffled his red hair, then gestured toward a large man with three, long, black braids covered in jewelry and fur.

The wolf-ape-like bubu man nodded, stating, “Name’s Fen.” Velkyn had never seen one of the Aeyr realm’s natives before. The humanoid had incredible muscles under a thin layer of auburn fur.

“I am called Nofi,” an aquatic-elf man flashed a smile when Velkyn and Noa turned to him last. “I teach martial arts, which is much easier to do on land,” and he laughed at his own joke. His head was shaved in strange wave patterns of blue hair on bluer skin, and Velkyn found himself staring. The marini elf leaned toward him and added, “Do you have an interest in martial arts?”

Velkyn stared at the aquatic-elf, pushing down thoughts of his mother and brother beating the shit out of him every Friday night for “training”. He swallowed all of the bruises he felt were certainly rising to the surface of his skin again. With a carefully neutral expression, Velkyn finally replied, “No.”

Silence pervaded the dining party. The various Riintons slurped their soup or munched on chicken. Noa asked Rose-Heart to pass the almonds, and received a carved bowl smeared with chicken grease. Velkyn could see Noa squirming under the weight of silence. She finally inquired, “...So, where are we headed?”

Fen grunted. “No real destination, kid. We go where Riin goes.”

Velkyn snorted. “So you’re hobos?”

“Did someone say Mobo?!” the tiny boy shouted, climbing up on his bench beside Diumer.

Distinguished Diumer patted the boy’s shoulder until he sat down. “Riin chooses our destinations. Daeun is an ever-shifting realm of jungles and rivers that decide to be elsewhere on occasion.”

Noa smiled, “Magic is so weird.”

“Do you have much magic where you’re from, human Noa?” the wolf-elf Rose-Heart put down the bones in her hand.

“Uh, yeah, there’s magic on Yrth. Nothing like this place, though! On Yrth people learn spells or find magic items, but it seems like magic is in everything here! The world feels alive.”

Another silence sat among the dinner party. Everyone was staring at Noa, Velkyn included. “Did I say something wrong?” she asked, squirming under the attention.

“Humans can’t sense magic,” young Mobo blurted. “Are you sure you’re human?”

“Uhh…” Noa stammered, and for the first time, Velkyn really looked at her. A tall girl, slender with curvy hips, kinky, brown hair pulled back in a poofy ponytail, and brown eyes that never dimmed with the lack of light. Her rounded ears and earthy scent indicated she was human, but if she could sense magic, if she had not been guided to a portal to the Realm of Light… but perhaps she was lying. She moved carefully at all times, but decisively. Velkyn did not sense deception from the way she ogled everything, amazed by the tiniest details. “Well, I suppose I don’t know 100% if I’m human. I was adopted, like all of my siblings.”

Jenrock leaned close to Noa, peering into her brown eyes. “Mighty strange that you can feel magic. I suppose I have heard stories of mixed bloods out there on Yrth.”

“Mixed bloods?” Noa and Velkyn said at the same time.

“Oh yeah,” the dwarven woman nodded, “Mostly half-elvish humans, but I once heard of the child of a dwarf and a human having a touch of magic. He was hit with an age spell and it didn’t work!”

Velkyn frowned. Noa said, “Is that weird? I know lots of people with mixed heritage.”

Jenrock continued, “It’s the blood, see? Human blood can’t carry magic, so when a part-human is born, they never get the magical aspects.” Diumer, Nofi, and Fen all nodded along. “Humans can’t sense magic, though. If a kid is born unmagical, there’s human mixed in there. That’s why human blood is known to taint family bloodlines.”

Noa’s face fell as the woman talked, and before she could react further, Velkyn slammed his fist on the stump-table, shaking everyone’s dishes. Suddenly all eyes were on him. “Obviously you all know nothing of Yrth,” he growled, “home of the wild-elf, aka orcs, who changed over thousands of years and are nearly unrecognizable as elf-kin. Yrth is like that, warping things. Changing them. Maybe humans on Yrth are starting to sense magic.” Diumer tilted their head at his words, and Jenrock opened her mouth as if to retort. “Don’t speak of things you don’t understand,” Velkyn hissed, and continued eating.

Everyone followed suit, eating in silence. The gentle breeze through the trees could not cool the boil in his blood at these ignorant fools. What did they know of tainted blood?

#A. Sad. Universe

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natroze · 3 years ago

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Netherdeep campaign has me feeling COMPLETELY UNHINGED

#dnd #call of the netherdeep #call of the netherdeep spoilers #mister alyxian i love you already i'm comin to save you you strange sad man #nat's art #dungeons and dragons #critical role: call of the netherdeep #'three drow and a cat man walk into a tavern' has taken a sharp and thrilling turn into 'cosmic destiny knocked on our door today'

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somelazyassartist · 3 years ago

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Okay so!! I haven't finished digitizing the three Player Characters (I've been working on these for a few weeks now and I only finished them tonight, I'll try to see if I can get the PCs done tomorrow now that I have sketches done of em) but!!!! These were the five Sidekick options I gave my players to balance out their campaign a bit!!! And all the ones they didn't choose are gonna be NPCs throughout the adventure so they're not just disappearing :) but uhhhh yeah basically I just tried to make Weird Little Fellas because all the player characters are Weird Little Fellas and I wanted the sidekick to fit in with them as basically "I don't belong here and I need to get the hell out of Barovia" ya know lol

This one's Acro the Bat, the Acrobat!! (They/them) They're an Orc-Werebat Monk who used to work for a circus before they got separated from their troupe and accidentally wandered through the fog into Barovia :)

This one's Kruggus!! (He/him) He's a Goblin Barbarian who used to be a gladiator before he was framed for a crime he didn't commit and was kicked out of his guild, and stumbled into Barovia while he ran away

This is the Human Wild Magic Sorcerer Serenity Redheart!! (She/her) She's a noble from Waterdeep whose wild magic accidentally malfunctioned and left her looking a lot younger than she really is (the Wild Magic table doesn't lie, it really does have some wild results), and she's trying to get out of Barovia and back to her mentor in the hopes they can get her back to normal!!

And this is Llaulumyn Lastname the Drow Artificer and I love a him,,,, (He/him) He's a researcher that purposefully came to Barovia for a book he's writing, buuuuuuuut he's sorta been there for like 400 years more or less by himself and has definitely tried walking in the poison fog one too many times For Science so like,,, he's not like a Mad Scientist™ but he does have a few screws loose here or there just cuz like. If you were stuck by yourself in a random demiplane for hundreds of years with only books a grumpy ghost and a living ventriloquist dummy to keep you company you'd probably be a little quirky too, wouldn't you???

And then of course there's Daubble Antondre, the scrunkly, my little skrimblo bimblo <3 (he/him, she/her) Y'all know Daubble,,,, the Half-Eladrin Bard that is just a Silly Little Guy :) and also during our session we apparently established that Daubble likes virgin piña coladas which apparently exist in Dungeons and Dragons now because I said so

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unhingedbutpretty · 9 months ago

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Three drows walk into a dungeon

A totally unhinged Baldur's Gate Multiplayer gameplay featuring:

Nyssala — the ex-lolth-sworn bard, who was snatched by a nautiloid on her day off work in Baldur's Gate.

Jaleem — a seldarine paladin who sworn to never spill drow blood and dreams about unifying all drow.

Ilya — a half-drow sorcerer who can't quite control their power, and for some reason is very sure that Jarlaxle Baenre is their father, and wants to meet him.

This is gonna be precious.

[Three drows walk into a dungeon] - 1

#baldurs gate 3 #multiplayer #[three drows walk into a dungeon]#bg3 #tav #oc rp #queue #q

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m-for-musings · 6 months ago

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I'm a main mobile user, putting my links on the theme makes little sense... So here is a new pinned post with my main links!

My 50 sideblogs hell of RP blogs :D

@harpershigh (Jaheira — now she has her own blog!)

@unhingedbutpretty (drow OC for D&D and BG3)

@more-than-a-slayer (Resist!Durge for BG3)

@grovesguardian (Halsin - low activity)

@steel-shadow (Camille Ferros rp blog - low activity)

Fanfiction:

Halsin x Minthara Fanfiction Masterlist (AO3 digging)

Honey Webbing (current WIP)

Part 1 -> Part 2 -> Part 3 -> Part 4 -> Part 5 -> Part 6 -> Part 7 -> Part 8 -> Part 9 -> Part 10 -> Part 11 -> Part 12 -> Part 13 -> Part 14 -> Part 15 -> Part 16 -> Part 17 -> Part 18 -> Part 19 -> Part 20 -> Part 21 -> Part 22

Three Drows Walk Into a Dungeon

Part 1 -> Part 2 -> Part 3

Wyllvember special (TBA)

Baldur's Masquerade

BG3 meets Vampire: The Masquerade

Ashes to Ashes: the Baldur's Gate Camarilla

Part 1: Astarion's errand

Part 2: Wyll’s new coterie (cw for gore and cannibalism)

Dividers by @cafekitsune

#now this WILL become a mess #pinned post #blog intro #rp hub #fanfiction hub #multifandom account

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usuallyapirate · 4 years ago

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A short Introduction to the most common Player-Races in Dungeons and Dragons as given by the DnD 5e Players Handbook:

Dwarf

“Yer late,elf!” came the rough edge of a familiar voice. Bruenor Battlehammer walked up the back of his dead foe, disregarding the fact that the heavy monster lay on top of his elven friend. In spite of the added discomfort, the dwarf’s long, pointed, often-broken nose and gray-streaked though still-fiery red beard came as a welcome sight to Drizzt. “Knew I’d find ye in trouble if I came out an' looked for ye!"

– R.A. Salvatore, The Crysta lShard

Kingdoms rich in ancient grandeur, halls carved into the roots of mountains, the echoing of picks and hammers in deep mines and blazing forges, a commitment to clan and tradition, and a burning hatred of goblins and orcs—these common threads unite all dwarves.

Elf

“I HAVE NEVER IMAGINED SUCH BEAUTY EXISTED,” Goldmoon said softly. The day’s march had been difficult, but the reward at the end was beyond their dreams. The companions stood on a high cliff over the fabled city of Qualinost. Four slender spires rose from the city’s corners like glistening spindles, their brilliant white stone marbled with shining silver. Graceful arches, swooping from spire to spire, soared through the air. Crafted by ancient dwarven metalsmiths, they were strong enough to hold the weight of an army, yet they appeared so delicate that a bird lighting on them might overthrow the balance. These glistening arches were the city’s only boundaries; there was no wall around Qualinost. The elven city opened its arms lovingly to the wilderness.

– Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman, Dragons of Autumn Twilight

Elves are a magical people of otherworldly grace, living in the world but not entirely part of it. They live in places of ethereal beauty, in the midst of ancient forests or in silvery spires glittering with faerie light, where soft music drifts through the air and gentle fragrances waft on the breeze. Elves love nature and magic, art and artistry, music and poetry, and the good things of the world.

Halfling

Regis the halfling, the only one of his kind for hundreds of miles in any direction, locked his fingers behind his head and leaned back against the mossy blanket of the tree trunk. Regis was short, even by the standards of his diminutive race, with the fluff of his curly brown locks barely cresting the three-foot mark, but his belly was amply thickened by his love of a good meal, or several, as the opportunities presented themselves. The crooked stick that served as his fishing pole rose up above him, clenched between two of his toes, and hung out over the quiet lake, mirrored perfectly in the glassy surface of Maer Dualdon.

– R.A. Salvatore, The Crystal Shard

The comforts of home are the goal of most halflings‘ lives: a place to settle in peace and quiet, far from marauding monsters and clashing armies; a blazing fire and a generous meal; fine drink and fine conversation. Though some halflings live out their days in remote agricultural communities, others form nomadic bands that travel constantly, lured by the open road and the wide horizon to discover the wonders of new lands and peoples. But even these wanderers love peace, food, hearth, and home, though home might be a wagon jostling along a dirt road or a raft floating downriver.

Human

These were the stories of a restless people who long ago took to the seas and rivers in longboats, first to pillage and terrorize, then to settle. Yet there was an energy, a love of adventure, that sang from every page. Long into the night Uriel read, lighting candle after precious candle. She'd never given much thought to humans, but these stories fascinated her. In these yellowed pages were tales of bold heroes, strange and fierce animals, mighty primitive gods, and a magic that was part and fabric of that distant land.

– Elaine Cunningham, Daughter of the Drow

In the reckonings of most worlds, humans are the youngest of the common races, late to arrive on the world scene and short-lived in comparison to dwarves, elves, and dragons. Perhaps it is because of their shorter lives that they strive to achieve as much as they can in the years they are given. Or maybe they feel they have something to prove to the elder races, and that’s why they build their mighty empires on the foundation of conquest and trade. Whatever drives them, humans are the innovators, the achievers, and the pioneers of the worlds.

Dragonborn

Her father stood on the first of the three stairs that led down from the portal, unmoving. The scales of his face had grown paler around the edges, but Clanless Mehen still looked as if he could wrestle down a dire bear himself. His familiar well-worn armor was gone, replaced by violet-tinted scale armor with bright silvery tracings. There was a blazon on his arm as well, the mark of some foreign house. The sword at his back was the same, though, the one he had carried since even before he had found the twins left in swaddling at the gates of Arush Vayem. Father’s face was as kill she'd been fortunate to learn. A human who couldn’t spot the shift of her eyes or Havilar’s would certainly see only the indifference of a dragon in Clanless Mehen’s face. But the shift of scales, the arch of a ridge, the set of his eyes, the gape of his teeth – her father's face spoke volumes. But every scale of it, this time, seemed completely still— the indifference of a dragon, even to Farideh.

– Erin M. Evans, The Adversary

Born of dragons, as their name proclaims, the dragonborn walk proudly through a world that greets them with fearful incomprehension. Shaped by draconic gods or the dragons themselves, dragonborn originally hatched from dragon eggs as a unique race, combining the best attributes of dragons and humanoids. Some dragonborn are faithful servants to true dragons, others form the ranks of soldiers in great wars, and still others find themselves adrift, with no clear calling in life.

Gnome

Skinny and flaxen-haired, his skin walnut brown and his eyes a startling turquoise, Burgell stood half as tall as Aeron climb up on a stool to look out the peephole. Like most habitations in Oeble, that particula tenement had been built for humans, and smaller residents coped with the resulting awkwardness as best they could. But at least the relative largeness of the apartment gave Burgell room to pack in all his gnome-sized gear. The front room was his workshop, and it contained a bewildering miscellany of tools: hammers, chisels, saws, lockpicks, tinted lenses, jeweler's loupes, and jars of powdered and shredded ingredients for casting spells. A fat gray cat, the mage’s familiar, lay curled atop a grimoire. It opened its eyes, gave Aeron a disdainful yellow stare, then appeared to go back to sleep.

– Richard Lee Byers, The Black Bouquet

A constant hum of busy activity pervades the warrens and neighborhoods where gnomes form their close-knit communities. Louder sounds punctuate the hum: a crunch of grinding gears here, a minor explosion there, a yelp of surprise or triumph, and especially bursts of laughter. Gnomes take delight in life, enjoying every moment of invention, exploration, investigation, creation, and play.

Half-Elf

Flint squinted into the setting sun. He thought he saw the figure of a man striding up the path. Standing, Flint drew back into the shadow of a tall pine to see better. The man's walk was marked by an easy grace – an elvish grace, Flint would have said; yet the man’s body had the thickness and tight muscles of a human, while the facial hair was definitely humankind’s. All the dwarf could see of the man’s face beneath a green hood was tan skin and a brownish-red beard. A longbow was slung over one shoulder and a sword hung at his left side. He was dressed in soft leather, carefully tooled in the intricate designs the elves loved. But no elf in the world of Krynn could grow a beard ... no elf, but...

“Tanis?” said Flint hesitantly as the man neared.

“The same.” The newcomer’s bearded face split in a wide grin. He held open his arms and, before the dwarf could stop him, engulfed Flint in a hug that lifted him off the ground. The dwarf clasped his old friend close for a brief instant, then, remembering his dignity, squirmed and freed himself from the half-elf’s embrace.

– Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman, Dragons of Autumn Twilight

Walking in two worlds but truly belonging to neither, half-elves combine what some say are the best qualities of their elf and human parents: human curiosity, inventiveness, and ambition tempered by the refined senses, love of nature, and artistic tastes of the elves. Some half-elves live among humans, set apart by their emotional and physical differences, watching friends and loved ones age while time barely touches them. Others live with the elves, growing restless as they reach adulthood in the timeless elven realms, while their peers continue to live as children. Many half-elves, unable to fit into either society, choose lives of solitary wandering or join with other misfits and outcasts in the adventuring life.

Half-Orc

The warchief Mhurren roused himself from his sleeping-furs and his women and pulled a short hauberk of heavy steel rings over his thick, well-muscled torso. He usually rose before most of his warriors, since he had a strong streak of human blood in him, and he found the daylight less bothersome than most of his tribe did. Among the Bloody Skulls, a warrior was judged by his strength, his fierceness, and his wits. Human ancestry was no blemish against a warrior – provided he was every bit as strong, enduring, and blood thirsty as his full-blooded kin. Half-orcs who were weaker than their orc comrades didn't last long among the Bloody Skulls or any other orc tribe for that matter. But it was often true that a bit of human blood gave a warrior just the right mix of cunning, ambition, and self-discipline to go far indeed, as Mhurren had. He was master of a tribe that could muster two thousand spears, and the strongest chief in Thar.

– Richard Baker, Swordmage

Whether united under the leadership of a mighty warlock or having fought to a standstill after years of conflict, orc and human tribes sometimes form alliances, joining forces into a larger horde to the terror of civilized lands nearby. When these alliances are sealed by marriages, half-orcs are born. Some half-orcs rise to become proud chiefs of orc tribes, their human blood giving them an edge over their full-blooded orc rivals. Some venture into the world to prove their worth among humans and other more civilized races. Many of these become adventurers, achieving greatness for their mighty deeds and notoriety for their barbaric customs and savage fury.

Tiefling

“But you do see the way people look at you, devil’s child." Those black eyes, cold as a winter storm, were staring right into her heart and the sudden seriousness in his voice jolted her.

“What is it they say?" he asked. “One’s a curiosity, two’s a conspiracy—”

“Three's a curse,” she finished. “You think I haven’t heard that rubbish before?”

“I know you have.” When she glared at him, he added, “It’s not as if I’m plumbing the depths of your mind, dear girl. That is the burden of every tiefling. Some break under it, some make it the millstone around their neck, some revel in it.” He tilted his head again, scrutinizing her, with that wicked glint in hiseyes. “You fight it, don’t you? Like a little wildcat, I wager. Every little jab and comment just sharpens your claws.”

– Erin M. Evans, Brimstone Angels

To be greeted with stares and whispers, to suffer violence and insult on the street, to see mistrust and fear in every eye: this is the lot of the tiefling. And to twist the knife, tieflings know that this is because a pact struck generations ago infused the essence of Asmodeus – overlord of the Nine Hells – into their bloodline. Their appearance and their nature are not their fault but the result of an ancient sin, for which they and their children and their children’s children will always be held accountable.

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editoress · 3 years ago

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1. ALL TRUSSED UP AND STILL NOWHERE TO GO “You have to let go” | barbed wire | bound Erosen and Krelyss requested by @zacksfairest

D&D is about writing fic that only five other people will understand. An AU in which two sad elf dads reunite much earlier and it’s still unhappy.

Erosen did not have to wonder long about the drow prisoner. Only a few weeks after the first whispers, he was summoned to the western border, where the drow had been captured. Three Circle members stood around Erosen in the town’s emptied prison while he looked upon a figure bound in chains. They asked, “Is he an exile? A spy? A scout?”

No one asked if Krelyss was a refugee. They had no goodwill for dark elves, not with the war ended only a few decades ago. They barely trusted Erosen even now; he saw how Luntower in particular watched him for a reaction. So Erosen said nothing. Krelyss said nothing.

Luntower was frustrated. “If he knows something, we should move him to the capital,” he insisted.

Erosen endured the whole meeting with the facade of aloof patience he had learned early on. He wasn’t certain he could reply at all without saying, I know this man. You have nothing to fear.

Instead, he returned late that night. He had to wait a long time for the guard to be sufficiently distracted; he had never been particularly stealthy, less so now with this damned leg. He couldn’t be seen. He had some measure of grace this far from Lunhaven and its gossip, enough to leverage his authority and see the prisoner—but not enough to be caught releasing him.

There was no one inside the prison except the two of them. Erosen allowed himself to feel the sheer, honest relief now, without witnesses. “Krelyss.”

Krelyss rose to his feet, regarded him for a moment, and spoke quietly in undercommon. “You survived.”

“And you. You weren’t caught, then?”

“No. But she was beginning to think of it, as I fell out of her favor.” His jaw tightened, and as if it were something shameful instead of what he should have done fifty years ago, he said, “I ran.” He looked at Erosen intently. “But your daughter—?”

“Alive and well,” Erosen assured him. “She’s…” What to say? That she was clever, stubborn, lovely? Endless trouble and bright as the sun? He didn’t have to tell Krelyss of all people that Riven was the reason he was still alive and he was prouder of her than he could say, than he could bear some days. He found he was smiling. “You should meet her.”

Krelyss smiled, too, a quiet, unpracticed thing. It was the first time Erosen had seen him do it, though he could see the lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth where he had smiled often, once. “I’m glad.” His brows drew together when Erosen pulled out the ring of keys and fit one to the cell door. “They won’t suspect you?”

“You risked the same for us.”

“No, I didn’t. I had nothing to lose.” Krelyss took two steps forward and could go no farther. “Erosen. You have a child to think of.”

His hand stilled, though he hated it. “If they move you to the dungeon at Lunhaven, I won’t be able to help you.”

“You won’t help me by undoing the only good thing I have ever done.”

Erosen wanted little more than to hammer the cell door in frustration. He was so close. The man who had given him his darling girl was chained right in front of him, and Erosen had the keys. And yet—three Circle members slept in their trances not a mile away, holding his leash even now. Whatever he would risk was balanced against their willingness to grant Riven a normal life. He bowed his head against his clenched fist. “I cannot leave you to rot again.”

“You did what you had to. Do the same now. Let go.”

Erosen looked at him incredulously. His leg ached in tandem with something deeper. How many oaths and debts was he bound to break? Strained, he asked, “What if Zaresh is out there?”

Krelyss closed his eyes, and Erosen regretted the question. “Then…” Krelyss began hoarsely, but he could only shake his head. The guard’s footsteps sounded outside, rising and fading. “You should go.”

There was a horrible sense of deja vu: he was poised outside Avenzi’s cruel ceremony, learning that Krelyss would not be joining them in their escape, and left with no time to argue. Erosen lowered the keys. He would choose Riven every time. “I’m sorry.” He had to force every movement when he turned and walked away.

“Later, if it won’t endanger you.”

Erosen turned back to see that Krelyss had reached out to grasp the bars. It gave him a little comfort to hear the man say later, and to see the stirring of hope in his expression. Krelyss said, “I would like to meet her.”

Erosen nodded, loath to make any more promises. But he would like that, too.

He returned home after less than a week away. Riven was long past leaping into his arms when he came through the door, but she still embraced him. Erosen held her tight, with one hand supporting the back of her neck as if she were still very small, and pressed his cheek to her hair.

After a few moments, she wiggled a bit in his grasp, not so much in protest as trying to get a look at him. “Da? Did something happen?”

He wanted to tell her. He wanted Riven to know that someone had saved them, that someone who had barely met her still cared about her. If she got the chance to see Krelyss, as he dearly wanted, Erosen would have to tell her the whole thing. He might have to in any case; seeing Krelyss had unlocked a tumble of grief and fear that he had previously been moderately good at ignoring. It was no longer a distant nightmare. Part of that story was here, now. “Later,” he managed. He kissed her brow where it was furrowed in confusion. “Later.”

#whumptober2021 #dnd adventures #small craftings

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wychive · 4 years ago

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𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 — 𝙡. 𝙟𝙮. (#𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙠𝙛𝙣)

fic type // oneshot — 3.9k

prompt // when an individual is born, their magic aura makes itself present indicating what magic they would be using. very few were born with a dark magic aura and died within their first breaths, you were one of the two recorded births that made it. now you were searching for the other one

pairing(s) // juyeon x gn!reader (pltn.)

genre(s) // PG18 & adventure, fluff, angst

warning(s) // knives, stabbing (in a dream), nightmares, mention of food, depiction of anxiety, description of smells, being drunk, deceased major and minor characters, blood, corpses

author's note // it's finally here! i've been working on this for a few weeks already and that's why it's so late :'( thank you to @omigogames for proof reading this ily queen 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 this was for @kpopficsnetwork' s halloween event that they held last october <3 please read the rest of the member's works on the event! i recommend listening to wandering and as the world caves in (at the angsty parts) while reading this as it really sets the mood. i hope you enjoy!!

you wiped the drop of sweat off your forehead as you approached the top of a hill. you sat down on the grassy floor and took out a flask still full of drinking water. you downed a quarter of it, feeling your body re energize as you do so. you never thought it would take this long to search for them.

how many months has it been? five? six? you've lost count, having to travel miles across the world just to find the hidden treasure you've been seeking for years. see, you were born with a 'unique' aura. everyone has their own which determines what kind of magic they would be using for the rest of their lives. your family had the common ice or water elementals but you turned out to be the black swan in a ballet full of snowy white ones.

you were born with an aura that was powerful enough to cause a black out, in other words, you had a dark magic aura and somehow managed to survive throughout the years. your mother was no different from the rest but she tried her best to guide you on controlling your powers or even combine your magic powers with hers to make an elemental combo. she died two years before you went on this journey to find the one only other person who successfully survived their own birth of having this magic aura. the only things you knew about them were that they were at least 20 years older and that they were born as a female.

the fact that only you and one other person have this magical ability made you think about them day and night. were you their soulmate? or did they think of you too? were they a kind or evil person? did they ever confuse people like you did? were they affected by society's comments that they're now shut away in some dungeon? you could go on and on for days about this special person even though you haven't met them yet. you were eager to find them, even if it took you years to do so.

as you wondered about the unique person, you stared into the dark abyss with shining dots, not realising your eyelids were shut soon after. that night you dreamt of all the possible outcomes this journey would end, mostly happy endings where you would find the person and be their friend or you get to spend the rest of your life with them. you did not want to think of the sad ones, yet your mind wanted to see you suffer. nightmares were common as they came with your dark powers but you still hated it when they disturb your perfect sleep. with that, you woke up from a nightmare just as the person was about to strike a knife in your chest.

the pain felt so real that as soon as you woke up, your hand clutched onto your chest. luckily (or not so) you heard the uniform paced heartbeat from your eardrums. this caused you so much as you did not even see that the sun was just above the horizon, greeting the earth a good morning. you sighed in relief as you thank the universe for not getting you eaten by a wild animal.

you stood up, stretching your arms and legs after another night of sleeping on a thick cloth. you packed up your things and placed your sturdy backpack on you before starting your trekking journey. you checked your phone for any updates or news of the world that was not so boring as you began to walk south towards a small town. once approaching the main road, you slipped your phone back into your front pocket before following the flow of cars.

a smile appeared on your face, looking at how idle the town was at eight in the morning. it wasn't so noisy as most of the cars had stopped at diners or cafes for a tasty breakfast. the only things you could hear were people greeting each other with a simple 'hello' and the birds that had just been awoken from their slumber.

you checked the amount of money you had left; apparently, it was enough for you to last three days for all three meals and then it was downhill from there. you shook your head, thinking of ways to earn at least a little bit of money before moving to another town (if you needed to). your eyes drifted from the trees to the bakery that was on the opposite side of the road.

you could see the silhouette of a person placing buns in their respective containers. the person was in chef whites, with their sleeves rolled above their elbows. you really didn't want to catch feelings for anyone at the moment, especially in this state of being homeless and short on money. nonetheless, you were hungry and so you decided that you wanted some fresh baked buns on a saturday morning like this.

as you walked into the cozy bakery, you noticed a variety of desserts and buns arranging from croissants to baked pizza buns. the aroma in the air made your stomach growl. you took one of the pick-up trays and a pair of tongs and immediately went for the custard and red bean buns.

"oh my god," a voice exclaimed followed by a bit of coughing. "why do you smell so bad?"

you brought an arm to your nose, smelling yourself. you actually didn't smell half-bad. it only has been a day since you showered properly, how could it be that bad? you rolled your eyes as you looked in the direction of the voice. ah, it was the silhouette from earlier.

"is this how you greet customers?" you shot back, raising one of your eyebrows.

"no, of course not," the person said. "but your stench is unbearable." they scoffed and shook their head, giving a smug expression.

"well, i'll only be here for just a bit. don't worry about it, i'll be out before your regulars arrive," you said, assuring that you WOULD be out before anything else happened.. but you did not. as you didn't expect the prices of food to be that high.

"look at this place," the employee said, leaning his palms against the edge of the counter. "what did you expect?"

he was right, the place looked like it was straight up from a renaissance painting with its mini chandeliers and pink roses on the sides as decorations. it did look like a modern cafe twisted with some hint of the classics.

"is there anything i could do? to pay for this i mean," you asked them, hiding your embarrassment of the lack of money.

"depends… what kind of element do you use?"

"...ice," you lied. no one would want a rare dark element in their place.

"hm.. i guess we could use some ice making help," they thought, then looked back at you who seemed desperate for the job. yes, it would hold you back on a few days but you really needed the money.. and a place to stay if they let you.

"okay, then. you're hired," they said as they lent out a hand for you to shake. it was covered in leftover flour and smelled like yeast. you grabbed his hand and shook it.

"the name's juyeon, and you?"

"y/n… i'm guessing you're a fire user?" you replied. it was obvious as he was cocky, yet a charming fella. you could say a demon in disguise.

"clever, i like that in people," he smirked, his face looked smug and it really pissed you off- but he might be your new manager or boss so you stuck up to it and let out a simple fake chuckle. "any other questions?

"do i get a place to stay along with the job?"

"no but you could stay over at my place," he acknowledged. your eyes dart around the room before they landed on him, as you let out a laugh.

"excuse me?"

"you heard me. i have a spear bed and everything," he said. you were baffled, it seemed like he didn't care if you were a serial killer, plus, he only knew your first name and what 'element' you responded to. what were you going to do?

"fine," you said, already looking forward to the comfort your body was going to feel once you finally sleep on a mattress.

"alright then, let's get to work barista."

as you both get to his apartment, you gazed at your surroundings. everything looked neat, and not a spick of dust were to be seen. you look at the mini hallway in the studio apartment of his and see two doors, opposite of each other and another at the end of it. before you could even step foot in the kitchen, the male pulled you aside. your reflexes almost caused you to punch his stupid face when you remembered that you were just a guest at this comfort place of his.

"rules," he said, in a stern voice. "one, not too much noise between eleven at night to six in the morning. two, don't use too much of the hot water because i'm touched starved too-"

you rolled your eyes at his last remark, acknowledging that it was a cruel true joke. "-three, save some snacks for me if you're planning to eat it all and four, we leave the bakery together and come back together. i'm not sure who your guardian is but, i'll make sure you're in one piece once you return to them"

"i'm my own guardian, excuse you."

"still, your safety is guaranteed when you're with me," juyeon claimed. you thought it was rubbish but still, he had a bigger brother vibe with the way he spoke and so you went with the flow.

"the left one's mine, the last one's the bathroom," he said, referring to the hallway of doors you were staring at. the muffled sound of news reporters from the television drowned itself in the background when you close the door behind you. a smile appeared on your face as you got to have your own room, without juyeon ever bugging you.

you place your heavy army backpack beside the door as you lay on the bed that was neatly made. you smiled, finally having a proper place to sleep. you thank god for the (annoying) co-worker that you met that day. you didn't even have a chance to shower before your thoughts drifted away, causing you to sleep.

the next morning, juyeon woke you up by shouting your name from the kitchen multiple times. you groaned at the sound of his voice at seven in the morning when you were used to waking up at nine. you sat up and started your day from there. thankfully, it wasn't too exhausting.

a morning walk to the cafe bakery was thankfully peaceful with the both of you not being the big social type nor the small talk type. the warm rays of sunlight made your morning so much better. you began working at the bar, where you produced many types of tea and other refreshing drinks. you managed to conjure up ice easily with some tricks your mother taught as a child.

you introduced yourself to the regulars as a new employee at the place and they politely welcomed you to the town and cafe. their smiles were genuine and sweet, they gave off a motherly feel whenever it appeared. yours, too, was genuine. you missed being in a community like this, so dearly that you almost teared up at the sight of a child being kind to you.

the night was better. the walk back to his place was filled with stories about the regulars that juyeon had been told. you had inserted some dull dad jokes here and there, making him let out a chuckle at least once.

once you both arrived at the apartment, you immediately went to get your shower supplies and headed to the bathroom. while showering, you thought of ways you could find her faster. you have tried multiple ways but still couldn't find solid proof of her whereabouts. you sighed scrubbing the bubbly shampoo onto your scalp. you could ask juyeon for help but your identity would be revealed and he might just kick you out for that. maybe, just maybe, you could keep this act up? for a little longer. at least until you get enough money to live on your own.

that was what you did for the next few months, keeping your act up for the rest of the world. you were careful not to reveal too much of yourself, not spreading too much information across to other people, not even juyeon. even if you had secrets, he still treated you as normal as everyone else. though, he did seem weird at times as if he could read your thoughts. this scared you as it wasn't impossible to learn occlumency even if it took time. over time, you and juyeon developed this best friend bond with each other; protecting and having each other's backs when needed. of course, he was the same person as the one you met on your first day around town which left a sense of comfort in you.

a nightmare dressed as a daydream was what you were as you would sneak out on nights before non-working days. you had to let out a piece of your dark powers out somehow. even if you knew how to conceal them, it didn't mean you could control them forever. you found a cave in the far east where no one would hear nor see you, and so that became your little relaxation cave.

not so long after, you found out that there was a man who could find things you couldn't. some say he had connections to the deeper net or even that he was related to some who were part of an underground gang. nonetheless, it didn't stop you from seeing the fella once a week or two. this method made itself a purpose as he gave you more information than any general person could; her hometown, her family members, and so much more.

it seemed like a miracle, though you never thought that she would have children, more than that of a son and a daughter. a fact that surprised you was that she had the same surname as your roommate. that was all the information he had, it was not much but you still thanked him for it. your night-ventures continued on, exploring the town and gathering bits of information through drunken folks at the tavern.

you would get home just before dawn and sleep until noon. of course, the male you lived with would nag you on waking up late but he never really cared either. he loved to see your bite back with your poor choice of words. everything felt right and everything felt okay, you were in peace with the world.

"where are you going?" his voice emerged from the darkness, causing your body to jump.

"i'm just gonna get some drinks," you answered, in a confident tone as you bit your inner bottom lip.

"are you going to go see him again?" juyeon asked, snickering along with his words. "don't think i don't know what you're up to."

his statements and questions made your mind run wild; how did he know? why didn't he ever stop you? did he understand what you were doing? did someone tell him? you became a still worried mess, not knowing what to say nor do. you were stuck in a pose as if medusa were to turn you into stone.

"please, just tell me where you're going tonight, or bring me with you," he said, his voice groggy as if he had woken up from a short sleep.

"no, i'm sorry, juyeon," the words flew out of your mouth as your thoughts re-organized themselves. "you can't"

"why not?" he asked, once again. at this point his questions seemed like an endless stream of cloth.

"because- you just can't," you sighed, relaxing your shoulders and going up to him. you didn't have any excuses because you weren't used to lying so much to someone who you cared for. "it's dangerous if you do, please just listen to me."

he sighed deeply as he always does before he nags. "i want to listen to you, y/n, but you going off in the middle of the night and coming home late isn't… so you. do you need to talk? or something. i know i'm not good with comfort but i'm here for you if you need to let out anything at all."

you felt broken, because you knew how much he longed for this type of relationship. he had told you about his sister that passed not so long ago and how much he adored her. you were about to say something when he placed his hands on your arms and gripped them, as a sign to not leave him.

"could you just tell me? please? i promise it would be a secret," he pleaded, truly worrying about what became a routine.

"you should sleep, juyeon. you have work tomorrow," you tried to avoid answering the question as much as possible but he made it so hard.

"i just want to know-"

"juyeon, you don't need to know. it's nothing important. you don't need to worry about me, alright? i promise i'll be okay," you said, in a sensible tone. you heard sniffles from the male that stood before you, as his grip on your arms loosened. he cracked a smile which held in pain mixed with joyful memories.

"you sound just like her," he said, in a shaky tone. he sounded weak, and you could see the pool of tears around his eyes. in that moment, you felt your breath turn shallow. you closed your eyes and immediately embraced the bigger man into a tight hug. you knew who he was referring to as he would do it so often when you opened your mouth to say anything. "you're like her" or "you act like my mother, you know that?", he always stated these in a cheery manner, but seeing him shatter like this made your heart wrench.

you decided to skip your night shenanigans when you lead him towards his room. you've never been in it but stepping into it, felt so cozy as if it were a cold breeze on a hot summer day. you sat him down on the edge of his bed, seeing his tears turn into a gold-ish colour. you sighed, seeing this side of him. you always saw the bright sunflower yellow but not this burnt out maroon red. you sat in silence as his sniffles calmed down.

the balcony door let in a ray of moonlight which shone on the boy beside you. you turned to look at him, and saw a grin emerge from his lips.

"thank you," he said in a whisper-tone. "for being here, y/n."

juyeon stared at the pale full moon that was on display for the people of the earth. "i'll always be here," you say, holding his hand. it was a nice intimate moment for the both of you. the state of serenity made you think about the things that led up to this right here and it was all because of a person whom you've never met.

"y'know.. she had the same powers as you," juyeon said, sipping his hot chocolate. you both were seated at the kitchen island with hot cocoas and mini marshmallows. it was almost four in the morning and so you both decided to stay up a little bit more, as if the sands of time didn't take precious hours of rest.

"she was a frost user as well?," you asked him, eager to know his family background.

"no," he said, chuckling before stuffing a few marshmallows into his already rich drink. you sat there, with one lifted eyebrow. "what are you talking about exactly?" you asked, warming your hands as it cupped the mug in front of you.

"you know what i mean," he said, holding in a deceiving smirk. your eyes widened and your hand gripped onto the mug handle. it wasn't the fact that he had discovered your hidden powers nor how he had hid the information that he knew your powers but it was the fact that the person that you were looking for all this time had died.

all the traveling and suffering lead you to this moment had been for nothing? you did all of this for her, and yet you turned into a sobbing mess when you visited her grave. juyeon held you close as you weeped when you saw her headstone. it absolutely broke you even if you've never even seen her nor heard her. he stayed strong for you when your head was buried into his chest. he could even feel the mix of rage and sadness as your powers seemed to leak from your tears.

"i miss her too," he spoke up, still caressing your weak state. "i'm sure she would have adored you so much, y/n"

your feelings got the best of you and soon every noise stopped, with only an ever-lasting ring in your ears. your tear-filled eyes opened to see a ring of dark purple surround you like a globe with your feet dangling in the air. it was a new, unspoken sight to see but what had happened outside the bubble was a new horror to you.

juyeon was laying on the ground, upon the many other graves. his skin covered with burnt marks of some kind, and his chest area covered with blood spots which may came from bullets. your bubble disappeared as you jumped down on the ground, going over to his lifeless body as fast as you could.

"y/n.." he said, breathless. "i'll be okay."

"but.."

"they'll be here soon."

you were confused on what he was referring to - not until you heard police and ambulance sirens coming from a distance. you cupped his face which managed to give you a small grin even in his hurtful state. "don't leave. don't leave me please."

"you need to run, y/n"

"stop. stop.. saying that," you pleaded, with some of your leftover tears dripping onto his burnt clothing. you could hear his last breaths too, which made it harder for you to ever leave his side.

"i'll see you later.. alright?" he asked, as his final words. his body fell to limp in your arms, when your tears started flowing like a never ending river. the sirens were coming closer at the scene of the crime, and there you sat, clutching onto him with your last hope of humanity. you didn't care about the police nor the property you destroyed, you lost him. you lost HIM.

in that moment, the world stayed still with no promise that it was going to spin again. your head felt dizzy as your limbs felt numb. you knew it only had been a few minutes but it felt like centuries with your silenced screams. you didn't want to be outcast, you were already alone in the world with no one else you could call for help. everyone else had their counterparts but all you had was yourself. you hated the thought of being lonely and so you stayed there, weak, just to feel something worth living for.

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