#-> verse: the lady of whitestone

[fenthrasandbluefeather]

∗ 14﹕ sender places their head in receiver’s lap . (from gwen)

The Lady of Whitestone sighed. It had been a long day and an even longer night as she returned from a diplomatic meeting in Syngurn of all places. She gently closed the door to her and Percivals suite within the castle of Whitestone he would already be asleep and she wanted nothing more then to strip off her armor and join him for the night, though as she hung Fenthras on it's place, stood her quiver next to it, and started opening the buckles of her bracers and dragonscale armor pieces, a flash of red caught her eye and a small smile pulled on her lips.

On the sittee infront of the dieing hearth lay a little Tiefling, curled up around a pillow with bleary eyes as if just waking up. "Did you wait up for me, little love?" Her voice was soft as she abandoned the harnish and leg bracers along the rest of her armor pieces, not bothering to clean them up but rather wanting to be with her youngest daughter.

Vex sat down, inviting Gwendolyn to curl up to her and gently ran her fingers through her dark curls. "Did you escape your Nanny again?" She chuckled, voice tender. "You should be long since asleep. You need all your energy if you want to raise hell around the castle again tomorrow."

[fenthrasandbluefeather]

Vex chuckled, the glint in Caleb's eyes not passing by unnoticed, lighting up just like Percival's eyes whenever he sparked another idea for projects or improvements around Whitestone. "Oh, I am well aware." Her eyes glinted with amusement as the wizard got lost in his musings and explanations, but she felt herself being pulled right alongside him. It felt like researching dragon's all over again but with better ressources and not barely making ends meet while on the road with her brother. "There are enchantments against scrying spells, I figured a similar approach could be a good start?" This was a little out of her depth, though Vex'ahlia had never been one to shy away from knowledge and she certainly wasn't stupid. Though, the half-elf rather counted herself as street smart and politically savy rather then trying to match the wizard's or her husband's intellects. She hadn't met someone who could hold a candle to them in their specific fields.

Something seemed to have shifted between them as the rest of the formality fell away and they settled into a more chatty environment as Caleb's eyes seemed to soften. Vex met his gaze with a smile, breathing out a held breath, clearly relaxing. "Fuck yes... I think I'm in desperate need for a drink and swapping stories. Believe me... Diplomacy is tiring, especially if you have to navigate politicians all day. It can be quite fun, especially when you get to beat them at their own word games, but sadly the meetings have been rather dull this time around." And to be honest, she would rather spend some time chatting with a passionate mind then attending the inofficial dinner she got invited to. Maybe Vex would just show up fashionably late.

Caleb chuckled, a knowing glint in his eye as he nodded in understanding. "Ah, I can certainly relate to your husband's enthusiasm for his craft. I’ll admit, there have been countless times when I've found myself so engrossed in my research that I've forgotten to leave my laboratory or office for days on end. The pursuit of knowledge can be an all-consuming passion… easy to lose oneself in it." As he imagined she was well aware.

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk as he clasped his hands together, a thoughtful expression on his face. "The concept of shielding specific individuals against certain entities is a fascinating one. It's a more targeted approach than a general cloaking spell, and it could potentially offer a higher level of protection. However, it will require a great deal of precision and a deep understanding of the nature of the entities you wish to ward against."

Caleb's mind raced with the possibilities, his eyes alight with the thrill of a new challenge. "I'll need to delve into some ancient texts and consult with a few colleagues who specialize in this area of magic. It may take some time, but I'm confident that with enough research and experimentation, we can develop a spell that will provide the protection you seek for your family and friends."

He leaned back in his chair, a warm smile on his face as he regarded Vex with a friendly gaze. "I'll get started on the research as soon as possible. In the meantime, would you care to join me for a drink? It would be a pleasure to share stories and exchange theories with you. I'm sure we both have plenty of tales to tell."

[everlightblessing]

                    tag drops: cassandra!

[southern-gothic-comic]

Page 17

Next 💜 Back 🖤 First

(Author Notes)

Panel 1: Later that day. They are walking through sun-dappled early autumn woods, carrying a picnic basket and a blanket, peaceful in each other’s company. Laudna’s shoulder begins to creak from the weight of the basket between them.

Imogen: What was that song you were singin’ earlier? It was real pretty.

Laudna: Oh, just some old folk song Pâté and I sing sometimes. I think I must have learned it back in Whitestone, but it’s been so long I’d forgotten some of the verses and we had to make up our own. I could teach it to you sometime, if you’d like.

Imogen: Yeah, I’d like that.

Laudna: If you don’t mind my croaking, that is.

Imogen: No, your voice is . . . lovely. I mean that.

Panel 2: Continuing on through the woods. Laudna reaches up to brush her hand through the hanging leaves as they pass.

Imogen: You said it’s been a long time, since you left home? How long’ve you and Pâté been travelin’ together?

Laudna: Oh, it’s been . . . several years now, I think. I’ve sort of lost track. We go way back, Pâté and I.

Imogen: That long? You must’ve been awful young when you started out.

Panel 3: The scene fades briefly into a memory, still framed by the trees in the present-day woods. A nameless, newly-Hollow girl is sitting on the floor in the broken remnants of a farm shed, which she has decorated with branches of pine needles, pine cones, and winter berries. There is a small collection of objects displayed on a shelf: a satchel, a length of frayed rope, a smooth stone, a raven skull, a pair of scissors, and in the corner a bed made of a thin pile of pine needles with a blanket and a rough, handmade bugbear doll. While physically the same age as in the present, there is a sense of childlike uncertainty in her mien. She is wearing the tatters of a blue tabard. Nestled in what remains of the fur trim on her shoulder is a live rat, whom she is petting and singing to in a drifting, absent kind of way. Not remembering all the words, she fills in the blanks with nonsense syllables.

Hollow One: (singing) ♪ “No king’s daughter, nor a lady am I . . .” No. “No king’s lost daughter am I, nor a lady . . . la la la, My finery’s all in tatters, and . . . la lulla, la la la . . .” ♪

Laudna: (VO) Yes, I . . . suppose I was.

Panel 4: Laudna returns to the present as Imogen continues.

Imogen: Doesn’t your family worry about you?

Laudna: Oh, they’re long dead.

Imogen: Oh. I’m sorry, Laudna, I shouldn’t have . . .

Laudna: No, don’t be. They’re not here to be offended.

Panel 5: Imogen startles as Laudna’s shoulder pops from its socket, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

Imogen: I don’t mean to pry. I’m just real curious about you.

Laudna: Well, if you have any questions, you need only to ask. As to my age . . . I feel I’m somewhere between “too young to understand everything that keeps happening to me” and “ancient beyond reckoning.” Often both, at once.

Imogen: Well, that’s . . . quite an age.

Laudna: What about you?

Imogen: Uh. Well, I turned 26 a few weeks back.

Laudna: Oh, many happy returns! I’m sorry to have missed it.

[whisker-biscuit]

To Gag a Gagster

Fandom: Critical Role, Legend of Vox Machina verse

Rating: T for Kidnapping, Violence, Threats of Mutilation, Mild Sexual Fantasies (AKA Scanlan Being Scanlan)

Summary: When Scanlan wakes up at the mercy of kidnappers looking for a quick ransom, he's not overly concerned - until he's threatened with losing his greatest (and only) weapon.

His voice.

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Scanlan comes to in a daze, head pounding and body stiff. This isn’t unusual for him depending on the kind of night he’s just had, and the lack of memory from the last several hours doesn’t particularly concern him, either. He moans; the sound is muffled by a thick strip of fabric in his mouth. That’s pretty par for the course, too.

But then he tries to lift his arms towards the gag in his mouth and finds he’s unable to. They’re tied behind his back, pressed up against a hard, flat surface. That is…a lot more unusual than the rest. Scanlan’s eyes flutter open to find himself sitting on the floor of a completely empty room, propped up against a wall. His feet aren’t bound and he’s fully clothed, which are both pluses. He barely has the time to process that maaaaybe this isn’t what he’d thought it was before a flat voice on his right side makes him freeze.

“Gnome’s awake.”

Scanlan turns his head only to lock eyes with those of a stout half-elf who is squatting nearby. She wrinkles her nose with disdain when their gazes meet and elbows something behind her that he can’t see. From the “oof” sound that comes out in response, it’s another mystery person.

“Wake up! I said the gnome’s awake!”

“Fuck do you want me to do about that?” The other stranger stands and stretches in one fluid motion. This one is pure human; incredibly lanky in a way that might remind Scanlan of Keyleth if Keyleth wasn’t a treat to look at.

“You’re the spellcaster. Put him back to sleep.” Half-Elf Lady reaches forward to grab Scanlan by his chain necklace. He lets out a choked noise through the gag when she yanks him forward with it. “I heard rumors that he can use magic. I don’t want any trouble while we’re waiting.”

“What is he going to do tied up like that? He’s harmless,” Human Guy scoffs. “I’m not wasting any energy until we hear back from the de Rolo.”

Scanlan’s throbbing head spins with a hundred different thoughts. In order, the first twenty or so are “what the hell is going on?”; the next eleven are “what does Percy have to do with this?” and the final sixty-nine (nice – shut up, idiot, you’ve been kidnapped) are all different flavors of “I need to get the fuck out of here right the fuck now.” He starts trying to get his feet under him but the half-elf scowls and pushes him back against the wall with enough force his brain rattles in his skull when he hits it.

“Stay still if you know what’s good for you,” she hisses, pointing a threatening finger in his face. “We’re waiting for your nobleman friend to pay ransom to return you alive, but we didn’t say anything about unharmed. If you get annoying then we’re going to have a problem.”

It’s a damned good thing they had the foresight to gag him, then, and not because he’s a caster. Scanlan rolls his eyes to accompany the acknowledging nod he gives her. She shoots him a dubious glare but doesn’t start manhandling him again, which he counts as both a win and a loss.

Listen, the trip to Whitestone and back is the longest he’s gone without a lay in a while. Not his fault he’s got needs.

Seemingly satisfied, the half-elf stands up and heads for a door on the opposite side of the room. The click of the lock when she closes it behind her has him audibly groaning; he did not sign up for wrestling with a door without A Vax on top of the rest of this bullshit. The human still in the room pulls out a book, crisscrosses his legs onto the floor, and starts reading. Instead of giving any more thought to the impossible barriers in his future escape plans, Scanlan slumps backwards against the wall in the perfect picture of defeat.

But here's the thing about binding someone’s hands: there are three factors you have to consider when doing it. One, the material you use had better be solid enough not to fray or snap against pressure. From the feel of the ropes around Scanlan’s wrists, these are well past their prime. Two, the knot you tie better actually be tight and not easily pulled apart at the slightest tug. This part, at least, his kidnappers seem to have a decent handle on. There aren’t any quick-release strings from a quick run through with his fingers on the ends he can reach.

And then there’s three: you better be fucking sure you haven’t kidnapped an expert escape artist. As far as Scanlan’s concerned, decades of bondage experience – both professional and really, really amateurish – has pretty much made him the second-best thing to that.

All that to say that it takes about eight minutes for him to get his hands free. Closer to nine if he feels like being generous to his captors, and he’s really fucking not.

The human is still reading, completely oblivious as Scanlan flexes his fingers behind his back to get the blood flowing back in them. Taking down the Briarwoods and their asshole cronies is a new and prideful notch in his belt, but he’s not about to let it get to his head and think he can easily ditch these clowns without all his tools in place.

He’ll let it get to his head after he gets out of here. Both heads, actually, preferably accompanied with at least two partners and a shit-ton of wine. Maybe that one elderly nobleman who loved his after-dinner performance has friends who are just as repressed as he was.

Scanlan starts working the knot to the gag at the back of his head, trying not to drool at the fantasy already growing in his mind. An entire country club of old folks all clamoring for his attention as he makes them feel young again, experiencing things that never would’ve crossed their minds before he arrived to show them the light –

The human looks up just as he gets the gag out of his mouth. There’s a single moment where they lock gazes, both wide-eyed and startled by the other, before the man’s hand raises. The hairs on the back of Scanlan’s neck prickle and he barely starts to scream the first syllable to Scanlan’s Hand when a sickly familiar muffling smacks into his entire body. He gasps as Silence overtakes him, a looping mantra of fuck not again fuck not again, and the spell on his tongue disappears before even a whisp of purple can manifest.

Scanlan doesn’t think. He just runs.

He gets his fingers on the doorknob before much bigger hands grab him around the waist and tear him away. Scanlan screams an inaudible scream, half in frustration and half in fear, flailing and kicking for all his little limbs are worth as his captor picks him up. The muted scream cuts off in a wheeze when he’s slammed back-first onto hard floor, wind knocked completely out of him.

“How the hell did you get loose?!” The man exclaims, incredulous and furious. He wraps one hand around Scanlan’s throat to lift him partially off the ground and begins shaking him. “What did you use? A knife? A spell? What the fuck did you use?!”

Those deceptively strong fingers tighten enough that Scanlan starts gasping for an entirely different reason. He claws desperately at the grip cutting off his air, babbling excuses and pleas and word salads that never get farther than his paling lips. Nothing he does weakens the hold; nothing he says even has a chance at helping as his only real weapon has been silenced.

His captor finally seems to realize that he’s not going to get answers from a Silenced, choking hostage. He releases his hands and Scanlan gulps for breath beneath him, blinking away the black spots in his eyes without much success.

“Partner warned me you might be trouble,” the man grumbles to himself. He starts rummaging in his pockets, still keeping the gnome pinned under his knees. “I don’t want to keep wasting spells if you keep finding a way to get out of your bonds.”

Scanlan’s faculties return to him just in time to see a knife pulled out. He freezes, unblinking as he stares at the weapon hovering uncomfortably close to his face. The human makes a contemplative face like he’s considering what to make for lunch instead of whatever he’s thinking of doing with that knife.

“Hey!” He suddenly shouts towards the closed door. “You still have that healing potion with you? I wanna cut the little fucker’s tongue out but I don’t want him to bleed out.”

Scanlan’s heart stops beating.

He goes limp out of sheer shock for a single moment; so wholly stunned by the very idea that his brain almost can’t process what it would mean. But then the world comes back into focus by the glint of the knife right before it presses against his closed lips.

No.

His struggling renews with a fervor unmatched by anything in his life.

No. No. No.

A body so much bigger than his pins him down with its weight alone. His fingers claw and scratch against the ground until every single one is bleeding.

No! No! No!

He wants to scream against the horror of what he’s facing even though it would condemn him, but he doesn’t dare. He’s still Silenced; he wouldn’t even get the luxury of hearing his own voice one last time before his very existence shatters.

The hand not holding the knife grabs him by his jaw. Starts to force it open.

NO NO NO NO NO

The door swings open suddenly, silhouetting the form of the half-elf standing in the doorway. She takes a single step forward before a bullet smashes through her skull from the back, exploding out of her forehead. She’s dead before she even hits the ground.

“What the fuck?!” The man yells, jumping to his feet only to be met with a simultaneous arrow and dagger to his chest. He keels over, landing back on top of Scanlan who loses his breath for a third time in ten minutes.

Someone – maybe Grog, maybe an angel, maybe the fucking devil at this point – hauls the body off of him while smaller hands glowing a familiar gold are immediately at his side. Scanlan sees Pike above him, her lips moving in what must be reassurances, but he can’t hear anything through the static in his head. Maybe the Silence spell fucked with his ears, too. Maybe he’s just dying.

Dying would almost be better than –

He gasps as if possessed and throws a hand up to his mouth. The feel of blood against his fingers nearly sends him spiraling again but it’s just his bottom lip that’s been nicked; he finds his tongue safe and untouched within his mouth.

The relief that hits him is so powerful he loses all ability to hold himself up. Scanlan sags against Pike so thoroughly she squeaks out a surprised little “oh” that he finally hears now that the nightmare he was facing has passed.

“Scanlan! Are you still hurt? Are you okay?” She suddenly grips his arm as if noticing something on his shirt. “Oh, you’ve got some kind of effect all over you – are you Silenced?”

He gives a haggard nod. For the first time in his life, he’s grateful not to have to use his voice. He doesn’t know what would come out of his mouth right now but he knows none of it would be good.

“Hey, Scanlan, hey, it’s okay! It’ll fade soon, I’m sure.”

She brushes a tear from under his eye and – huh. When did he start crying?

Best not to think about it. The danger is over, the threat is past, and the last thing he needs to do is make his team think he’s crying over a stupid Silence spell.

Scanlan meets Pike’s worried expression and manages to smile. It’s shaky at the edges, wobbly and wet, but it’s enough to make her shoulders relax. A pathetic substitute that is still more potent than what anyone else in Vox Machina could ever do.

Everything’s fine, it says for him.

I’m fine.

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A/N: This was half a spur-of-the-moment idea that sounded fun to write, and half a way for me to practice Scanlan's voice because Critical Role (and this little bastard in particular) has had me in a chokehold for about 8 months now.

Please send help.

[deathturned]

general statistics.

FULL NAME Vex'ahlia Vessar. NICKNAMES Vex, Stubby (only to Vax). TITLES Lady Vex'ahlia, Baroness of the First (formerly Third) House of Whitestone and Grand Mistress of the Grey Hunt, Champion of Pelor, Coinmistress of the Tal'Dorei Council. AFFILIATION Vax'ildan, Vox Machina, Slayer's Take, Dawnfather, Chamber of Whitestone, Council of Emon.

BORN Spring 783, Byroden. GENDER Cisgender woman. PRONOUNS She/her/hers. SEXUALITY Bisexual. HEIGHT 5'9". HAIR COLOR Black. EYE COLOR Hazel. TATTOOS None (yet). SCARS Several, mostly general wear and tear from adventuring. Most notably, a brand on her upper right arm marking her as a member of the Slayer's Take, a burn scar over her heart from her death in the Sunken Tomb, burn scar along her left side from her death battling Vecna.

RACE Half-elf. RELIGION Eventual devotion to the Dawnfather.

POSITIVE TRAITS Adventurous, charismatic, compassionate, outgoing, pragmatic, self-confident. NEGATIVE TRAITS Deceitful, distrusting, obsessive, resentful, vain, vengeful. ALIGNMENT Chaotic good (formerly neutral good/chaotic neutral).

PHOBIAS None. MENTAL HEALTH Relatively healthy (situational trauma).

skills & abilities.

EDUCATION Trained by private tutors in Syngorn at her father's instruction. PROFESSION Mercenary, adventurer, Grand Mistress of the Grey Hunt, member of the Chamber of Whitestone, member of the Council of Emon. LANGUAGES Common, Undercommon, Elvish, Draconic, Abyssal, Thieves' Cant.

HALF-ELF ABILITIES Darkvision, Fey ancestry, skill versatility. FEATS Observant, sharpshooter. PROFICIENCIES Skill—Athletics, deception, insight, investigation, persuasion, survival; Expertise—Acrobatics, perception, stealth; Tools—Thieves' tools.

BLESSING OF THE DAWNFATHER Natural resistance to necrotic damage, ability to channel the light of day into her being.

ranger.

FAVORED ENEMIES Dragons, demons. NATURAL EXPLORER Forest, mountain, Underdark. SPELLCASTING Wisdom-based. FIGHTING STYLE Archery. ARCHETYPE Beast Master—Ranger's companion (Trinket, brown bear), bestial fury, exceptional training; primal fury. ABILITIES Primeval awareness, extra attack, land's stride, hide in plain sight, skirmisher's stealth. SPELLS Cure Wounds*, Hail of Thorns*, Hunter's Mark*, Speak with Animals*, Lesser Restoriation**, Locate Object**, Pass without Trace**, Protection from Poison**, Spike Growth**, Conjure Animals***, Conjure Barrage***, Lightning Arrow***, Grasping Vine****, Conjure Woodland Beings****.

rogue.

EXPERTISE Acrobatics, Perception, Stealth. ARCHETYPE Assassin—Assassinate, bonus proficiencies (disguise kit, poisoner's kit). ABILITIES Cunning action, sneak attack, Thieves' Cant, uncanny dodge, evasion.

connections.

PARENTS Elaina (mother, deceased), Syldor (father, estranged), Devana (stepmother, estranged). SIBLINGS Vax'ildan (twin brother), Velora (younger half-sister), Cassandra de Rolo (sister-in-law, main verse).

SPOUSE Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III (husband, main verse). CHILDREN Vesper Elaina (daughter), Wolfe (son), Leona (daughter), Vax'ildan (son), Gwendolyn (daughter).

Note: While I am happy to ship Vex with other characters, Percy is her main ship & her relationship with and eventual marriage to him is her default. This will be her canon unless we have discussed a different ship.

VOX MACHINA Vax'ildan, Percy de Rolo, Keyleth of the Air Ashari, Scanlan Shorthalt, Grog Strongjaw, Pike Trickfoot, Taryon Darrington.

character intro.

Like so many half-elves, Vex'ahlia has spent most of her life suffering the cool reception of a people who don't fully accept her.

Born of a human mother and an elven father—who only later in life took an interest in their existence—Vex'ahlia and her twin brother Vax'ildan quickly realized the only people they could truly rely on in this world were each other.

It was at the age of ten when the two were taken from their mother, and brought to live in Syngorn, the isolated elven city for which their father was an ambassador. He quietly took them in, but always kept an icy distance, and after too many years of disdainful looks, the pair decided to leave his indifference behind, and set out on their own.

Vax took to the cities, stealing small trinkets and learning the ways of the thief, while Vex kept to the woods. She preferred the isolation. Always the keen observer, she learned to hunt and to track, to spy, and to shoot. And through a series of fateful events, earned herself a companion in the form of a bear—her own stolen Trinket—to fight alongside her and protect her fiercely. Also, he is adorable—and gives expert massages.

[msommers]

sword knuckles and whip for meredith and elena!!!

thank youuuu 💜💚 // choose your weapon ask game

Sword - Have they ever broken an oath?

MEREDITH — she never technically voiced such an oath, but she definitely broke the vow that most grey wardens make in swearing that stopping the darkspawn is their sole goal after the joining. meredith never surrendered her titles and actively called on them during the fifth blight, and though she did her duties as warden-commander for years,,,everybody knew that she was far more devoted to politics and ruling.

ELENA — not that i can think of. she's the type to take her word seriously and only commit it to something she truly believes in, any oath would be the utmost responsibility in her eyes.

Knuckles - What is their health like?

MEREDITH — she's in good health, much to the dismay of the haters. she's a warden but she rarely encounters darkspawn, and as a rogue has no access to any magic that would accelerate the progression of the taint. of course it's still there and in time will take its course, but she hopes to cut off that potential before the first inkling appears.

ELENA — she's golden. she's insane. girlie has a +4 constitution score, she's in peak condition and will nearly always be that way given who and what she is.

Whip - Who/What are they tied to? Relationships? Obligations?

MEREDITH — the cousland family and denizens of the highever teyrnir, the kingdom of ferelden as a larger picture, her positions of power, alistair. she has always felt a deep connection to people, especially those who are in her charge such as the folks of the teyrnir when she was a lady, and then the fereldans during the fifth blight and after. she was born into a position of power and privilege, has always known this and felt obliged to use that position justly and responsibly. (and alright, yes, maybe, she enjoys it quite a lot.) has been bound to alistair since the battle of ostagar, still true in alt verses when somebody else is her LI but incredibly so in her default state where they become partners then royals and start changing the kingdom together. i can’t find the words to explain it at this moment but like. some kind of tie to nathaniel as well, strange as it may seem given the circumstances of their reuniting at vigil’s keep. they bond over the course of awakening and then maintain a close friendship long after.

ELENA — has been tied to whitestone and the zenith since birth. she came into this world with a whole ass divine miracle and was expected to continue to do great things as the sunblessed child of pelor, and she took that on as an obligation as she grew. she has a big tie to the citizens of whitestone in general because she loves them, wants to protect and aid them with the abilities that pelor grants her, but she doesn’t have any specific ties outside of one true friend. hasn’t really bonded with anybody else outside of that lmao

[flyingupward]

@everlightblessing​ said: “You left me no choice but to stay here forever.” -- cassandra to delilah!

     ❝ you say that as if it’s a PUNISHMENT to be allowed to stay in your home. ❞ delilah tuts disapprovingly. ❝ honestly, cassandra, after all we’ve done for you.. ❞ she takes a moment, feigning hurt, before bright eyes turned towards the young woman, sympathy SCHOOLED onto her features. ❝ then again, it’s not your fault, is it ? you’re lashing out. after what your family did to you... i understand. it’s easier to BLAME ME than it is to accept the truth. ❞

[halcyon-writings]

— back again with the herald!verse, but this time with special guests

nav.

!! major c3 spoilers !!

(also implied poly wooooo)

you enjoy the cool breeze that always seems to linger about whitestone. although perhaps that was due, in part, to your preference for longer sleeves and sweaters. but hey, after everything you’ve done and been through, you deserved to splurge on comfy sweaters.

an idyllic life was not one you had believed were in the cards for you. (a far more grim part of your mind thought you’d perhaps die a puppet like delilah briarwood, and by extent, vecna had intended.) but alas, now here you were, occasionally working at the slayer’s cake with some old friends and enjoying a simple thing like lounging around with a book in one hand and a warm cup of tea in another.

only when you sense a person, persons, that is, outside of your home, you know that something will change. you don’t like the way the comforting breeze settles into an ominous chill.

taking a simple cloak hanging off of the rack near the door, as whitestone itself was a bit colder than everywhere else, you brace yourself for whatever awaits you outside.

well, it wasn’t a random assortment of adventurers that you were expecting. in front of them, percy, without his cane and instead a long rifle slung over his back. immediately you’re concerned.

you step out, door shutting behind you as you raise a hand and place a simple charm to lock it.

“percival, what happened?”

he swallows deeply and begins to explain.

you considered yourself a rational person. especially now that you matured and seen and experienced many things. nothing could break that reason you believed you had.

except when they mention delilah briarwood, your palms feel clammy, your hands tremble. ringing begins in your ears.

you hear your name being called. sounds muddled as you step forward.

"you brought her here? of all places?" your voice sounds like your own, but also doesn't. familiar red wisps curl around your fingers, your breathing quickens.

there's a woman with lilac colored hair, her expression desperate, "we had no other choice, she's-"

with a flick of your wrist, she's bound by the red wisps that had been curled around your fingers, your nostrils flared as you all but stomp in her direction. the other members of her party had their weapons raised.

"there is always a choice," you snap, your glare stops her midsentence, "you should've left her as she was. and let the scourge of delilah briarwood die with her."

a fireball is launched in your direction, and your features turn confused for a moment as you hear some animal screech, your other hand keeping the woman in place while the other redirects the fireball.

the momentary confusion gives you clarity, and the holding spell is dropped, your heartbeat rings in your ears. a hand on your shoulder almost makes you jump.

you turn to percival, and he almost flinches, before remembering the company of strangers, when his expression schools itself into the usual collectedness. your own expression is wounded.

the group before you senses the need for privacy at least, and you readily ignore their hard stares, a green haired woman assisting the one you captured.

vex'ahlia takes your shaking hands, giving them a soft squeeze, which you return in an almost instant. (damn, when had she arrived?, you think)

your breathing begins to slow.

"i know this might be too much to ask of you, especially considering the risks" he begins, "but if possible..." trailing off when you inhale sharply.

"they will not be receiving any of my help," you cross your arms in front of your chest, your shoulders squared, "but if she makes a reappearance because of what they are going to do, i will do all in my power to destroy her."

percival and vex'ahlia share a look, before the lord and lady of whitestone accept your answer.

you bite your lip, "after everything that delilah briarwood did to you, to me, everything, you would risk such a thing and for what? what of the children?" your silent question follows 'what if they were next?'

percival stiffens, "I know."

with a wave of your hand, your plain clothing changes to familiar armors and leathers, your eyes trained on the group some feet away knowing that they were attempting to listen.

"then you know why in good conscious that I cannot help," you adjust the gloves on your hands, "but I will protect whitestone."

percival reaches for your hand, which you allow, placing a kiss to your knuckles before brushing his thumb against them, "and I will forever be indebted to you for it."

[revenge-is-dead]

A Second End to the Briarwoods

Tw// Murder, Gore, Detailed descriptions of wounds, and Suicide 

Blood soaked into the already disgusting stone. Bloods of hundreds of innocents spilled onto the Ziggurat and the underground of Whitestone’s castle. From the undead and disgusting tyranny of the Briarwoods after they had taken over Whitestone castle. The whole town had fallen into ruin and darkness. Most days the skies were cloudy, the sky promising rain that most times would never come. Leaving the people starving, the ground's energy having been sucked away years ago.

Death was a common thing within the area, wild animal attacks, the undead giants capturing unknowing civilians who strayed too close, people dying of disease and starvation. And the most dangerous killer, the Briarwoods, who frankly needed no introduction. Whoever went into the castle never came out alive, their bodies gone or sent out to be shown as what could happen if you disobeyed the Lord and Lady. 

Blood was spilled over and over again, enriching the soil so much that if you cast summon undead you most likely would get Earth like elementals of pain and hatred. Now every more blood was being spilled. A battle raged below Whitestone. The new to the city Vox Machina verses the Tyrants of Whitestone, Lord and Lady Briarwood.

The battle had gone through the underbelly of the castle, through the acid pits and now to the Ziggurat. The whole room has a feeling to it. Inscriptions in languages too old for many to read. The words of pain coming from the undead to serve the one who speaks to them. The room was dimly lit, candles scattered around on the ghoulish stone, lanterns at the far walls and a green ominous light coming from the top of the Ziggurat. Blood dripped off of everyone in the room, a long battle leaving everyone in varying states of pain. Delilah bleeding out from her missing arm, Sylas by her side holding her up the best he can. He himself was covered in cuts, large and small from daggers, swords and the great battle axe. 

“My love please, do you have anything more, I only have enough to get me out” Sylas whispered into the hair of his wife. Pulling her closer she whimpered as pain flowed deeper into her.

“Darling, I have nothing left. You are too valuable to lose your life, get out while you still can.” Delilah kissed his arm that was holding her. Looking up to her husband, tears nearly falling from her eyes, a mix of pain and worry for his safe being.

“No, I will not leave you Delilah”

“No one is fucking leaving but us once you’re dead” The red headed druid said. Eyes glowing a terrifying green, something of nature and feral fury. Her hands lit up with fire. Soon the rest of the party caught up with her. Weapons at the ready, arrows pointed at the two of them. And a very familiar barrel of a gun.

Dark smoke weaved around Percy De Rolo, a pair of white eyes of a demon just above Percy’s shoulder watching and waiting. Whispers only being heard by the wielder of the List. A pact built of guilt, revenge and anger for what he had suffered.

Sylas rested his wife onto a pillar before unsheathing Craven edge, the blade thrumming within his grip. The soft drip of blood onto the ground from gaping wounds, a sickly deep red blood of an undead.

“Drop your weapon Sylas, this is a losing battle. Drop your weapon and accept death.” Smooth words of Vex ring out in the cavern. The bow string pulls taught. The sounds of heavy breathing from both parties and the weak ragged gasps from Delilah as she sat there.  

He weakly pushed forward, holding his cut open side with one hand. Trying to keep his intestines within his body. Raising Craven Edge and stancing up, Glaring at the party. Pushing through the crowd of his friends Percy strolled up.

“Oh, don’t worry, I got this” A cold smirk from Percy and an even colder look in his eyes. Them soon shifted to black completely, only the icy blue iris remains. The list already out he fired a shot at the vampire lord's knee. It connects and obliterates his kneecap, Sylas collapsing down onto the ground. Sword still held up but with a look of primal fear written all over his face. 

The white pupils of the demon had disappeared, but the top of the Ziggurat was becoming harder to see through all of the smoke that was spouting off of Percy. The smoke clinging to his clothes like oil, pouring out from the collar of his shirt, and from the cuff of his coat. Swirling around his hand towards the barrel of the gun. Unbeknownst to the rest of Vox Machina black markings had started forming on his skin from once he had entered Whitestone. The skin around the middle of his chest where his heart laid deep within his flesh. His Trigger hand leading up to mid arm and now, black like marks leading down from the bottom of his eyelids to his jaw. 

He pushed closer. His friends panning out behind him, keeping eyes on the door opening to the room. Eyes on the Briarwoods and of course eyes on Percival. Raising his gun up higher, shooting Sylas’s right shoulder out. Bits of gore, blood and bone splattering off onto the stone. A whimper coming from Delilah, her pushing closer towards her husband.

“Percy? Are you sure you have got this?” Vex's voice coming about ten feet from his right side. Not even sparing a look at her.

“Yes Percival, listen to your little girly~ Are you sure you have this handled? Or are you going to run away again like you did to your sister.” After just being shot in the shoulder and having it been obliterated in his close to final moments and yet he was still trying to be high and mighty. Taking what little grasps of power he had left.

“Oh yes, I am quite sure” A smile laced upon his face as he strides forward placing two shots into Sylas’s head. His body hitting the floor with a loud thump. The force of it causes blood to streak. The face and head that was once Lord Sylas Briarwood was no more. A concave mess of blood, flesh, pieces of shattered skull and hair matted with blood. Another shot rang out one into his heart, from near point-blank range it also obliterated into a mess of horror.

“What the fuck Freddy”

Taking out the components to reload, prepping the gun for another six shots as the name of Lord Sylas Briarwood burns off of the barrel. Stepping over the body towards Delilah, the gun raised and pointed towards the ceiling. She sat there shivering eyes wide with panic at the monster that once used to be a man she helped create.

“You took everything from me. My parents, my siblings, my childhood innocence. Years of life I will never get back. And Ripley, she took something from me that has tainted me till this day. You are a heartless monster that should have died long ago. But I'm glad you didn’t. Because I would have never had the chance to take and destroy all of the things you cared about right in front of your eyes.” Lowering his gun during the speech. Percy suddenly shoots off a shot to the stomach. Her gripping her middle trying to stop the bleeding but still knowing the futility of the situation.

The shock holding the team still not letting up. No one’s body allows them to move an inch towards the destruction laying in front of them. Another deafening shot rang from out the room landing into Lady Briarwood's chest. One last one going into her head. The name of Lady Delilah Briarwood burning off of the barrel of the gun.

Percy’s right arm falling to his side. The list still held within his grasp. Smoke leaking off of his body, creating an inch thick fog resting above the floor for around fifteen feet. Everyone shaken out of their frozen positions. Both Vax and Vex coming up from the right to his side. Keyleth came from the other side clutching her staff with a scared look in her eyes.

“Freddy what the actual fuck was that? What in the complete shit was that?” Vax yelled at the unmoving silent man in front of him. Not taking notice yet to the strangeness that had washed over him.

“Vax shut up! He’s in shock after just killing the two people who murdered his whole family. Stop yelling at him, asshole!” Vex quipped back, glaring at her brother.

“Percy? Are you okay?” The weak voice of Keyleth spoke next to him. Studding his face for signs of movement. Looking increasingly worried at blackened skin. Black eyes with the unmoving irises. A warmer, smoother voice spoke, surprising everyone. Scanlan right next to Percy's hand staring at his gun.

“What the fuck” The man who is hard to make speechless stood their mouth agape at the writings all along the barrel of the gun. From his line of sight. Each barrel having the name etched in haphazardly over and over again. Percival “Percy” De Rolo.

A brief moment before Percy raised his gun to his head. Three shots rang out before his body collapsed. The name permanently etched into the tainted unholy gun.

[stormlit]

while tairia is technically an entire world, i think by default just for ease of rping with my 6000 cr mutuals it’s just going to be an extra continent in exandria, originally known for its fair monarchy and druidic magic but now isolated by its closed borders, terrible authoritarian leadership (that massacred said monarchy), and the fact that the second adventurers get there, all their magic is dampened down and they have little power. plus teleporting out is a huge problem. this is done through the use of anti-magic siphons (akin to the spinning orb of death beneath whitestone) that are heavily guarded and also extremely secret. there are ways to get there! but it’s more likely going to be rue going to tal’dorei or whitestone and eventually bringing her new friends back to help.

and for her br*dgerton/regency verse, think anastasia. people still talk about the massacre of the tairian royal family, as they visited london often and were friendly with the queen/the ton, and now there are rumours that the lost princess, the one who everyone lost track of while her siblings made it to family in england; they’re searching for her decades later. but she has no memory of her life before, and is currently working as a seamstress for a popular modiste in london, while also thinking that perhaps there are answers to her life before if she follows these rumours, because she looks like she could be her, if she pulls off a little con against the rich people she’s tired of following the whims of. but the ton know her, especially the ladies!

[fenthrasandbluefeather]

Vex flinched a little as Laudna stated that Delilah Briarwood was sitting inside her chest. It wasn't ideal and of course people were weary of her for it, especially here, but her statement still held true in her mind. No matter the circumstances, people made their own choices, had their own dreams and goals, they were their own legacy not dependant on the people influencing them and it was hard to bring the picture of Delilah and the woman sitting next to her in the soft grass together.

When Laudna rose to her feet Vex joined her in one fluid motion. "You might not need them, Laudna but you have them regardless." Vex insisted, but didn't further push the topic. Those were scars of the past that would never fully heal but she understood how the apology would make her feel better without benefitting Laudna and it wasn't fair to put that on her after the pain that had already been caused.

"That is an admirable outlook to have. I don't think my younger self would've been able to just move on like that.. I don't think I could currently." She chuckled, thinking about the bear she kept in a locket, not able to let her loved ones go, though she would have to learn to do that sooner then later. Vax's death should've taught her but instead it just wanted her to hold on tighter and protect the people she considered family. With a shake of her head, Vex abandoned those thoughts. "I don't think it could ever mean as much as the sun tree, but it's important to not forget about the past, even if it's painful. We can only learn from it for the future." She sighed, her eyes finding Laudna's again. "You will always have a home in Whitestone if you want it. Same goes for your friends, wether it is to stay or just if you need a safe space for a day."

there was so much laudna wanted to ask. so much she wanted to say. and yet she knew that most of it would not make this situation any better. but she had never been that good at filters, except when it came to delilah. but you are not delilah. wasn't she though? it was almost as if she could hear the woman in her chest almost laugh at vex'ahlia's words. a clear challenge in response. laudna tilted her head slightly and rolled her shoulders in an effort to shake off the woman's influence to stay present in the conversation with the woman next to her.

" well, i know they're not my fault, but you know, the woman at fault does happen to be sitting in my chest. " laudna looked back to the stone, her fingers running over her names, her parents names before she pulled her hand away as if it had burned her. she didn't say anything as she stood up, taking a few steps back. she could feel all of it closing in on her, just like the sun tree. " i don't need your apologies, " laudna said finally, brushing off invisible wrinkles from her dress in an attempt to keep her hands busy. she felt like she needed to move, to do anything to distract herself from the images in her mind.

" i don't want sympathy or... or anyone to feel bad for me. what happened, it's in the past. i -- " laudna paused, looking at the woman across from her and taking in a breath. " the worst thing that's ever happened to me... it already happened. there's no use in being sad over it any longer. " she tilted her head slightly, running a hand through her hair as she looked off to the side before her eyes found the stone again for a brief moment. she had once imagined what it would be like to walk the streets of whitestone again, but she hadn't quite imagined it feeling like this.

" thank you. for showing me this. " despite laudna's reactions, whether it be her trying to push the image away or attempting to act nonchalant, she did appreciate the other woman's words. she just didn't know what to do with them. she didn't know the right thing to say, not entirely. " i'm sure it means a lot to whitestone. just like the sun tree. "

[luxnosvocat]

everyone’s talkin’ modern aus so let’s get the lowdown on some MODERN DE ROLOS! (this information can also be found in a slightly condensed state in my verse page.)

(also note that this is different from a specifically high school au I’ve thrown around before.)

BASICS:

the de Rolo family rules over a small nation-state (think Liechtenstein or the Vatican) nestled in the Alps, where France, Italy, and Switzerland all meet. Whitestone has existed as a nation for hundreds of years, despite attempts to assimilate it into Italy or France.

there are four official languages: English, French, German, and Italian. The de Rolo children are expected to be completely fluent in at least two of them, with competency in all four.

Whitestone was an absolute monarchy up until the aftermath of WWII, where, after seeing the atrocities absolute leaders committed across Europe, King Wayland stepped down from the position and rehauled the government structure, creating something more akin to a constitutional monarchy -- the Chamber of Whitestone is elected every four years, and works in tandem with the hereditary leader, who now holds the title of Lord or Lady.

his son, Lord Frederickstein de Rolo, is the first lord to inherit the position. The rest of the de Rolo family receives the titles of “Lord” or “Lady” as courtesy titles, replacing the title of “Prince” or “Princess”

through Johanna de Rolo, the de Rolo children are descended from Queen Victoria of England. Johanna is the great-granddaughter of Princess Charlotte of Connaught*, the youngest daughter of Prince Arthur, Duke of Connaught and Strathern and Princess Margaret Louise of Prussia. Prince Arthur was Queen Victoria’s second-youngest son.

SPECIFICS:

Julius and Iseult are based in Whitestone, preparing to become the next Lord and Lady of Whitestone, as well as raising their son, Wayland II.

Vesper is a diplomat and envoy of Whitestone, and is frequently found abroad.

Percival lives in London with his best friends after completing a degree in mechanical engineering. (He usually deals with mental health issues and some addiction issues.)

Whitney studies in the Netherlands for botany and plant science.

Oliver goes to school in Ireland and mostly dicks around being gay.

Ludwig is undergoing an intensive violin performance curriculum in Austria but is as much of a homebody as he can be.

Cassandra underwent a horrifying boarding school experience in the last few years of her high school life, where the abuse she went through was hushed up by the proprietors of the school. After an extended legal battle and investigation spearheaded by Percival, she was eventually removed from the school and it was shut down. She now is starting her first year of university in America.

VARIANTS:

there is a version of this verse where Whitestone castle is bombed by insurgents, killing the entire family except Percival and Cassandra, who were both out of the country. The two of them then have to figure out how the nation will be governed while dealing with their personal loss. The timeline on this is a little squidgy. Pretty much, if you want some modern de Rolos with their usual angst, come talk to me about this one.

in any university aus, everything is the same except everyone’s slightly younger and in school. In university aus with the rest of VM, the de Rolos are probably dead, but we’ll talk about it.

* (who I made up. Her parents are real, though. I just gave them an extra daughter.)

[everlightblessing]

@cleverarcana​.

"That's exactly why you must be the leader, darling. Those who crave power, far more often than not, are the ones who abuse it. You will be an excellent leader because you're not doing it for yourself, you're truly looking out for your people and their best interests. There's far too little of that in the world these days."

                 Fidgeting, Cassandra listens and nods along to herself. Her words make sense, she knows, but she can’t shake off the feeling that something is off. “Can’t I just...” she takes a deep breath, her parents taught her well, they trained her to lead Whitestone one day, but that day wasn’t supposed to come so soon. Inhale, exhale.

“What if I just, uh, perhaps... what if I can’t do that? I mean, Julius and Vesper, they were meant to... I wasn’t... not for a long time.” Cassandra shrugs, wrapping her arms around herself and feeling her usually perfect posture curl down into herself, head feeling light. “I-I know you’re right, I do, but sometimes it feels like the castle walls are closing around me here, but if I go outside I remember the arrows and Percy leaving and...”

[allexandrianrejects]

Maven

Gender: Demi-girl (uses she/they pronouns)

Age: Mid-twenties during campaign one. Will age when interacting with other campaigns, but will probably be physically in her mid-twenties still

Sexuality: Queer

Race: human or vampire (verse dependent)

Alignment: Chaotic neutral, leaning to chaotic evil

Class: warlock of Lord and Lady Briarwood (undead patron)

FC: Emily Perkins

Maven came from an average Whitestone family, having a father, a mother, an older brother, and a sister (her “Irish twin”, so to speak, barely 10 months younger than her). She was an astute girl with a voracious curiosity of everything around her, but that often got her into trouble. Her family often took the mantle that the best way to discourage this behavior was too ignore it. On the other hand, her sister Sarenn (named for the goddess Sarenrae) was encouraged for her more polite interest in the world, to the point where it took her all the way to the Alabaster Lyceum in Emon, where she became a wizard of enchantment. With the school being as expensive as it was, and her family not particularly wealthy, Maven was left in the dust. She worked in rather unappreciated labor to provide for her family, for her sister’s education, and then worked to help her aging parents, who had their children rather old and now were paying the price for it. But never once did she receive recognition from her parents. They ignored her when they could, and berated her when they couldn’t, asking why she couldn’t be more like Sarenn.

She was young, about 19, when the Briarwoods took over Whitestone, hanging the bodies of the De Rolo family in the once beautiful and fragrant Sun Tree. She counted those two who were missing, but made not comment of it, knowing her comments were supposedly never helpful. Her parents fought the change not out of love for the De Rolos, but some xenophobia of these nobles from the Dwendalian empire; their contention had them killed as well. Maven wrote to her sister with the news, but was met with a cold reply of blame for not saving them or fighting alongside them. It was when she’d briefly seen the body of her father rise and walk that her interest was piqued. …she had nothing more to lose now. Fearing her curiosity would once again get her in trouble, she took an audience with the Lord and Lady, asking to be taught, pledging anything and everything she could in return for the knowledge of awakening the dead.

The couple, yearning for a child of their own, saw a lost teenager, one who desperately needed someone, more than even the De Rolo daughter they had left alone to be their child. Unlike that little one, this one seemed to not be used to any sort of true care. So, Delilah and Sylas took pity, bringing her into their castle and giving her a taste of the power she could hold, making her their warlock and giving her a beginning in necromantic power. Delilah bolstered these gifts and helped her harness them, but there were plans that in a few years time, Maven would start to learn the wizardry of necromancy as well from her.

She spent several years there, but voiced an interest in travel before she started her training in full. Her patrons agreed, giving her gold for one year to travel wherever she pleased to learn whatever she pleased. When their warlock returned at the end of that year, they planned to ask her if she wished to be formally adopted as their heir, turning her into a vampire if she agreed. Maven wasn’t sure if in the moment it was curiosity, lingering envy, or her want to show off her new powers to her sister, but she found herself in Emon. However, once she was there, her curiosity and intrigue led her not toward the school, but towards the Clasp. With no experience in the world of crime, she wanted a closer look, and that closer look sucked her in. It was interesting to see the inner workings and see the downfall of corrupt organizations. She began taking on a role as an arcane expert, even if she was not very practiced; most of the members of the Clasp were more maritally trained rogues, so even her shaky “expertise” worked in that situation.

She found herself working more and more with a half-orc named Tarvis, an assassin rogue who seemed to be heading towards bigger and better things in the Clasp. He was intelligent and valued her more than some other members did. She was falling for him harder than she would have figured, the two of them jokingly flirting during heists. They even spent moments close to one another, getting closer to the idea of being together. At least it seemed like it. Tarvis never really breeched the idea in words, but it seemed he liked her. He was too focused on career in the Clasp, and sometimes that meant she was pushed to the wayside. All the same, she loved him. She had faith for a future. So, when her year was reaching a close and her patrons urged her home early because of new threats, she wanted to take him with her.

But they were both stuck. The Spireling Shenn wouldn’t let them leave that easy, would they?

And yet there was a heist they were about to embark on together. A job against a powerful woman. She had no loyalty to the Spireling, nor members of the Clasp, so she saw her out. A bargain. She went to the Shrew, offering the time and the end goal of the mission, asking in exchange for her and Tarvis to be allowed to leave, while the others were killed. The assumption would be everyone on the mission, including Maven and Tarvis, died. That would allow them to run away to Whitestone to be together and for her to fulfill her duty to her patrons.

But not all went according to plan. Two more on the team planned to dissent, taking the emerald they were after and killing the team. When this was found out, Tarvis was furious for this betrayal, and ordered the two halflings to be killed, making the killing blow on his own friend because she fell in love. Maven felt betrayed herself, knowing likely, he would kill her if her plot was revealed to him. She imagined the scimitar in her gut and the whip around her next for a moment too long as Adelaide Bluebutton, the Shrew, entered the room. The older woman gave the younger a signal to take Tarvis and leave, as she explained to the group about the “little birdies” who sang to her and revealed the truth. But Maven yelled as she backed out of the cone of the spell the Shrew was beginning to cast.

“Forget the deal. Kill them all! They mean nothing to me!”

But as the life left Tarvis, Delweth, and Obby, she realized her mistake. Feigning simply the vulture-like nature of a warlock with an undead patron, she collected trinkets from the bodies. The cut off hand of Adelaide’s own granddaughter. An eye from Dren. Vertebrae of Delweth’s spine. A chunk of beard on dried skin, like moss, from Obby. And from Tarvis, she collected a tusk and the end of his ponytail, one for her goal and one for her the inside of her choker locket. The sorcerer didn’t think a thing of it, as the parts would at least be put to use if a warlock of the undead was using them as components. That was not the plan, however. The plan was that Maven would use these parts to bring back the souls, as her patroness had told her there were ways to bring back the dead with nothing more than a fingernail.

But it wasn’t long after she got to Whitestone that all began to crumble. The surviving son of the De Rolos had come. Come with powerful friends that took down the Briarwoods with ease. Her patrons, the closest thing she had to family was dead. So, she took what she could of her patron and patroness’ things, especially books on necromancy, and ran. She knew she would not be left alive if the merciless Percival de Rolo III found out who she was. So, she wandered for anything she could get her hands on to help her pursuit. Another patron, an education in necromancy. Anything. Who knew if she could bring back her patrons, that would be a goal soon enough, but now she needed to bring back those members of the Screwjob, specifically her dear Tarvis. She needed him once more.

And she will have him.

(In some verses, Sylas Briarwood will be able to get ahold of Maven to turn her before he dies. In these verses, she is a fully fledged vampire, and will remain frozen at her CR1 age, even if interacting with characters from campaigns set years in the future.)

[jewelsoffaith]

Maven

Gender: cis woman (uses she/they pronouns)

Age: Mid-twenties during campaign one. Will age when interacting with other campaigns, but will probably be physically in her mid-twenties still

Race: human or vampire (verse dependent)

Alignment: Chaotic neutral, leaning to chaotic evil

Class: warlock of Lord and Lady Briarwood (undead patron)

FC: Zoïa Mossour

Maven came from an average Whitestone family, having a father, a mother, and a sister (her “Irish twin”, so to speak, barely 10 months younger than her). She was an astute girl with a voracious curiosity of everything around her, but that often got her into trouble. Her family often took the mantle that the best way to discourage this behavior was too ignore it. On the other hand, her sister Sarenenna (named for the goddess Sarenrae) was encouraged for her more polite interest in the world, to the point where it took her all the way to the Alabaster Lyceum in Emon, where she became a wizard of enchantment. With the school being as expensive as it was, and her family not particularly wealthy, Maven was left in the dust. She worked in rather unappreciated labor to provide for her family, for her sister’s education, and then worked to help her aging parents, who had their children rather old and now were paying the price for it. But never once did she receive recognition from her parents. They ignored her when they could, and berated her when they couldn’t, asking why she couldn’t be more like Sarenenna.

She was young, about 19, when the Briarwoods took over Whitestone, hanging the bodies of the De Rolo family in the once beautiful and fragrant Sun Tree. She counted those two who were missing, but made not comment of it, knowing her comments were supposedly never helpful. Her parents fought the change not out of love for the De Rolos, but some xenophobia of these nobles from the Dwendalian empire; their contention had them killed as well. Maven wrote to her sister with the news, but was met with a cold reply of blame for not saving them or fighting alongside them. It was when she’d briefly seen the body of her father rise and walk that her interest was piqued. ...she had nothing more to lose now. Fearing her curiosity would once again get her in trouble, she took an audience with the Lord and Lady, asking to be taught, pledging anything and everything she could in return for the knowledge of awakening the dead.

The couple, yearning for a child of their own, saw a lost teenager, one who desperately needed someone, more than even the De Rolo daughter they had left alone to be their child. Unlike that little one, this one seemed to not be used to any sort of true care. So, Delilah and Sylas took pity, bringing her into their castle and giving her a taste of the power she could hold, making her their warlock and giving her a beginning in necromantic power. Delilah bolstered these gifts and helped her harness them, but there were plans that in a few years time, Maven would start to learn the wizardry of necromancy as well from her.

She spent several years there, but voiced an interest in travel before she started her training in full. Her patrons agreed, giving her gold for one year to travel wherever she pleased to learn whatever she pleased. When their warlock returned at the end of that year, they planned to ask her if she wished to be formally adopted as their heir, turning her into a vampire if she agreed. Maven wasn’t sure if in the moment it was curiosity, lingering envy, or her want to show off her new powers to her sister, but she found herself in Emon. However, once she was there, her curiosity and intrigue led her not toward the school, but towards the Clasp. With no experience in the world of crime, she wanted a closer look, and that closer look sucked her in. It was interesting to see the inner workings and see the downfall of corrupt organizations. She began taking on a role as an arcane expert, even if she was not very practiced; most of the members of the Clasp were more maritally trained rogues, so even her shaky “expertise” worked in that situation.

She found herself working more and more with a half-orc named Tarvis, an assassin rogue who seemed to be heading towards bigger and better things in the Clasp. He was intelligent and valued her more than some other members did. She was falling for him harder than she would have figured, the two of them jokingly flirting during heists. They even spent moments close to one another, getting closer to the idea of being together. At least it seemed like it. Tarvis never really breeched the idea in words, but it seemed he liked her. He was too focused on career in the Clasp, and sometimes that meant she was pushed to the wayside. All the same, she loved him. She had faith for a future. So, when her year was reaching a close and her patrons urged her home early because of new threats, she wanted to take him with her.

But they were both stuck. The Spireling Shenn wouldn’t let them leave that easy, would they?

And yet there was a heist they were about to embark on together. A job against a powerful woman. She had no loyalty to the Spireling, nor members of the Clasp, so she saw her out. A bargain. She went to the Shrew, offering the time and the end goal of the mission, asking in exchange for her and Tarvis to be allowed to leave, while the others were killed. The assumption would be everyone on the mission, including Maven and Tarvis, died. That would allow them to run away to Whitestone to be together and for her to fulfill her duty to her patrons.

But not all went according to plan. Two more on the team planned to dissent, taking the emerald they were after and killing the team. When this was found out, Tarvis was furious for this betrayal, and ordered the two halflings to be killed, making the killing blow on his own friend because she fell in love. Maven felt betrayed herself, knowing likely, he would kill her if her plot was revealed to him. She imagined the scimitar in her gut and the whip around her next for a moment too long as Adelaide Bluebutton, the Shrew, entered the room. The older woman gave the younger a signal to take Tarvis and leave, as she explained to the group about the “little birdies” who sang to her and revealed the truth. But Maven yelled as she backed out of the cone of the spell the Shrew was beginning to cast.

“Forget the deal. Kill them all! They mean nothing to me!”

But as the life left Tarvis, Delweth, and Obby, she realized her mistake. Feigning simply the vulture-like nature of a warlock with an undead patron, she collected trinkets from the bodies. The cut off hand of Adelaide’s own granddaughter. An eye from Dren. Vertebrae of Delweth’s spine. A chunk of beard on dried skin, like moss, from Obby. And from Tarvis, she collected a tusk and the end of his ponytail, one for her goal and one for her the inside of her choker locket. The sorcerer didn’t think a thing of it, as the parts would at least be put to use if a warlock of the undead was using them as components. That was not the plan, however. The plan was that Maven would use these parts to bring back the souls, as her patroness had told her there were ways to bring back the dead with nothing more than a fingernail.

But it wasn’t long after she got to Whitestone that all began to crumble. The surviving son of the De Rolos had come. Come with powerful friends that took down the Briarwoods with ease. Her patrons, the closest thing she had to family was dead. So, she took what she could of her patron and patroness’ things, especially books on necromancy, and ran. She knew she would not be left alive if the merciless Percival de Rolo III found out who she was. So, she wandered for anything she could get her hands on to help her pursuit. Another patron, an education in necromancy. Anything. Who knew if she could bring back her patrons, that would be a goal soon enough, but now she needed to bring back those members of the Screwjob, specifically her dear Tarvis. She needed him once more.

And she will have him.

(In some verses, Sylas Briarwood will be able to get ahold of Maven to turn her before he dies. In these verses, she is a fully fledged vampire, and will remain frozen at her CR1 age, even if interacting with characters from campaigns set years in the future.)