#Daeran I missed you so

[rivilu]

I love this game SO MUCH

[another-heroine]

Meanwhile, in the QuadAu!...

Ekaterina points to the mongrel and devilkin farther.

"There they are, my beloved spouses. And..."

Points to Daeran at the other side of the room, with narrowed eyes.

"Their spouse and my flamboyant acquaintance."

To: @spyridonya

[passionesolja]

It’s so crazy to me that Seelah and Sosiel from Pathfinder are given more equal treatment in a cast of 12 optional companions than Wyll is in a smaller cast. Wrath of the Righteous isn’t as companion storyline heavy but I never got the impression that they were forgotten by the game. Seelah’s pretty much with you from the start and Sosiel’s mission is literally the closest to the Act 1 Garrison Hub. The game is doing everything but forcing you to go over there. Seelah’s questline hub is close to Sosiel’s so you can do both effortless, propelling their storyline. Location wise, it isn’t really like that with the other companions. You have to go on a voyage-and-a-half for Daeran’s quest and can miss it if you don’t speak to the right mf. Both of their quests are way more involved.

I hate to drag BG3, but Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous didn’t snub it’s PoC cast. Paladins and Clerics are heavy hitters in Pathfinder, like Seelah as a Paladin and Sosiel as a cleric are both way more useful than Daeran’s low HP, no customizable spellslots having ass. I love him but he’s useless once I get Sosiel in the party. Hell, Seelah gets her unique questline sword within the first hour or so of the game. Seelah be carrying the party in the beginning because she has a cold iron sword so if you want those Dretches gone, she’s the best way to go.

I don’t think that Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous is the most perfect game ever (granted it’s more varied cast wise), but I think that WOTR passively and actively encourages you to have Seelah and Sosiel in your party and involves them in the story wayyy more than Wyll is in BG3. Hell, Seelah is your first companion. Even as far as settings go, Sosiel and Seelah’s stories are more intertwined with the main quest. They’re both in the Crusade for various reasons. WOTR wouldn’t be the same without Seelah and Sosiel. Meanwhile, BG3 is virtually the same without Wyll when he should be the most focused on companion. Dawg, his daddy is Duke of Baldur’s Gate, he should be Jehaira and Khalid BG1 levels of important to the game. If any companion should be the most vocal and active, it’s Wyll. Estranged or not, he has the highest stakes because his city is under threat.

The only excuse for the severe underuse of a character like Wyll Ravengard is racism. His father is the Duke of Baldur’s Gate, he should have the most dialogue, most content, and most screentime of any character. Wyll as a character is incredibly interesting and has a lot of potential, but they’d rather give a mf like Halsin more attention.

[dujour13]

Owlcatober 30. Wedding

Fandom: Wrath of the Righteous

I didn't have time to write a new one for today, so this is a little part from West Wind I wanted to share, along with an illustration by the fabulous @eurekq 💕

*Spoilers for the game secret ending*

Angst & fluff. Minor spoiler for the end of Wandering Stars.

Charming Minx held up the suit jacket and helped him slip his arms into the silk-lined sleeves. He rolled his shoulders so that it settled crisply. Made you stand up straight to wear this kind of swank.

She did a slow circle of inspection and gave him a satisfied nod. “Top notch.”

Top notch indeed. Here he was in his palace, dressed to the nines, a full demigod with powers and worshippers and his very own domain, and now, soon, the one thing that was missing. He had it all.

Minx slipped a rosebud into his buttonhole and grinned her sharp fox teeth. “Anything else, Highness?”

“Nah, that’ll do. You go on ahead. I just need to…”

He wasn’t sure what he needed to do.

She shrugged. “See you there.”

He watched her bushy white tail disappear as the gate snapped shut behind her, and then he was alone.

Time to have a look. Grabbing his top hat on the way by he went and stood in front of the big gilt mirror in the corner of his dressing chamber and carefully slotted the brim between his horns and tucked his curls aside, angling his chin up and striking a sophisticated pose.

He gave himself a jaunty smile: yellow eyes and canines just a little sharper than they ought to be, curling demonic horns, a tail sticking out absurdly from under the tails of his suit jacket.

There were times it snuck up and pounced on him. The Shadow. The Woljif that once was. Sometimes it had Gran’s voice.

And just who do you think you are?

He turned sharply from his reflection and went out to the balcony to try to clear his head, as if he could run from that voice and leave it hanging in the air behind him.

It followed. Worthless two-bit demonspawn dressed up like some organ-grinder’s imp. They’ll see right through it.

The feeling came over him as it sometimes did that all of this was impossible. It must be some kind of mistake, because nice things were not for the likes of him.

He felt that fierce longing in his ribs again like years ago when he would press his face to Fyllemen’s window just to gaze at the Moon of the Abyss. To want and to rage. To cook up all the plots and plans in the world and still know—these things are not for the likes of you.

And then one day he discovered the one thing he wanted even more, and he could feel all the confusion and pain again just as it had been.

The time they camped in the Worldwound. Must have been before Blackwater. They set up on the banks of a brook and risked a campfire, and the sound of running water provided enough cover for a little gentle guitar music, so they all sat around and rested their aching feet and listened. The music eased their cramping muscles and buoyed their burdened spirits, and not just thanks to Elysian magic; in the midst of the bloody Crusade the simple beauty was both a reminder and a promise. And a gift, but gifts were not something he’d ever been offered before, and he felt as if he were committing a theft by listening.

He’d glanced around to make sure no one was watching him. Lann had second watch and was already asleep. Daeran lay on his back, facing away, one foot moving to the music. Arue was off scouting, Seelah was praying, Nenio—didn’t matter. Unobserved, he stole a look.

The warm glow of the firelight on Siavash’s burnished-gold hair. The point of a half-elven ear. The way his kind eyes glazed over as he played. The patch of skin at his open collar where the butterfly pendant perched. The soft colors of his clothes. The face that made Woljif’s heart ache.

He let his gaze travel down to the hand on the guitar strings. Imagined those fingers caressing his cheek.

These things are not for the likes of you.

His usual response—then I’ll steal them—didn’t work this time. I can’t make him love me.

He remembered thinking that just having him as a friend was already pretty good. But he wanted more, and it made him want and rage just like the Moon of the Abyss used to, but it was a different sort of longing. For the Moon it was hot and sharp. He could feel it burning in his teeth and his fingers. The longing he felt for Siavash ran like fresh water, a sweet ache that filled up his insides and rose in his throat so he thought he might drown in it.

Please. Just look at me and smile.

Just—just put your arms around me. Just once.

He had to get up and stalk off into the trees and force the lump down with all his well-trained might until it was compressed like diamond in his middle and it couldn’t betray his throat or his eyes anymore.

And now—now he stood on the balcony of his divine palace and that lump was back but he wasn’t used to fighting it anymore and it was winning.

He knew better. Of course he did. When he stepped out of the gate they weren’t going to laugh at him or throw rocks like the other children used to. Or slam the door in his face like Gran. He would be there waiting with his smile and his open arms. So why did it still hurt sometimes? Why were tears running down his cheeks? Today of all days?

Woljif?

Barely above a whisper, the telepathic voice brushed his mind.

Woljif, it’s time. Where are you? Everything all right?

…Yeah.

Do you… do you need more time?

On his palace balcony Woljif sobbed.

The chief, rushing in. Siavash hadn’t thought it through and it was going to end painfully when he realized what he’d gotten himself into. Whom he’d gotten himself tied down to.

And yet. The warm touch of the heartbond, that gentle presence, lingered in his mind and eased the constriction in his throat.

Just a few minutes. He rubbed his eyes. Thanks.

[rannadylin]

Veilguard: Ranna's Rook intros!

Waaaay back in November, I might have posted a time or two about my first Rook? Since then I've been a bit distracted from Tumblr by, uh, playing three more of them. XD I just started the fifth playthrough so I'd better pop in and show some Rooks off before I get too far into this one and forget how to blog again!

Possibly mild spoilers to follow along with pretty pictures and very brief summaries beneath the cut...

Caeda Mercar, Shadow Dragon rogue who romanced Lucanis (alas, yes, she saved Treviso at the expense of her home Minrathous! worth it. She did also flirt a bit with Davrin early on when Lucanis was still being shy about it, but basically I started the game thinking I'd probably romance Emmrich and then Lucanis spited right out of that Ossuary cell and through a gaggle of Venatori in five seconds flat and Caeda went all heart eyes and set her cap for him irrevocably.) Started out more of an archer rogue (usually one of my favorite DA playstyles) but halfway through she started leaning more toward daggers. We'll assume that was her favorite Crow's influence. (Or that Ranna was figuring out how to play XD)

After Caeda I jumped straight back into CC to make...

Veryl Ingellvar, Mourn Watch mage who romanced Emmrich. Whereas Caeda had the first-playthrough honor of just picking whatever dialogue options I felt like at the time, so she had a pretty broadly mixed personality, this one specialized in what, in ages past, we would've called Blue Hawke personality. :-D Very golden-retriever, Miss Positivity, etc. (She reminded me of Violet Itzli sometimes. :-D) I thought she'd be a staff mage but then I fell in love with orb & dagger so she did a lot of that too, though not as much as the yet to come 4th playthrough would...

Next up we have:

Akish Thorne, Grey Warden Warrior who started out sword & board (throwing shields is fun!) and switched to mostly two-hander (when I realized you can still throw the shield even when you're not apparently holding one!). He romanced Bellara (who reminded me of Yolotli Itzli from the moment I met her :-D ...Akish is not exactly Anselm though), and if Veryl was a Blue Hawke Rook, Akish was mostly Red Hawke, except for being a big softie whenever it came to Bel. (Also, for his endgame I played through once with Neve doing the wards on Tearstone and then again with Bellara and...I like that second one better. Oh the narrative parallels between him being a blighted Warden and then seeing Bellara get blighted but survive it too! Also I like Bel better for that part of endgame in general; it's a bit of character development - her moving from seeming more of an innocent to someone who has survived something pretty massive and draws strength from it to save the day in the end! - that she just needs more than Neve does.)

Other than Bellara, Akish's favorite thing in the world is griffons. :-D Also his eyes are supposedly violet though the screenshots make it hard to tell.

I had plans to play an Adaar Inquisitor in DAI but never got around to that playthrough before burnout hit so Akish is my first Qunari OC and I had such fun with him!

Next up: I just finished playing Rook Number Four:

Arucari "Rook" De Riva. Yes, Rook is short for Arucari. :-D She romanced Lucanis because, um, it appears that he is my Daeran for this game (i.e. I played WOTR 7 times through one summer and romanced Daeran for three of them. Guess I've got at least one more Lucanis romance to go this time around. XD) She is a mage because I missed playing as a spellblade, and a Crow because it is technically the Crow Spellblade specialization, and because I wanted to see how romancing Lucanis with another Crow went. (Conclusion: It went spectacularly! She was such fun.) She was my Purple Hawke girl, always teasing and deflecting with humor anytime things are awkward, but also generally positive beneath that. Also she got extra-large eyes in homage to DA2 elves. :-D Here is a better view of them:

She is an excellent Crow. No one ever expects assassination from anything this cute.

And last but not least...

Linza Laidir is my 5th playthrough, just barely begun! Go Team Dwarf. :-D (Team Dwarven Rogues, to be specific! We gained a Neve just after this screenshot and dear Neve has never looked so tall, being surrounded by Children of the Stone.) Don't know yet if she will be more of an archer rogue or a daggers rogue, whichever lends itself more to Gold and Glory, of course! Not sure yet about her personality (probably swinging between Blue and Red Hawke types? She did beat up everyone in the bar to get Neve Gallus' location, whereas most of my Rooks have talked the bartender down. But I think despite a knack for highly effective violence she's also a sweet little Team Mom who will be teaming up with Lucanis and Bellara for the cooking. And probably romancing Davrin. (Was I inspired by Antoine & Evka's elf/dwarf dynamic? No comment.)

So clearly I'm enjoying Veilguard overall, and from the factions & romances I've played so far, I rank them as follows:

Grey Warden

Crow

Shadow Dragon

Mourn Watcher

And...

Lucanis <3

Bellara

Emmrich

Which. Considering I went into the first playthrough expecting to fall for Emmrich, is interesting to see how it actually played out so far! Also, clearly I need to play a Warden for my third Lucanis romance, right? :-D

[rollofleaf]

Owlcatober Day 13: Another World

Timeline shenanigans and finally writing a bit about Nadia! Sorry it's a bit late.

He felt Nadia leave him. She didn’t just disappear, he felt her very being disintegrating, torn to ribbons and scattered in the winds of the paradox she had created. Then he woke up in his bed. Harsh noon sunlight hit his eyes through the window and he let out a groan. Memories of conflicting realities smashed together to create a hangover worse than even his most indulgent nights of drinking. His life now felt like a fading dream, only a few strong memories indelibly burned into his soul. The birthday where his life fell apart, the destruction of the Other that had ruined it, and her. Nadia Karayan, his vampire, his countess, his commander. The Aeon that had ripped the universe asunder to destroy the Worldwound before it had been created, and ripped herself apart in the process. His bed felt cold and empty without her lukewarm body. And now he was on the other side, in a world that had never known the Worldwound.

All he could do was lean back into the bed and squint his eyes at the harsh sunlight. He always felt a strange kinship to her when he had a hangover. The sunlight hurt her eyes too... “Damn light… Ugh, what time is it even?” He briefly glanced down at himself. At least he was still a man, that hadn’t changed with whatever else did.

“Daeran? Daeran Arendae, are you awake yet? It’s nearly noon!” A voice from outside answered his question and caused a pit to sink in his stomach. He trembled, unwilling to vocalize who the voice might be coming from. The door to his bedroom swung open and his mother was standing there. Countess Silaena Arendae. The years had been kind to her and had not dimmed her heavenly radiance. Still, his eyes only saw her haggard and dying from the disease that had claimed her in his original timeline.

“M-moth-” He choked up. Daeran was not a sentimental man. Life had forced that out of him long ago, but there was one promise he had made to himself. If he ever saw her again… Without regard to his state of near-nudity, he leapt from the bed and hugged her tight. As tight as a son who had lost his mother. Silaena froze up in her scolding. Something was different about her boy. Daeran desperately tried to hold tears back. She had no idea of the unwritten timeline he had lived through, she shouldn’t know that he had lost her. “I… I-I missed you…”

“Daeran, you saw me at lunch yesterday! Though I would have liked to know where you were all evening. I didn’t even hear you sneak back in.” There was a light scolding in her voice, concern mixed with annoyance that he missed so badly.

“R-right, sorry. I was just out. Nothing to be worried about.” He struggled to keep his composure, pulling away from the hug and avoiding her gaze.

Silaena frowned slightly and tilted Daeran’s chin up. “My boy… What happened? You look… Older.”

Daeran trembled. He had to hold it together. She wouldn’t believe him even if he told her. “I-it’s n-nothing, Mother.”

“Daeran. Don’t lie to your mother. Talk to me.”

“I-it’s nothing, I swear.” Tears were streaming from his eyes as he turned away in some vain hope his distress wouldn’t be noticed. “I d-don’t even know how to explain it…”

Silaena paused for a long while. “Alright, then. I might not understand, but… I think there’s something you feel you need to do? Go ahead.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. She was exactly as caring and understanding as he remembered, perhaps even moreso. He pulled her into another tight hug. “T-thank you, Mother.” She flashed him an understanding smile and left, closing the door as she went. Daeran fell back onto his bed and started to cry.

Why did him seeing his mother again have to come at the cost of the woman he loved? Why was the universe always so cruel to him? And what was he even supposed to do now? Daeran had longed for the day he could go back to his old life, provoking the elite of Mendev and living for nothing but his own pleasure. Now that there was no war, what was he supposed to do? Mendev probably wasn’t as insufferably sanctimonious anymore, the fun in screwing with them was gone.

Nadia… She’d have an idea. They’d talk sometimes, joking and talking about what they’d do after the war. She couldn’t have children and he didn’t particularly want any, but they had planned to get married, take revenge for her on the vampires of her homeland, and find ways to anger Mendev’s aristocracy even more.

He missed her. He had gotten used to her lukewarm body next to him and then bed felt empty without her there. Maybe… Nadia was a vampire, or close enough to one… She lived a long time, and was already over 60 when they met… Perhaps… Perhaps the Nadia in this world still existed! She wouldn’t have been kidnapped by Areelu, so maybe she was still out there! With renewed vigor, Daeran hopped out of his bed and got dressed. He’d need to learn about this new reality as subtly as possible to figure out just what had changed, but maybe… Maybe he could find her again.

[teddybaeran]

4 and 5 and 7 and 9 for Mix! 😁🤍

Squeee, thank you!

4. What did they do before they became a crusader? Did they have a job, an occupation?

Answered just now, here!

5. Do they have a family? If so, what kind? Do they miss them? Do they still have hope to see them again?

How could you ask me this 😭 Yes, yes.... hitting hard right away, I see....

Mix had a family. He had two sisters - one older and one younger. He had two parents. They were noble, but in a place where nobility often had strong opinions and always argued about them. Where funds should go, who should be in power, which wars to fight, which animals to protect...

The problem was that as time went on, other families began agreeing with each other, and Mix's did not. They became the outliers, the only ones disagreeing with everyone else. Today, Mix wonders whether someone was influencing the rest but couldn't get to his parents, and who they might have been. But at the time he was just a child. He focused on his lessons and his hobbies. He loved getting out of the house... using his horseback riding skills, survival, and archery and pushing all three to their limits for solitary excursions with no company but his horse. Gods, did he love these trips.

Until he came home from one and found his entire family dead. Their bodies not even removed - like walking into a crime scene. Frantically he checked them all, tried to save them, but it was too late, he was too late.

So, the question asks, what kind? Well, yea. There are many kinds So, after his pre-game Rambling Era, throughout the game, he builds his Forged and Found Family. First with Lann he decides he can treat the guy as a new little sibling who can't survive without being bonked on the head periodically. Then Ember - he swears he will protect her like he failed to with his original family. His heart breaks for her almost more than it does for them, and he will protect her with his life. His dedication to her knows no bounds. Woljif he can't seem to make heads or tails of - what I do know is that Woljif successfully convinces him that he needs protecting, but Mix overpivots and sticks Woljif away from combat and even lockpicking to protect him. Poor guy gets no treasure. Sosiel, Mix respects so much and sees him as a peer in many ways but who should still be protected, especially from himself and from needing to break any rules from his god. Daeran.... Mix instantly warms to Daeran before even meeting him, just from hearing about him and their similar stories. He wants to pull himself and Daeran towards each other and even recognizes some of his own old coping mechanisms in the beautiful and complicated man. But it's their first meeting, when Daeran decides he will join the fight without even being asked to, because he can tell he is needed, that Mix falls for him, seeing him as not only someone to protect with his entire being, but someone who actually deserves it and doesn't demand it. After the Hulrun events, Mix swears to listen to Daeran no matter what. So what family role does that give Daeran? Well I suppose love interest. But we'll see, I'm not that far in the game yet. But suffice to say that Mix is already consumed with affection for this beautiful, lonely guy.

7. Is your KC religious? If yes, which deity do they follow? If not, what is their view on religion?

Mix does respect some gods. Erastil was a hard decision, as he respects Erastil's role in the past of protecting mortals. Of course, their common interests also intrigue him - hunting, spending time in nature... But Mix wouldn't worship a god. He's just not built that way, obeying things without questioning why, without finding his own solutions that may or may not please said god. He really values his independence and always has. Even though he regrets how far he's taken it in the past, he doesn't regret it enough to give up his independence fully. Well, not for just anyone.... 👀

He doesn't judge those who are religious any more than he judges those who blindly follow laws...... And of course, how he feels about both depend on the laws/gods they choose. He will be careful around them all.

9. Do they have hobbies beside the crusade? Any passions or skills they have?

Mix studies a lot, honing his skills. One topic is anatomy, so he can heal. He doesn't use magic to do it, he studies and learns and carries around tools for healing. It would be nice to be able to prevent death. Another would be practicing his riding, shooting, even sometimes he practices close combat in case he ever needs it.

He also has a passion for jewelry. Mostly - depending on his era and mood - he will wear spiked jewelry, though sometimes he loves elegant pieces. He enjoys browsing shops, picking things out for himself and loved ones. Does Mix seem down? Take him shopping. He also likes making his own jewelry - metalworking is a passion of his in a lot of AUs but I haven't decided yet if it fits in WOTR...

I already talked about this a lot, but he loves going out into the wilderness and just spending alone quiet time enjoying nature. Exploring. Discovering. Sitting by a fire on a mountain or on a beach. He might enjoy it with a loved one too.

Is it a hobby to stay up all night, ready to fight the demons of your loved ones' dreams? Maybe. He always has hot chocolate ready...

He loves listening to music, especially with a beautiful view. Ready poetry. Getting lost in his thoughts. Appreciating art, especially if by someone he loves or on a topic he finds intriguing or important.

HHHH and so much more, to be honest >.<

[goddevouringserpent]

tagged by @miseryscrowned (thank you!!) to make an OC in this picrew & a sword they'd use in this other picrew

I chose Feranis, my BG1/BG2 protagonist, because I've been missing her lately and this picrew had the perfect hair for her💜

as for the sword, although she actually does have a signature weapon (several of them, in fact), I figured I'd make one up for the sake of it, so! Feranis's Sunblade, a delicate longsword of uncertain origins but clear high elven make. legend says it was given to the Bhaalspawn Feranis by Queen Ellesime of Suldanessellar, as a reward for having saved the city and its Tree of Life; some also claim that Feranis has modified the blade to better serve her purposes—likely with the aid of Cespenar, the infernal butler.

please ignore how much she resembles Daeran Wrathoftherighteous, I promise it was not on purpose

open-tagging because I'm lazy LOL

[dragonologist-writings]

Title: A Toast to the Luckless Fandom: Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous Rating: G Status: One-Shot Main Characters: Knight-Commander Piper Chanterelle, Woljif Additional Notes: Friendship, Tiefling Solidarity, a bit of backstory Word Count: 2.1k Summary:

“People love a good story,” Piper smirks, and she raises an eyebrow at Woljif. “Don’t they, oh great prince? What faraway land are you from, again?" “Alright, fair enough. But don’t tell Seelah I made that up, she’ll want her ten gold back.” Woljif takes a moment to chew on his thoughts, his tail flicking back and forth in time with the questions on his mind. He doesn’t want to push his luck by digging too much, but he is curious. “So what’s the real story?” Piper and Woljif reflect on tall tales and strange twists of fate. Wine is drunk. Backstories are shared. Candlesticks are stolen.

read below or here on ao3

Woljif lets out a low whistle as he ambles down the halls of the mansion, taking in his surroundings in solitude while the party rages on in the distance. The place really does need to be seen to be believed- this isn’t even Daeran’s main mansion, and somehow it still sparkles with enough gold to make any jeweler drool. Woljif noses his way through the empty rooms, stopping every so often to slip a little something into his pockets. Judging by the layers of dust, nothing he takes will be missed. Besides, expecting him to keep his hands to himself in a place like this is like asking a paladin not to preach.

Eventually, he finds his way into the room in the furthest corner of the wing, where the cobwebs have full reign. Not much worth taking here, he figures, even as he makes a pass of the paintings hanging haphazardly off the walls. None of it really catches his attention- until he reaches the largest portrait, hung right across from the door.

Truth be told, it ain’t all that interesting. Not really. Just a picture: a woman, a man, a little kid. Daeran isn’t hard to recognize, not with those aasimar features. Seems he got those features from his mother, who stands alongside him and a man who must be his father. The whole painted family is decked out in finery; between the three of them, there’s probably enough jewels to sink a ship.

Woljif’s own jewel- the only one he’s ever owned, and he had to risk his tail stealing it- suddenly feels very small in its place around his neck.

The sound of a door creaking open stirs Woljif from his thoughts, and quick as a flash he takes a step back from the wall, holding his hands up in feigned innocence. “I didn’t touch nothing!”

“No?” A rose-colored tiefling glides into the room with a smirk and a glass of wine, her skirts and swishing tail leaving a trail in the dust behind her. She peers around the room with interest, a small smile playing on her lips. “What a waste.”

Woljif breathes a sigh of relief. No angry guards, no fussy nobles- just Piper.

Despite technically being a crusader- and not just that, but the commanding crusader- Piper’s a good sort. And it’s not just because she fished her brother-in-demon-blood from a jail cell right under the soldiers’ noses, neither. Unlike most of her fellow crusaders, Piper is actually good for a story and a laugh, and she’s never turned up her nose at any of Woljif’s 'less than legal' ideas. It’s a wonder she gets so many uptight, law-abiding forces to follow her around, given her own disregard for their high and mighty rules. But that’s Piper; she opens her mouth, and it seems she can convince anyone of anything.

And the unprecedented magical powers probably don’t hurt, either.

“Look at this place,” she sighs, shaking her head in dismay. “Empty for years, but every room still has its treasures. And nobody around to appreciate it! It would be a crime not to take anything, in my humble opinion.”

Woljif chuckles, emboldened by the lack of lecture he would have surely received if, say, Seelah had been the one to walk in on him. Or, gods forbid, Irabeth. “My thoughts exactly! And besides, it’s not as if Darean cares enough to miss any of it.”

Piper’s eyes glide over the room, finally fixing on the portrait Woljif found. “Ah. Speaking of Darean…” she moves closer, studying the young aasimar in the frame. “That’s him, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Guess he got his looks from his mom.” Woljif tries to keep his smile up, but he can hear the bitterness in his own voice as that image sticks in his head- the noble boy and his family, enclosed in their golden little haven. “What a world, huh? Some people get a celestial bloodline, tons of money, and a title, while others get horns and a slap in the face.”

Piper is quiet for a moment, and her usual easy smile slips from her face. Woljif almost feels bad for bringing down the mood, but then she takes a breath, shrugs, and says, “Fate plays favorites, and life isn’t fair. Those are the first lessons you learn in this world. So how about a toast to those born without any luck?”

She doesn’t wait for answer, just takes a long sip from her glass before handing it wordlessly to Woljif. He can’t say no to that, and in one motion downs the rest of the drink. After taking a moment to enjoy the taste of what is surely the most expensive booze he’s had in his entire life, Woljif glances at Piper and says, “You didn’t have it so bad, though, did ya, chief? At least not according to that story you spun the other day. How did that one go? World-traveling troubadour, trained by the best Pitaxian bards, who felt destiny calling her to deliver the world from demons?”

Piper laughs, though the sound lacks its usual warmth. “That’s not even the best part! You should hear the stories I used to spin for audiences- my mother was a fae, one who fell in love with a powerful magician! Their love was true, and they were gifted a daughter blessed with beauty and song, but alas- all romances between mortals and immortals tend to end tragically. But never fear, for I vowed to travel the lands and spread beauty and love in their memory!”

She recites the tale in dramatic cadence, moving her hands emphatically through the air in graceful gestures, but Woljif can only snort in response. “And people fell for that?”

“People love a good story,” Piper smirks, and she raises an eyebrow at Woljif. “Don’t they, oh great prince? What faraway land are you from, again?”

“Alright, fair enough. But don’t tell Seelah I made that up, she’ll want her ten gold back.” Woljif takes a moment to chew on his thoughts, his tail flicking back and forth in time with the questions on his mind. He doesn’t want to push his luck by digging too much, but he is curious. “So what’s the real story?”

His question is met with a frown, but Woljif has already asked, so he figures he might as well poke a little further. Normally he wouldn’t much care about anyone’s past, but for better or worse Piper is the whole reason he’s here. He’s gotta get a good read on her, right? So he grins, hoping to reassure her that he ain’t up to any trouble with the question. “Aw, come on. I spilled mine, remember? Fair’s fair, chief.”

Piper still doesn’t look very pleased with the topic, but she tilts her head in acknowledgement of his point. “Yes, fair’s fair. It’s just…the real version is so much more boring.” She pauses, her mouth twisting a bit as she begins speaking, her clipped tone a far cry from the eloquence she’d spoken with before.

“Once upon a time, a tiefling girl grew up in a city much less glamorous than any world of fae. She fended for herself, for the most part. Her parents were tieflings, too, you see, and neither of them needed another mouth to feed on top of everything else.”

Woljif nods- it’s a familiar enough beginning, one that’s shared by quite a few amongst the thieflings. He glances back at Daeran’s portrait, a strange feeling simmering in his chest. What’s worse, he wonders, a family that can’t stand you, a family that never gave a damn, or a family that actually cared and then went and died on ya?

Oblivious to his musings, Piper continues, her tone carefully disinterested. “So the girl begs and steals to scrape by until she’s finally old enough to talk her way into a job carrying bags for a theater troupe. She’s got a pretty face- for a tiefling, of course- and a voice to match, and she eventually makes her way to the stage. She learns a handful of bardic tricks that are useful on the road. Of course, it’s hard to stay in one place very long, so from there it’s a series of traveling bands and circuses, finding places willing to have a tiefling in the spotlight.”

“Can’t be too many.”

“Nope.” Piper’s tail turns behind her in a lazy circle as she continues. “Even the ones who seem to like her, don't like her for very long. And there are parts of the story that Irabeth certainly doesn’t need to know about, where the tiefling girl has to rely a bit more on scams than singing. But then one day…” Piper holds her hands up in a victorious gesture. “She finds a weird magical sword and suddenly she’s Knight Commander of the Fifth Crusade!”

In spite of himself, Woljif chuckles. “No offense, but your story got a little off the rails there towards the end.”

“No kidding!” Piper whirls around, her voice rising an octave as she gestures to her surroundings. “Look at where we are! A depressingly decadent party in an old mansion owned by one of the richest families in the kingdom. And the head of that family is working for me, and when I leave, I’ll be going back to an entire army that reports to me! I’ve been nothing but a criminal and a street performer all my life, and now fate throws this at me?”

She stops her spin, pausing just long enough to look to Wolji in genuine bafflement. “How in all the hells did I end up here?”

For once, Woljif is at a loss for words. How should he know? He barely knows how he got here, outside of ‘it’s better than jail or being gutted by the Family’. “You’re asking the wrong person. I’m just a thiefling, remember? I don’t know nothing.” He pauses, and points to the decorations on the table behind Piper. “Except that those silver candlesticks are probably worth at least fifty gold each.”

Piper blinks, glances at the candlesticks- and a laugh bursts from her mouth. Just like that, her frantic mood is gone, and she’s once again the evasively charming Knight Commander. “You don’t say? Must be real silver to net that much.” She moves breezily across the room to examine the candlesticks. Her eyes don’t leave the silver as she continues speaking. “And…you know more than you realize. For what it’s worth, I like having you around.”

Woljif tries not to let the words go to his head- they’re just words after all, and people say all kinds of things to get what they want. Even if he can’t think of anything the Knight Commander would want from someone like him. “You’d be the first. But thanks, chief.”

“Demonspawn stick together, yeah? And…they don’t let slip to the rest of the army that the new commander has no idea what she’s doing and no qualifications to be leading anybody?” Piper shoots him an apprehensive glance. “The other stories- they’re ridiculous, I know. But they are so much nicer. And heaven knows these people need something to believe in.”

To his surprise, Woljif encounters something he doesn’t feel all that often: a twinge of sympathy. He doesn’t know all these crusaders and do-gooders, but he does know himself. He did the same thing Piper is doing every time he pressed his face against the shop window to catch a glimpse of his amulet. And maybe nothing about that was ever real, and never will be. But it felt good to hope.

Of course, he knows how stupid he’d sound if he said anything like that out loud. So Woljif gives a quick nod and says, “Sure, chief. I’m in no position to give you grief over whatever stories you wanna tell.”

Relief shines in Piper’s smile, and with a laugh she tosses the candlestick to Woljif. “Good- because you know what else we demonspawn do? We help each other fence their rich friend’s trinkets that he never uses.”

A grin curls across Woljif’s face as he catches the loot. “Now you’re talking!”

Piper nods in approval before turning on her heel and heading towards the door. “Tuck those away and let’s go find Daeran. If I’m going to steal from our host and snoop through his stuff, I should probably have the decency of getting drunk with him first.”

It’s not a bad idea- Woljif hates to admit it, but the overpriced wine Daeran’s serving really isn’t half bad. So he follows Piper, sparing only one last look around the room before closing the door on the dust and cobwebs and daydreams of a happy family.

Those things are all part of somebody else’s story.

[dmagedgoods]

Please tell us more about Salvadore? 💘

Who is/are their best friend(s) among companions and why?

What is their alignment, and why? How do they feel about it? Do they change alignment at one point?

Where do they come from in Golarion? Do they miss their homeland? How do they feel about their homeland, its politics and current state?

Did they separate from any companions? Why? (Consider killing a companion too for this question)

What would their domains be after a potential ascension?

thanks for how you have been putting spoilers below the cuts. I tried to avoid what might bring them in my question choices, but you never know <3

Ohhh, those are great, thank you so, so much. 🥺💕💕 12 What is their alignment, and why? How do they feel about it? Do they change alignment at one point? Salvadore is lawful good, by decision, and has the discipline to (almost) always follow his principles. Nonetheless, despite a love for order in general, he puts his own set of rules above the individual laws of groups and countries should they be flawed and unjust in his eyes. Salvadore has a strong inner urge to change the world for the better. He always strived for a leading position to make his specific visions of it reality. To justify his own position, he is very strict with himself. Those who choose to lead need to live up to the highest standards, in his opinion. Still, Salvadore has a cruel streak toward his opponents and his approach is utilitarian. While striving to protect as many lives as possible, the end justifies the means to him. If truly challenged, Salvadore can become lawful neutral. ((There also are AUs where he loses his way and slips for dark reasons and becomes lawful evil.)) 24 Where do they come from in Golarion? Do they miss their homeland? How do they feel about their homeland, its politics and current state? Salvadore comes from Absalom. While he developed a strong love for Drezen after a rough start with the city, Absalom will always feel like a second home to him. He especially misses the ocean, the harbor, and his estate. While he agrees with the political fundamentals in Absalom, he always fought to gain influence in the Grand Council - before he had to flee to Mendev and became the Knight Commander - to improve the system and the lives of its people. His own family blocked his attempts wherever they could. Now he is more removed from it all but still has an eye on the developments in Absalom. 29 What would their domains be after a potential ascension? Domains: Light, Leadership, Politics, Discipline Subdomains: Pride, Ambition, Willpower, Diplomacy, Strategy 3 Who is/are their best friend(s) among companions and why? When Salvadore actually uses this word – friend –, he means it deeply and those people are highly important to him, and can be sure he’ll be there for them always. His closest friends aside from Daeran, and together with him his strongest source of support and comfort, are Regill and Woljif. This sounds absurd, I know, but for Salvadore both makes a lot of sense. [The why includes strong spoilers, do not read it yet. The answer to "Did they separate from any companions? Why?" is under the cut for spoilers too]

Regill: After a complicated start, Regill quickly becomes one of his most trusted companions due to their shared views about working morale, efficiency, and discipline. His sacrifice at the hellknight outpost deepens what Salvadore already has seen in him before and would he be asked to describe him he’d also add that he is one of the most selfless people he knows. Highly cherishing his own position and rank, Salvadore understands on a deep level what it must have meant for Regill to give it up for him and to support their shared goal. Regill, on the other hand, won’t call Salvadore a friend out loud. Due to their nature, Regill’s and Salvadore’s as well, their relationship seems very professional to those witnessing it. It’s mostly Salvadore who openly breaks this picture here and there with some words and gestures of appreciation and affection beyond the things they’re working on together and sometimes with well-meant teasing. Of course, Regill usually brushes it off and reminds him to stay focused. That the feeling of friendship is mutual – or as far as Regill allows it – becomes mostly visible in his trust and loyalty after Salvadore proved himself to him many times. Aside from Daeran, Regill often is the first one Salvadore asks for advice in difficult situations. It’s rare for him to view someone as knowledgeable, reasonable, and experienced enough to admit that he can learn from them in certain regards, but Regill is someone he respects and admires on that level. Salvadore appoints him Lieutenant Gouverneur of Drezen. He is in charge of his troops and of ruling when he and Daeran are absent. [I wondered a lot if I should and finally decided to change Regill’s ending slide in Salvadore’s story and think I can justify it with their relationship and the strong extent to which he’s needed. He doesn’t leave and he doesn’t die. And if he even thinks about bleaching further, Salvadore will tell Daeran to mess something up so badly, it will bring back his color immediately.] Woljif: Woljif is a very different case and Salvadore’s opinion of him quite low in the beginning. He continues stealing even in highly inappropriate situations, he ignores some of his orders, and – worst of all – he runs. Still, a part of Salvadore immediately likes his humor, his way of talking, that he is surprisingly capable in what he’s doing. Salvadore is sure that Woljif could become more than the tiefling believes himself. Salvadore doesn’t trust him for quite some time and he feels bad when he has to pretend friendship in the Abyss to guide Woljif away from his demonic side – only to realize not much later that no …, it hasn’t been a lie. Suddenly, he can’t help it, he’s looking at him with affection and softness. Yes, Woljif is even stronger than he thought. Woljif proves him right and Sal is overwhelmed with pride of him when he starts giving up the shady business and uses his newly achieved fortune to support tiefling rights and the both of them (well, three of them, Daeran as well) often do charity projects together. Furthermore, Woljif becomes one of the few who manage to coax out Salvadore’s more playful side. Salvadore’s and Woljif’s friendship only grows tighter after the game and – as the ending slide says as well – Woljif, Sal, and Daeran are often seen having fun together. 26 Did they separate from any companions? Why? (Consider killing a companion too for this question) Sadly, he had to execute Camellia after he discovered her secret. He would have preferred to arrest her but she didn't give him a choice when she attacked. Wenduag betrayed him and he executed her as a consequence. He had taken her with him instead of Lann because he saw potential in her and had been sure to be able to show her a better way.

[rivilu]

It's so weird to be playing a version of Elluin that's not going down a nightmare spiral in act 5

[dellamortethelesser]

Hmmm....untitled document (4) sounds so intriguing 👀

@camelliagwerm

It was for that reason—the mutual trust and understanding—that Soren could slumber at ease on the back of his dragon. Armortrix’s wings stretched out across the grassy hill like spilled blood as he languished, cooling off his scales and taking a rest from flight. As long as the skies were calm, Soren was able to sleep on his back and soak up the sun. It was the one thing he had missed the most.  The golden one is staring at you again, Armortrix rumbled, loud enough to stir Soren up from his mid-morning snooze.  “Is that so?” Soren hummed.  It bothers me. I cannot rest with his eyes on me. Make it stop.  “I can’t stop someone from looking at us,” he grumbled, opening one eye to squint against the sunlight. “Daeran is probably just doing a sweep of the horizon to make sure the skies are clear.” He is staring. It’s been minutes.  Soren turned his gaze lazily to glance at the nearby battlements. “Let him stare.” He stayed in his reclined position against the warm scales of the dragon. He wondered if Daeran could feel him return his gaze, and so he grinned. And then Daeran turned away. 

a little smth about my Dragonrider from Brevoy, Soren, and the weird thing he has going on with Daeran!

[yunessa]

It was called ‘Leper’s Smile’. So the maps and my crusaders told me. The fastest way to Drezen lay there where the canyon cut deep into the earth, cutting through the ground like an open sore.  To move around the canyon would add time and dangers I could not handle if I want to keep rushing to Drezen and try to take it. It was popular with smugglers and travellers through the Worldwound as well- according to the maps the caves in the canyon burrow deep into the earth, with a travelling merchant and their civilian retinue passing that way mere days before Kenabres was attacked.

  The news of both Valas Gift and Vilareth Ford being empty disturbed both Anevia and Irabeth. As of yet I have no idea how it will affect Kenabres. The lack of people now versus the available supplies will find some way to balance, considering Kenabres is now down some eight thousand (At best guess) as of less than a month ago.

I have spent my evenings studying books and charts and speaking with the crusaders. I take on a mantle I am not prepared for and one I must wear with a smile and unaffected demeanour, as if I’m tired, yet, fine.

Am I really? No. I understand too little. I see now how little I have, and how much is expected of me. I can see now, what has taken Daeran a life growing up in the shadows of the crusades to know and understand. Lann understands to an extent, but not nearly as much. Politics is a web and one I feel as if I am ill-equipped to understand.

But with the lot I have no, I might be able to manage. If I need someone with infinite patience, I have Sosiel. For politics and charisma, Daeran.  For blackmarket goods Woljif. For things among the soldiers, Seelah and Ember. 

As much as I don’t want to admit he’s right sometimes, Ulbrig is well equipped as a leader and his advice is helpful- when you ignore the talk of hobgoblins and fairies who steal your milk teeth.  Between Ulbrig and Regil, I feel that is they don’t manage to kill the other, then I will have a well balanced team.

I do not count Nenio. I have told her if she cannot recall my name then I will do no more. So far she seems content not to recall my name. I cannot let her go because she has some of my power and I feel that it is inadvisable. But what shall I do? So far my companions seem to have a game rotating Nenio so we don’t interact much.

Perhaps for the better. I feel it is only reasonable to ask my name be used, or remembered, in conversation. If nothing else, my title.  I’d accept Commander- or even just bard! Is that not reasonable? Even Daeran was willing to do such a thing for a brief conversation and multiple people have relayed to me he’s quite irritating.

Strangely, I don’t see it. He can be coarse, rough, and annoying when he encourages Lann, Woljif, or Nenio to create strange ideas or to further their nonsense. But  thus far, he’s not annoying in the same way Nenio is. Nenio has taken first place in that regard, by a country-wide stretch and remains in the lead.

If she says my name or title and continues to use it then maybe my opinion will change.  For this time and for now, officially I am less than a week into this crusade. Something else might pop up to agitate me more.

Doubtful, as even Minago didn’t reach this point. But here we are.

As I write this letter tonight, we are less than four days hard ride from Drezen. Our next stretch will take us through leper’s smile. Anevia seemed worried demons could be camping  and stalking us, but thus far our scouts have reported naught.

Forn also disappeared  before I could speak with him again, as did Kaylessa. Perhaps whatever they’re involved in has gone with them as well. I won’t miss it nor shall I strive to figure this mystery out. Drow, cave elfs, hunters or  bumpkins- none of it  involves this crusade. No matter how much Aravashinal wants to investigate otherwise.

Roan, the cultist from Martyr Zacharius’s graveyard has also made no progress in the investigation on the severed heads. I found another when I awoke this morning. Cold. Dead. Severed from its neck with an unnatural sharpness.

Who in my crusade is giving these to me and why? Is someone watching me? Stalking? Perhaps it is Camilla. But I have no evidence to prove anything and the investigation’s lack of progress or ideas gives me a headache.

Speaking of headaches, the weather has turned a sharp cold promising imminent winter. We shall have to capture Drezen within the month. I feel my body wanting to turn on me so I am sick with winter cold.

But first I have another worldwound history lesson with Nurah. A meeting with Irabeth. A discussion with Lann. A blessing from Sosiel and a hundred other small taks that require my attention even before I consider sleep for the night. All important taks and ones I must do.

I hear Nurah at the entrance of my tent. I must go to greet her.

Yunessa

[dujour13]

Owlcatober 19. Duty

featuring the teen Free Crusade orphans, Clenna and Daberoche

Unsubtle hints at a massive spoiler for the azata path

Also on AO3

“Magical Elysian flowers don’t need fertilizer, potatohead.”

Clenna went around to the next stall and hefted a shovelful of steaming manure into the wheelbarrow that her small companion, Daberoche, was trying to work up the leverage to push behind her.

“All flowers need fertilizer,” he grunted. “How can they grow if they don’t have stuff to eat?”

“Flowers don’t eat poop. That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” Rustic in her brown smock and the oversized boots Thall had given her, she blew a loose strand of mousy hair from her face and leaned the shovel on the shed wall so she could pat the speckled pony inside. It blinked its long lashes at her over its shoulder.

Daberoche gave up with the wheelbarrow and came over so he could run his palm along the pony’s barrel-shaped tummy. “Yeah, well, what we used to eat wasn’t much better, and look at us.”

Clenna gasped. “Remember the donkey turds?”

“Ugh,” the halfling boy moaned, doubling over dramatically. “Remember how Mother Narita called them ‘bean croquettes’ like they were some kinda fancy food?”

“She was the one full of beans.”

Daberoche made a rude noise and they both laughed so loud it disturbed the pony. “Do you miss her sometimes?” he asked suddenly.

His teen companion grabbed the shovel and marched to the next stall. “Nope.”

He tried backing against the wheelbarrow, lifting the handles over his head and pushing it with his rump. “She was nice sometimes.”

“Do not tell me you’re homesick for the orphanage.”

“That’s not what I said!”

“Sh, look who’s coming.”

Daberoche made another rude noise, just between the two of them, and Clenna snorted with muffled laughter.

“Early Sunset!” Her smile was genuine even though the azata wasn’t her favorite person in the Court of the Lark. Strange that a real azata from Elysium wasn’t even as much fun as a stuffy old noble like Daeran Arendae.

“Hello, children.”

They waved but kept working, aware by now that Early Sunset probably wouldn’t suggest they slack off and do something fun. In fact he cast a bit of a sobering pall over everything, like a hall monitor.

“Working hard for the Crusade, I see. Pushing demons back to the Abyss one shovelful at a time. Such drudgery must be a disappointment.”

“Better than mopping the kitchens at the orphanage any day.”

“We all pitch in and do our part!” said Daberoche stoutly.

“Still a far cry from the glorious dreams that brought you runaways all the way to Drezen, I imagine.”

“We’ll get our chance. I’m training with the Valhaflings!” Daberoche punched the air.

“Aranka’s teaching me to sing and play the lute. Although... I’d rather learn guitar.” Clenna’s face went scarlet and she hunched into her shoulders as if she’d revealed the most embarrassing secret in the world.

“I’m sure you would,” said Early Sunset evenly. “Then what are you doing here instead of training for the Crusade? It seems to me the Cavalry Sculptors are taking advantage of you. Getting you to do their dirty work while they get all the accolades.”

“They need to rest between adventures out in the Worldwound,” Daberoche informed him. “Swooping in to rescue the Knight-Commander in the nick of time.”

“So if I understand correctly,” Early Sunset mused, “the Valhalflings and the Cavalry Sculptors simply decide to charge in, not when the Knight-Commander orders them to, but whenever the fancy strikes them, unexpectedly turning up to save the day. Doesn’t that worry you? What would happen if one day they decided not to venture out, and the Knight-Commander found himself in mortal danger and no unexpected rescue on the horizon? I can only imagine: falling to his knees, knowing his luck has failed him, dying alone on the battlefield... What a terrible shame.

“I do hope you’re not considering flying to his rescue yourselves. You are valiant-hearted, and I have no doubt he would be deeply grateful for such an act of heroism, but it would be against the rules. And I’m sure the two of you are far too respectful and obedient to do something so rash.”

The teenagers glanced at each other.

Daberoche frowned. “Why don’t you go save him if you’re so worried?”

“I am not the martial sort of azata. I prefer more civilized methods of doing battle.”

They glanced at each other again.

“Whatever,” said Clenna, rolling her eyes.

“You’re weird,” said Daberoche.

“Aren’t azata always ‘weird’?”

As soon as Early Sunset was out of earshot Clenna snorted. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Daberoche made a rude noise.

They nodded in unison.

"Mother Narita only not nice," said Daberoche.

Clenna did her best scandalized old priestess voice. 'Children. Be civilized!'"

Giggling they braced the wheelbarrow against a pair of rocks, and Clenna helped Daberoche tip it up, and then with the edge of her shovel pushed the load of pony manure over the edge of the floating island and away into the Worldwound.

[danvolodar]

On cRPG GUI and UX

It's curious to compare an AAA-class cRPG like BG3 and a garage custom B-class cRPG like PF:WotR in what comes to GUI and UX. And, well, I can live with the party's shared stash only being available after going to camp, and with the inventory search working inside the current character's inventory, and with bags being inside bags inside boxes, even with party members in camp only being available for inventory management in a separate section with cut capabilities.

But I find myself really missing this guy:

You see, in PF:WotR, Prestidigipainter Golem lets you transfer the looks of any equipment you have in your inventory to any other equipment of the same class. Thus, if you have a cool-looking armour or hat, you don't have to miss its looks just because you've found a new one with better stats.

As an example, here's Trever, a companion you get late-game in PF:WotR, who has a dark past with the Hellknights.

Without the golem, he'd have a golden armour and a red helmet. As it is, his outfit comes together!

Similarly, our golden boy Daeran can be seen with a nice diadem and gilted armour, despite wearing a haramaki and Warden's Circlet, an ugly demomand helment.

Seelah, too, can get a look befitting a paladin of light and justice, without compromizing the stats of the items she's wearing.

For comparison, in BG3, a helmet I use for Shadowheart as a healer is Wapira's Crown, which literally gives her deer antlers, and looks absolutely ridiculous with the medium armours she wears.

For Gale, a helmet raising his spells' DC is Fisbreaker Helm, which looks on him like this:

Karlach downright clips through equipment:

And yeah, I know you can hide the helmet at least, but it still feels like a loss when there are literally a dozen different wizard hat and helment models in the game. Actually, Larian had so many helmets, they just dropped the lot of them to be found all in one place, with all the different styles.

Infuriatingly, some of the unenchanted options even seem to form matching pairs with some of the best equipment available:

All in all, it's just really disappointing to see an AAA game with a budget two orders of magnitude larger failing to deliver what a Unity nerd passion project does.

[emmettkane]

[This story is based on Pathfinder: Wrath of The Righteous and takes place partially during and immediately after the quest "A Strike From The Sky". No real game spoilers present.]

Worry Not

I take the bolts from my quiver and set them aside. Half of them are splintered, a quarter are missing feathers, three have lost their heads. All of them are covered in either blood, dirt, or both.

I start to wipe down the quiver with a wet rag and then, from beyond the open flaps of my tent, catch sight of a movement: a flash of golden-white hair, the sun dripping off of it in streaks.

My heart skips a beat.

I dry the quiver and set it on the floor next to me. “Not now,” I chide myself. “You’ve got work to do.” I set the broken bolts in one pile. Those are to be sent to the fletcher so that he can take the feathers and heads to make more. The good ones, I wipe off one at a time and return to their home of leather and wood.

The hair flashes again as its owner’s head is thrown back by laughter. Daeran is amused. The person he’s talking to, a camp follower who mostly does laundry for the soldiers, looks disgusted. I didn’t hear what Daeran had said to elicit that response, but I can imagine that it was filthy.

He glances over the camp follower’s shoulder and through the tent flaps. His eyes are bright green, so pale they seem to glow. They lock with mine and his smile dulls. The corners of his lips are still upturned, but they are pinned there uncomfortably.

I realize that I’d been wiping the same bolt over and over, and had taken off one of the fletchings in my daze. I watch as it drops to the floor and when I look back up, Daeran is gone. Despite the bustle beyond my canvas walls, the liveliness of the war camp, I feel suddenly alone.

I rise and retrieve my crossbow. Events from the night prior run through my mind as I take off its string.

---

Screams, battle cries, roaring flames. Then come the flapping of gargoyle wings, their hideous screeches, the vile incantations of their clerics and priests.

---

I  put a fresh string on my crossbow and look it over for damage, probably for the hundredth time today. There is none, but I feel like there should be.

---

A grotesque, stony face with razor sharp teeth gnashes at me and I stick my crossbow in its mouth. Mercifully, the magic with which it is enchanted also protects it from harm. My hand is less well guarded. I have no time to muse on the pain, however, as another of my companions buries a glaive in the gargoyle’s hide, and another pierces it with a silvery bolt of magic.

It falls, dead, into a heap and I stagger away, clutching my most recent injury.

“Oh dear, fearless leader,” comes a sarcastic tone, jovial and sly. It’s Daeran, sidling up to our group with another roughened squad of our soldiers. “That’s quite the wound,” he remarks, waving the soldiers past and back towards camp. “Iomedae clearly favors you this evening, as I have arrived in the nick of time to tend to this fatal blow.”

I grunt and snark back, “If she favored me so, perhaps she could’ve warned me about the gargoyles.”

Despite the banter, I hold my hand out impatiently. I haven’t even asked where he’s been, how he got free, whether or not he’s hurt, and he still comes to treat me readily. He clicks his tongue and enunciates the words to a spell, and golden swirls of light play across my palm, soothing and mending and stitching the tatters of flesh, winding the muscles taut again.

I look at him and I’m caught again by the radiance of his hair, which seems perfect and clean despite his own obvious wounds. His eyes, too, take hold of mine, and it takes more willpower than I’d like to admit to look away. I do, though, and finally ask, “Well then, thank you. Are you alright? Can you still fight?”

Now his grin, ever impish, turns into a proper smirk. “Me? Alright? In this mess?”

I brace for a list of complaints. I can hear them in my mind already: a sarcastic jab, a sideways criticism of my leadership, maybe an off-color comment about my current condition.

“I’m fine, all things told, so…worry not?”

I am surprised. 

It’s said as a question, but there’s a note in there that I’m not used to hearing from him. It almost sounds like…trust.

---

The rest of the memory of the night is a blur and I’m thrown back to reality in short order. I’m clutching my crossbow so tightly that it leaves imprints of its grain pattern in my hand. I set it down and walk over to the entrance of my tent.

Since this morning, camp has gotten itself back together well. I, on the other hand, can’t help but worry. I worry about the dead and the wounded, I worry about the living that must now care for them, or deliver final rites. I worry for my advisors and my inner circle. Perhaps, even if just for a moment, I worry about myself.

Daeran though? I just imagine his smiling face, his bright green eyes, and his shining locks, and I worry not.

[This was a birthday present for @daisy-todd-draws and features their OC Caedrinn Godrickson as The Knight Commander. I don't normally do fanfiction or w/ever, but as it turns out, it's actually quite fun :3]