#Korrilla Hearthflame

[skatik]

House of Hope

[oniishi]

[eurydia]

✅ hot old man ✅ assistant ✅ impeccable fashion sense ✅ "hand on hip cunty ass stance"

based on this tweet:

[sassyandsodone]

Woe! More House of Hope textpost memes be upon you!!!

[margridarnauds]

[image description: devnotes for Korrilla's line of dialogue: "As things stand, she [Hope]'s his favorite toy. We're all mad here, but Hope in hell! Why, that's the definition of insanity." The devnote says "Complicated feelings. Both jealous of Raphael's attention and sad because she knows her sister doesn't want it."]

[Korrilla saying, in a conversation where you can ask about the diabolist, "I hope things turn out well for you, I really do. Cheers." The note says "sadly - she knows (but we don't) that things won't turn out well at all."]

[Korrilla saying, "This current crisis has him so busy he's barely been home since he met you." The note says "proud of her boss." ]

[Korrilla saying "I'm not for sale. My time's not for sale. My affection's not for sale. I'm here on other business." The note says, "hasn't look up from her mug yet - is muttering darkly, she's clearly said this to a lot of people who've assumed she's a prostitute. (She's standing at the bar of a brothel.)]

[Korrilla saying, in response to Tav saying they'll stop the brain without Raphael's help, "I doubt it, but even if you do, you won't survive the fight." The note says "with a hint of sadness."]

[Korrilla saying "The boss might be a devil, but he'll treat you more honestly than anyone else in the city." The note says "she genuinely believes this."]

[In response to the player character asking whether she likes working for Raphael, Korrilla responds "More than anything. My old dwarven master used to beat me and feed me scraps -- Raphael treats me right and feeds me well. Better to feast in the Hells than go begging in the Heavens."]

Korrilla's devnotes casually murdering me.

[jegonriver]

A little book found in the House of Hope. An employee list written by Raphael with comments on their performance.

[bharv]

One fun little detail is that Helsik and Korilla are actively in competition with each other to be the baddest dwarf agent of the hells. Who do we think is winning?

[adarlingmess]

WIP. Once again, the only cure to my art block is Raphael

[bg3smash-or-pass]

[alphagravy]

[ineadhyn]

New Chapter!

Direct from Hell Logistics

Raphael got himself killed by Tav but ended up in our world. He struggles with all things mortal and his complicated relationship with Haarlep, who is there to make things even more difficult. Korilla showed up. And now the gang is on a roadtrip, fighting an unknown enemy.

(Maybe don't ask what's going on in this meme and just read it XD)

[cielsosinfel]

i want to eventually move over all my blusky rambling to here, because reading through even your own older posts on bluesky is still DOGSHIT. But I'm very very tired from health issues so I'll figure that out later. but I do wanna post this. I was scouring through the devnotes for Raphael, Hope and Korrilla (still haven't gotten to the end of HoH so also desperately avoiding cutscenes I have yet to reach lmao playing with fire, oh well)

AND THIS ONE! THIS ONE STOOD OUT TO ME!

Korrilla: Poor, deluded Hope. She's stubborn. Raphael loves stubborn. If she'd just agree to serve him, he'd probably have released her a long time ago. Korrilla: As things stand, she's his favourite toy. We're all mad here, but Hope in hell? Why that's the definition of insanity. Devnote: NodeContext: Complicated feelings. Both jealous of Raphael's attention and sad because she knows her sister doesn't want it.

I don't think the emotions expressed in the devnote come across in the line as voice-acted in the game, but the fact it was the writer's intention is so startling, and really explains a lot of the dynamic between these two... Hope absolutely loathes Raphael. She has resisted giving into him for an untold number of years, refused him at every juncture despite the tortures it earns her. he's obsessed with her because she's something he can't claim ownership of, no matter what he does, and it infuriates him. And then there's Korrilla. Her own sister has basically abandoned her, sided with her abuser, become deathly loyal to him, JOINED in torturing her ("Sister, my sister, oh what have you done? Sold me for soul scraps, torment me for fun!" as Hope says.) Basically wholly given herself over to Raphael as an extension of his will, as a tool and a weapon for him to make use of. Even seems to have moments of casual camaraderie with him (the silly betting over what their clients will manage do...) The depths of abandonment and resentment Hope must feel!

And yet apparently Korrilla's jealous that Raphael is still so fixated on the sister of hers who refuses him at every turn, when she's practically his star employee, the person he relies on most. Everything she does for him and he still wants a woman he cannot break down into wanting him. Jealous yet still sad about what her sister is going through, still having this shred of empathy, even while thinking Hope is bringing it on herself, because wouldn't it be so easy to say "yes"? Wouldn't it be so easy to give in?

idk these three drive me crazier the more I think about them

And it's not like Korrilla wasn't subject to Raphael's violence, if we go off this note, but apparently she took to the Hells and the expectations of its hierarchies and means of survival very quickly and very well. But that still means violence, fear and intimidation were used to secure her cooperation and loyalty in the beginning, right? Did she watch what was happening to her sister, so much firmer in her morals, and decide "I will avoid this by any means necessary"? "If I just show Hope how good she can have it by agreeing to Raphael's authority, she'll come to her senses"? Me spinning headcanons in my mind lmao

Also personally I don't interpret this jealousy as a romantic thing on Korrilla's part, but who knows what the writer's intention was. Literally the only mention of these feelings of Korrilla's, as far as I know, is this devnote. I will keep an eye out as I continue to play and adjust my interpretations accordingly lmao

[ineadhyn]

Yep I can live with that

(nobody tagged me but you can't stop me)

Doing one of these but with my mutuals after seeing this image on my dash today!!

..Y'know he may be the god of war but.. I'm not mad. No, no not at all. :)

@xxgalacticambitionsxx @hatbox-apologist @ghostingyourass79 @kittieshauntedourfantasy @emerald194 @thatonerabbit @comical-icicle

[creative-frequency]

Raphael x Reader: Act I: The Ring

Summary: It's always the terms and conditions that you get into a mess. And with Raphael, there always seems to be a lot of those. This is the second flashback oneshot for the main story of the series. Word count: 2269 Notes: Some romantic tension, warning for (slightly drunk) int8 Tav.

My writing masterlist

Your rounds walking around the merrymaking camp had begun to resemble the tottering of a deep rothe kid. There was drinking, dancing and as tasty a cuisine as one might expect in the middle of a forest, but most importantly, everyone was alive and well. The three goblin leaders were dead, so the tieflings were free to continue their journey towards Baldur’s Gate. Your group had a little pit stop to make on the way at Moonrise Towers, but the plan was to eventually follow them – to go back home.

Wine had been flowing a bit too generously in the course of the evening, so you stepped away for a breather by the water. You had just leaned down to wash your hands in the river, when out of the corner of your eye, you saw the grass rustling.

“Who’s there?” you asked, straightening up and ready to summon a weapon into your hand.

In the grass before you stood a dark-haired dwarven woman, smiling benignly and fully given up on trying to hide. She looked at you up and down with curiosity. The woman didn’t seem to pose a threat, but you sharpened up as best as you could, already feeling dishearteningly sober.

“You’ve got keen eyes, warlock,” she said, not at all taken aback by being discovered, “Korrilla Hearthflame. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.” She bowed her head down slightly as a mark of respect.

“And why is that?” you asked in suspicion, still ready to sling a bolt of fire at her if needed.

“Raphael is terribly excited about you… and your condition,” Korrilla explained.

Your shoulders relaxed at the implication.

“He is your patron too.”

“Yes, the respectable Raphael is my master.”

Out of courtesy, you fought back the urge to raise a brow or snicker at her choice of words. You were quite new to this warlock deal, but if Raphael started insisting you call him ‘master’, the deal would be off, no matter the consequences.

“You and I will have time aplenty to speak – but not tonight,” Korrilla continued and a fiery portal opened behind her, “This night is one of celebration – enjoy it while you can.”

Without any further explanation, she stepped into the portal and disappeared with a small wave of her hand. You quickly looked around, wondering how no one had seen your little talk or the light of the portal. The noise your companions and the tieflings were making was gradually increasing under the starry sky.

You decided to bring the matter of Korrilla up first thing in the morning, but for the time being there was nothing else to do besides splash some cold river water on your face and get back to the party.

Idly, you wondered would your patron himself even deign to visit you. Surely Raphael had more important matters to attend to. You tried not to be disappointed at the thought.

The party got noisier and rowdier with each passing cup of wine as you continued your rounds, chatting with your drunken companions, the celebrating tieflings, the druid Halsin and inexplicably melancholic Zevlor. From afar, you cast a wide side-eye at Withers, the skeletal companion who seemed to always know where you were going to camp next. He was the only one you had not talked to yet. No one else seemed to notice or care about him. You opted out of a discussion about the ever turning wheels of fate and paced into another direction.

Astarion was standing by his tent, nursing a cup of wine and looking uncharacteristically bored for a night of celebration. With everything he had told you about himself and his past, you would’ve thought he would be delighted in an event of such revelry.

The moment he saw you approaching, his face lit up with a charming smile. “Ah, there you are, darling.”

“Having fun?” you asked in lieu of greeting.

“Not quite as much as I would like,” Astarion said and sipped the wine. His cunning eyes scanned over you.

“Hah. Not enough of a party for you?”

“It’s missing the key element of a blood sacrifice,” he deadpanned, “The music could be… better, too.” He glanced at the bard Alfira in the middle of camp. She had been strumming her lute and singing with some of the other tieflings for hours.

Smiling playfully, you said: “Well, the night is still young. I’m sure we can find a proper sacrifice for you yet. Let’s see…”

Playfully, you looked around to complete the joke. Before you could comprehend what you saw, your heart started beating faster and you had to do a double take. The grin faltered on your lips, but Astarion was too busy draining his cup of wine to notice.

“You’re always such a delight, darling,” Astarion purred and stepped to lean in closer.

Chatting with one of the drunken tieflings, was Raphael. Your eyes met. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips and his one brow elegantly, invitingly arched.

“So, I was thinking… we could make our own entertainment,” Astarion drawled on. He ran one finger seductively down your arm as he spoke, but you barely registered it. He had been throwing some flirty remarks here and there earlier too. Most of the time you had just deflected them with a nice thank you or a laugh.

You turned Astarion’s hand out of the way, eyes fixated on your patron and didn’t know what came out of your mouth as you started to leave:

“What? Oh, sure, I guess. Hold on a moment, I’ll be right back…” 

Raphael was actually there in your little camp. He looked even more handsome than you remembered – and more relaxed. He was visibly expecting you to join him.

Astarion spread his hands in confusion, mildly offended and muttering as you brushed past him and made a beeline towards the devil.

Had Korrilla told Raphael that you were celebrating? Was it customary for a patron to check in with their warlock at such events? You had no idea what to make of it as you walked closer, heart hammering and breaths short.

Raphael said something to make the tiefling leave and turned his full attention to you. He looked impossibly complacent. The back of your neck was tingling – in excitement, you soon realised.

“Ah, good evening,” Raphael greeted you with a small bow.

Despite the lack of courtly manners, you attempted a light curtsy. It made his smile curve steeply with amusement.

“Good evening, Raphael. What are you doing here?” you said in a more composed manner than your inner turmoil let on.

Raphael spread his arms to emphasise how pleasing he thought the environment was. “I was delighted to hear you were throwing a little party to celebrate the slaughter of all those goblins. A whole camp, indeed,” he mused.

It twisted your insides when phrased like that. “That’s… correct.”

“A true testament to your skill,” he continued with an incline of his head.

You couldn’t say whether he was mocking you or not. You shifted on your feet.

“Um. Thank you,” you said and swallowed, “But surely you didn’t come here just to sing my praises?”

Raphael chuckled with mirth. “As per our agreement, I’ve come to provide you with the means to summon your patron,” he touched his chest with a hand, “Namely, myself.”

You weren’t so sure you liked his expression. “‘Means’? What ‘means’?” you asked warily, brows drawing in puzzlement.

Raphael merely crooked a smile. “Give me your hand, my little raven.”

A shiver coursed through you. “‘Raven’?” you retorted.

Ignoring the question, he said: “A gift, for you.”

Nervously, you extended your right hand to him.

“The other hand, please. We wouldn’t want to hinder your sword arm.”

Raphael reached out to take your left hand – his hands were so warm against yours that it first took you by surprise. The second surprise got you as he slid a golden ring onto your ring finger. Too thrown off to protest, you just ogled at him, slack jawed and the wine churning inside your stomach.

Wearing an almost mischievous grin, Raphael gently touched your chin and withdrew.

“Clause H, section 7; ‘The soul-bearer shall never withdraw the magical focus item from their person.’”

Blinking and looking up and down from the ring to the devil’s face and back, you couldn’t quite understand what he was reciting.

“W-what?”

Raphael pointed a finger in the air as he continued: “Clause H, section 8; ‘The soul-bearer shall only use the magical focus item to attempt to summon the soul-binder. The soul-binder shall answer the call at their discretion.’”

“Are those clauses in my contract?” you asked, still stunned and examined the ring. It was a golden, petite thing with some kind of sharp symbol engraved on it. It weighed nothing but you felt its presence on you as if it were a sack of stones. Had Raphael just said you couldn’t take the ring off? And that it was magical?

“Indeed. You are welcome to visit my House of Hope to read the contract any time you wish.” There was a teasing edge in Raphael’s tone and you wondered what it meant.

“Any more of those terms and conditions I should know about?” you asked.

Raphael chuckled. The deep sound travelled through your bones, tickling pleasantly.

“Not at present, little raven.” He lifted a finger in the air. “There is one more thing to complete the ritual.”

“Ritual?”

“Listen closely, since I will state this only once: ‘Dominus, inferior ad te me flecto inferni.”

He pronounced each word with care. Your lips moved in sync with his, involuntarily but silent. The phrase was branded into your memory and you felt the ring warm against your palm in response. It was a simple summoning ritual. As long as you held the ring, you would only need to speak those words and Raphael would know. And he might answer your call and come to you – if he felt like it.

You examined the ring once again. It looked so innocent but you could feel the power radiating from it. Speaking those words had somehow activated it. It was now primed to act as the focus item for the ritual.

“...’Flecto inferni’? What’s that supposed to mean?” you finally asked.

“Every good ritual requires a fetching verbal component,” Raphael replied patiently, hand to his chin. As if he hadn’t spent the last three days perfecting the words to go with the ritual spell.

“But the left ring finger?” you insisted, ears suddenly burning from the insinuation that you only just now  realised.

Raphael had the audacity to laugh.

“You’d better start rehearsing your lies, little raven.”

Because lie you would about what the ring symbolised. You squared your shoulders and faced the gauging look on your patron.

“Well, thank you for taking the time to bring me this,” you said.

“I will always make time for you,” he purred and chuckled.

A surge of toe-curling surprise made you look bashfully away.

“A-and thank you again.” You motioned awkwardly to yourself. “For the powers.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Raphael replied with an incline of his head, “After all, I am invested in your success. Korrilla will keep me posted on your… progress.”

Sensing that the conversation was about to end, you glanced at the ring and lifted it to better see the symbol on it.

“Will you at least tell me what the symbol on the ring is?”

Raphael’s lips curved into a sly smile. “I’m sure your friend Karlach can assist in deciphering it. Let it be a surprise.” He chuckled again, impossibly satisfied. Somehow you started thinking he was doing all this just to keep himself entertained.

“I’m afraid I’m already late for my next meeting. Ta-ta, little raven!”

Raphael bowed and disappeared in a flash of flames.

You shot a pondering look at the ring and spun to look around the camp until you found the burning red tiefling laughing loudly at something Rolan had just said. Biting your lip, you  wondered if it would be worth the trouble to ask Karlach about it. On the other hand, you couldn’t imagine Raphael would give you anything nasty as a surprise. Better to take the devil by the horns. At least you would know.

“Hey, Karlach?” you waved a hand as you approached her and Rolan, who was rolling his sleeves up.

“‘Sup, soldier?”

Clearing your throat, you motioned Karlach closer. You could feel the heat radiating from her body and for a heartbeat it made you think about Raphael’s warm hand on yours. You cleared your throat again and Karlach started to look worried.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No, I just… have a weird question. What does ‘dominus, inferior ad te me flecto inferni’ mean?” Grimacing, you faced the barbarian.

Karlach’s mouth was agape. She was obviously taken by surprise with what you wanted to know and you started to panic a little since you had no idea what the sentence meant. Before you could apologise, she forced her mouth shut to think while pure curiosity glinted in her eyes.

“‘Lord or Master, I bow down to you in hell.’ Or it could also be more like ‘lie down’ for them. Y’know, in a naughty, adults-only way.” She grinned. “Why?”

That fucker.

That bastard devil.

You groaned. Suddenly, you didn’t want to show the ring to Karlach anymore. You wanted to yank it off and throw it into the River Chiontar.

“...No reason.”

This devil patron and his antics would be your doom.

[crimsoncrocuta]

Korrilla Hearthflame, at your service.

[adarlingmess]

The latest chapter of The Devil's Canvas is out! Good lord, it took me a month to put out.

This chapter is Korrilla-centric and explores my headcanons about her, with some whippings and brat taming from Raphael and Fortune on the side. Enjoy!