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bluejaytaco · 4 years ago

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Some More DND w/ Jay

So last we left off, Mrs. Red was now back in her dragon form and about to wreck our shit. Because we are such low levels and probably couldn’t do any real damage to her as is, the DM had us all level up to 20. And this is how he explained how he did it.

Theodora: (Heard the voice of Bahamut and was granted his power for one last time)

Hennessy and Wreybar: (The powers from Theodora bounced off her to ignite the powers in them)

Koejin: (Sees her god in the far off distance and gets the taste of her favorite liquor on her tongue. He salutes her with a glass and she is infused with power)

Art: (feels a strange tingle from his Ticket Master hand. The mouth on it opens up and he’s engulfed by blackness a la Venom-style. This, apparently, really pisses off Red)

Alabaster: (still has the powers of two gods fighting over him. Pelor and Seraphine are both telling him to choose, but both grant him the abilities)

Greta: (throws both Vincent and Reita in a building behind her. They are out of the battlefield, but still pretty close to Greta)

We start the fight with a little bit of a struggle as all of us learn about our new abilities. At the rounds start, Alabaster moved away from the group to be closer to Red in order to cast a spell. But this put him away from Theodora which (because paladin) gave everyone a 5+ every time we have to save or skill check.

So, when Red went to intimidate everyone, Alabaster was the only one afraid. She swipes at him and he sees that her claws don’t look right. Like she’s decaying.

We all went on to attack her, as expected. Art got a pretty low initiative roll, so I had time to figure out what I was doing. I ended up using black tentacles to restrain her, then gave Wreybar inspiration, because a bard’s gotta buff someone.

Me: Can I also send a message to Reita?

DM: Nah cuz you already did your bonus action. But you can roll for perception. (I rolled pretty well) Okay, so, you can see Vincent and Reita inside the building through the cracked door. Vincent is holding her back and she is watching you, but she looks scared. Like a little kid.

Art: (immediately wants to get over there and to get Greta away from her.)

Red also shouts over at Greta to get off her ass and help. But, before she can even move or finish her “sorry!”, a black mass comes out and engulfs her, trapping her in a black cocoon.

Alabaster tries to cast a spell to protect us all from fire. (smart because, you know, fire dragon.) Pelor, possibly trying to kill us all, changed it to lightning protection. Again, Seraphine sighed and told Alabaster he has to choose.

We go another round where Red hits us with quite a bit of fire. Art automatically gets only half damage due to being a tiefling, but it’s pretty tough on everyone else. (Art then takes to healing everyone because I always end up being a healer at some point lol. Honestly, if I didn’t want something like this to happen, I wouldn’t have become a spellcaster.)

One of Theodora’s moves was pretty much a radiant light on Red which starts to burn her and burn at Art’s tentacles. This burn apparently looks the same. (Tells me Red and Art have quite a bit in common...)

Then Hennessy. Possibly the best move that’ll ever be done.

He freezes time, sets what is essentially a mine near Red’s foot, turns himself into an ancient white dragon, unfreezes time, and blasts Red with ice. She then moves and sets off the bomb which causes even more damage.

(Hennessy at some point made a pun about scales, because dragon. Koejin’s player then said she just stares up at him for a second and walks off the battlefield.)

Red: (looks up at Hennessy in shock) (speaks in draconic) I thought... I was the only one of our kind still alive... How? Why are you here?

Hennessy: (can speak draconic) I’m here to right the wrongs.

Red doesn’t see past it. She sees him as a full dragon and not as Hennessy.

On her next turn, Greta hatches from her cocoon and is now completely engulfed in the black. She stretches as a little top hat appears on her head and makes the horrible Task Master groan.

She then moves to Wreybar and starts to absorb part of her soul into her. This buffs her up a bit.

After seeing this, Alabaster casts Divine Intervention.

(Alabaster’s Player: (describing it as pretty much summoning God.)

Theodora’s player: This sounds pretty badass.

Me: This sounds like a decision.

Alabaster’s Player:... yeah, it is.)

Alabaster: Everyone! I have decided! (Turns around and smiles up) Hiiii!

Seraphine appears as a giant black shadow to everyone but Alabaster and Art (because they’ve met him before) The mass moves to Red, who was knocked prone by this point. Before she can attack, he grabs hold of her tongue and rips it out of her mouth. She is then overtaken by blackness herself and also gets a little top hat. She rears back and looks at everyone with a smile.

Red: Why, hello friends!

We all just kinda stare in shock as Ticket Master Red moves up and stretches.

Ticket Master Red: Ohhh, it’s so nice to be out again!

The dragon eggs we all had then start to hatch and, for a moment, imprint on each of us. But then, Ticket Master tsks and goes “Well, that just won’t do. I’ll be taking them.” All the little baby dragons’ eyes turn black and they fly over to him. They are now his minions.

Alabaster: (shouting up at Ticket Master) Now, I say, Ticket Master! You return my child to me!

(Although he didn’t really react to it, I could see Ticket Master just looking at Alabaster in amusement.)

Task Master Greta: (Sees Ticket Master and immediately tenses) ....no... you can’t be me... I’m me...

Ticket Master Red: Oh no. You see, now you get to know what I felt. (Moves over to Task Master and lifts a paw) It would seem... you are fired. (He slammed his paw down on Task Master, effectively crushing him)

The powers reflecting off of each other cause a rip in the world and a portal opens. It destroys the building that Vincent and Reita are in. For a moment, Vincent tried to keep a grip on Reita but she ultimately gets sucked in, along with Wreybar’s axe. A large black mass that is Ticket Master and Task Master also goes into the portal. (Or, at least, that’s what I gather from it..)

Hennessy, still in dragon form, dives in and circles himself around Vincent to keep him from flying to the portal, like Reita. Wreybar ran in to get her axe, and Art dove in after Reita.

Koejin gets a glimpse of her god, waving her to follow after them. Koejin turns to Theodora and says “Come on!”

When Theodora goes to follow, she is shot back. The portal closes shortly after. Hennessy and Vincent are clinging to each other. Theodora and Alabaster are looking over the field where there is a collapsed Red (Still alive, just unconscious) a most likely dead Greta, and half of the party gone. The feelng is very clear.

Now what?

Meanwhile, the portal opened up and out fall (in this order) Wreybar’s axe, Wreybar, Art, and Koejin. All of them land in a pile with no sign of Reita or the two gods who opened the portal.

Art immediately scrambles to get to his feet and search for Reita only to then notice they’re surrounded by tieflings. Two tieflings push through to see what’s happening. It’s Art’s parents.

Dad: Art? (He runs over and hugs his son) What’s going on?! What happened?!

They’re back in Universe B.

(Context: Universe B was another Acentria we were sent to in order to get Ticket Master’s sword. In this one, we are all Red’s generals and she was actually pretty stable mentally. But the world also seems to be in shambles because of something worse than Red and the city of Calor (Red’s worship grounds; comprised of tieflings) is one of the only safe places. Art’s parents, while heavily abusive in our Acentria, seem to be stable as well and pretty loving. Still, Art’s not gonna know how to handle affection from the same man that used to beat him. Also, abusive dad was torn apart by Reita when they reunited last. So, this is not the world for Reita to be wandering on her own...)

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liltumgrum · 4 years ago

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Some Insight Into the Mind of Keefe George von Opoulos del Toro

Pardon me while I have an oc rant. Only @szethsmom and @dschbach will know what the heck I’m talking about.

So Keefe and Ilthis. The forehead kiss and the “thank you for healing me” is going to be running on repeat in his brain for a long time. But not for the reason that he will think it is. No one has ever thanked him before or given any indication that his presence was actually a good thing. He is a lot, heck I would die from exhaustion and overstimulation if I had to be around him, and he knows that his presence tends to disturb, annoy, confuse, and just generally rub people the wrong way. What he doesn’t understand is why that is a problem. He doesn’t understand why he evokes such strong reactions from people. The thing that he believes in the deepest part of his soul is that people are fundamentally good and anything can be resolved if everyone just sat down and had an honest talk with each other.

Someone is bullying him in school? No, no they just have a certain type of humor that he for some reason can’t appreciate. They're his friends how could they have bad intentions? He’s just being sensitive.

People living in a slum and resorting to crime? Their government is failing them! They must not know what's happening here! If we could just bring the officials to see how bad conditions are then they would jump to help.

In his mind there is a clear divide between right and wrong; good and evil. If there wasn't then how would anyone navigate their life? Rules are there to stop people from getting hurt, to give them a sense of purpose, and a way to make sure everyone is treated fairly. What if the rules are unfair? Well that's not a problem, those rules were created for a different time, we just need to have a big discussion to find a compromise that works for everyone.

Evil people know they are evil and have always been. If someone who did evil things stops then they were never evil to begin with. The the Evil was just hiding the Light from them.

You get the idea.

So if people have good intentions, why does he provoke such bad reactions from them? Is he different? Does he not fit into either side of the divide? Is HE evil and people act badly around him because of his influence? Why can’t he understand them? Why don’t they understand him? Is he ruining them? Has “Pelor” chosen him because he's a bad person and “Pelor” is guiding him to goodness?

Whatever the case is, he has spent his life being told or implied that he is unimportant, unremarkable, and adds nothing to the world. “Pelor” has given him a chance to make a difference in the world and he SHOULD be grateful. When he ran away it took a least a week for people to realize he was gone. In a Home Alone au he would be the kid that gets left behind.

So, for someone to thank him, show a sign of affection (platonic thankfully) and in someway put up with his odd behavior and lack of social awareness, it challenges every role he has seen himself play in life. Yes, he has helped people, but how much did he unintentionally terrorize them in the process? Enough for people to scoot him away as fast as possible and make it obvious that they didn’t want him to come back.

The time that he spent traveling with Pasquel, Dia, and Ilthis has begun to challenge his thinking in a lot of way. Most of it didn’t end up being shown in game, but I’m very intrigued to see how that translates over the the next arc of our Champagne.

I wanted to talk about some other things, like his views of the people they met, and his messed up longing for a romantic partner, but this got waaaaasy too long. To summarize, he admires Dia’s bluntness and sense of purpose, she reminds him of his closest sister, and his feelings for Iltthis are actually very platonic. It’s going to take a lot of cringey time for him to arrive at that conclusion though. I’ll just be over here torturing my repulsed aro self in the meantime.

Lastly, if anyone who read this (why did you do that to yourself but thx anyway) related to the feelings above, I appreciate you and you deserve just as much respect, understanding, and happiness as any other living thing. Sending virtual hugs :)

#dnd oc #Keefe #the leit #sorry this got deep #I believe he will be ok #its just going to be a rough road #tw self loathing #tw self worth #tw bullying #tw self doubt #i talk about stuff

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cupcakecoterie · 5 years ago

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@true0neutral - Hazel, half-elf cleric

@fauxfire76 - Darvin, human bard

@miaaoi - Froseth, dragonborn monk

@hyperewok1 - Remi, human paladin

Marion - Ava, human ranger

Little bit of a reshuffle - well, okay, a lot of a reshuffle. Poor @noctumsolis had some family health issues to deal with, and @sfwarlock is no longer with the group so at least some of this was a ... potentially temporary write-out, depending on situational stuff. So bullet-points.

After having hauled themselves and Alisaie out of the Shadowfell, the Cupcake Coterie sort of flumped themselves down in a wood elf guest lodge while Bethrynna, Eryn’s cousin, put together something resembling food. She offered to sit outside with her cousin to have the conversation they were allowed before she made good on her bargain to serve Nerull ... but he said there wasn’t any need because he said he was going with her. He told the others that he was struggling and failing to acclimate to the world outside the dark void that was the predominance of his memory, and hoped that maybe walking between and watching from a distance would let him get enough used to it so that he could jump back in again properly ... or, if not, he could at least serve to guide his friends to whatever comes after death, when they finally go that way (though not, he said, for a long time). Nerull and Pelor, those set over death and life respectively, passed on their acceptance of this, and Eryn - Forest Forsaken, Family Found - passed back the Boots of Elvenkind, gave and received thanks and well-wishes, and left for his own adventure with his last remaining blood-kin.

There was a brief discussion of what happened in the Shadowfell, and it turned out that Alisaie was figuring out some things she hadn’t known that she as an aasimar could do. Apparently a combination of experience and acceptance of her being other than specifically human is unlocking the more celestial elements of what she is. She’d be hard-pressed to pass for generic human these days.

They got a good night’s sleep to the point where they kind of missed dawn prayers, had breakfast courtesy Riswynn, and then met their ‘tour guide’ - a young boy named Bannon and his blink dog puppy, Cal. He showed them to the outpost-village’s ‘shower room’ and let them clean up, then took them to the elders of the clan.

There was discussion with the wood elf elders about what’s been going on in the Elvenwild. The ancient green who mothered Coryvel has been mostly preying on the High Elves, and apparently there was a recent surrender on the part of the High Elves - so there’s an issue there to deal with. (Darvin is basically looking to entirely eradicate every chromatic dragon on the continent. He’s ambitious, we give him that.) The Wood Elves, on the other hand, were largely being left alone by the green, because they didn’t seem to have anything she wanted ... but they’re being attacked by corrupted drow. So the elves of the Elvenwild are having it on all sides, really, and aren’t in the best situations.

The wood elf elders said that they couldn’t prioritise the dragon over the drow yet - though they might have to revisit if the high elves have surrendered to the ancient green because it might lead to a high elf / wood elf war. However, the Cupcake Coterie decided that they were going to try to lure the ancient green out of her lair so they could take her out, hopefully with some help. The decision was made to call the ancient green out in a week’s time, to the fields of Goldendale where the Belarys mercenaries that Alisaie messaged Kezia to hire on Goldendale’s behalf ... with Alisaie, who’s had the killing blow on nearly every dragon they’ve encountered, as bait. (The two parts of the message were “come and have a go if you think you’re hard enough” and, “We left your son’s head to rot and used it to start a revolution; let’s see what we can do with yours.” So that was a thing.)

They decided to leave the half-elves of the High Elf palace to stay with the wood elves until it was safe for them to travel and let them find their own way wherever they want. Scouts would accompany the Cupcake Coterie to collect them, while the group found a stable door that Hazel could use as a gateway for her Homeward Key - they had to use something larger so that they could get cart and new horse through. But because they wanted to wait until sundown, for purposes of stealth, they had some breathing space to tour the outpost-village, which was fun for them.

The grounds of the High Elf palace were littered with bodies when they arrived - Crownsguard and palace guard both. They didn’t investigate that, mostly because they just wanted to get out and go home. Which they did with all due speed.

When they arrived, it turned out that Hearthome’s winter-fallow fields were being used as a mercenary camp - Kezia came through on the hires, clearly. Hazel and Riswynn figured they would check on that later and went straight into the main house to hug Twilly and Miranda and explain a few things. Twilly and Miranda are going to outright murder Lady Emavaela if the rest of the group don’t first (or if they don’t find any kind of reason that she doesn’t deserve being murdered, which is starting to get doubtful, even if they did figure out that it’s possible that Hazel’s birth was less about “Lady Emavaela likes to screw humans” and more “the Elvenwild high elves are assholes who use a night with their beautiful diplomat as a deal-sweetener when they negotiate”).

Remi, on the other hand, went straight for the mercenary camps, where she met an old friend - Brawdr, a dwarven mercenary who provided Remi’s first lessons in swordplay when she was younger. Turned out that Brawdr was also the dwarf whose life Alisaie saved when she first discovered her wings, when she was driven out of Belarys. That was fun to discover. In any case, Brawdr explained that there was going to be a meeting of the hired companies to discuss the situation, and that the Cupcake Coterie were very much invited after they’ve had dinner with the family.

Froseth got mobbed by Skylar and Farideh. Darvin got dropped on by Evan. All the hugs.

So next session is an “At dawn, we plan!” sort of thing, for those of you who are into Critical Role.

#cupcake coterie #full session #Write-up #Youtube Vid

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rangerofpelor · 5 years ago

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Valko/Oliver on the OTP Qs!!! (I was almost. compelled. to send Summer Courtiers as well, but is that too on the nose? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

i very much appreciate you asking about the boys but also how can i deny you the sweet sweet summer courtiers content? bulk of everything is under the cut because hhhhh long

VALKO/OLIVER

1. Who likes to nuzzle their head into their partner’s chest?

valko...he’s pretty tactile when he feels safe and comfortable with another person so...let him snuggle...let him curl up with his head on oliver’s chest and take a nap

2. How many and what colours are the blankets they like to snuggle in?

one in the summertime/warm months and two in the winter/colder months. u kno like a light blanket that’s probably like gold or cream (because pelor) and then in the winter they have a heavier probably fur blanket they’d use

3. Who runs up and hugs their partner and who stands arms wide open to catch their partner?

god i feel like it’s more of a “both of them run towards each other with arms outstretched and meet in the middle to hug” type thing. like it’s one of those things where they’ll be separated for a while but then they make eye contact from across the street or hall or whatever and there’s that beat of silence/breathlessness and then they’d just full on sprint towards each other.

4. Who would be more likely to get matching scarves for themselves and their partner?

brad. i don’t really feel like valko and oliver are really the kind of couple that’s into matching clothing items....altho i can see valko picking up knitting as a hobby to keep his hands busy so like...maybe he knits them (and the rest of the paladins and clerics of pelor) some scarves...they’re not particularly fancy but they’re warm...

5. Would they much rather go on a romantic date or a laid back date? Explain why.

laid back tbh...grand romantic gestures make valko deeply uncomfortable (due to his self worth issues). he’d prefer more subtle things...besides who says a laid back date can’t be romantic. a walk through the temple gardens; a hike into the mountains; just sitting and talking late into the night with a bottle of whiskey between them. finding time to actually do things together is difficult so i think they just steal the little moments they can.

6. Who still gets butterflies after years of dating?

both of them probably? i feel like both would end up thinking “how did i get so lucky? how could a man like him fall for someone like me?” (not that i can really speak for oliver but like...his boyfriend is the champion of pelor which is...kind of a big deal)

7. Who is the one who makes their partner laugh so much that their face hurts?

both? i feel like once they figure out each others’ sense of humor they’d be cracking jokes constantly. it just may not necessarily seem like it on the outside just because...well i feel like it’d all be delivered very dryly all with the intent of getting the other to just crack a smile. in private i’m sure they’re more likely to push that and try to get actual belly laughs.

8. How would each of them explain how they met?

pretty factually? like they met under very businesslike conditions. there wasn’t anything particularly romantic about it. valko arrived on the solitude islands with his friends to try to get the help of the paladins and clerics of pelor in defeating the darkness spreading across verina. they met in his office and discussed that and also they discussed the trials that valko had to go through. it was all pretty straightforward business and both of them would describe it as such.

9. Who accidentally drinks too much caffeine and who has to deal with their partner bouncing off the walls?

tbh the thought of oliver discovering coffee and drinking waaaaayyy too much of it is incredibly amusing to me because like...it’s like...Extreme Paperwork: FAST EDITION. i feel like valko would avoid coffee or anything else high in caffeine. it’d make his hands jittery and throw off his aim.

10. Where is a special place they hold close to their hearts? Why is it special?

they don’t have one (yet) but i would love it if the gardens outside the temple of pelor became that place. just...a place of small respites...of intimate talks...of meaningful looks...(maybe a place where milestones in their relationship occur???)

SUMMER COURTIERS

1. Who likes to nuzzle their head into their partner’s chest?

gotta be merit here i feel. like...kian’s chest is just...so broad...and toned...how could merit not want to nuzzle his head into that paladin tiddy

2. How many and what colours are the blankets they like to snuggle in?

i feel like there’s either no blanket and they’re just a spread of sweaty limbs in the summer court heat or they’re straight up nesting in a pile of various blankets, mostly pastel colored (with maybe a couple of jewel toned throws)

3. Who runs up and hugs their partner and who stands arms wide open to catch their partner?

merit is the one running up to hug kian and kian is trying so hard to stay professional, but he can’t help but open his arms up to greet merit. alternatively:

merit: if i run at kian, he will for sure catch me

merit: *runs at kian*

kian: NO i”M HOLDING COFFEE! *catches merit anyways*

4. Who would be more likely to get matching scarves for themselves and their partner?

the classic winter scarf isn’t really...a practical thing in the summer court...but those stylish fashionable scarves...i feel like merit could potentially be into those n then they would get one for kian that matched their own

5. Would they much rather go on a romantic date or a laid back date? Explain why.

kian is all for romance and Romance. like...the best way i can put it is that modern au kian would be a sucker for arthurian tales and also literature from the romantic era so like...there’s full on courting and chivalry and an emphasis on aesthetics, and i feel like that’s something merit would appreciate.

6. Who still gets butterflies after years of dating?

kian probably. i think he just has mild anxiety constantly (by nature of him essentially being a fantasy grad student) so there’s just...always a butterfly or two in his stomach n then they just go nuts whenever feelings get involved

7. Who is the one who makes their partner laugh so much that their face hurts?

god both probably. i feel like merit is quicker to laugh than kian is in general, but like...once kian gets laughing he can’t really stop

8. How would each of them explain how they met?

lmao i like the idea of merit telling a very elaborate romanticized version of what happened while kian chimes in with the more factual version with a very fond smile on his face.

9. Who accidentally drinks too much caffeine and who has to deal with their partner bouncing off the walls?

i very much enjoy the thought of kian drinking a lot of caffeine and just going on a research frenzy and he bounces from shelf to shelf, scroll to scroll, furiously taking notes and spit-balling theories and merit is just watching as kian goes through his entire mental process of figuring things out

kian: *goes through something a la the pepe silvia bit from iasip*

merit: mmhmm? ok, sure, darling.

*a few minutes later*

kian: i’ve connected the dots!

merit: you haven’t connected shit, my dear.

kian: i’ve connected them!

10. Where is a special place they hold close to their hearts? Why is it special?

mmmmm in honor of rosebush waltz i think i’d say the hedge maze at the summer palace. much like with valko/oliver, it’s a place where they can briefly escape their duties and responsibilities and just enjoy each other’s company.

#r: need the sun to break #r: summer courtiers #krshush

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sheppyscribbles · 4 years ago

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To my dear Amelia,

It has been only two weeks since I hugged you and Otis goodbye and set out on this journey of self-discovering. Wouldn't you know it I have found a proper party to travel with and it has been a delight.

At first it was slow going and no one would give me the time of day but that was all right because I could reckon it from the sun. I hope you liked that little joke because that was how I met Fr Escar. He is one of those punching monks and says that he only just left the Mortonheim Abbey to 'seek out and vanquish the Great Spiral Tarks Trask Trucks Tarrasque. I think it looks like a big snail but that's encouraging because if anyone knows how to fend off snails from a herb garden, I do.

We next encountered Elizz'abeth who is a marvel with knives that could put Old Butcher Melvin to shame, also she is a dark elf. Don't believe the stories they tell about dark elfs being evil! Elizz'abeth is a tender soul who loves to sit by the campfire all night. She once found a spider in the firewood and jumped up on Fr Escar's shoulders in fright, and she kept her balance there for an hour. I counted.

Argok joined us next, he looks like a dragon but he insists that he is a Aracock Arcoco Apricot bird man who lost his feathers. I think his beak is too soft to be a bird but it's like your Da always says, it costs so little to be kind. Anyway he throws a fireball like any other and his hasty stew is almost as good as yours.

We had just reached Midford when a woman approached us who had forgotten to finish lacing up her bodice. But she was very friendly and told us she was destined to tell our tales far and wide, in song even. Did you know that in big cities people play music on their washboards? That is what Sashtasha plays when she sings (the woman with the faulty dress is named Sashtasha if I didn't make that clear enough. She is pretty but you have much more sense and can keep your bodice laced up the whole day while hers pops open every time we fight with bandits. Careless!).

We also met Cannabina, a very nice and soft spoken woman who offered to sell us weeds. How strange city folk are, paying so much for weeds when we have so many outside our door! I was only more baffled when I saw that these "weeds" were in fact hemp leaves and hemp is a fine respectable crop. She makes very good medicine with her natural ways and can even calm Elizz'abeth down from her fits but I often feel hungry after she gives me a dose.

She was followed by Brother Lucas from the local Temple of Pelor. He is a very hairy man and even more so at night. Brother Lucas says he is not a werewolf because he worships the sun god so the moon cannot affect him. It must be a skin problem then so he and Argok like to compare notes. I find it boring but still better than when he and Fr Escar argue about the gods.

Also a swordsman in noble clothes travels with us. He doesn't say much but is very handy in a fight. His hat is very fancy, so fancy he never takes it off even to sleep! I think it was Sashtasha who started calling him Heber the Dashing because of his pretty hat. He is unamused but he answers to it all the same.

The camp site gets crowded with all these people, not like the quiet nights at home with you and young Otis. I miss you terribly already but I will be brave and bring you back a treasure all your own, before the barley harvest if I am lucky. We already have a reputation around Midford so it may not be long.

All my love to you,

-- Jens

I have enclosed a portrait that I found on the wall of the local public house. Heber tore part of it off but it said that people want us for acts of reckless destruction. Fancy that folks already know to look for us when they want an infested outbuilding knocked down!

Terrible Character Ideas:

A monk based on a European Christian archetype. They have sworn a sacred oath to defeat the giant snail plaguing the countryside.

A dragonborn desperately trying to convince the party that they’re really an aarakocra with a skin condition that made their feathers fall out.

Your standard horny bard, but they play a washboard.

A sentient hat piloting a mannequin.

A dark elf who’s afraid of the dark, and terrified of spiders.

A peasant farmer who joined the adventure because they’re going through a midlife crisis and want to ~find themself.~

A druid who got involved because they’re the party’s weed dealer.

A werewolf who doesn’t believe in the moon.

#dungeons and dragons #creative writing #writing exercise #making all these run on sentences kind of hurt #but old time rural folk just kinda write like that I guess #tabletop #werewolf #what is wrong with me

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royal-writer · 6 years ago

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The Adoption

I’m not crying YOU’RE crying....

The heat of the fire crackled warm, but the best part was where she sat; scrunched up and nestled into the familiar scent of oak trees and amber hues. Warmth surrounded her in the huddled blankets. Hugged to her, with an arm around her and the other situated in the folds of one of her lover’s cloaks as he held a hand to hers. Their fingertips gradually warmed, and his breath soft to her nape as they nuzzled lazily against each other. Limbs and bodies folding closer; unable to mold together beneath all the layers of furs and fabrics but the outline of him was still a heaven she knew well.

With his whiskers grown thicker, they felt rougher and wiry in the early brisk of winter. Essätha tried not to snicker at the way her beloved Lord burrowed himself against her upturned collar to inhale the scent of perfume dabbed to her skin. His lips were soft; tracing against the side of her throat.

Sighing, she held her gaze upon the twists and curls of the flames. A thought that had been nagging her brain tugged relentlessly. It had been a seed of a thought; sprouting and soon becoming a destructive weed ensnaring her mind.

They hadn’t had a discussion in baring children in months. Too equally nervous of their ages; Amon more openly concerned for her carrying. The commitment would cut into their travel schedules, their workload, their social requirements. The time it took to raise a child would be monumental at that.

Nobles did this sort of stuff all the time. Amon had done it once before. But it abolished routine, and it came with too much risk. The more time went by, the more danger the physicians warned it would present. The young and beautiful bore their children straight away usually. The old were left to fate and luck if an aging body could handle the strain. Especially for a first child; not used to the imbalance it would cause.

With a faint laugh at the teasing barely-there brush of his beard, Essie turned her face to kiss his forehead. His sigh was magical. Filled with content and joy as he lifted his face for her to lightly peck his charmingly shaped lips. Her eyes grinning with her smile as she looked into his darkened eyes through a collection of small, grazing kisses of sweetness.

“My handsome husband,” she breathed softly.

With a broadening grin, Amon spoke against her mouth as he murmured in reply: “My wonderful wife.”

She hummed a pleasant note at the sound of such endearing words on such a husky voice. Her body shifted; worming through the trap of comforting cloth to release her hand not held from the heat of her layers. Her fingers carded through his coal black locks, slipping around to hold the side of his face as she circled her fingers over the rise of his cheekbone as he smiled. Only the most pure and wholesome version of love in his gaze. Only the gentlest touch to her scaled hand as he slipped his fingers between her spaces to press his palm to hers.

Her nerves tried clamping down upon her mouth. She pushed past the weariness, finding safety and understanding in the searching light of his gaze. Specks of light from the hearth like starlight glistening and moving over his vision as Caesar yawned and stretched upon the floor; curling himself tighter into a ball after flopping closer to the fireplace.

“What do you think about adoption, my love?”

A peculiar lop-sided grin stretched crookedly into place. His features strained, as though trying to hold the position in place rather than frown.

“It’s… always an available option,” he cautioned.

Though the words did not rise up in his throat, she could swear she felt a small twinge of pain strike her form his heartstrings.

“It would eliminate the worry of me carrying,” Essätha reminded him quietly. “We wouldn’t need to get a child very young, either. There are plenty of children looking for loving homes.”

Watching how Amon’s face grew flat, she pressed a kiss to his cheek as she whispered, “You don’t have to hold back your opinion, m’lord Amon. If it makes you unhappy-”

His hand squeezed hers reassuringly beneath her blankets and coats.

“I think it’s worth looking into,” he agreed softly. “But we should not be rash in jumping into parenthood.”

Relief swam through her in the form of a sigh and wide-eyed look of hope. It was better than a ‘no’. It gave her something to aspire for.

Between the creases in his brow with thoughtful worry and the half-smile in place, his eyes were an endless field of thought. Some she came to understand swiftly; a sorrow like so many you could never fully shake. It sat dormant, usually, but it came and went like tides at sea. Some days the memory of his dear Marie were too hard to bear. Some days when the mention of children came up, it clouded his eyes and hung over him like a dreary storm for days.

But there was equally layers of anticipation. A yearning not quite grasped. It burdened her heart, not knowing what it was for. If he held to the idea of children in any way she did; longing and loving and wanting to hold and protect someone so small and innocent. Raise another, where they could lead a life knowing they were loved. They would always have a sense of family; always someone to protect their back, to look after them, to nurture them and be proud to watch them grow and become what they wished.

She did not wish for him to spare his feelings and happiness for her desires. She prayed he would not give in to her, simply because it was something she had always wanted.

“Let’s discuss it tomorrow, when there’s no wine still on our breathes or hazing our decisions,” Amon teased her, releasing her hand to sneak his own out and gather the one against his face. He placed a kiss to the back of her hand, before taking her chilled hand back beneath the huddle of blankets to warm them once more with tender caresses.

Essätha nodded, too overjoyed; and too anxious, for words. Her smile eager all the while, as her beloved leaned in to seal his promise with a kiss so dreamy and gentle it left her breathless for what felt like the entire night.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

In the coming months, they discussed the idea on and off with serious debate. The effects it would hold, both good and bad. How the adoption process played out; what sort of age ranges they might look into.

With still questions to be had, they turned to the church of Pelor for answers.

The priests, priestess, clerics and other training figures under the name of the God of Light were all warmly gracious to their approach, and sought to their inquires with dignity and clear-cut answers like a well-sharpened blade. They were shown the foundling wheel, where sometimes babies and very young were left by parents who left their infants without the repercussion of needing to answer as to why. They met a few adopted children in the town, to speak of their experiences and with their parents.

They were asked their own questions. A few insecure eyes darted over Lord Amon’s locked jaw, chiseled features, and tight eyes. Sometimes standing too stiffly and erect; trying to mask the stench of hurt and sadness that washed over him from time to time.

Unfortunately, Briarton’s residents were all too familiar with the young lady Marie, and of her loss. They stared with pity, or a mix of that and confusion as the word spread throughout the town that they were considering taking in a child.

Some people had their viewpoints, of course. Essie was grateful most of them were offered to her, rather than Amon. Fearing his reaction, no doubt.

She listened with as much grace as she could. Sometimes it was polite; encouraging, understanding. Sometimes it was not so. Judgmental and crude; spitting on race, her values, her stature. Some called her ‘careless’, others said they were too old for such things.

Essätha held on to her faith, but not too strongly. After all, though many years of her life had been spent fondly loving the idea of having kids, she had never thought she’d truly have the chance.

This could very well be that chance.

But she watched, ever loving and always worried, to her Lord Amon. Listening for the cues in his voice that would shape the beginning or end of this journey.

What would come next, she would accept with love and empathy. It was all she could do.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Winter was mostly though when they visited the temple again for another meeting with the high-priest. There was frost bleeding into water and snowdrift melting in the streets. Amon held an arm around her; puffy swirls of white smoke like dragons ready to employ their greatest weapon ushering from their mingled breathes interlocked so closely.

Before they came upon the heavy set of doors, a priestess cleaning the steps greeted them. She ushered them inside warmly, offering coffee which they denied.

“Let me go fetch the minister; my Lord and Lady, he’ll be pleased to see you both again.”

“Thank you,” Amon murmured softly, his face appearing tired and worn.

Feeling a clinging sense of agony for him, Essätha held firmly to his hand. She didn’t relax until the pressure was returned to her, with a small smile and affection eyes.

As a robed gentleman greeted them, they were brought into a private wing of the shrine. A cleric and some devote followers were tending to some sickly patients, offering their healing words and last rites to some. Among the assistants were some older teenagers Essie recognized from previous visits. Young but not lost. Some abandoned once; others from family’s who were gone too soon, but they had found sanctuary and teachings in the place of the church.

Amon was engrossed in conversational greetings and tense discussion of their visit, when Essätha slipped away from his side. She greeted the people within the room with politeness. Held the hand of a man losing his final breath as he praised her good work in the town- mumbling something about strange it was for his failing eyes to lay upon an angel one last time (that had been enough to cause her eyes to weep, though she withheld until the widowed man had passed and was offered plenty of handkerchiefs for her runny nose). She passed treats unto the young and those hard at work and god a bit of scolding for doing so by an older priestess (she swore that woman hated her).

Stepping around a draped curtain, Essätha beamed upon the youthful woman’s backside with which she saw. They turned their head to her approach.

“Lady Essätha! Back again I see. May Pelor Light your path, my Lady.”

“Essie or Essätha works just fine, Margret,” she reminded the pale complexion of the woman with a laugh, stepping curious closer.

“Oh,” the woman murmured, turning to show what she had cradled in her arms. “She’s a new arrival. Dropped off at the founding wheel a few days ago.”

Essie stared, mystified. Before she could utter a word, however, a sharp cry jolted her from the right.

“Must be the twins at it again,” Margret sighed, offering the swaddled figure to her. “Would you mind, for just a moment, my Lady?”

“I- I- o-o-of course-”

The baby settled into her awaiting arms couldn’t be more than a few years old. Her skin was dark; much darker than her own, and she had hair black as a raven’s wing. She was large enough to fight against the blanket wrapped around her; grumbling and babbling nonsense as her dark eyes peered up beneath dark lashes.

She had pointy little ears protruding from beneath the depths of her curls. A hand reached up as she fought for her freedom, patting to Essie’s face.

She didn’t even hear the woman leave. There was something about the elf-child; or at least partial elf-child, that felt too deep.

The baby sneezed. She froze, her eyes starting to water as though frightened by the loudness of her own body.

“Oooh no no tears,” Essätha soothed, wiping at her eyes before the wailing could begin as she bounced the tiny figure up and down in her arms. “No tears now, little one. It was only a sneeze.”

“Maaa mamama,” the child mouthed, her wobbly lip disappearing as she went back to patting her face.

Oh no. Oh no oh no, she loved her. Loved the dark little freckles speckling over her nose and cheeks, loved the mostly-toothless smile and gurgling giggles.

“Essätha, my darling,” Amon’s voice carried; a hand parting aside the curtains. “The priest wanted us to…. To…”

He stared down at what was in her arms instantly as she looked up to him. Defensively as the sheet had been parted, she held the youngster tighter to her chest as though fearing someone would snatch it from her.

She studied his blank expression as her arms grew lax to let the child be seen. Her little feet kicked wildly; squirming in her arms.

“Maaama. Mamamama… Maaaa…”

Essätha snorted back laughter as the child grabbed at her mouth and nose. Curiously working her way up as she tried to scale her; prodding at the scales on her face.

Amon stepped closer. The swish of his cloak moving against the floor.

Realizing that a shadow had befallen them, the little girl craned her head back to look up at his face. Essie held her smile; a sense of worry eating at her insides. She looked between the babe’s wondering face, and the lack of expression on her beloved’s.

Tentatively, the elf reached out. Her hand managed to grab a fistful of Amon’s beard, and she yanked.

Amon grunted, teasing the tiny hand free so that it held to his finger instead.

“Strong grip,” he observed; a rasp in his voice and twinkle in his gaze.

“Daaaaa,” the babe responded with passionate excitement; holding to his finger with a white-grip. “Daaaddaaa daaa…”

The smile that stretched across his face held so many countless memories in Essätha’s mind. It softened his eyes, and drew away all signs of aging and agony from his features. Smoothed over into a sense of calm, of joy. So much happiness, that he seemed to forget about the world, forget about everything but the moment.

He moved his hand slowly, grinning wider as the little girl squealed with delight.

With an adoring smile on her face, Essie looked between her husband and the child. His arm moved behind her to the small of her back as they huddled closer, staring down at the curious umber eyes looking back at them. Her quiet babble growing louder; more boisterous as she switched her attention from Amon’s finger that curled against hers and the unique texture of Essätha’s face as she pawed at her.

She was perfect.

And she would be their first.

#eci artz #Essie rw #amon illiad #essamon ship

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thessalian · 7 years ago

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The Cupcake Coterie vs Metaphysics

When we left the Cupcake Coterie, Hazel, Froseth, Darvin and Clarity (@true0neutral, @miaaoi, @fauxfire76 and @lindira respectively) were recovering at the Piecemeal after a truly unfortunate encounter with ... well, let’s face it - draug. They didn’t have long to rest, however, because they heard a moderately cultured human voice calling out, “Hello! Is the Cupcake Coterie there?” This freaked them out no end, so Hazel opened the door, hammer in hand, and looked out at ... well, these two:

Played by @egoroffie - Sigwald Sullivan, School of Divination wizard (who did the yelling) and, in faceclaim form because we don’t have art of her yet...

Played by @hyperewok1 - Remi Crestwind, Oath of Vengeance paladin of Tritherion ... though she was wearing a helm at that point. In any case, the fact that they could get through the floral barrier set forth by Petunia and their knowing who the Cupcake Coterie were had Hazel letting them in. From there, there was ... discussion.

A lot was said, and a lot of connections were made. Turns out that Sigwald has met Hazel’s adoptive sister Andromeda (Andri for short), and Remi’s aware of ‘Rand Hearthheart’ and the Quickflight Diminutives. She also knows about Jenna, who was at one point the SteelSinger of Belarys until she retired for parts hitherto unknown. (And the day that Sigwald finds out that ‘Mom’ is Twylla Quickflight, one of the University’s finest from the School of Abjuration ... well, that’s going to be an interesting day.) They also have a friend in common in Torinn, the bronze dragonborn bard they met at the Goldendale market faire a week or so ago. That earned a bit of trust, and things progressed from there, to Sigwald - who had heard all about the Cupcake Coterie from Torinn - where Nora was.

Which was around the point at which Froseth got his ‘whispers on the wind’ thing again (and I swear I am going to write this feat as something that can be consciously used, which I’ll give him as soon as he gets all four elements attuned) - he heard that sarcastic, smug woman who apparently started all this asking, “Where is your god now?” and Nora replying, “Where He should be; with them.” And then they all felt the touch of Nora’s passing - a supportive hand on Froseth’s, a careful armoured one-arm hug around Clarity’s shoulders, a smoothing down of Hazel’s hair, a kiss on Darvin’s cheek - and the lifewards around Hazel’s amulet, and Clarity’s, and Froseth’s ... they reformed. The last gift Nora could give them; the last way she had to protect them. Then Froseth heard the sound of Nora being turned to dust and scattered into the taint of the Star Coast death fog as her armour collapsed in an empty heap.

They went out to look for her, of course. Just in case. I mean, there was a huge kerfuffle because Darvin, Froseth, Remi and to a lesser extent Sigwald didn’t want Hazel and Clarity just running off without thinking, just in case they got eaten or something, but eventually they calmed down to be methodical about the search. It was too late to save Nora, but they retrieved what they could. Pelor’s Beacon was gone, with no one knowing where it might have vanished to and frankly too busy grieving to care (except for Remi, who didn’t know about Pelor’s Beacon, and Sigwald, who was a little distracted by all the nonsense going on and his own theories and thoughts.

Which he expounded on at length over the course of dinner. Effectively, the bullet points are these:

Ellon is a magical construct - created by the gods out of effectively pure divine magic.

The traditional paladin and cleric orders are not the only ones that Torm the god of self-sacrifice and courage tasked with protection of the various divine elements. Obad-Hai and Branchala and Rao of the White Heart and Zivilyn ... they and many others like them never had traditional paladins or clerics. Obad-Hai, of the beasts and the hunt, had the rangers. Branchala - and Sune and Fharlaghn, the gods of music and art, of beauty and love, of travel and adventure - Torm gave them the bards. For Rao, Torm began the monastic orders; the monks. And for Zivilyn, goddess of knowledge, Torm started the schools of the wizards.

They went to some interesting places after that, the most interesting being that perhaps Zivilyn being absent meant that all knowledge of Her, and much knowledge about their world, went with Her. From there, they wondered if perhaps a goddess of knowledge would very much want to hide any notion of Her existence from a corrupting influence that stands apart from and perhaps beyond the gods and calls itself ‘the Boiling Meme’, lest it corrupt Her whole domain and make the taint spread itself through knowledge itself, and the magic that permeates their entire world because it’s what their world is made of. From there, they went a step beyond, wondering if the bards would be next, as the College of Lore in particular tends to spread information as much as any other method.

Short form? Together they theorised that this was way deeper, and way bigger, than any of them had thought. Even Remi, who was only there because her god had led her to a war zone, let her see a cavern fully corrupted with tainted cultists and oozing horrors and the loss of most of her squad and told her to get out there and sort it out; “HERE. THESE PEOPLE WILL HELP YOU. GO FORTH AND FIGHT THIS IN MY NAME”.

They didn’t really have it in them to think too hard about anything but the immediate, though the discovery of the Hearts of Baronsvere added some interesting credence to various theories. They did some experimentation with distracting the zombie hordes and whatever else was lingering in the death fog of Star Coast. Remi decided to try switching on Divine Sense in a fog made of pure evil and overloaded herself. Sigwald tried to use Dancing Lights and discovered that whatever else these creatures were, they weren’t necessarily going to be fooled by a distraction ... though they don’t know whether that’s because they can sense magic or if they just know where there are living things. They all figured out very quickly that magic can’t cross the barrier. They had a little more discussion about how to get to Star Coast Manor, but not much, because the four Cupcake Coterie ‘veterans’ were exhausted and overwhelmed and burned out, and needed to sleep. So we ended the session there, with a view to begin tracking down the Heart of Star Coast next session.

So predominantly a talky session, but a necessary one, from a ‘getting to know you’ perspective. Next session will happen on the 16th, because @true0neutral is going to be on a plane on the 17th so understandably will be unable to make the Sunday. And they really don’t want to face what’s next without a healer. They just don’t.

#Thess RPs #Critical Tumbl

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penguin-g-41 · 7 years ago

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The End of Vox Machina

Sad stuff ahead. Be warned.

The first to meet their end is Trinket. It was peaceful, in his sleep. Young Vax found him outside in the garden. Flowers from a nearby tree had fallen gently on his large form. He was buried amoung other de Rolos as that is what he was. The bear found himself in the darkness of death before he picked up a familiar scent. It had been many years, but he knew it. Decay and graveyard and the masking smell of rose oil.

“Trinket.” He wasted no time knocking down the half elf rogue paladin. He licked the side of his face. Pinned under the large bear Vax scratched his underbelly. “Missed you buddy.”

The next was Grog. It was a bar fight gone just a bit too far. His old Goliath body couldn’t handle much more. Pike and Scanlan got the word out as quickly as they could. Soon enough Vex and Percy along with their 5 children as well as Keyleth find themselves crammed into Grog and Pike’s childhood home. Pike begged him to let her heal him, but he declined. Even the pleas of the little gnomes whose fingers barely could get a hold on his pinky could not get through. Too tired he said. He would be happy with this death. A death from battle. Surrounded by his true family in his true home Grog slipped away. Everything grew cold.

“Hey, big guy.” Grog turned in the darkness to see Vax. He looked the same as they day he walked away. Large black wings spread out behind him.

“Vax.” Grog rushed forward, easily lifting the half elf off his feet. He looked down and noticed he was young again. His beard was once again black and his muscles rippling. He wore the Titanstone knuckles on his hands. Something he needed not do in a long time.

“Walk with me, Grog.” Vax smiled at him gesturing into the darkness. “We’ve been waiting a while.”

“We?” Before Vax can answer Grog sees a red dragonborn in familiar robes, holding a staff. “Tibs?”

The third to go is Percy. His hair color finally fit his age. A simple cold was his end. Surrounded by his legacy of children and grandchildren and one great-grandchild as well as his loving wife. His sister and her husband, the captain of the guard, a once timid young boy by the name of Kynan were there with their children. Keyleth had come from Zephra and Pike and Scanlan from Westrun. Even Tary had managed to make it from Wildemount. Whitestone was a hub of innovation. He had not touched his guns since Silas had reared his ugly head some months after Vecna’s fall. No. That was a lie. That was the last time it was used to harm something. He would take it out even at his old age and show off to his grandkids, still as skilled a marksman as he was in his youth. With one last kiss from the one he chose he died old and happy, the opposite of how he once thought he would.

He felt the familiar chill of death in the dark space. He felt young again. His joints weren’t creaky and his hands more steady. His clothes were as they once were and the Cabal’s Ruin sat around his shoulders.

“Brother.” Percy turned to the source of the noise.

“You know I figured I’d be off to hell by now. Orthax still wants my soul,” he sighed.

“I pulled a few strings, got you out of the deal.”

“The Raven Queen?” He scoffed. It had been many years, but the bitterness towards her remained.

“Pelor actually.”

“Well.” Percy dropped the look of dissatisfaction and wrapped his arms around Vax. The paladin hugged back, wrapping his wings around him as well.

“Come on. They’re waiting for you.” Percy looked behind him to see the smiling faces of his family. He smiled and went to them hugging them tightly.

“Are those new glasses?” A deep gruff voice asked. Percy drew away from his mother’s embrace to see a smiling Grog along with Tiberius and Trinket. Percy smiled.

Not to long after Percy, Tary slipped away. A wound he had sustained had never properly healed correctly. A simple fall caused his death to come. Each member of the remaining members of Vox Machina came. His once golden hair was now a light gray and his goatee more of a beard. Tary had long retired from adventuring but continued to fund and guide his brigade with his husband Lawerence and his sister at his side. Lawrence had since passed, but Tary lived long enough to publish his book. He had never felt compelled to do so until Vox Machina began to slip away from the material plane. He published it and titled it The Daring Trials and Tribulations of Taryon Darington and Vox Machina. The prequel to Taryon Darington and the Brigade. With a smirk on his face Taryon died.

“Hey, T.” Tary hadn’t heard that voice in a very long time. Instantly he broke into tears. “Hey. Hey. Why are you crying?”

“I never got to say goodbye.”

“I know. That doesn’t matter anymore, though.” Vax sighed, hugging the once again blond man. He found himself young and in his shiny armor. “There’s some people waiting for you.”

“Mother? Father? Lawrence?”

“Us as well, Tary,” Percy stepped up beside them along with Grog.

“Uh who’s the dragonborn?”

“I’m Tiberius Stormwind of Vox Machina. I’m from Draconia.”

Next came Vex. Within the span of about two decades or more Keyleth lost many of her family. Only Pike, Scanlan and Keyleth were left when Vex’ahlia’s time came. Like Percy it was a cold. She was actually happy that the Raven Queen would soon have her. She yearned to see her loved ones. Surrounded by her and Percy’s made family she smiled. Whitestone has continued to be on the forefront of innovation. It had grown to rival Emon, Percy would be proud. She smiled at her twin children. They seemed all to familiar. She took her eldest’s son’s hand. Simple words of how much he looked like his uncle. She turned to Keyleth. A silent promise was made and with a final breath Vex winked at Scanlan.

In the darkness she wandered and wandered until she saw a figure sitting on a fallen log in the absolute darkness. There was a gentle fire going in front of the figure. The wings have it away instantly. He turned around.

“Stubby.” She was immediately pulled into a hug.

“Vax. Vax. Vax.” She clung to him tightly. “I found you. I told you I’d find you.”

“My sister,” he sighed pulling away and grabbing her shoulders. She looked down and saw her dragon scale armor and her hair was no longer gray.

“Vex’ahlia,” Vex felt her heart stop. She turned to the woman just out of view.

“Mom.” She walked up to her hugging her tightly. They pulled away after a moment.

“My sweet girl, I am so proud of you.” She reached up and wiped away her tears.

“Vex, darling.” Vex turned to find Percy.

“You look good,” she chuckled as he stepped towards her.

“And you.” He smiled. She placed a small kiss on his lips before hearing the heavy breathing of a running bear.

“Trinket!” She was tackled by the bear. He picked all over her face, nuzzling into her.

“I’d forgotten how fast he was.” she looked behind the large bear to see Tiberius.

“Tibs.”

“Little elf girl.” Vex smiled as Tary and Grog stepped from the darkness.

“Goldie.” Then Vex turned to Vax. “Keyleth says hello.”

Then Scanlan. He, Pike and Keyleth had long lives to live. He got Kaylie through school and she got married and had a son. Scanlan and Pike had two little gnomes running around as well. This thrilled Grog until he passed. The even smaller gnomes with wit of their father and heart of their mother were the best thing to ever happen to Scanlan. His book was a huge success. Everyone who could read knew the true story of Vox Machina. How they began and how they ended. Kidney failure. A bright de Rolo had become a great doctor and found out this is what happened when you drank your sorrows away. With Kaylie and his two younger daughters as well as his wife, Pike and Keyleth around him his eyes fluttered closed.

“Hey, Scan-“ Vax was cut off by Scanlan jumping at him.

“I tried to wish you back. I tried,” He mumbled into the feathers of Vax’s armor.

“I know you did. I love you.”

“YOU!” Scanlan jumped at the loud voice. Then he smiled as Grog lifted him up hugging him and nearly crushing him.

“Grog!” Scanlan laughed through his tears. Then he saw the others.

“How did the book do?” Percy asked.

“What book?” Scanlan chuckled nervously.

“Pike told me.”

“Oh. It did well. There’s supposedly going to be statues of us in every major city.”

“Really?” Tary’s eyes lit up.

“Oh I hope they do my nose right,” Vex mumbled.

Then Pike was taken by some illness going about the temple. She wasn’t worried or scared. She was going to be with her friends and her husband. She had done amazing things. She had made her goddess proud and somehow raised her kids. In return she’d spend eternity with Sarenrae or her friends. Both. She smiled at Keyleth. Pike was all she had left. The only one left of Vox Machina. She squeezed the Druid’s hand before her grip loosened as she drifted away.

She was met with darkness and cold then it was replaced by warmth and light.

“Pike.” She knew who it was. She looked up to see the glowing form of her patron. “You have done well. You will tell me your story in time, but for now reunite with your friends. You’ve been away from them for a long time, my dear.”

“Pickle.” Pike felt tears start to form as she saw a dark form in the almost blinding light of Sarerae. Two large black wings cast a beautiful silhouette.

“Stringbean.” Vax knelt down in front of her, pulling her into a hug. “It’s been too long.”

“Yeah. Yeah it has.”

“Pike!” Pike peered over Vax’s shoulder to see Grog. Pike pushed Vax away and leaped at Grog. He caught her and held her in his arms.

“Mrs. Shorthalt.” Grog set Pike down as Scanlan approached.

“Mr. Trickfoot.” Pike smiled before rushing at Scanlan. Pulling him into a deep kiss. As the rest gather around they all looked at each other. They all look as young as they did the day Vax went away. Their armor is glowing as they stand.

“Just one more,” Vax sighed.

Keyleth knows. It’s her exactly 1,000th birthday. Many generations of Trickholts and de Rolos pass by like a breeze. She led her people with pride. She tutored the next voice of the tempest before he went off on his quest. He was the 10th one. He sits at her side at the large banquet in her honor. He completed his armamente but decided to not take up the mantle until Keyleth’s time came to an end. Thankfully it would only be 2 years he would have to wait. The world had seen two more threats, but other heroes much like Vox Machina rose up. Keyleth of course offered the assistance of her people every time. She tried dating again when she was 305. She found herself entranced by a half-elven rouge with dark hair and pale skin. He funny enough was a part of a adventuring group very similar to Vox Machina. Keyleth breaks it off, knowing that it’s just not right. She does not date again. Her heart with always belong to the stealthy champion of the Raven Queen. She helped lead the Ashari back to the world stage. They were no longer secluded villages. While they kept to themselves there were more open interactions. Keyleth watched as White became the capital of Taldorei. The clock tower still standing tall right in front of castle Whitestone. She travels there more often in her later hundred years. She always earns glances when she does. She travels to the sun tree. Statues of each member of Vox Machina had been placed around the base of the Sun Tree (including Trinket). She sits in front of the one for Vax. The one crow always finds its way there. No matter where she goes it will always be there.

Tales of Vox Machina’s bravery and acts always float about Exandria. Yet. The years that had gone by seem to twist them more to just stories. The grand statues in every city tells otherwise. The titan that looms of Vasselheim tells otherwise. The keep outside of Emon tells otherwise. The handsome statue in Draconia tells otherwise. The clock tower in Whitestone tells otherwise.

The sun begins to set on what Keyleth’s knew to be her last day. She couldn’t help but smile. She walked to the edge of the cliffs where the border of sun trees stand. She went to the one covered in black raven feathers and skulls and medallions. Carefully, she placed her hand on the tree. Still the hum of Pelor‘s power pulses through it- through each tree. She had taken off her mantel in her house, leaving it for the next voice. She sat down at the base of the Raven tree. A small caw broke through the air. She looked up in the branches to see the Raven. It flew down and landed on her shoulder. Keyleth simply smiled as she watched the sun set.

As the last bit of light disappeared her eyelids grew heavy. With a relieved sigh she closed her eyes, relaxing into the tree. The weight of the Raven on her shoulder changed, but only slightly. Then it felt like a hand was there. She opened her eyes to find a face she’d only been able to dream about inches from hers.

“Hey, Kiki.” Keyleth simply smiled as leaned forward kissing Vax. When they pulled away she glanced about to see miles of flower covered hills with mountains in the distance. She turned and saw Vex and Percy and Tary and Trinket. They’re smiling at her. She turned to the other side and sees Grog and Pike and Scanlan. They’re all young and smiling. She thought everything to have been a dream and this reality until she saw Tiberius.

“This is it?” She smiled.

“Yes.” Vax smiled. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too. I love you.” The tears started to fall from her eyes.

“I love you too. Forever and always.”

And there they sat, basking in the sun, leaning against a suntree, Vox Machina of Greyskull Keep, slayers of the Chroma Conclave, imprisoners of the Undying King, saviors of Vasselheim and Emon, liberators of Whitestone, heroes of Tal’dorei, protectors of Exandria, aka the S.H.I.T.S.

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novemberocean · 8 years ago

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Lighter Than Black 5

(pt1)(pt2)(pt3)(pt4)

AO3

They came back alive, surprisingly, and without any drama. Vox Machina just arrived in the morning, looking like shit and dragging along some poor soul that got caught up in their nonsense. Cassandra half expected the gruesome looking bearded fellow to turn out to be Raishan; but after Vex’s odd look, she decided it was yet another misfit her brother’s family picked up.

They were covered in blood and grime and soot and Percy, enjoying his role as older brother, smothered her in a hug designed to get some of the gook on her nice pajamas. She squawked at him for that, and for a moment, it was like it had been many years ago. Before the vampires and the dragons. When they had just been the babies of the family, nothing better to do than get on each other’s nerves.

They ordered every bath in the castle and wandered off for a drink. Cassandra turned around, seeking out her shadow. She spotted him just before he revealed himself. He had a neutral expression on his face, but his eyes were brighter than she had ever seen.

For her part, Cassandra grinned at Kynan. She was just so relieved and happy. Her excitement must have been contagious, because Kynan returned the smile within moments.

“Will you do me a favor?” She asked. Kynan nodded. “Check on Jarret and Gilmore and the rest? Vox Machina aren’t known for their follow up with their friends.”

Kynan nodded again, remembering when they sent Kash on a mission they rendered obsolete within a day. He was gone before she could thank him.

Two hours later, the door to Cassandra’s office opened.

Kynan shut the door behind him. He had an odd look on his face as he leaned back against it.

“What’s got you looking like you ate a stale sock?” Cassandra asked. She barely looked up from the papers in front of her. Incredibly, she was working on plan A, not the backup plan for when her brother and his friends got eaten by a dragon.

“I just saw Vax'ildan sneaking down the hallway,” he said. Cassandra raised her eyebrows, slightly impressed.

“Does he know you saw him?” she asked. Cassandra had never met a man who could cover himself in shadows as effectively as Vax could. Barring any magical help. Kynan rubbed a hand down his face before he responded.

“He was buck-ass nude, I think me seeing him was the point.” He muttered.

It took five minutes for Cassandra to stop laughing. She had to push away from her desk, lest she knock something over. Kynan was leaning on the desk next to her by the time she got a hold of herself. He was smiling one of those rare, unguarded smiles he sometimes gave her. She tried to hide the fact that it took her breath away.

“Why on…” She trailed off, trying and failing to come up with a reason one of the Heroes of Emon would be wandering the halls in all his ‘elven glory’.

“I really don’t know,” Kynan shook his head. “He winked right at me even though I was hidden. I’m pretty sure it was near your brother’s quarters.”

“That clears nothing up,” she rolled her eyes. Percy was a lot of things, into threesomes with half elven twins may as well be one of them. “How’s Jarrett?” she asked.

“Shaken, a little burned,” Kynan folded his arms across his chest. “Gilmore was administering some awful smelling stuff when I left.” He blushed a little, indicating that Gilmore wouldn’t be smearing anything on anyone in a less than salacious manner.

Cassandra sighed and leaned back in her chair. Now that the initial excitement was passed, anxiety started to trickle back in. She was relieved that no one had been killed in an unspeakable way. Oh, she knew that there was a whole army of casualties, but she was selfishly happy she didn’t have to add names to the list of dead friends and family.

Stretching her neck from side to side, Cassandra massaged her shoulders. They were stiff with tension she couldn’t let go of yet. There was the other dragon, the one that knew where they lived. The one her brother had tried to stab in the back. Out of the frying pan…

“Um…” Kynan said quietly, Cassandra paused her ministrations and looked up at him. He was turning red, but he motioned towards her shoulders and muttered something that sounded like “May I?”

It was Cassandra’s turn to blush. She tried not to nods enthusiastically. Kynan gave her that crooked smile she loved, and moved behind her chair. The high back of the chair meant she couldn’t feel his body heat like she could when he put her knife back in her boot. Pelor’s grace, but she had driven herself to distraction with recalling that particular afternoon.

Cassandra knew how to use an opponent’s strength against them. It was a necessary skill when you lived as she had. But there was nothing that could quite replace the unerring brute force now being applied to her neck. She only just barely managed to stifle a moan as his thumbs worked at the knots in her shoulders.

“Okay?” Kynan asked, nervously.

Cassandra could only make a vaguely pleased noise in return. He didn’t hold back, which vaguely surprised Cassandra when she could think through the fog her brain had filled itself with. People usually went easy on her; she wasn’t tall or intimidating, she was short and a female, so people tended to underestimate her. She delighted in using their poor judgement against them.

“You’ve…” Kynan started, cleared his throat and started again. “You’ve got a lot of tension in your shoulders.”

“Yeah, that will be the weight of the city on my back.” Cassandra huffed a laugh. She must have sounded more bitter than she’d meant to, because Kynan paused. Cassandra tried not to whine.

“Do you, uh,” he began, and then hesitated, seeming to choose his words carefully. “Want to do something else?”

“No, no,” Cassandra waved a hand. “I had to fight Vampires, old gods, and sometimes myself for my right to rule, I’ll be damned if I give it up now.”

Her words were somewhat undermined by Kynan’s fingers beginning their work again, and Cassandra ending her sentence on a purr. He worked in silence for a few minutes. She wondered what was going through his head.

“I think you’re a great ruler,” Kynan said. She turned to look at him. “I want to help you.” He surprised her by meeting her gaze, just for a second, before he lost courage and looked away. “However someone like me can help anyway.”

Cassandra opened her mouth. To tell him that she would welcome his help. That he was already a major help in her life. Just his presence gave her confidence. That she loved him and wanted him to stay with her, even if dragons killed them all. Especially if dragons killed them all.

But all those things got stuck in her throat as Kynan muttered something about Jarret and fled the room. A full two minutes passed, with Cassandra sitting at her desk staring at the closed door. Her mind felt full of cotton, or smoke. She felt all hot and cold at the same time. She blinked once, twice.

“Fuck!” She exclaimed to her empty office.

#critical role #critfic #kyssandra #cassandra de rolo #kynan leore #cr spoilers #writing #rarepair #not that rare anymore i guess #angst angst angst angst angst #geeze kynan #vax's ward everybody #hey #read my stuff

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cupcakecoterie · 5 years ago

Text

Cupcake Coterie vs the Conundrum Pavilion

@true0neutral - Hazel, half-elf cleric

@fauxfire76 - Darvin, human bard

@miaaoi - Froseth, dragonborn monk

@hyperewok1 - Remi, human paladin

@sfwarlock - Nai, elven warlock

Marion - Ava, human ranger

Today was one of those feelsy sessions that probably need to be seen / heard for full impact. Which is why it was really unfortunate that @miaaoi had a malfunctioning microphone. This could have been going on for ages and we wouldn’t necessarily have noticed, so I guess it’s good that we at least identified the problem?

Right. Bullet points.

There was some talk over breakfast about some of the stuff that happened the previous day - Alisaie apologised to Froseth for the whole “trying to force words out of him” thing, explaining that she wanted to be his friend and that was the only way she knew how to do it. She also rather pointedly stated that she was curious about her own culture as an aasimar and thus understood both Darvin’s position of “We should open the door to ensure that questions can be answered when/if presented with the opportunity in the form of a member of species / subspecies / whatever” and Froseth’s of “I’m not sure I’m all that curious because I’m me and that’s enough but, you know, maybe”. Remi recommended asking a senior cleric of Pelor more about her heritage and about the aasimar in general.

They headed to the gubernatorial building and met Cal Etielle. Cal Etielle is quite excitable but friendly, and asked them to talk a little bit about what they thought of Egref from the point of view of newcomers. The answers were varied but mostly boiled down to, “It’s a lot to take in but it’s welcoming and has something for everyone and is daring and chaotic and somehow works so mostly yay”.

Lunch was had, with yet another failure from the Miraculous Transmutation Engine but glorious dessert from a little halfling named Delilah. They were informed that anyone wanting to study at the Academy of Metamagics in Egref could earn free tuition by doing internships at various businesses or civic buildings. Delilah wants to go into the culinary sciences and find new and glorious ways of decorating cakes. If the coffee drink she gave them is any indications, she’ll be one of the ones who provides cocktails for the Academy-run nightclub when she’s older, too.

Their challenge - “riddle and truth” - took place in front of a rather large audience of Egref residents. Everyone got the riddles right. The questions seeking truth got stressful, for Nai in particular, but got answered truthfully - or mostly so. Ironically, it was Darvin who spoke less from his own heart about the people around him; even Remi came much close to personal with her answers. Nai nearly broke down because of his answer; he had to admit he didn’t know whether he would stick with ‘doing the right thing and fulfilling obligations’ and stay with those who had supported him and fought at his side when his patrons asked for the near-impossible, or whether if given the opportunity he would just throw it all over and go home.

Afterwards, Cal Etielle had two questions for Froseth, partly based on his answers, because of a missive and offered gift from Vieve Alled, the ancient silver dragon of Damyl who has great magics and a vested interest in the continued thriving of the silver dragonborn in general (and possibly the Rimehook line in particular; that hasn’t quite come up yet). The questions: “Do you know the name of any member of your family, and would they or you want them to return to the prime material plane, as in among the living?” After some significant thought, the answer was yes, and True Resurrection was cast on Froseth’s formerly elder sister Farideh. Ava, having fairly recently lost her parents and still cut to the heart by the loss, had some significant issues, but recovered well enough - partly because of hugs from Alisaie and Hazel.

Farideh of Rimehook (Fari for short) is too adorable and wants to see everything. It was really huge seafood for dinner that night, and she finally got to try squidgy bears. They found her a bed which is currently crammed into Hazel and Ava’s room. Ava gave Farideh her animated plushie dog Butterscotch to keep her company that night. Flitty spent the night curled on Farideh’s pillow, promising to keep an eye on her.

Cal Etielle is really draining to personify for longer than five minutes at a stretch. But fun. I hope we see the gender-fluid ancient copper dragon again someday. ...Just ... not the whole session when the DM is tired.

Fun session, if unfortunately slightly plagued with technical difficulties.

#cupcake coterie #full session #Write-up

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royal-writer · 6 years ago

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you’re the perfect harmony, bring out the best part of me

Woof I still got more of these yet to write holy shit!!! Have them feels and squeals my dudes. <3

Approaching the reception hall for the second time that day, some small groups of people bid their good wishes and compliments outside the french doors. A fine gush of words and delicate shaking of hands; mostly to those calling for an early evening. Half-circles of people surrounded them with gasping breath, watery eyes, and hearty laughter. The ever-present arm tucked behind Essätha’s back, with fingers gently looked against the bend of her side and warm breath fanning to her cheek as the soft pressure of lips met her there, between softened words of love and murmured replies to their guests.

Life couldn’t possibly be more gratifyingly splendid. There was joy and smiles around every corner, and the merry sound of voices and giggles. It was a day she could wish to go on eternally as Amon aided her inside; letting go of her side to help lift the volumes of the dress so not to be stepped on as they ascended the few steps inside.

“There’s the beautiful spouses now! Lord Amon and Lady Essätha!”

Whoever announced them rose their voice above the crowd that began to clamor anew with excitement as they entered. The frills of her gown left to flow low to the floor once more as her husband (what an exceptional word) took hold of her hand in a steady grip. A hold that promised not to let go. A gentle, confident grasp that clutched more than to just her fingers, but that cupped the awaiting longing of her heart so tenderly.

Proudly standing; her heart overflowing with the bounty of joy, Essie leaned in close to press a delicate kiss against her beloved Amon’s cheek, to the squeals and muted ‘aww’s of the onlookers.

He pulled her hand to his lips in response, a twinkle in his gaze as he placed a kiss in the space where skin met scales. A teasing smirk played out against his mouth as he rested her hand; his fingers entwined, against his heart. The most careful slip of his free hand as he moved closer ran against the contours of her cheek as her eyelashes slid low. All the carefree lightness blooming in her chest; the best kind of happiness and love where nothing could dampen upon the sun inside of her, as Amon fixed the edges of the flower held between her ear and circlet so the petals were not obscuring her outermost vision.

“Alright you two, alright,” a masculine voice broke in; moving closer to them as they went on, “Break it up for just a moment. You can’t go all night simply staring into each other’s eyes.”

“I thought that was the point of weddings,” Amon baited teasingly, his eyes sliding away from hers to slyly look over at the man.

Essie giggled as Barnabus clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Like scolding a child, he shook his head with slow disapproval to her beloved’s grinning expression. His fine tailored suit and carefully combed hair made him look quite dashing. It was no wonder he had such an enchanting wife, and such delightfully beautiful daughters. It was easy to bypass his looks when he was behind the bar, somewhat hidden, wearing the same styles of work clothing most every day.

“You two have every day to look forward to staring at each other,” the Harthstrom bartender disagreed with an equally charming smile. “I think you could spare an old friend a few moments of your time.”

“Oh, don’t pull my fragile heartstrings around in such a way Sir Barnabus,” Essätha cut in with a sharp breath. “M’lord would never turn down time spent with friends.”

Barnabus chuckled, reaching out to grasp Amon’s shoulder in a firm grip. His other hand waved gently in front of Essie, much to her embarrassed reddening face.

“I knew I liked her from the start. You did a fine job courting such a thoughtful woman, Amon.”

Inclining his head, Amon spoke gently as he moved closer into her side: “Thank you, Barnabus. I have certainly been very fortunate.”

“You certainly have,” he agreed. “But I was wondering if, perhaps, I could part unto you newlyweds a few words of advise, if you’d be willing to hear them. Don’t worry- it’s not the only weeding present I’ve brought.”

A bashful giggle escaped Essie. She reached over so that she could place her hand encouragingly against the older gentleman's arm. His eyes lit up as he searched her gaze. All layers of warmth and kindness in his gaze. A trusting friendship.

“I’d be happy to hear what you have to say Sir Barnabus. There’s always room to learn, grow, and listen to others, right my love?”

The broad smile on her sweetheart’s face was so endearing and bright, that it shaped his eyes into crescent moons and raised the angle of his cheekbones. He gave a silent nod of agreement, with fingertips grazing her hand where it rested protectively against his heart.

For a moment, Barnabus was thoughtfully quiet. The bustle of the room around still in motion, with some whispering spectators passing by. A few looked as though they, too, wanted to speak with them but moved on after noticing the way they stood anchored, patiently awaiting the words from brooding man.

“Keep your promises,” Barnabus began slowly. “Don’t say things in the heat of the moment that you don’t mean. Know that not everything will go perfectly; that you are both likely to hurt each other at some point, but it is how you deal with those moments that count. Happiness is not guaranteed to all of us, all of the time; being being faithful, honest, and considerate of each other will make it all turn out in the end and worth the journey.”

“Be kind to each other. Forgive each other when you’re not at your best. Strengthen and support each other. Be there when they’re willing, and give space when they’re not. It’s okay to have time for yourself as much as for each other. Always put your spouse above yourself. Don’t be selfish. Be Compassionate. Stay romantic; don’t forget to say you love each other and show your respect and admiration. Support each other, even when the world feels like it’s falling apart, and don’t be afraid to lean on one another. Never forget your vows, and never forget the reasons you fell in love.”

With a pausing breath, Barnabus gave a sagely nod. He patted her arm as Essie smiled, acutely aware of the mist that now danced in her sights.

“That was very beautiful, Sir Barnabus, thank you.”

“We’ll keep the words close to heart, my friend,” Amon assured him. “Thank you.”

He let go of her hand as he spoke; tugging her in closer to his side as he planted a kiss against her hairline. His throat moved as he swallowed loudly; a rough clearing of his throat to steady his emotions.

Pleased, the barkeep gave a courteous bow as he removed his hand from Amon’s shoulder.

“And of course, never forget to tip your bartender for being a listening ear and council voice.”

A sudden burst of merry laughter rose up in Essätha as it did Amon. She turned to lean into him; sweetly held close to his chest, where the shelter of his arms and drum of his heartbeat whispered to her of home.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

There was only a few yards between them, but it felt like miles. The Briarton’s heir couldn’t help himself from staring; sometimes not entirely hearing everything that was being said to him.

His beautiful Essätha.

Her smile was everything he ever wanted; what he dreamed about. Here and there, he could hear her conversation with Solace between the voices echoing through the wide room. She was teasing how her cheeks ached from grinning so much, and how she thought for sure she’d never be able to unfreeze the expression from her face.

He hoped so. Pelor, he hoped so. He’d do anything to keep that joyous smile on her flawless face.

A finger jabbed into his waist. Lord Amon jumped, whipping his head around and tilting it slightly down at the sight of wild curls at what would normally be eye-level. He fiddled with his black and gold dress vest so it lay flat of wrinkles, and turned his gaze down upon the elf.

“Can I do something for you, Ravamora?”

“Yes you can,” the high-pitched chirp of the child pronounced. “You can start by telling me where you got that elven silver. I’ve not seen such pure mined and crafted pieces in all my life. They’re glowing-”

Ah. He should have known one of the elves in the room was going to hone in on such a prized possession like a hawk.

“It’s an heirloom,” he gently cut in, trying to soothe the young lady before she grew too boisterous and overzealous.

Her lower lip pouted out. Leaning around his frame, Rava stared with hungry envy at the dangling fine necklace draped over Essie’s throat. She slowly settled back on her short pumps, crossing her arms in front of the pale gold dress she wore.

“Do you know how rare and priceless something like that is?”

For but a moment, he stood baffled. Mouth hanging open. Staring.

Then a deep, quiet chuckle rumbled in his throat. He followed after Rava’s gaze, to the enormous glistening white ballgown that kept a berth of space between his bride and much of their visitors. Many too shy to dare stepping forward, and chance catching some of the dainty thin layers of fabric on their shoes.

“Yes, I’m well aware,” he murmured; watching with a softened glaze over as his wife walked; no, more like glided across the floor to greet another with a handshake and overlapping hug.

“Oh ew, you’re doing one of those sappy ‘I mean Essätha not the jewelry’ things aren’t you, gross,” Rava intruded; causing him to scowl in her direction.

“All I’m saying is, if you have any more pieces laying around, or if you wanted to you know, treat your good friends…”

“You’re not getting the necklace, Rava.”

“Fuck.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Lady Essätha Illiad?”

She looked up at the sound of her name. Her name; now a conjoined piece of Amon there always to remind her where she wanted to be, where she felt she belonged.

One of the hired entertainers gave her a proper bow as she turned towards them. It was humiliating; and she quickly tried to correct them in a hushed voice. Just because she took the name Illiad, did not change her. She was of commoner blood; not a noble, or class of aristocrat, or even the child of some politician or council member. She was only Essätha; herself and her wonderful Amon’s wife. And, Lady of the estate and territory or otherwise, she wanted no one to feel obligated to treat her any differently then they would have before.

“My apologies for interrupting your conversations, M’lady,” the host responded; ignoring her quiet, feverish pleads, “If we are to stay on schedule, it is time to slice the cake. Lord Amon stated that if you’re ready, we could get started.”

The cake! Oh how silly, of course they needed to cut the cake still, before too many other guests departed for the evening. Already some groups, those with young children or farther travels had decided to be on their way. It would be a shame if it ended up spoiling.

Her eyes sought the crowd, and like magnets drawn through polar forces, she met her spouse’s guiding eyes. Dark as midnight, but bright like beacons calling to her.

And his face lit up with happiness all over as they caught sight. People melted in and out of her vision; cutting him out here and there, but his smile stayed. His wide eyes burning with affection, they stayed in place; and rooted themselves to her alone.

It made her pulse jump wildly and air catch in her lungs; melting her insides.

“That sounds like a marvelous idea,” she voiced in a waver; darting her gaze away and back to Amon to occasionally meet the planner’s eyes. “Thank you so much for your assistance.”

Snickering, the suited man leaned forward a little as he whispered, “It’s part of the job, ma’am. I wouldn’t be paid otherwise. Though I’m happy to be of assistance to such a renown family and exceptional bride. Shall we?”

A flicker of awkwardness made Essie’s posture stiffen. She slipped her arm through the loop of the man’s arm, delicately holding to his elbow as he politely guided her through the throng. A few ‘excuse me’s and ‘pardon me’s later, and she was delivered with enormous relief into her beloved’s awaiting arms.

Amon nestled his face into the bend of her shoulder, sighing with completion. It made her wonder if ever felt as lonely as she did, when they were sometimes even in the same room but the distance of not being able to touch him if she reached out made her very soul ache with the yearning to do so.

“You look astonishing,” he sighed close to ear. “I’m blessed to call you my wife. My darling Essätha.”

“I’m just as lucky to call you my husband, M’lord Amon,” she voiced faintly, kissing his cheek. “You are a wonderful man, and you bring out the best in me.”

A slight smile enveloped her as he reached up to cup her face. His mouth sought out hers in hooded eyes; passionate and warming all the way down to her core.

The gentleman by their side waited for a bit, before finally giving a clearing of his throat to halt their process from turning the middle of the room into a makeout spot.

“The cake is this way, Lord and Lady Illiad.”

The pink in Essie’ face; both from kissing as much as embarrassment, grew deeper as Amon released her. His eyes darted over her features in the same manner hers did. Almost disbelief. Which was to say, even now it amazed her to no end that this is where her life had lead. That this brilliant, handsome man was the person she was going to be spending her life with. She didn’t doubt the fact; or feel any ounce of guilt or fear, but it still made her breathless all the same to have him. Her Amon; someone to hold and cherish and love all her life.

She leaned in to rub her nose against his; holding close to heart the adorable way his quiet chuckles radiated against her corset pressed so close and fell over her like a dreamy cloud. The texture of his rough hand finding hers to hold as he kissed the bridge between her eyes and steered her around the boisterous groups of chatting people towards the towering tiers of their wedding cake.

It was massive. Partly draped in a traditional look; piped flowers, edible pearls, gold and white and cream lacing and designs, and yet personal. The Illiad crest in its luster and color front and center, with the snake coiling around it. Wonderful piping of different items were hidden in the corners of the icing; the appearance of weapons and tiny teases of bear claws and pops of dark violet bursts of magic near violet and pale pink flowers. Intimate, personal love notes were painted on with careful hands to mimic their handwriting and an array of sugar life-sized butterflies hung carefully.

The cake looked delicate as glass. The amount of work that had to be placed into making ever bit look realistic had to take countless hours, yet every bit of it was pastry, cake, sugar and buttercream.

A hostess stepped beside the cake as the kindly organizer handed them a large knife. They tapped a piece of genuine silverware to a glass goblet they held; drawing the attention of the reception hall slowly back to them as people hushed one another.

“If the bride and groom could have your attention, please. Lord Amon and Lady Essätha will now forgo the honor of being the first to cut a slice of the cake. It is their first duty as husband and wife, shared before and with all of you, their honored guests.”

Giving a polite gesture, the woman stepped aside; presenting them with a delicate motion of her hand.

The eyes of the entire room rested upon them. Essie turned her eyes to Amon’s; which lingered upon her with a slight curve of his mouth.

It felt a shame to destroy something so gorgeous. But then again, no amount of money spent didn’t make it what it wasn’t. It was a treat after all, for them as well as their attendees.

Standing beside her, Amon held the grip of the large kitchen knife; his palms resting on top of hers. It nearly crushed her heart to pierce through the velvety soft surface. Angling the knife down, and then doing the other side, they served out a small slice on a nice piece of china left in front of them.

The inside was a soft, rosy color. Pink champagne with a strawberry filing, white chocolate ganache drizzled between layers and a light vanilla buttercream fluff. It smelled faintly of rosewater, too.

A few people clapped with delight as they sat the blade carefully down. Amon reached for the same fork she did, causing some sniggers from a few people as Essätha whispered an apology the same moment her beloved did. A tinge of pink warmed over his features as he grabbed for the other one, taking a forkful of the delicate cake.

She didn’t even get to lift the fork when Amon suddenly dropped his own. The hand that had been resting like a ghost against her side seized her and she yelped; falling into his chest just as Adela narrowly missed shoving cake in the side of her face. Instead she tilted forward, splattering what was between her fingertips on the table.

Illamin’s shadow and purple complexion blurred beside them. Essie pushed Amon away; leaning back as the Aasimar launched forward. His waist connected with the table and he wheezed, retreating with swiftness and icing-dripped hands, having been thwarted by a swift dodge.

Two equally stern, pointed glares landed on the troublesome duo. A few people in the crowd gasped; or stood stone-faced with horror.

“… Adela made me do it!” Illamin cried out, holding up his hands in surrender.

The Tiefling grinned smugly, a shrug of her shoulders as her tail waved behind her like a leisurely cat.

“It’s tradition to smash cake in the bride and groom’s face.”

Essätha sniffed; her nose wrinkled. That was one custom she could live without. Any chance ruining her garments? Heavens above, what an appalling concept.

“Saved your dress,” Amon murmured, picking up the fork off the plate with a playful smile.

“Saved their asses, is more like it,” she chimed in, beaming from ear to ear as she picked up the other.

Her beloved laughed quietly. He accepted the forkful of cake as she did; leaning in and linking their arms around each other’s.

She was placing the fork downwhen Amon took gentle grasp of her chin. A soft, light kiss pressed to her perplexed lips as her heartbeat fluttered.

“Mmm… Delicious. Almost as sweet as you are.”

It took her mind a moment to connect two-and-two. That he had kissed the smear of icing off her lips. Her face returned a deepened carmine as she threw her arms around his neck, and held him there longer; smiling all the while against the shape of his perfect mouth.

“This is all mushy and great,” someone cried out, “But can the rest of us have a slice now?”

The statement was enough to break their union in a fit of giggles, where they stepped back to allow staff the room to continue cutting and serving pieces of the delectable desert. One server reached back, handing them the plate with their slice on it before continuing.

“Are you going to use that line with every bite I take?” Essie inquired, already poking another spongy bite off the cake.

“Maybe,” Amon admitted with a crafty grin, leaning in close as she finished another bite, allowing for another lingering and all too perfect kiss.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

With a love-struck sigh both cliché and fanciful, Lord Amon dotted heart-felt kisses against his stunning wife’s cheek and temple as he held her to his side. Little ringlets of black that smelled of floral notes teased his face much the same as his beard tickled the rounded curves of her cheeks and supple skin. He could stare into the sun on autumn leaves color of her eyes all day; the way different emotions played through them and shaped them differently with each passing second.

He found himself lost in and out of topics; found himself more and more looking back in the reflection of her eyes. The way she stared; never doubting and always tender, Pelor it was fascinating. Marvelous how someone could love him so fully; how he could love another with so much of himself. His Essie made him feel as though he could accomplish anything. Nothing was out of reach; no goals or dreams too large or wide. He was a stronger man; a better man, and every day with her was a little brighter.

Her hands were a nurturing touch. Caressing against scars on his hands used to far more brutal vices. With all the dedication, loyalty and consideration she always showed she reached up to slide longer strands away from his eyes and tug the top of his embroidered vest so that the buttons aligned better over his chest.

Amon nearly scoffed. For such a perfectionist as he was; used to the law and order of the world and the proper ways of his lineage and youth, it had not even caught his eye. Too busy was he watching the way the many layers of her dress moved and the cut of the corset that showed him just how petite; nearly frail, she appeared (though it would be a false assumption of only fools to think her weak). The purest white of clouds or freshly fallen snow; glistening with jewels like a winter’s full moon.

Essätha’s joy seemed to fall away gradually erode from her face as her searching eyes moved over the wedding party. It gave the Illiad heir a color of distress as he regarded the ethereal beauty that shaped and molded this woman so splendidly.

“Are you having a good time, my heart?” he ushered with notes in his tone that spoke of his devotion. His mouth lightly brushed to her forehead, then to the space between her eyes and finally, over her eyelids as she turned towards him. The smile he loved so reappearing on her face, but only until he stopped. There, it was lost again as she glimpsed back into the mass, nibbling her lower lip.

He followed her ogling with a dawning sense of apprehension. Trying to pinpoint where her worries were; what he could do to fix them.

She gave a nervous exhale, twiddling fingers against his.

“Do you think she likes me?”

There was no obvious expression on the face she looked to. Fine aged lines on a regal face, and the posture of that of royalty. Born and bred to the same understanding he’d had: that to be an Illiad by blood was to know discipline above all else.

Lady Josephine’s view held in their direction for a few seconds, before she turned back to conversation with some of the location’s townsfolks still present.

His darling Essätha’s appearance did not change. She still appeared tormented with unease.

“Hurmph,” Amon grunted in the back of his throat. “Do I think Josie likes you? I think that she loves you.”

A nudge elbowed into his side despite the gentle way his fingers held to hers. Calming her nervous fidgets; smoothing out the claw-like gesture of her hands while he held them with care.

“Don’t teasssse me,” she gently scolded, inclining her head to look directly up into his eyes.

“I vow to you my love, I am not,” he concluded fiercely. “There’s no way my sister doesn’t like you. You are family; now and forever, and nothing matters more to Josie than family.”

Pelor’s favorable light exuded from Essie’s vision once more. Her face lit up in a light blush and she breathed out slowly to calm her nerves as she relaxed. The pressure of her palms melded nicely to his own; squeezing her fingertips against his with appreciation as she aimed a radiant smile upon him. It shot clean through him like an arrow; mesmerizing his every thought with her unearthly beauty.

Comforted by her own, Amon kissed her forehead once more before receiving one in return upon his chin, followed by sentimental little ones peppering all over his face as she reached for him. Pulling him lower; closer to her heavenly sweetness as he warmly and quietly laughed. Her toes perched on very tips until he grasped her around the waist and pinned her into the broad shape of his chest, tasting nirvana’s ambrosia nectar on her lips.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Her nerves were coiled like a livewire serpent. She wished the warmth of her husband was near, and not across the banquet speaking to others. Even just the simple contact of his dark eyes would be a comfort now, but it would be rude to break eye contact from the equally abyssal eyes of the woman before her.

“Young Lady Amelie,” Essätha gushed, extending her hand to the fair young heiress. “You look enchanting; bestowed as if by celestial blessings.”

“As do you, Lady Essätha,” Amelie responded with a gentle grasp; extending herself into a curtsy.

“Oh- dear you- d-don’t-”

“Should we be using Lady Essätha, or aunt?” the young Master Korey murmured almost nervously beside his sister; a lopsided grin. His hair appeared somewhat disheveled, as if he had been running his fingers through the blond locks.

They both looked much aged since the moment Essie first saw them. Korey appeared more buff and less lean; and had a small shape of a goatee forming now on his chin. His darling sister’s hair had been trimmed shorter only recently, but she still glowed with the enthusiasm of almost childlike glee. What a beautiful thing, to be so blissfully happy and young.

Yet the word still hung in the air: aunt. By the Gods, she hadn’t really thought about that at all. Even since the proposal, her thoughts had been a string of excitement and anxiety that all would fall into place and there’d be no hiccups, but aunt. She was an aunt now to these young upcoming Lords and Ladies by the Heavens above, all she could think about was if their mother thought well of her. Amon held the word family close to heart; even if he pretended to be aloof about it before others but aunt.

“I uhm, whatever the young Miss and Master prefer,” she fretted with a hitch in her voice, straining her smile. Oh dear, what would their mother think of them using such a term?

When the pair both stood there; tight-lipped and stiff as herself, she finally inclined to the young Master appropriately and stated, “You look quite dashing as well, young Master Korey. Enjoy a good bit of a hunt yourself, perhaps?”

“Whenever father allows it,” he agreed with a sudden rushing wave of relaxed air expelling from his lungs. “I have many studies as next in line in the White Moors.”

“Delightful! I’m sure your sister has just as much learning to do. Your parents should be very proud to have such bright and eloquent children.”

Amelie gaped slightly at the compliment. Her brother remarkably went flush at the unexpected praise.

“Have you enjoyed it?” Amelie quietly asked. “The studying, I mean.”

Essie shifted her weight, a hip curving outward as she answered in a thoughtful draw, “It’s a learning curve for someone who has not had to handle so much finances, but I’m growing more comfortable. Your uncle is a clever man; and an excellent tutor. I think I’ll get the hang of it. And should I have questions, I’m sure the young heir and heiress would have the benefit of showing me a thing or two- which I would be very grateful for.”

“You’ve faced down villains and monsters,” the younger lady laughed gently, “I’m sure there is little in the ways of record-keeping that can stop you.”

“You would be surprised to know how much I loathe balancing checkbooks.”

They all had a little laugh at that, to which Korey managed to quiet himself eventually enough to say, “I agree with my sister. If you are as legendary as the stories say, then you should have no difficulty.”

“Yes well, don’t believe every fable you hear,” Essätha reminded them gently. “I’m no more special than anyone else in this room.”

“You’re special to our uncle,” Amelie was quick to disagree with a smile. “And that’s enough for me.”

The remark left Essie silent. She stared with freckles of adoration like stars in her eyes to the young siblings. They were not little babes to carry, but they were still young. Full of life’s curiosities; the world still new to them even if they’d thought to have seen it all. She may not be able to pick them up and cradle them; or raise them in the ways only parent could or that were best done when minds were but seedlings and not sprouts, but she would do her best to be good for them. Bloodless kin that she was, she still had plenty of heart to share.

“Thank you for that, young Lady Amelie. That means a great deal to be.”

An accepting, tentative smile was added to the fair misses features. Her posture seemed to ease up, as she shyly tucked hair behind her ear.

Korey gave an amused chuckle to his sister’s shy composure. He changed positions, offering out his hand with a sweeping gesture and elegant bow of his hip.

“Its been a while since anyone has used the floor for more than just passing through one area of the room to the next. Would it be too bold to be honored with a dance, Lady Essätha?”

“Not at all, Master Korey,” Essie giggled, taking his extended hand. “What an absolute gentleman. Not trying to impress any lady’s in the room with your dance skills now, are you?”

Amelie’s laughter was loud but muffled beside her; trapped behind a hand as Korey’s face grew a beat red.

Such darling young adults, Essätha mused with a snigger of her own. It was going to be extraordinary to see what sort of people they came to be the more they matured and grew over the years ahead.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Excuse me,” a feminine voice curtly cut through the others; cool and refined.

“Pardon me,” Amon grunted politely, tipping his head to the individual whose constant chatter had held his attention for the past few minutes. The man expressed an ‘of course’ in a few deep syllables as Amon turned from him, carefully maneuvering himself around a few people to get the woman parting her way through the crowd in his direction.

“Amon.”

“Josie.”

They met in a kindred embrace, briefly.

“My, look at you,” Josephine stated, accepting a fluted glass offered to her from a nearby serving lad. “You’re glowing.”

A sharp clearing filled his throat. He reached for a glass too, before the man could escape back into the crowd with his platter of drinks.

Holding the fine crystal in the air, Josie grinned as she jabbed him with a further teasing: “Marriage suites you.”

He refused the tempt at baiting. Instead the quiet ‘clank’ of their glasses rang in the air as he grinned in response, taking a healthy swig of the liquor. It was refreshing and bubbly. He’d much preferred something harder; or at least less tangy and with more bite, but this was more fitting and seasonal to the occasion.

They stood in silence. Eyes drifting through the swarm. Eventually, as his sister’s eyes fell upon Essätha, so Amon allowed himself to look, too. From her, to the almost-black gaze of his sister, and back. Her face unreadable; nay, impassable. She held a calm in the room like no other. Some thought a brewing storm; a hurricane, but there was precision in her glances. Observing with the intellect of her namesake; with the drilled concept of her life.

Silence spoke. It also listened. Catching phrases; noticing the unnoticeable.

“She’s quite pretty,” Josephine finally observed aloud.

The comment left him smiling. A jagged nature in his spine and shoulders sagged with some relief. Tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when she’d arrived.

When he did not respond, the countess went on in a crisp voice of authority laced with tendrils of love and softness: “When you two return, we should have a family dinner. Essätha can stay with Amelie and I for brunch and some lady’s alone time, and you gentleman can enjoy a nice hunt to bring home dinner.”

A shift of shock washed over Amon. He held the look mostly off from his face, but felt certain his sister had seen it. She eyed him; briefly, out of the side of her eye.

“You didn’t think you’d be keeping her all to yourself, did you?”

The playful taunt finally caused him to take a breath he’d been holding.

“You wish I’d married someone father would have approved of?”

“Why would I want that? I apologize if I sound crude Amon, but some of those women you dated were quite shallow. Ahh- put that look away I did say some,” Josie scolded.

“The fact remains: you were never truly yourself with any of them,” she continued. “And both you, and those women deserved more than that. They were not happy, you were not happy, and you could not make each other happy.”

Wordlessly, the Briarton Lord looked down into his glass. All these things were true.

It wasn’t that he feared his sister. He was positive that whatever thoughts she held of Essätha, they were not hateful or negative. She stared sometimes still as though calculating however, and that left him concerned. What she was analyzing for; why there was a piece of her that seemed refrained. Though memories of his mother were a bit fragmented with age; one could not be certain how much was real or dreams at some point, he saw a lot of that look in the way their mother had once held.

The look came from love. Never wanting to see a hair on the head of your family bent out of place. Never wanting another hand to harm them. Never daring to think another could shatter them, for the vengeance would be brutal and swift from an Illiad woman.

Actually, the thought itself made him love Essie somehow all the more. Perhaps she was more an Illiad than she even knew, already.

“She doesn’t think you like her,” Amon hedged; his voice thick and low.

The silence crept back in. They stood still amount the motion of the gathered. People talking, nibbling, drinking, moving around. Never still. Going about their conversations and circling the room.

Josephine’s eyes; which had only left but a time or two to look at him, still focused on Essätha. Watching as Amon did now, as she laughed. Her hands gripped for young Amelie, speaking feverishly so she laughed harder. Young Korey, a beacon of red in his face, encouraging Essie out towards the open space of the lowered dance floor with Amelie following close at their heels.

A smile tugged the corners of Josie’s mouth up slowly. It lifted into her eyes; thawing over from the veil that had been hiding the deepest nature of her feelings.

“I like her quite a lot, actually,” she admitted.

Overwhelming joy brimmed inside Amon’s soul. Her first approval had been polite customary. This felt… final. Different. Deeper and more meaningful; something he hadn’t realized he needed to hear.

Part of him wanted to share this with his sweetheart, but he knew better. There was only so much convincing he could offer her through words. She would have to see it with her own eyes, as he had. And he had a feeling, she’d be coming to that same understanding sooner rather than later.

Josephine gave a tisk as she glimpsed back up at him, wiping the pad of a thumb beneath his eye as he grumbled.

“Mind your tears, Amon,” she reprimanded him lightheartedly. “You’re going to worry your wife.”

His wife, he thought with a fresh wave of euphoria in his heart. His gaze moved sideways to see her spinning artfully around the dance floor with a few hands clapping to a fast swinging waltz of the band; Korey guiding her easily along the steps.

Essätha Medüza Illiad, his wife.

There were no better words to be had, than that.

#eci artz #Essie rw #amon illiad #essamon ship #everyone knew this was coming yodels

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