#Paladin of Glory

[catluniscia]

Sup Brahs! My Name's Josh I use He/him pronouns, I am a paladin of glory under the order of St. Chad and the Radical waves, Fraturnity of Kraken Epsilon Owlbear! I also protect sea turtles. Oh by the way I use bro, brah and dude gender neutrally if you ain't comfy with that please tell me and I will change accordingly, also if you got any allergies tell me so I can make sure we got snacks that will help us on this totally wicked party!

This is a dnd character I made for a Revolver, and yes brah I do a surfer dude voice the whole time and the players love him

[fernrisulfr]

Sir Ulrick

This is a concept I actually came up with as a possible alt for Waterdeep and very quickly became rather fond of. This should probably be in my “Good Ideas” tab. 

Paladin - Smuggler - Chaotic/Good - Half Orc - Sir Ulrick.

Concept: Paladin of Waukeen. Smuggles in order to bring down inflated market prices in cities and force corrupt merchants to lower their prices. Black cloak, white fur trim, has a small decorative chain across the back strung with copper coins. Holy Symbol is an oversized copper coin. Values freedom above all else. Battle cry "FOR FORTUNE AND FREEDOM!". Quotes "Freedom is worth it's weight in gold, but I won't charge you a copper for yours". "In the deepest dark, the glint of gold will light the path". Has repeatedly slipped in among humanoid traffickers/slave traders and sabotaged their shipments. 

Probably Paladin of Glory, but maybe Devotion or Redemption depending how I want to swing his motivations. Multi-class with Rogue?

Appearance Concept:  Has a bandana that's actually two sewn together, one side black, the opposite side bearing the symbol of waukeen. Age 35 haircut similar to a fade, but running cleanly straight into a well kept beard. Tired eyes, light bags. Upbeat demeanor.

[queam]

Fallout dump

[snacobie]

Character for my bfs Waterdeep Dragonheist campaign ✨✨✨

[sbeep]

Searing smite

[cyviarvuk]

A messenger of the heavens conducts its grace upon the Earth

Secretary bird paladin

I really really need to design them a sword called serpent slayer

[wearepaladin]

Silvan Ramires

Narad, Paladin of the Crown

[alicelufenia]

Every once in a while I stumble upon a bg3 artist whose work is amazing, it's just a bummer they have zero Minthara content. And I understand most would prefer to recruit her on a good playthrough, which I heavily encourage.

Then I take a look at their Tav and a dark part of me thinks "you know what, maybe it's for the best, I really think she'd rather die than have to deal with a Tav who fancies themselves camp therapist."

[nerdythebard]

#62: Sun Wukong, the Monkey King

[Art Credit: GameScience Studio]

All he ever wanted was to chill with his monkey friends and eat delicious fruit. But the Bureaucracy of Heaven said nooo...

Time for the one and only Sun Wukong. The Handsome Monkey King. The Great Sage Equal to Heavens (self-appointed). The Immortal Troublemaker. As requested by @otakuboysworld. Without any futher ado, let's get into some monkey business! This is going to be quite a bananas build!

Next Time: With a raven's mantle and a doctor's mask... the Hunt shall begin!

Wukong is the earliest example of an overpowered anime protagonist I can think of. With his extensive repertoire of powers and skills, I had to restrict myself to only the most famous few, so let's see what we shall focus on:

Stacks of Immortality: Sun Wukong has gained immortality on at least four separate occasions and originally emerged from a mysterious stone (which adds to his durability). We need to be as tanky as possible on our journey to protect the goodest of monks.

Friends in High Places: The Monkey King, although often clashing with the Bureaucracy of Heaven, does have a few immortals looking out for him including the Bodhisattva Guanyin or Taibai Jinxing, the Great White Golden Star.

Monkey Games: Although a competent and powerful fighter, Sun Wukong is also an accomplished trickster, relying on illusions, transformations, and manipulation to accomplish his goals. Only don't make any bets with the Buddha.

---

1. BACKGROUND

This one is pretty obvious - we're going with the Hadozee from Astral Adventurer's Guide. We shall put +2 into our Dexterity and +1 into Constitution, gain 30 feet of running and climbing speed, and the Dexterous Feet ability, which lets us manipulate objects with our feet as well as we would with our hands. We then have the Glide ability - whenever we fall at least 10 feet above the ground, we can use our reaction to open our skin flaps and glide using our running speed without taking any fall damage, flying squirrel-style. In this case, I would ask the DM to reflavour the Hadozee skin membrane into Sun Wukong's Jin Dou Yun, or "Cloud Surfing" ability. Or, as you may know it better

We also get Hadozee Dodge - whenever we take damage, we can use our reaction to roll a d6, add our proficiency bonus, and reduce the damage by the result. We can to that a number of times equal to our proficiency bonus per long rest.

For the Backround, we have a few options (Acolyte, Sage, Folk Hero among them), but as a pilgrim making their Journey, we shall grab Far Traveler. We get proficiency in Insight and Perception (to better spot the demons), proficiency with one musical instrument or gaming set, one language of our choice, and the All Eyes on You feature; our accent, mannerisms, and... well, being a monkey, certainly draw attention, but we may use this to our advantage by obtaining information or favours.

2. ABILITY SCORES

We will start with Constitution - we are a monkey made of stone draped in layers of immortality; we can take several heavy punches. Strength will be next, being able to lift an entire pillar supporting the underwater dragon kingdom is no small feat. We will put Dexterity as the next one - we are, in the end, a nimble monkey.

Charisma will be next; we are, after all, the (self-proclaimed) Handsome Monkey King and our reputation among the yaoguai preceeds us. Wisdom is on the lower end, but it shouldn't worry us as the (self-proclaimed) Great Sage Equal to Heaven. Finally, we're dumping Intelligence - we are, in the end, an impulsive monkey.

3. CLASS

Now, there are a few interesting ways we could've build the Monkey King, ranging from the classic Kensei Monk through Matt Mercer's Echo Knight Fighter to simulate his hair clone technique; but I do like what I came up with.

Level 1 - Druid: Starting off with Sun Wukong's connection to his homeland, Mount Huaguo. Druids get d8 as their Hit Dice, [8 + Constitution modifier] initial Hit Points, proficiencies with clubs, daggers, darts, javelins, maces, quarterstaffs, scimitars, sickles, slings, and spears as well as light armour, medium armour, shields, and herbalism kit. Really good options, so let's grab a quarterstaff and a scale mail armour. Our saving throws are Intelligence and Wisdom (we sure need those), and we get to pick two class skills from the list (Medicine and Religion).

Druids start by learning Druidic, a secret language and writing system used to communicate secrets across. Additionally, we start with Spellcasting. Wisdom is our casting ability, we learn cantrips, regular spells, and rituals, and we get to prepare [Wisdom modifier + our Druid level] spells every day from the full spell list. We start with two cantrips (Primal Savagery and Thunderclap) and one 1st-level spell (Jump).

Level 2 - Druid: We unlock Druid's signature ability - Wild Shape. Simulating one part of Wukong's 72 Earthly Transformations, we are now able to take the form of a beast we've previously encountered, with a max CR of 1/4 (no swimming or flying speed), for [our Druid level / 2] hours using our Bonus Action. We can transform twice per short or long rest.

We also get to pick our first subclass, our Druid Circle. For Sun Wukong, whose entire campaign against the Heavens started because his peaceful life on Mt. Huaguo was disturbed, we will go with Circle of the Land. We get to choose a bonus cantrip (Shilelagh), Natural Recovery lets us regain some spell slots during short rest, and we also get some additional spell depending on the Land we decide to associate with; here, we'll go with Mountain.

We can also grab another 1st-level spell (Protection from Evil and Good).

Level 3 - Druid: We don't unlock new class features here, but we are being supplies with some spells. From our subclass we get Spider Climb and Spike Growth (feel free to flavour the latter as Wukong's hair tossed on the ground and transformed), and we unlock 2nd-level spells, which lets us grab Hold Person.

Level 4 - Druid: We get our first Ability Score Improvement. We'll put one point into Constitution and round up Dexterity with the other. Our Wild Shape also improves, now including creatures with the maximum CR of 1/2 and swimming speed, and we gain one new cantrip (Produce Flame) and one 2nd-level spell (Enlarge/Reduce to use on ourselves or our staff).

Level 5 - Paladin: We're changing a tune for a little bit, but hear me out: Wukong is a holy warrior whether he likes it or not (and we do need better combat). Multiclassing into Paladin gives us proficiencies with the full spectrum of simple and martial weapons, as well as armours and shields we already are proficient with.

Starting with Divine Sense, we can now focus our magical monkey senses to detect all celestials, fiends or undead within 60 feet of us, basically allowing us to walk up to the suspicious old lady and go

We also get Lay on Hands, which grants us small pool of [our Paladin level x5] healing energy, which we can use on ourselves or another creature as an action. Alternatively, we can spend 5 of those Healing Points to remove an illness or a disease from our target.

Level 6 - Paladin: At this level, we are now able to pack a proper divine punch with the introduction of Divine Smite. Whenever we hit a target, we can now burn one spell slot to do additional radiant damage. The damage is 2d8 for 1st-level spell slot and increases by 1d8 for each higher slot (to a maximum of 5d8 or 6d8 if the target is a fiend or undead).

We also unlock our Fighting Style here; we'll pick Dueling for a +2 to our damage rolls since we're only using our staff and no other weapon.

Finally, at this level we unlock Spellcasting. Charisma is our casting ability, and we only know regular spells - no cantrips or rituals. Since we're mixing up two casting classes, feel free to use this [calculator] to know how many spell slots you'll be getting. We have a full access to our spell list, but each day we can only prepare [our Charisma modifier + half of our Paladin level]. With how we are right now that means we start with two 1st-level spells: let's grab Searing Smite and Compelled Duel to yell "COME AT ME, BRO!" to any demon encountered.

Level 7 - Paladin: With Divine Health we are now immune to any disease. We also get to pick our second subclass and pledge our Divine Oath. For Sun Wukong, whose goal is to become the Number One In All Heavens, it's obvious to pick the Oath of Glory.

We get a few extra spells (Guiding Bolt [funny idea: flavour this spell as your staff extending and hitting the target] and Heroism) and a Channel Divinity options (which we can use once per short or long rest):

Peerless Athlese: As a bonus action, we can enhance our physicality. For the next 10 minutes we have advantage on our Athletics and Acrobatics checks; we can push, lift, drag, and carry twice our normal capacity; and our jumping distance and height increases by 10 feet.

Inspiring Smite: When we deal radiant damage using our Divine Smite ability, we can use this Channel Divinity and, as a bonus action, distribute a total of [2d8 + our Paladin level] healing Hit Points to creatures of our choosing within 30 feet of us (ourselves included).

Level 8 - Druid: Going back to the man monkey of nature, we unlock 3rd-level spells. Take Erupting Earth and flavour it as extending your staff and striking the ground, causing tremors and difficult terrain. From our subclass we also unlock Lightning Bolt and Meld into Stone.

Level 9 - Druid: We unlock a new subclass feature. With Land's Stride, there isn't much that can stop us now. Non-magical difficult terrain no longer impedes our speed, and we can move through non-magical plants with hazardous elements such as thorns and grasping vines without any problems. For this level's spell let's take Water Walk to chase our enemies across all surfaces.

Level 10 - Druid: Halfway through the build and we unlock 4th-level spells. Time to get even better transformation abilities with... Hallucinatory Terrain. The reason I'm not taking Polymorph here is because that spell, much like our Druidic Wild Shape, is also restricted to the 'Beast' category. With Hallucinatory Terrain, we can mess up with the enemy's perception of their surroundings and add a sneak attack or two while they're confused. Classic trickster behaviour.

We also get two more spells from our subclass (Stone Shape and Stoneskin).

Level 11 - Druid: Oh, a lot happens here. First and foremost, another ASI. Let's take one point of Constitution and one point of Wisdom to finally become a little smarter. Next up, our Wild Shape impoves once again and now we can assume the form of any Beast with the max CR of 1 (which usually means a giant version of regular animals) and we can finally include creatures with flying speed!

Finally, we can get another 4th-level spell (Locate Creature).

Level 12 - Druid: At this level, we only unlock 5th-level spells. From our subclass we get Passwall and Wall of Stone, and we additionally collect Control Winds.

Level 13 - Druid: We get our last cantrips of the build (Resistance) and another 5th-level spell (Scrying). We also get another subclass feature. With Nature's Ward, we can no longer be charmed or frightened by fey or elementals, and we're also immune to poison and disease.

Level 14 - Druid: We unlock 6th-level spells here. With Wind Walk we can transform ourselves and our group into Flying Nimbuses... Nimbusi?... which can be re-made as summoning the clouds for everyone.

Level 15 - Druid: For this level's spell, Bones of the Earth will let us manipulate the battlefield and deal some damage. For our ASI we will get the Tough feat to further boost our Hit Points.

Level 16 - Druid: Unlocking 7th-level spells grants us another great crowd control ability - Whirlwind. It not only deals 10d6 bludgeoning damage to any target caught within, but we can also move it 30 feet per turn, effectively sweeping the area like a hoover.

Level 17 - Druid: Time for our final subclass feature. Nature'e Sanctuary forces a Wisdom saving throw onto any beast or plant that attempts to attack us and make them choose a different target (and miss) if they fail.

For this level's spell, let's further roleplay Sun Wukong's immortality by picking Regenerate. Just remember to be selfish with the heals ;)

Level 18 - Druid: Unlocking 8th-level spells here gives us access to Control Weather (yes, that's actually a power Wukong has) to wreck even more chaos.

Level 19 - Druid: For our final ASI we will grab the Observant feat; as Wukong was elevated to the Buddahood and gained his all-seeing eyes, we get a +1 to our Wisdom, read lips if we observe a creature for a minute, and get a +5 to our passive Perception and Investigation scores. For this level's spell, we're getting Sunburst to fully unleash our newly acquired divine might.

Level 20 - Druid: Our cap is Druid 17; it doesn't give us any new class or subclass features, but we do unlock the pinnacle of spellcasting, the 9th level spells. At this point, we can finally perfect the 72 Earthly Transformations with Shapechange.

4. RECOMMENDED ITEMS

Now, this here is a new section I'm trying out, please let me know your thoughts. Basically, to complete the build, I would like to list two or three items found in the D&D source books that you might want to consider pursuing. See, I am under the impression that the players shape the story as much as the DM; it is completely fine to ask your DM if you perhaps could have a storyline about getting these items, which would make for interesting plot hooks or storylines. Anyway, for Sun Wukong, you should consider the following (both given to the Monkey King by Ao Guang, the Dragon King of the East):

1) (Blue) Dragon Scale Mail - This Very Rare item gives us a +1 to AC, advantage on saving throws against Frightful Presence and breath weapon of dragons, and resistance to lightning damage.

2) Pole of Collapsing - To simulate the Ruyi Jingu Bang's dimension changing properties, I would ask the DM to fuse this one with the quarterstaff we use as our main weapon.

---

And that's my take on Sun Wukong, the great Monkey King. Let's see what we ended up with:

First and foremost, we have a solid pool of Hit Points. With the average of 216 we place on 3rd place of all build so far, right after Kratos and Atlas. With a plethora of healing options, we can simulate the layers of Wukong's immortality easily. We are a scout and a vanguard first and foremost - with Wild Shape, Divine Sense, and Wind Walk we can search out dangers along the way and let our party members plan out efficiently. We are also able to hold our own, adding the Paladin SMITE to our strikes or use our support spells to confuse the enemy.

Our AC is 16 (18 if we get the Dragon Armour), we have a +3 to our initiative, and the average of 216 Hit Points.

Unfortunately, there are several weaknesses here: first and foremost, none of our ability scores reach 20. Next up, a lot of our spells require concentration, so we need to be careful there. Finally, our mental stats are pretty low, which might prove challenging when facing enemies with mind control or illusion powers.

---

And that's it, my dears. I wanted to release this during the height of Black Myth: Wukong's popularity, but since my creative brain hates me... I have scrapped the entire build as I was at the very end. Yup, originally I intented to make him Kensei Monk and Trickster Cleric, but decided to focus on his transformations more. Hope you enjoy this, remember to be good to yourself, and I'll see you in the next one!

-Nerdy out!

[catinthedicebag]

A Paladin of fame and glory has a little secret. They broke their oath... making a pact with a devil. The former radient figure of hope and heroism is now corrupted... Just the perfect timing since I made some new "Corrupted Glory" dice! What did your Paladin to break their oath? Or are they still a figure of utmost virtue?

These dice are still raw and need some sanding and inking.

(Advertisement)

[haharuspex]

my firey guy got turned into a human after refusing to follow his fire goddess, so. um. new look :)

[the-tropes-are-hungry]

4 - The Cat Laughs

I don’t have a clue how long this Cat – Worm – Lamb pattern will hold considering the story I want to tell but for now it’s a good frame to work from. Have a cat in a hat with a spider and a squid.

[First] / [Prev] / [Next]

Shamura was never kind to him. It took him years to understand their concept of kindness was something else entirely.

A crown did as much as its bearer allowed, but the spider forbade him from using his to curb hunger, or stay sleep, or anything else truly useful.

“You are not yet grown, therefore have no true grasp of your abilities.”

“Then let me use them.”

They looked at him with their too many eyes and his vision fizzed. The shadows of thoughts, the web of impenetrable life woven around Shamura like their black and gold armor, the unflinching stare. Narinder was a predator in his own right, but they were something else.

Shamura was seated at the low table in their tent, discarded maps and the remaining bones of their dinner resting next to candle stubs. Narinder stood in the doorway where he’d burst in, and the spider remained perfectly still as they regarded him.

“Why?” they asked.

He stared at them, clutching his young anger.

“What do you mean, why? Because we’re fighting a war— because we’re losing one!”

Shamura watched him, listened to him, and answered with: “Our standing in this conflict is my burden, as our supplies are Kallamar’s, and growing is yours. Why should I let you use your crown when I do not believe you are ready?”

Ears back, his words keened past his fangs. “Because it’s mine.”

“It is yours,” the spider agreed, holding one long hand over their tea and calling the tiny ceramic cup into their grasp. “But that is not a reason to use it.”

“I don’t need a better reason.”

“You do, if you want my permission.”

“I don’t need your permission!”

“You do,” they squeezed the cup and his ears popped at the pressure change, black ears pressed to his skull and half-sheathed claws now soft against his palm. Shamura blinked slowly, one eye at a time from left to right, then right to left. “You do, if you want to leave my web alive.”

The entire camp was their web. Narinder had felt it after waking up the first time, sensed it without really knowing what about the ground upset his fur, why his whiskers twitched at every tent door and post, why his vision doubled and the stars moved too much at night.

He’d experienced it the first time one of Shamura’s soldiers, a beetle of all carapace and no sense, threw their meal on the ground and declared they’d had enough of rancid flesh and deserved something better.

The beetle had spasmed as, from everywhere and nowhere, silk threads snapped tight and pulled their limbs back before they could curl into a protective ball. Their glossy chitin didn’t mean anything as Shamura’s slow steps made the beetle’s heart quicken, then race, then thunder in Narinder’s ears. The spider had walked as slowly as possible to give every onlooker time to find a place to witness their judgment. One blue finger had trailed up from trembling thorax to mandibles, and the slender demigod rose up on six legs to tower over their prey.

“Very well,” they’d said, and a silk wire lopped the beetle’s head off. Several more tightened around still-squirming limbs until they detached. All Shamura visibly did was wave a dismissive hand at the wrist, and their web deposited the open body on the fire, belly up, for the camp cook to decorate with salt and herb and oil and simmer with his own armor acting as pot and pan to serve him.

It had been, Narinder hated to admit, one of the best meals they’d had since his arrival.

Shamura’s threads were already in his fur. They touched his wrists, his ankles, trailed against his black robe and irritated his whiskers. There was no tension in them, just the ghostly presence holding his chest and winding around his tail.

The spider sipped their tea.

“You are not yet grown, Narinder. I do not mean this metaphorically: your kind do not come of age until they are ten and six years old, but the males do not reach their true strength until twenty and eight. If you will not tell me why you must rely on your crown before you are ready, will you heed my reasons why you shall not?”

Shamura had already made up their mind and even the best reason in the world would not sway them. Still, to stop the growing pain in his throat and the burning in his eyes and the pressure in his nose, he bared his teeth again.

“When my mother taught me the sword, she gave me a sword to practice with.” The mere mention of her hurt. Speaking of her was like licking glass, or breathing fire, or being forever in this world without her. “I’m not saying let me fight the Green-Eyed Queen myself, but you’ve got to let me learn!”

Shamura nodded, but he swore the wisps of web grew thicker.

“The words you are looking for are, ‘I am afraid, and believe a better weapon will keep me safer.’”

They stood up, four legs moving sinuously beneath their black robe, four arms folded politely in pairs as they drifted across the tent toward him. One set of hands parted and they rested one cold palm against his bristled cheek. They had too many eyes and he never knew which ones to look at.

“If I clothed you in the strongest armor and then struck you one hundred times a day for one hundred days, it is true that you will stop fearing my blows and focus on hitting back. But if there is one day, not of your choosing, where I would make those hundred strikes on you without your armor, what would happen?”

His vision was blurring again, this time with frustration. His throat was growing tighter and it wasn’t Shamura’s silk. His chest and arms were trembling and the spider hadn’t struck him once.

“I would die.”

Shamura nodded, and released his face.

“That is why I will not let you use your crown to hold back sleep, because already you do not sleep enough. And I will not let your crown suppress your hunger, because you do not eat enough. And I will not let the crown make you stronger, or faster, or anything else you desire, because this weakness is born of things no crown can fix. You must train your mind. You must grieve your loss. You must let your body grow, child. Return to your duties.”

Duties. All Shamura had him do was practice symbols in wax and ink, and read the same marks off paper and metal. He was to learn the stars by different names, and the plants in their times and properties, and the many lands by their rulers and laws. Narinder’s duties were to grow his mind and eat hearty off the army’s stew pot, as if he were some kind of pet in the spider’s keeping.

He left with rage pulsing under his skin, humiliation turning his fur up as the silk whispers of the camp kept sticking to him, thickening around his ankles until he could almost see the strands. He sped up, all but ready to begin dashing past soldiers, and barracks, and cook fires and—

“There you are.”

His body stopped. A shimmering blue light encircled him and his muscles couldn’t move, his momentum halted. A webbed hand pressed warm to his shoulder before Kallamar’s spell vanished, and the third crown-bearer in this camp steered Narinder off his path between another set of random tents and tables, the squid’s long face pulled in an affable smile.

“Bold of you, to challenge Shamura directly,” he chittered. Narinder was only half-grown, but Kallamar was only just taller than him, too long, too nothing beneath his robes. “I can see how that went by the look on your face. No—don’t stop, be mad. Get it out. You can’t close a wound with the knife still inside.”

“What do you want?” Narinder asked, teeth clenched, whiskers flared as he kept walking and Kallamar kept pushing.

“To stop you from ending up on a spit,” he said. “Shamura is unkind, but rarely unreasonable. Come, running off will get you in trouble, but I’ve prepared something for you.”

Shamura and Kallamar had journeyed together for two years now, amassing followers and striking out at the Green-Eyed Queen’s champions: the Seven Toed Oak, the Marble Tongue of Dawn, and Ashblight. Shamura’s real target was the Wrath-Bringer, for their own reasons. Kallamar had come from the white waters of the Serpent, and beyond Shamura’s trust in him that was all Narinder knew.

Most of the followers in this camp were the spider’s. Kallamar’s followers were weepy-eyed creatures that hissed at the sun and plied their master with even more miserable gurgles than what Kallamar paid the spider.

There was something the Green-Eyed Queen possessed that Shamura wanted before taking their campaign elsewhere.

The mobility of Shamura’s forces was crucial, as staying overlong in any one place cleared the trees, dirtied the water, and ate the land barren. Never-mind counter attacks from the Queen’s champions.

Narinder had been with them a month. During the four battles this army of two hundred followers had fought he’d sat at Shamura’s heels with clean claws and sheathed blades and a leash short enough to call a belt-loop. Every time he saw Kallamar, the Serpent’s exiled son was either flustered with the logistics of keeping this army fed, or impatiently keening at Shamura to send Narinder out of earshot so they could speak.

The cat and the squid had never been alone together before now.

“Hurry up! Hurry up! I think you’ll hate this until you learn to love it.”

Narinder’s tail kept lashing. “You have the worst way of saying things.”

“Do you know what’s more fun than having a shard of the Serpent’s power sitting on my head?” Kallamar asked, the membrane of their face bubbling with their words as they tapped their crown.

“Leaving me alone?”

“Having my own power to wield as I like.”

Kallamar brought him to a freshly cleared bit of forest at the edge of the encampment. Fresh stumps littered the ground like boils, sweet sap still bleeding from the saw-marks. The squid kept giggling to himself, but trying to hide it with his mouth closed. The hrm! Hrm-hrmhrm!! Was enough to make Narinder’s claws itch. He’d never eaten squid before.

“First! An exercise I’m sure you’ve done before!” Kallamar wiggled his way forward and called back to him. He shook out his robe sleeves, getting shorter and squatter as his upsettingly fluid physiology squirmed around under his bipedal guise. With a delighted gurgle, he rose up and spread three tentacles from each sleeve, raising his new arms up with a flash of white.

Ten liquid bubbles gathered from the sap and soil, hovering over the stumps. “Ten seconds to destroy them all! Have at ye, young demigod!”

Narinder stared. “What?”

“Ten! Nine!”

Oh, he meant it.

Narinder’s reflexes were sharp, his legs always half-wound springs that sent him flying at the first bubble with claws out. Its skin was tougher than expected and his lead claw curled past it, but the dew claw on his smallest finger snagged it right and tore the bubble open.

A grotesque sploosh of half-warm-too-cold gelatine that sluiced down his leg and stayed there.

“What is this!?” Narinder shrieked, his voice splitting like hairs as his tail bristled.

“Six!! Five!”

He spun with three darts in hand that burst three bubbles, and vaulted another log with a hand at his sword to tear another. That made five, with only—

“Three! Two!!”

“Kallamar!” he roared back, his sword coated in the same blue ick as his robe and hand.

“Ding-ding-ding!! You lose!” The squid trumpeted, throwing his head back with laughter.

Lost? He’d lost? Narinder never lost anything. He never failed anything.  He couldn’t lose a game like this—one of speed and reflexes and sharpness, no!

“Again!” he shouted.

The laughing stopped. “Again?”

“Start it again!” He stomped his foot, sword dripping, his leg and hand so cold they felt numb.

“Hmm!” the squid put four hands to his wide chin, pouting. “Maybe! But I want my prize for winning first.”

Narinder stiffened, ears swivelling, weight on his toes. “What prize?”

Kallamar’s face split with far too many teeth at far too many angles. Narinder was a predator in his own right, a killer and a hunter, but his fur went rigid at the sight.

“Here, kitty-kitty, dodge this!”

The first unpopped bubble sailed straight at him. Narinder twisted with a yelp, but another crashed the back of his head and erupted with cold slime down his shoulders. He screamed. It didn’t hurt—it was cold and slick and horrible but it didn’t burn or bind or harm him, and the lack of danger made his screaming worse when he took two steps and was slammed at the knees by another bubble that took out his legs.

The last two pelted his back, one and then the other, and left him in an inch-deep puddle of viscous blue slime.

He pushed his face up, spitting, the fur on his cheeks dragging down long, his whiskers coated so thick he could barely breathe, his ears dulled with gelatine.

He was so fucking cold.

Kallamar was laughing to the cloudy sky overhead, the drip-drip of his tentacles slithering over the trampled grass.

“Oh! What fun, your poor face!” he cackled, wiping one webbed hand under his eyes to stop the tears.

Narinder bared his fangs, felt the cold slick trickle into his nose, and sneezed so violently his back arched.

Kallamar doubled over, wheezing, his eyes bulging in delight.

Narinder was cold, he was embarrassed, he was sopping wet. He was a month without his mother and denied his own power. He was stuck in a puddle of slime on a bright spring day with the sun parting the overcast sky and birds were singing and Kallamar was laughing and they were too far away from the edge of camp for anyone to see or hear them.

Narinder grabbed the tentacle that counted as Kallamar’s ‘foot’and yanked it. The squid yelped and tumbled down in a glorp. Before he could think twice or Kallamar could get away, Narinder slapped a handful of muddy slime in the other demigod’s mouth.

The sound Kallamar made was worth the laughter that burst out of Narinder. His goopy tail coiled around his bent legs as the alien sound scared his ears back and he reigned it in quickly, afraid of—just afraid.

Of Shamura? Of dying? Of the Green-Eyed Queen? Yes.

As quickly as he’d laughed, tears cut through the frigid slime, like embers down his cheeks.

His mouth trembled, spit and slime on his lips. He couldn’t breathe.

He would never see Mother again. She would not groom this ick off his fur, or run her claws over his ears, or warm him with her purr. Her tail would never twine with his, and she would not pick up his blade and hand it back, and she would not be with him, and she would not come back.

And Narinder was her Lord of Lords but he was twelve years old and frightened and alone and he had never been frightened and he had never been alone and he had never had to decide what to do and he had never been told what he could not do and—

“Me too.”

Narinder was sitting in this puddle sobbing like a kitten, and he couldn’t close his mouth or stop the sounds or the tears from hiccupping out of him. When Narinder looked at Kallamar, he expected everything except the broken hinge of the squid’s mouth, or the thick-rolling green slime that counted as his tears.

“I miss everything too,” he said. “Everything from before… this.”

“W-what happened?” one lost little boy asked the other.

“The Serpent was afraid of something,” Kallamar explained, his own tears rolling into his mouth. “They called everyone in to their temple, but I got caught in the tide pool that morning and couldn’t answer the gong. I watched the waves turn red, and the sea boiled, and then everything went dark. By the time I got out there was nothing left at the seabed, just this—this hole. Like a storm beneath the sea. Everything was gone. The coral, the vents, the sand, the kelp. Just dark water too scary to swim through, so I didn’t. They’re still down there, I think. They keep pulling everything inside, and Shamura thinks one day they’ll swallow the whole world.”

And that, two small children in two large crowns decided, was too much for them to think about.

They cried until they couldn’t cry anymore. This left Narinder only wet and too cold, and Kallamar dry and too hot, so when the cat scraped one hand down his slimy sleeve he smeared it on the squid’s ugly face.

This made Kallamar laugh.

“Here,” he said, taking Narinder’s hand in two of his. “Let me show you what I brought you out here for.”

It was a spell. A little mote of magical light between his tentacles that drew the wet ick from the fur and fabric down his arm. He wasn’t quite clean, but he wasn’t wet either.

“Now you try. But not with this,” he pointed at the crown. “Just this.”

He tapped Narinder’s forehead, where the fizziness and shadows and double-vision kept coming from.

“This is where your magic will manifest. It means you aren’t like other cats, so even without your crown you’re still something different, something else.”

“What else?”

Kallamar shrugged. “Whatever Shamura and I are. Demigods, they say.”

They practiced the spell together. It was finicky, but only difficult until Kallamar talked him through the noise in his own mind. They pulled the slime off his fur and ears and tail and clothes, and with the last of it the squid gurgled shyly in his throat.

“There was one other thing,”

“You have more one other things than you do arms.”

“No, this is actually it,” he bubbled. “You’re something else. You’re something between Shamura and I. You see, their body is hard and spiny on the outside, protected even without the armor they wear. Then there’s you, who grows your bones inside your body with the soft parts outside—which is bad design, really. You’re very poorly made.”

Narinder showed his teeth. He flexed his claws too. “As poorly made as a bag of water?”

Kallamar held up another bubble of slime. “I’m not afraid to use this.”

The cat relented.

“My point is,” Kallamar continued, holding the bubble in their lap and slowly running their tendrils over and around it, peeling off slime to slick themselves after sitting so long on the prickly grass beneath the blazing sun. “Neither of us can fight like Shamura. But you don’t have your own magic, and I don’t… Well, I know lots of magic. I know spells, and enchantments, and incantations, and charms, and curses. And you…”

Narinder followed the squid’s eyes this time, and snatched up Mother’s sword from beside him.

“No,” he said.

Kallamar quickly folded himself on his ‘knees’, leaning forward. “I don’t mean give me your sword, just practice! Or your knives? I saw you practicing with a rope dart the other day and it was so fast! Imagine if you could sling spells the same way, and I could carry a sword—or a staff. Can you use a spear?”

This felt… not allowed. It felt like breaking one of Shamura’s rules. Kallamar had real duties to the war, counting food and provisioning armor and setting up where tents could go and tables set up.

But Mother had always protected him, and Narinder had never had someone boldly ask him about what she’d taught him. “I… can?”

“What about a javelin?” Kallamar asked, eyes now alight. “A glaive? Shamura has a glaive, you’ve seen it, with the gold blade and obsidian handle?”

“I have.” He had. And he’d also seen… “…their sickle chain is faster than my rope dart.”

“It is!”

On that day, two boys made a pact with each other. The older would teach the younger magic, and the younger would teach the older weapons. Through their web the spider heard all of this, even the part where they struck a bet to see who would get to hold their glaive first. It made them smile.

To Shamura’s surprise, it was Kallamar who won the bet.

Surprise became wonder, as Narinder’s Third Eye opened right as his oath-brother raised the gold blade.

Somehow, both these achievements mattered more to the Demigod of Victory than the fact that they had just been split open, mandible to abdomen, by Champion Ashblight.

“Shamura?!”

“Shamura!!”

It was a good day to die.

[First] / [Prev] / [Next]

:)

I HC Kallamar is like 15/16 at this point.

[a-loose-collection-of-ants]

I am a strange little creature who only experiences joy by combining all my interests into a weird soup, and basically what I'm trying to ask is if the aides were D&D characters what would their class/subclass be?

[picturesofgrandma]

hopelessly obsessed with my deadbeat dad paladin of sune

[sbeep]

Dawn

[stardustedstories]

I'm thinking about narrative parallels and paying off character arcs and development again.

Lotor should have been the Black Paladin. He's able to use the black bayard, which doesn't just happen, and it would have been such a good parallel to his father. Because Zarkon was the first Black Paladin, who ended up forming the Galra Empire, becoming the thing that everyone was fighting against for so long. And Lotor was around during that time; he saw first-hand what his father's reign was like! And he wanted to end it. Not so HE could take over and become the new Emperor, but to bring peace. Because that was genuinely what he wanted.

And the idea of seeing this half-Galra, half-Altean man, the son of Zarkon, as one of the people spearheading that change, of working so hard towards peace that the Black Lion accepted him, chose him to be her pilot? It could have been so good.

I have so much more I could say, really, and maybe I'll sit down and write a huge thing about Lotor's entire arc at some point, but I wanted to finally actually write this down and say it.