#Rolled for intimidation check))

[jeeaark]

Previously on 'Orpheus' First Impressions'

Alternative Titles: Famous Last Words, Cue 'If You Like Pina Coladas' Epic Trailer Song, If Store-Bought is Unavailable, Self-Made Pina Colada is Fine, and It May Not Be The Pina Colada Anybody Wanted, but It's the Pina Colada Everyone Needed.

So I vaguely heard what could happen to Karlach and kept that in my in-case-of-emergency-break-glass reload mindset. But uh. Nah. Greygold had an ✨Agenda✨ after all of that.

Was so dedicated to volunteering, didn't even let Orpheus finish talking. nor read the other options. Nor said any goodbyes or talk it out with the others. No second thoughts, Just fully resonating the saying 'if you want things done right, you gotta do it yourself'

Kept wondering why Orpheus kept calling it a 'noble sacrifice' until the uh. Cutscene happened. Forgot that ceremorphis wasn't like a uh. wildshape shift or a magical girl transformation. Which means Greygold definitely hadn't been listening to Lae'zel's explicit descriptions of the process way back in the beginning. Too busy getting lost in babe's eyes, whoops.

Speaking of babe, she sounded pretty cranky again during the huddle talk to squidification (when I checked it out after the game), but I like to think it's because she was trying to put on a brave soldier face from how upset she really was about the situation.

Lae'zel after Orpheus' mindblown callout: This is the worst moment of my life. Lae'zel now, Drenched in her Joy's Blood: ........No, this is. This is worse.

But also I don't know if it's been confirmed what Orpheus' stance was on if he'd've worked with Emps or not, but in this reality? From the vibes I was was getting? Gonna play with the idea of it being a big 'nah'. More 'fun' this way.

[vigilskeep]

gale: we should try diplomacy

morghaine: sure i’ve got this babe

[we cut to an opening title that says The Gang Decimates The Goblin Outpost]

[tes-trash-blog]

Mithir found Him in the garden, feeding a fawn as its mother laid by His feet. Songbirds rested their wings among the ever-blooming wisteria that adorned the dwarfed cedars, chirping a final song before the sun set upon them, and He hummed alongside them. The Prince surely knew of Mithir's presence, but his attention remained on the feeding fawn, and Mithir made no effort to make himself known, for a growing part of him wished to leave. Leave the Snow Prince to his moment of peace, leave the words unsaid, leave it all be, and treat it as a terrible vision. Yes, a vision, something his mind created in the chaos of the battle, the storm, the warping words from their foes. A vision, for the imagination can run rampant when the eyes fail, and he surely imagined everything after the first blades crossed, and the formation shattered.

A vision. The dead do not rise again, therefore she never died.

The fawn returned to its patient mother, and they returned to their pens. The Snow Prince's humming trailed away, and the songbirds, satisfied with their performance, returned to their nests. He stood straight and tall, reached up to the wisteria and gently grazed the blooms with his long fingers, unmarred by calluses for no spear or sword would dare to mark him.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" the Snow Prince asked. Only the Snow Prince asked. Mithir had prepared a hundred times for this. He rehearsed his grievance over and over, once, with a shaking voice, to the woman he was here to expose, and at that moment all words left him. "It's alright. Speak."

"They are, my Prince, but I have not come to this place to admire your menagerie, or your garden." Mithir was surprised at the strength in his voice, the conviction with which he spoke, the confidence with which he walked towards Him. "I am here as a loyal servant, to the realm and to You, my Prince."

The Snow Prince remained with the wisteria. "No thoughts on the flowers, then.. The weight that worries at you must be heavy indeed."

"It is-" Mithir halted. The words were there, but his throat closed and would not allow them to pass. He realized then how childish he was as he rehearsed, why the so-called "Miracle" feigned nothing but passivity as he made his rehearsed threat. He choked on his words, and felt his face grow hot with shame. The Snow Prince remained with the wisteria.

"You recently returned from battle. A victorious battle, one so sorely needed, so it was told. Is this true? So often people fear to speak truth to me."

"It is true, my Prince. We drove them back, and furthermore we pushed to reclaim what remains of Aulwend."

The Snow Prince smiled. The evening delayed. "Good. Good.. Yet you are troubled by our victory?"

"Not the victory, my Prince. The.. The Miracle that occurred," said Mirthir. The Snow Prince turned from the wisteria to face him, and Mithir bore the full brunt of His beauty.

"You wish to speak of my little blackbird, then. Very well. Speak," He said, and the will of a Prince was never denied.

"She perished, my Prince," Mirthir said all at once, his carefully practiced words forgotten as he spilled out the truth: how she met them first and was struck down with their black-steel axes, the berserk screams from her killer as he landed blow after blow, the shouts, the clash of steel against glass, the sudden winds, the noise, the five-damned noise, the Atmoran who came sudden upon Mithir, only to fall by way a dead woman's spear, her armor shattered but her flesh unmarked, the look on her face, the dark dreams of that day no healer has yet soothed, the visions in the corner of his eyes. Mithir's voice cracked from strain and tears and compulsion, and when he finally found himself silent the Snow Prince took his face in His hands. His grip was as gentle with Mithir as it was with the wisteria.

"My child, my witness to the Miracle. Thank you for speaking the truth. But you need not fear."

"My Prince, I fear! I fear she is not of us, that what I saw was no divine act! It was-"

"And what, my child, does a divine act look like? Would you not tremble before the sight of me on the battlefield? Would your mind not believe the truth your eyes beheld? And so it is with the will of the divine. To even put it into words is to bring it to question, and to question is to deny." Mithir broke his gaze upon the Snow Prince, and found the cold night had crept in. "Look upon me, Mithir, and answer truthfully: Do you deny that you witnessed the Miracle in action?"

--

Mithir returned to his barrack late. Galain and Ceridyn allowed him entry with no question, for they smelled the wisteria on him. It would do no good to question, for Mithir had no answers. He had no words, and he had no denial.

[auspicioustidings]

TF141 have a d&d game going and they have went though at least 5 DMs who have rage quit because of how stupid they are. I'm correct about this, just trust me.

[s1ithers]

durge x this guy otp

[whispering-depths]

don't talk to me, my vampire boyfriend, or my githyanki girlfriend ever again

[clowndensation]

favorite zesek pictures so far <3

[nerendus]

Playing Rogue Trader on story mode was probably the best decision I ever made. Because not only does it get me past the scummy battle mechanics, it allows probably the funniest things to happen.

A minor villain builds up just how strong and evil they are over the last few hours, and just before the boss fight, they proclaim very evily that this is where the Rogue Trader shall meet their end in a most gruesome fashion.

...And then the boss fight starts and Pasqal immediately one shots them.

[rhysnolastname]

The ghoul at the circus: bloody murderer!

Rhys: no im not. Let me in or I’ll kill you.

[bosspigeon]

forgot to mention this but my one of my favorite things that happened when i got the chance to play bg3 was after the nautiloid crash when i told shadowheart we should part ways and she insisted we needed to work together to get rid of the tadpoles and it legit sounded like it hurt her to say it

[pentacass]

why are you taking turns to stand there like a bouncer. is there a duty roster i'm not aware of

[fangsanddaggers]

Feathers are Getting Ruffled ||@unluckyuncle

It had been some time since he'd visited Legato again, feeling far more energized now he wanted to hunt. He missed it, the feeling of prowling around in the dark of night, stalking prey unaware of his presence.

What he hadn't expected was to find a duck with a shirt. Strange, but it was a huge thing, a good feed with very little struggle. Birds weren't his favorite, but he didn't feel like chasing down a boar and wrestling it to the ground either. It was far better than a rat.

He slipped from shadow to shadow before being forced to cross the street, passing under the light for a brief moment. Eyes flashed like a cat's hunting it's prey before he slipped once more into darkness, half hidden and stalking the duck-like being right into an alley as they fled.

A chase!

He moved, fluid and fast, yet not nearly as fast as he once was, curse this place. Still, he moved, flowing from foot to foot until they reach a dead end. He grins, flashing sharp fangs as red reflected, nearly glowed from his eyes.

"Now now. No need to make any noise, little one. It'll all be over soon, I promise." Astarion's voice is low, a sultry sweet tone dripping with murderous intent, shrouded in the dark of night as he slowly approached the shirt wearing bird.

Tonight, the vampire would feast on a true hunt again.

[orcelito]

help. help. help.

my bad luck continues

[rodismancave]

Are you people actually scared of me or something

[astronomical-bagel]

🐹 no offense but you're a real nerd (affectionate) and you are the farthest thing from intimidating

HAAAAAA YOU KNOW WHAT THAT IS SO VALID BUT I NEED EVERYONE TO KNOW I AM APPARENTLY THE OPPOSITE IRL XD

But yeah no that’s very correct I don’t think I’m that intimidating I’m just a lil guy

[clowndensation]

zesek character sheet <3 additional fun facts:

zesek's first language is draconic, and while he can understand common, he finds it irritating to speak. he can't read it at all.

zesek grew up in the marshes near the delimbiyr river. he's an exceptionally strong swimmer, and has a special fondness for a lot of the swampland fauna he was raised around, especially frogs and spiders.

he was orphaned around the age of 4 (12, in human years), and spent 5 years of his life essentially taking care of himself. he grew very used to a raw food diet, and to this day is a notably awful cook

dragonborn children give each other nicknames when they're young, which is where the name "keen eye" comes from. he introduces himself as such to most humans he meets, as a subtle insult to them: the implication among dragonborn being that he considers them to be at the intellectual level of children.

his adoptive clan work in the service of a black dragon, who he's very loyal to. his clan values magic as the highest rank of power, and as a result he views even non-dragonborn magic users as deserving a fair amount of respect.

he likes children, but his natural stoicism, combined with a very inexpressive face, mean most don't like him.