#Trollskull Team

[brodingles]

Tabletop characters hanging out.

[astraygenius]

NaNo 2021 - Career Change

Today’s post is dedicated to @nerdythebard, who invited me on two grand adventures, and @swearingintengwar and @iximaz, who made them that much more fun. 

------

Tony Richter has been a lot of things in his time on earth. A clever child, a street rat trying to survive and help his mother, a gang member, a fence, a spy, and most recently an adventurer and recognized hero to Waterdeep. Now, he prepares to add “business owner” to the list.

He thinks he’d almost rather be facing a black pudding in the Mad Mage’s dungeon again. Almost.

“It’s hard to believe this is really happening,” Feloriel says. Even now that they’re sort of retired, his oldest friend still wears the gray and black robes of the Raven Queen, and still carries a mace on her hip. She’s currently organizing the wine and liquor bottles by price, polishing a few as she goes.

“I feel that,” a skinny half-elf in a patched coat comments from the corner. If possible, he’s even paler than Feloriel, and his dark hair sticks up where he’s probably run some hands through it. “From university dropout to adventurer to bar staff…Well, they did say my life would be interesting!”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Corrin, whoever ‘they’ are, they probably tell everybody that.”

A tall, broadly muscled woman comes up the basement stairs holding a barrel. “Okay, everything down there’s labeled, and this here’s the oldest barrel of that light ale Mirt likes.”

Feloriel gives the woman a grateful thumbs-up. “Thanks, Mollie, you’re a gem.”

“Aw, any time, hun.” Mollie sets the barrel down with a thud. “Now, remind me: ‘our’ staff are doing the whole team huddle thing upstairs?”

As she says it, a black man comes into the main room leading an assortment of humans, all wearing the same green-and-purple uniforms. “Ready to open when you are, Sister. Mr. Richter.”

Feloriel puts down her polishing cloth and smiles. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Places, everybody!”

The roar of the crowd when Tony opens the front doors almost startles him. Almost. He’s a rogue, after all. He takes a deep breath, wiggles his fingers, and speaks in a voice loud enough to carry down the street:

“Welcome, one and all, to Trollskull Manor! We are officially open for business! Come on in!”

This time, Tony hears his friends joining the cheer.

[willshewrite]

Just a Couple of Guys Bein’ Dudes

Fandom: Dungeons and Dragons, Homebrew - The Disasters

Word Count: 1198

A/N: I was supposed to write a one-shot for Emin x Talnah for @ruesinger but I got distracted by Emin and Jacar interactions so take this instead.  This can be read as either pro-homo or pro-bromo.

Emin shivered in the snow-laden air of Waterdeep, cowering beneath his cloak as another sharp gust threatened to topple him over.  He trod slowly, one shaking foot in front of the other until he reached a cobblestone well at the end of Trollskull Alley.   A smile coaxed its way onto his face, only to be dashed by a sudden wave of nausea forcing him to the ground.  

He had overdone it with the magic -again- and was nothing more than a skeleton wandering the streets in search of his home.  Emin’s hands trembled violently as he crawled behind the well in search of coverage from the wind’s bite.  With one last surge of strength, maneuvered himself so his back pressed against the well.

A faint incantation passed his lips, interrupted by chattering teeth and ragged breaths.  Slowly, a thick, black, oozing liquid crept out of his mouth and clung to his lips like tar.  Emin gasped and coughed to rid himself of the spell’s backfire, splattering the horrid substance across once pure snow.  Emin remained still for a moment, then cracked an ink-stained grin.

“Cool.”  Not optimal, he conceded, but pulling off a spell while his body withered away was a long shot in the first place.  Plus, he noted gleefully, snow speckled with the remnants of long-dead magic was sure to freak someone out in the morning.  

Unfortunately, it also meant he had to face his friends looking half-dead.  If any of them were even awake to answer his call, that is.  Claire would say he’s an idiot and throw him down the well like a sack of clams, something he wasn’t entirely sure his body could handle at the moment.  On the other hand, Jacar would hit him with those worried puppy dog eyes and make him feel guilty well into the next century.  He wondered if Ea’s earring could pick up his signal.  Maybe a little bardic inspiration could breathe some life into his bones.  The barrage of questions he was sure to face, however, immediately struck that idea down.

A snowflake nestled on the tip of his nose and Emin lost himself in its mesmerizing design.  He was always astounded by the little things and how beautiful life could be even when everything seemed to be going-

It wasn’t melting.

...

He should probably call soon.

His pale fingers danced over the collection of gold hoops and gems lining his ears until he finally pinched a simple amethyst droplet.

“Hey, J-Dog.”  He was met with soft static, then the earring grew warm and a groggy voice came through.

“Emin?  You alright?”  Emin smiled and leaned his head back against the well.

“Just peachy, sweetheart.  Hey, is there any way you could come pick me up?  I’m just outside the entrance.”  The shifting of bedsheets and the soft thump of footsteps greeted his ears.  

“Is this a work thing or an alcohol thing?”  

“Work.  Listen, do you want me to call Claire instead?  I haven’t been thrown around in a while.  It might loosen up my back.”  Jacar’s tired laugh echoed through this mind.

“If that works we might have another job opportunity to look into.  I’m on my way, so hold tight.”

“Alright, thanks.  Love you.”  An exasperated “love you too” with the slightest hint of a smile passed through the line before the earring cooled.

Emin tapped the toes of his shoes together to get rid of the accumulating snow, wondering how he had ever gotten so lucky as to meet Jacar.  Of course, he felt the same about Claire; she had saved him more times than he could count and managed to look absolutely stunning every time she threw a punch.  The other members of Sildar’s rescue-team he had conjured to save the world, however… well, he hadn’t quite made up his mind yet.

Sildar himself seemed a decent enough guy, if not a stick in the mud.  In all honesty, he seemed like the only one who actively acknowledged that the fate of the planar system was in their hands, so Emin didn’t really blame him for being so uptight.  Korv, on the other hand, was the biggest, sweetest hunk Emin has ever had the pleasure to meet.  Phryn was impossibly endearing with her fascination of the Material Plane, but seemed suspicious of him, which, he conceded, was fair.  Emin had yet to hold a conversation with either K’thriss or Robin and got the impression that both would prefer to keep it that way.  Ea was fucked up.  He could dig it, but wow.  Then again, Jacar really liked her, so she was already at an unfair advantage.

And then there was Talnah.  A nobel with a bleeding heart that he probably scared away when he drained a dude of his life force in a back alley.  Sure she had thanked him for saving her life, but he still couldn’t consider that one of his shining moments.  Especially considering he was drunk on cheap champagne and didn’t remember it had happened in the first place.  And there was the time she tried to get to know him on Candlesnight and he panicked and flat out lied to her…

Maybe he should apologize.

“Holy shit, man.”  Emin didn’t realize he had closed his eyes until he opened them to a frantic Jacar.  He cracked a smile at the man and tilted his head up to get a better look.  “How much magic did you use?”  Emin shrugged, his shoulders letting out a sickening creak.

“Enough to get the job done.”  The concerned, puppy-dog eyes he had been dreading made an appearance and Emin felt his gut twist.  Emin fixed his gaze on the translucent skin pulled taut around his knuckles and swallowed.  Jacar let out a sigh, worry still clouding his eyes, and held out a hand.

“Alright, let’s just get you inside.”  On three, Jacar dragged Emin to his feet and carefully helped him step into the well, one foot in front of the other.  A wave of magic passed over them as they fell through the portal, landing gently on the landing in front of their front door.  Jacar pulled Emin’s arm over his shoulder and awkwardly maneuvered their way into the house and down the dimly lit hallways.  He guided them to Emin’s room and laid him down on the half-made bed.  Emin offered him an exhausted, lopsided smile.

“Thanks, Jacar.”  Jacar nodded and threw a blanket over him.  When Emin didn’t stop shivering, he added two more.

“Is there anything else I can do?”  He asked, tugging on the corners of the blankets to straighten them out.  Emin burrowed deeper into his bed, pulling his hands and feet towards his center, and shook his head.

“I just need to ride it out.”

“Okay.  Call me if you need anything.  Is it cool if I leave the door unlocked?”  Emin nodded, already drifting in and out of consciousness.  With one last bout of worry, Jacar tucked the blankets around Emin’s neck and quietly closed the door behind him.  After a moment’s debate, Jacar reached a hand up to gently pinch his earring.  “Goodnight Emin.”

His only response was gentle snoring.

[waterdeepdruid]

D&D Character Visual References

Under the cut are images for visual references to the different D&D characters connected to Kelhorn.

this post will be updated as more characters are added to the campaign(s).

Kelhorn: 

Kelhorn while a member of the Cyprus Druids: 

Kelhorn when found by Durnan in Waterdeep: 

Kelhorn while working for Durnan in the Yawning Portal: 

Kelhorn during the Waterdeep Vault Heist: 

Kelhorn during Dungeon of the Mad Mage: 

Kelhorn’s Family (Shoon & Durnan): 

Durnan during his years in the Imperium military: 

Durnan while an adventurer: 

Durnan as the owner of the Yawning Portal: 

Shoon: 

Shoon while an adventurer: 

The Shavenom Community of Tieflings (Leoverre): 

Aranron Shavenom, Kelhorn’s guardian: 

Milaisi’a Xaurus Levvari Shavenome (Julia Fischer), a member of the Shavenom Community of Tieflings & Martuska’s ex-girlfriend: 

The Tribes of the Viridi Silva: 

Martuska Meszaros, the leader of the Druids of the Viridi Silva: 

Magnolia Chinook, a member of the Terran Tribe of Earth Genasi and Kelhorn’s best friend: 

Luna, leader of the Cuniculus Tribe: 

Jam, the second-in-command for the Cuniculus Tribe: 

Pika, a member of the Cuniculus Tribe: 

Petey, a member of the Cuniculus Tribe: 

Stew, a member of the Cuniculus Tribe: 

Ziggy, a member of the Cuniculus Tribe:

The Eight Heroes of Waterdeep: 

The Shard Runners: 

Nel, the leader of the Shard Runners: 

The Trollskull Manor Employees: 

Jasmine, the manager of the Trollskull Manor:

Balasar, the chef at the Trollskull Manor: 

Oog, the bartender at the Trollskull Manor: 

Gozzo, the assistant bartender at the Trollskull Manor:

Cog, the custodial staff at the Trollskull Manor: 

Zantium, one of the two servers at the Trollskull Manor:

Durnan’s Special Ops Team: 

Dirk, an urchin Tiefling from the Imperium: 

Dirk in his uniform: 

Katarine Lo’oraBella, a failed military initiate from the Imperium: 

Sae, an Aarakocra born in Leoverre, but raised in the Imperium: 

[complementme]

The Art of Negotiation

She’s sitting on the wooden floor, legs straight out in front of her but crossed at the ankles, hands demurely folded in her lap.  In front of her sits one of her former flames, holding her in this extra-dimensional space for her open defiance of his plan.  Her plan, should she be able to pull it off, is to stall him long enough for her comrades to handle the business with the artifact he is desperately after.  They don’t need to do anything but hand it to someone else, that’s all she needs them to do so he will turn away from them and bother someone else.

“It’s so lonely to be just the two of us, isn’t it Folys?” he asks, golden eyes stern.  With a snap of his fingers, two Drow enter the room.

Her plan had been foolproof, until her lover was thrown down beside her and it became a hostage situation.

“Nell!” It’s an admission that she immediately knows is a mistake.  Wylym, her former flame – true name Jarlaxle – has her and he knows it. She’s the type to try and save everyone that she can, and putting someone so important down next to her was making his life easier.  Her eyes return to him, fearful but hardened.  She doesn’t like the situation he’s created, and she doesn’t know how to fix it without giving in to his demand. She instinctively grabs for her left shoulder blade, brushing her fingertips over where her tribute tattoo to her father resided. Only two people in Waterdeep even knew she had additional tattoos outside of her familial markings, and they both happened to be in the room.  She had promised to tell Nell what the intricate sword with flame inlay meant later, not wanting to interrupt their tryst with a somewhat sad story. But there might not be a later if Jarlaxle had anything to say about it.

“In the end, we are all just people who want something.  I want to openly lead the city of Luskan as part of the Lord’s Alliance.  I am tired of watching the people of my city suffer without support.  I am tired of the image that the Drow still have on the surface world.  You want Keegan McFadden gone.  You want your lover returned to you safely.  You want to run your tavern in peace.  These are all things I can give to you, that I want to give to you.  Please choose your lover, not some new-found commitment to the status quo and the corruption that exists within Waterdeep.”

She refocuses her hardened expression on the seated man, teal eyes burning with the emotions she can’t yet give name to.  She’s never been in a hostage situation, let alone the one holding the hostage’s life in her hands.  It’s unnerving, and she’s beginning to understand why her father quit the adventuring business.  In her head she hears her familiar calling to her, promising to come to her aid.  She tells him that everything is fine and he needs to stay with the others.  He can act as a messenger between them, and keep their youngest safe.  Jarlaxle doesn’t know she has a familiar, he’s the only secret she’s got left.

She looks back to Nell, who is trying to say something around the gag.  She can’t make out what’s being said, but she doubts that Jarlaxle is going to let her take off the restraint and ask.  She tightens her grip on her shoulder, taking a steadying breath.  Her father could talk his way through anything, and though she’s the spitting image of her mother, she is her father’s daughter. She doesn’t know if he would have been conflicted about the situation, however, and for that she’s on her own.

“Please don’t hurt her,” she settles on, meeting his gaze.  

“Trust me, Folys, I do not wish to hurt our dear Nell.”  He bends over in the chair to stroke the top of Nell’s head much like an owner would to a beloved pet.  It’s such a condescending gesture that Folys is simmering just under the surface though she can just tell that he knows exactly what reaction he’s eliciting. Her fingers twitch as she retrains herself from bodily removing Jarlaxle’s hand from Nell’s head. Folys is cursing her patron for not giving her the ability to read minds, because Nell is trying to say something again.  “You are both truly so lovely, you should be happy together.” She’s got to keep him talking and get him to stop touching Nell. There’s a fury in her eyes that somehow doesn’t seep into her voice.  She wants answers, not to antagonize him further.  

“How long have you had her? How long have you been watching me?” It’s the question that’s worrying her most as she sits and thinks on it.  He’s been so many people they’ve interacted with, who was to say that he wasn’t the person who set them up on this trajectory from the beginning?  

“I happened upon Nell shortly after she visited you this morning at Trollskull Manor,” he states as he sits up.  “You caught my attention shortly after your group acquired that manor.”  Folys is trying to work out the logistics and is beginning to suspect she is in over her head.  He had already demonstrated that he was a master of illusion, he could look like whoever he wanted.  It was possible that he had been around since the beginning and she would be none the wiser.

“What good does threatening her here do?  The others already agreed.”  This was a question she asked out of genuine curiosity, she needed to know why he had resorted to this when he had what he wanted.  He had already gotten the others to agree to help, she was the lone holdout. With her in this space, there was nothing she could do to impede their progress.

“I have two reasons for why I’ve kept you here.  First, I need to know we’re all on the same team.”  He’s smiling congenially at her as he waves his hand.  His visage changes from a high-elf noble man to a charcoal-skinned Drow right before her eyes.  This is his true form, and it is worlds more intimidating than the other personas she had encountered.  “That team includes you.  The Yuan-Ti fears for the exposure of his identity.  The Bladesingers all cow to me when I push my thumb down, their weakness of character should be quite evident to the both of us.  The samurai’s true demons lie with the Xanathar.  The half-Drow can be bought with coin and power.  But you, you are different, which brings me to my second reason.”  He’s smirking at her, and all she can do is return a neutral stare.  “I do not think lowly of you, Folys.  There is a quality to your blatant defiance of me that I find nearly irresistible.”  His wink has her biting her cheek.  

“Oh, only nearly irresistible?” she queries, raising an eyebrow.

“Be careful with your charm, my old flame.  I’m only flesh and blood.  I have instincts.”  He leans towards her, red eyes raking over her form suggestively.  Folys finds herself both disgusted and flattered.

“How can I be an old flame if it was only one night, and if I look nothing like I did then?” she asks, sounding almost naïve—Jarlaxle probably knows her well enough from watching that he could read through that effortlessly.  She was deliberately toeing the line to see what she could get away with, to buy time, to refocus her thoughts.

“You say that as though your beauty could be so easily hidden.  It betrays you.”  Something in his tone gives her pause, which he takes as an invitation to continue.  “Do you have any other questions?” She is curious, of course, as to what he might mean that she specifically caught his interest, but the more pressing issue is the hostage he is currently holding over her. Nell’s safety has to be the first priority, even above her own.  She has a small amount of magic still in reserve and her casting isn’t impeded in any way.  If she can get Nell out, she can escape on her own power when the time is right.

“Let us form a partnership. Get me the stone, and I can get rid of Keegan McFadden for you, permanently.  I know you are angry with me, but I can make very good things happen for you, Luskan, and all of the disenfranchised surface Drow.”  He extends a slender, charcoal colored hand.  “Please.  Agree to this and I will give you Nell.”

Her expression shifts to one she wears often in her line of business—a demure smile with a hint of flirty promises.  This is the mask she hides behind to compose herself when things begin to go south and she has to regain her footing.  She must buy time to make sense of everything he’s said so far, to give her companions the time they need to figure out what to do.  He seems to prefer her when she’s flirting, so she incorporates that more into her speech.

“For McFadden, well…” There’s a heavy hesitation and her smile falters to show her immense dislike.  “I only want him locked up where he can’t hurt anyone anymore.” There’s a strain to her voice as she tries to keep things light, broadcasting her internal conflict.  In the deepest part of her heart she knows she wants McFadden buried, but she had made a deal with her patron and the celestial powers-that-be to better the world and promote goodness.  Killing McFadden would better the world (probably), but it wasn’t the right way to do it when he could be rehabilitated and serve out his sentence.

“A boorish brute such as that deserves worse, but I will respect your wishes, Folys, to not have him killed off.  Provided we reach an agreement, Seronis Talwynd shall take good care of him.”  He looks put off by the idea that she is requesting mercy, but she takes her opportunity to push for more.

“If I get you the stone, I want a guarantee of safety for Nell and the others.”  She’s looking him in the eyes, showing him that she’s seriously considering it. He’s got such an intense focus on her that she feels she might be melting under his gaze.  “That you and yours will not do anything to harm them.” She’d nearly run out of healing magic, so she had to ensure that neither herself nor Nell would be injured as she continued to make her demands.  She takes a breath and sends a sad smile to Nell.  She doesn’t want to buckle, but she’s out of options.  If Nell wanted to avoid her after this, that was fine.  She understood.

“And I want Nell to walk out of her first, on her own power.  Untie her and let her go.”  Her gaze returns to Jarlaxle, defiant but defeated.  She knows she’s lost, and to prevent unnecessary bloodshed she has to agree. “These are my terms: Jail McFadden. Release Nell.  Safety for Nell, myself, Tommi, and the others.  You don’t tell anyone who got you the stupid stone. And you don’t interfere with my life, or anyone connected with me, ever again.”  Her fists are clenched in her lap, nails biting into her palms.  She has one more demand, but she doesn’t know if it will land.  “Finally, I want a promise that you will not kill anyone else to get a seat with the Alliance.  You wouldn’t want to lie to me again, would you?”  She flashes him a winning smile, not offering her hand.

“Your last request is one I cannot meet,” he says flatly, retracting his hand.  She’s crossed a line, she can see his expression darkening, but she maintains her smile as if he wasn’t a rapidly darkening stormcloud. “The road to politics and power is paved with blood and intrigue.  I do not enjoy killing and consider it a last resort, but I cannot honestly take that last card off the table, you’ll have to forgive me.  Everything else is completely reasonable, provided the stone is handed over.”

“Thank you for being so accommodating of my concerns,” Folys tells him, dipping her head in deference.   “I should amend my final request, then, to ask that there is no unnecessary murder in your quest.”  She’s backpedaling to appease him and is rewarded when his expression softens slightly.  It’s not what she would personally want, and she also wasn’t sure where her patron stood on that particular issue, but she was in a bind and was making the best possible choices for the greatest amount of people possible.  She looks up at him from under her lashes, biting her lower lip gently.  It’s plainly a stall tactic and he’s enjoying the view, but Folys is certain he can see she’s more-or-less on his side.  His goals are well-intentioned, and if this is truly the last resort, she can understand his desperation.

“My dear Folys, I loathe killing,” he tells her in an attempt at a reassuring tone.  “If your Bladesinger and samurai companions had been dealing with the Xanathar, they would have been slain before they finished their first sentence.  You can rest assured that any time I choose to take a life, I have a good reason.”

She isn’t reassured by his words, but he does have a point.  He could have easily killed both her nad Nell within moments, but he had stopped to negotiate.  Folys begins to stand, showing Jarlaxle her hands as she does.  She doesn’t want him to think she’s going to attack, so she moves slowly, bending generously to give him a peek of cleavage.  She notices his eyes immediately adjust course, and she’s got a fairly good idea that her stall tactic would have worked provided there wasn’t a hostage.  She feels sick to her stomach, but she stands tall as if she has not a care in the world aside from the concern for the hostage’s safety.  Her patron would forgive her.  They would all forgive her.  They would have to, they would hopefully make a similar choice.  She hopes.  There’s nowhere else to go—her back is to the wall and she’s running on empty.

“Okay.”  There’s a defeated finality in the word.  She can’t look at Nell, who is no doubt severely disappointed in her choice to partner with Jarlaxle and retrieve the stone. She can’t call to her familiar or her patron, both of whom will surely disown her for this decision.  She’s got to handle this herself, like her father who raised her.  “Now let her go.”

“As you wish.”  He snaps his fingers and his Drow companions get Nell to her feet, untie her, and usher her out the door behind Folys. Nell calls out her name, but the slam of the door behind her cuts off whatever else she had been about to say.

“I must say, I admire your method of committing to a deal,” Jarlaxle drawls, red eyes raking over Foly’s form. She suppresses a shiver—though she isn’t sure if it’s from fear or excitement. “I did not expect to see you again this way, but you are a bouquet of surprises, my dear.”  He’s walking in a slow counter-clockwise circle around her, scanning her.  As he circles her, scrutinizing, Folys holds her gaze perfectly in front of her, body unmoving.  She is used to these looks as well in her line of work, but never when she can’t defend herself.  She understands that one hair out of line here and going forwards means that everything she’s bartered for is void.  Still, she finds she has her voice, quieter when there’s nobody to impress.

“You could have just sent a letter, I believe that’s how things are typically done.  I would have saved you a table.”  She would have saved Wylym a table, if only because she knows – knew – he has a good reputation and a wealth of entertaining enough stories. Wylym hadn’t been as intriguing as Nell, nor had he shown as much interest in her history, but he was attractive and he was good with his hands.  He would have been fun to have around, if only for the nights when she needed physical release.  

He makes his way around to meet her eye-to-eye, expression dark.  His scowl is almost as intense as his gaze, and Folys is forced to swallow down her fear.  

“This is some game of yours, I am not foolish enough to miss that.”  It is the longest three seconds of Folys’ life as all his attention is focused solely on her.  The tightness in his lips gives way to a licentious smirk.  “But I am foolish enough to play along.  You have earned your title as entirely irresistible, my cunning little minx.” He caresses her cheek gently and he seems to enjoy her shuddered breath.  Her emotions are swinging between fear and lust, and as he watches her she finds it harder to tell which is more powerful.  “This is not a game I mind losing, but one that I assure you I intend to win.”

“This isn’t a game,” she tells him, voice quavering only the slightest bit.  At least, it wasn’t a game anymore.  It had been her plan initially to buy time from him and have the others handle it, but she’s realizing that she is out of her depth. She’d bartered for their safety in good faith to appease him, and she intended to do as he asked.  She didn’t know why he still kept her when they had a verbal agreement.

“Your nerves are dancing under your skin.” He takes a step back, hand leaving her cheek.  “I wish to let you know that you are safe here.  If it would help, I should remind you that I am a master of illusions.  Perhaps you would prefer to see someone less intimidating than myself. A familiar face?” With a few hand gestures his visage changes to Wylym.  “Someone entirely new?” He changes into Laerel Silverhand, thick grey curls pillowing around his form.  “It’s a mysterious and alluring power.  I can be anyone you ask me to be,” he coos, form changing as he steps close once again. “I can even be you.”

He elicits a verbal response when he becomes her.  It’s quiet, but the gasp escapes nonetheless from her unwilling lips.  She’s looking herself over, checking for some detail that might be wrong as he backs her against the wall.  He’s got the details right, and nobody would think to check for authenticity.  Folys is stunned and scared of the power he wields, but a small part of her also wants to wield illusory magic.

“Are you admiring the craftsmanship?” Jarlaxle asks in her voice.  “Normally with illusions you have to do the guesswork for what you haven’t seen, but I have studied you well.”  The leer looks more menacing on her face than it would have on his.

“What do you want from me?” It comes out as a whisper as she meets her own eyes.  “I’ve already agreed to the deal.”  They hadn’t shaken on it, but Nell’s safety is explicitly tied to Folys’ obedience.  She’s mad at herself for having allowed him to get so close before that he could imitate her perfectly. She’s certain that every tattoo and every freckle will be accounted for and in the correct place under the clothes where she can’t see.  Study her he did, and she’s ashamed that she had so willingly handed herself over.

“I want many things, Folys. Some things I’ve already told you, and some things that are new.  There are many things on the table provided the Stone of Golorr ends up in my possession. I would even offer you those griffin riding lessons Wylym promised.”  He laughs, shaking his – her – head slightly.  “Don’t worry, I did not steal an identity for him.  He is my own fabrication.  I had many more planned for you and your group, that was until you so graciously stopped to visit me.”

“Griffin riding?” she manages to get out, almost laughing at the absurdity.  Here she is so vulnerable, so scared, and he’s reverting back to an off-handed comment he had made in an effort to bed her.  She shakes her head slightly, closing her eyes to avoid looking at herself.  “You practically invited me,” she reminds him, voice wavering. She’d only found him because she was chasing after a kidnapped companion. He ignores her statement and leans in closer, pressing his – her – body against her.

“Mainly, I want to know what you’re planning to do now.”  He drops his – her – voice to a slowed hush, his left hand taking her right and pressing it against the cool wall.  “If your scheme is to stay here, I don’t mind at all.”  He’s cooing to her in the voice she uses on her bar patrons.  It’s a mix of terrifying, teasing, and enthralling.

‘Is this how I sound?’ She’s not sure what to think of it all.  She can certainly see where he might find appeal, watching herself, but it feels so strange.  She’s feeling lightheaded as her emotions and thoughts tumble past each other, fogging her ability to think straight.  He’s so close, hushed tones the only sound in the room.  She can hear her heartbeat quicken over his soft words, ice in her stomach.  She’s never been so scared with someone so close.  But also, she’s never been so aggressively pursued, nor has she ever turned herself on quite like this before. ‘Now is not the time, body,’ she manages to think, trying to form a clever response to his queries.  His right hand starts at her cheek and slowly trails down over the length of her body, resting on her hip.  The gentle pressure he holds her with his both alluring and terrifying, exciting her nerves in ways she’s never known.

But she’s soon lost in her own eyes, feeling her mind begin to slip.  ‘How is he able to maintain so man different personalities? Did he steal me? Am I being romanced by a past version of myself?’ Her thoughts are becoming more outrageous as she begins to question her own reality.  He nips at her ear, breath hot against the sensitive skin. He’s so close it’s maddening, and he’s toying with her just enough to cause her breath to come in quick pants.  She is about to spiral off the cliff when she feels a very familiar sensation pressing against her abdomen. They share twin looks of shock for a brief moment before Jarlaxle blushes redder than Folys thought she could turn. But the distraction, however brief, clears her mind enough.  This image isn’t quite right.  It’s pretty good – really good – but it’s not perfect.  And she isn’t feeling like she’s going insane anymore.  She’s still scared, still a few steps behind, but he’d given her an opening to try and close the gap.

“Ha-ha, there are some things that not even the most powerful illusions can hide,” he says with a sheepishness he hasn’t displayed in any of his numerous forms, snickering at himself.  “I suppose you’ve seen my hand, then.  Now don’t ask any more silly questions, Folys.  You know what I want.”  He’s pressed against her again, kissing her neck in a staccato that runs from just below her ear to her collarbone, hand resuming its trailing actions. He’d been playing her on the knife-edge between fear and lust, and though she’s furious about it, she knows what he wants. Weirdly it’s what she wants too, despite the fact that he is still clearly illusioned to look like her.

“If I’m not supposed to ask questions,” she forces out between stifled moans as he continues to plant kisses between whispered words of his desire, “how am I supposed to ask where you would like me?”  This question is a dangerous gamble, if only because she doesn’t know how he’ll react. Especially when he realizes that she’s into it.  All of it. He’s terrifying and got a grip on her that she can’t shake – he’s got Nell and the others – but she’s got his full attention, and that is a feeling she could easily become addicted to.

Her words stop him in his tracks, and Folys sees his eyes burn purple as the illusory teal eyes mix with his true ruby eyes.  His expression is hungry as he steps back, looking her over once more.

“How bold of you to inquire, my little minx.”  He looks away from her briefly, tightening his hold on her wrist. He pulls her to the other door in the room, away from her exit.  “Let me show you just where I want you.”  She stumbles slightly as she’s pulled along, unable to match his impatient pace.

He pulls her into a dim, candlelit room of faded purples, dark browns, and soft greys.  There is a smell of charred darkwood, lavender, and citrus in the air.  Warmth emanates from a hearth jutting out from the wall.  Large, thick curtains hang in front of the large window, blocking her view of the outside world.  The only door in is also the only door out, and Folys realizes just how preposterous this room is to be attached to the interrogation room outside—Jarlaxle must have some control over where the doors attached to the other room lead, but she can’t place the mechanism or magic behind it.

Her gawking at the room is cut short as Jarlaxle tosses her unceremoniously onto the large bed in the middle of the room.  Her breath escapes her at the sudden change in location.  The bed is soft and luxurious, leagues better than what she’d splurged on to furnish her room at Trollskull Manor.

“Here is where I shall ravish you,” he states.  Folys can practically feel the desire rolling off him in waves as he steps up to the foot of the bed. She looks to him – still her mirror image – through her lashes, smiling playfully as he approaches.  She pulls herself to a sitting position from the comfort of the mattress and blankets.  She doesn’t need to beckon him closer, he’s waltzed right up to her, which means she’ll have to try a different opening move. It seems to Folys that he wants her to be enticing – minx is apparently her new pet name – so she turns the charm up to eleven to comply.

“I very much approve,” she purrs, taking his hand and gently tugging him closer to where she had landed on the bed.  “You know just the right place to take a lady.”  There’s still a hint of fear in her eyes (she’s essentially in a prison cell, nice as it may be), but it’s overshadowed by the lust mirrored in her reflection.  When he is close enough, she grabs the collar of his shirt to pull him in for a kiss, rising to her knees to accommodate the height difference.  The grip is firm but nonthreatening, as she has no intentions of leaving or attacking him for the time being.  It’s a heated kiss, and Folys doesn’t know where the passion came from.  If he had kissed her like this as Wylym, things might have turned out differently.  The sting of betrayal might have been worse too, but that wasn’t something she needed to think on.  

He’s worked her out of her cloak and tossed it away from the bed, and she’s taken the liberty to pull herself closer to him with his beltloops. He breaks the kiss to get her boots off, pushing her away only briefly. He’s aggressive, but gentle, in his desire to divest her of her clothing, finding different pathways to nip and kiss at her skin.  She could almost forget that she is supposed to fear the dangerous man before her.  

“Come to bed,” she whispers against his ear, nipping at the lobe. She crooks a finger, beckoning him closer as she lowers herself to the plush mattress.  Folys laughs when he doesn’t hesitate to comply.

[diceandlipstick-blog]

Waterdeep: Dragon Heist Session Six Recap!! 2/19/2019

The session brings us again with introductions to new people and good bye to others. Our Critical Fails heading to the opera to watch the Fall of Tiamat,  sung in Giant. During the intermission, Marvo went to Private Box C and met with Mirt, who offered him entry into the faction The Harpers. (See Handout for full information on this faction.) He accepted and was given a mission to seek out a talking horse and gain information from her. "One of the drays working in the city is pulled by a talking mare named Maxeene. Locate her, find out if she's learned the identity of any Zhent operatives, and if so, determine their whereabouts."  At the end of the show, Vjara, the Blackstaff comes to the party, with two dwarves, Torgus Hillclimber, an Eldritch Knight Fighter, and Azril Poldark, an Oath of the Ancients Paladin. Tamshu went back to theBlackstaff and claimed the party needed more "meat shields". And the couple being professionals offered up their services, to see if they could maybe find a place with this ragtag team. Inviting them back to the manor, the group heads to the manor for some rest and relaxation, which most got while Torgus raids the wine, with the help of Azril.  They head to bed and the next morning, the entire group must fend for themselves, Togus having insulted Lif and the music box that Tamshu had made for him as an apology for burning the bar top. While all were eating and discussing their activities for the day, Marvo dons his disguise with expert care. Taking on the persona of an old woman named Edith, he headed off to see a horse about a man, or woman. Several hours of travels and asking questions and eavesdropping he finds Maxeene, eating happily in her stall. She is resistant at first but then she tells him, after a bribe of an apple and the old woman persistence, about a human man and half orc woman, speaking of hiring spies to root out Xanathar Guild hideouts in the city. From her descriptions of these folk Marvo recognizes the man as Davil Starsong, and the female orc as Yagra Stonefist. (Dirge is gonna be sad.) Going to the Yawning Portal, which is where Yagra is usually found and where Maxeene dropped off the two in question, Marvo finds Mirt at the bar relaying the information. For this job, Marvo receives 1 renown for the Harpers.  

During Marvo's travels the group back at home decide to explore the neighborhood once again, particularly the Book Wyrm's Treasure.  As they traveled toward the end of their street, a dressed as a commoner stands outside a small building, begins speaking angrily at the entire group. "So you're the group who bought my manor." He introduces himself as Emmek Frewn and states that Volo took the building out from under him. (He doesn't openly suggest that he hates the group, but he is hostile and adamant that Trollskull Manor was supposed to be his.) He goes on to accusing the group of taking his property and in a very aggressive manner tells them that they will not be good in their business and they will pay for taking his building. He intends to open his own inn and tavern named Frewn's Brews and although the building is smaller than Trollskull Manor, he fails to realize the goldmine he is sitting on, given he has less work to do to his place. Once he realizes he is outnumbered and his threats have crossed a line, he runs into his home and locks himself in and refuses to open up for the dwarves when they decide they want to scope out the inside of his tavern. After a bit of harassment on the dwarves part, they leave Emmek alone and head to the book store. The owner, the gold dragonborn named Rishaal the Page-Turner, delighted and kind as always greets his neighbors happily. Sylvar reminds him of his promise to search his collection of books, which he produces a large leather bound book, titled: Dragon's Lengends, Lores and Myths. He expresses that the book is old, and his only copy and that he will happily lend it to her, but she must return it and take great care with the book. Delighted she heads deeper into the shop to search for the manor's first book, choosing a gaming book called Dungeons & Dragons. Yossuck also asks about the information he requested of the shop owner and is handed a child's picture book titled: Baphomet: Demon Lord of the Minotaur. Buying the book he gives Rishaal a list of topics he would like information on, Carpentry, stone working and glassblowing.  Rishaal promises to seek out some books for him that he will have handy for him when he returns. For Dirge, he sells him a book titled: A Cleric's Guide to Saving Lives.

As the group heads out of the shop, Azril accosts an old woman as she heads west down the street, although her intentions are good and she is mainly concerned for the safety of her new found group. (I think, or hope that was it.) Unbeknownst to Azril this woman was Edith, Marvo in disguise. Once Edith convinces Azril that she is in fact a harmless old lady, Edith winks at her and mentions meeting again. During dinner back at the manor, which Lif has cleaned and prepared food for all, thanks to Renaer sending a delivery of food and drink for the group for a couple of weeks, Marvo repeats his comment to Azril with a wink. This triggers a mistrust with Azril and she decides while Marvo heads out to "tend to the cats", she is going to investigate his belongings. She enters his room, attempting to be quiet, she finds his room is now a make shift sex dungeon. She heads quickly to his bathroom, and finds the prosthetics and cloak made of the wheat and corn sacks, which confirms her suspicions that Marvo is up to something and Master of Disguises. She quickly leaves his room and heads back to her own. Once Marvo is finished with the cats he returns with 7 men, bringing them to his room and getting them settled, then donning some assless chaps, no shirt, and a Freddy Mercury stage prance, goes room to room to invite his party members to his last minute orgy. Sylvar, Azril, Torgus, Dirge andYossuck all decline as politely as possible, though he expresses his door is "open" should anyone change their minds. Loud porn music plays through the night, and those who are not involved in the sex fest, cope with it how they can.

[natonebutfun]

Session 19: Vigil’s End - The Argent Vigil

During the afternoon the members of the group gradually came back together and met at Trollskull Manor, Theryn and Chester arriving with the trio of puppies that are promptly introduced to the others. Lif especially taking an instant liking to the creatures albeit that they weren’t necessarily very fond of him at the start.

Chester chose to name his female pup Shikari, where Theryn named his Venari. The only white furred mastiff being the only male was named Cullen. The party also drew up contracts for them to continue adventuring together and work the tavern once it opened as a team. And so they finally had a name to call themselves, The Argent Vigil. 

In the next several days the final contracts came in to begin the renovation of their tavern and new residence. While working tirelessly to get their business up and running, the Argent Vigil also continued their personal interests. Theryn purchased a new spell to learn and trained Venari and Cullen with somewhat equal progress. Cullen seeming to take on his lessons more slowly than his sister Venari. Chester on the other hand works alongside Nygarth for Shikari’s training as the barbarian has past experience with the handling of animals.

Meanwhile Passion also makes an effort to learn Wesley the parrot some tricks and mostly suceeds, which is fortunate since Durnan was not pleased at the bird’s noises on the first night. Now he remains silent when ordered, and dances on the tunes of Passion’s music. Thirgrim managed to make a somewhat profitable agreement with the couple from Steam and Steel which allows him to work their forge two days per tenday, if paying a large percentage of his profits for the agreement. Raivyre continued to travel between the tavern and the temple to not neglect the need of many seeking guidance or counsel.

Needing the staff to run the tavern, the Argent Vigil spent several days interviewing likely candidates. Putting each and every one to the test by running the scenario of cleaning, cooking and serving in order to get an idea of the skill of those who had applied. Over the course of three days Theryn, Thirgrim and Chester conducted the interviews while letting Passion, Raivyre and Nygarth take the role of patrons to judge the quality of the food as well as service. With their determined menu at hand the party agreed on six individuals to become part of the tavern’s staff, as well as a half-orc by the name of Murgen who would become security living with them. She had applied to be a cleaner but Theryn saw more potential in the reserved youth and proposed to allow her stay in the manor as bodyguard and security if they were to be away.

Two cooks were hired to provide a variety of choices, Helgret Glanhig the motherly dwarf would mostly be in charge of the lunch and early day meals that are more traditional than the dishes served by Rolen Holimion, the moon elf. His specialty being more challenging recipes. As a cleaner they agreed to hire the elder Randal Wendells due to his many years of experience and his sociable nature. The three servers now in their employ are Caramip Reese an energetic gnome, Salma Samir a former matron of a festhall, and Lykos Weaver a half-elf apprentice wizard which also caught the eye of Theryn due to his potential use outside the tavern. 

With the renovations done and the staff ready, the party was finally ready to launch their business. Inviting the many new faces they met over the past few tendays to attend the grand opening. Many came to see what the new owners had achieved with the well known tavern and the party managed to make a generous amount of profit from their first night. Launching them into a busy few days to get to grip with the new routine and responsibility.

Thirgrim decided to take one of those days to work on some swords at the forge to be put out for sale by Steam and Steel. While Chester, Raivyre and Nygarth made a trip back to Oakhurst, briefly stopping by at the Hucrele House where they learned that Sharwyn and Bradford had become engaged and would be wed during Highharvestide. After encouraging their old friends to visit Waterdeep and their new tavern they set out for the clearing where they had initially fought the wayward Direwolves and tracked down a litter of newborn pups. The Mother was ready to protect her offspring but they quickly rendered her unconcious. Not meaning to leave the other youngs to fend for themselves after they retrieved the small runt and returned to the tavern, now with a pet for Nygarth in tow.

Now all settled, the peace is soon disturbed by a sudden mayhem just outside the door of Vigil’s End, the windows shudder and shatter when the roar of impact is heard. Fire blooms in the street and individuals fall over burned while smoke and ash begins to fill the air.

Bring on chapter THREE

[pagesofkenna]

Direct Mayhem: Dragon Heist, chapter 9

“We’re about to walk into a homeless butcher shop with one of the fanciest ladies in the city - and I’M the crazy one?”

The Open Lord of Waterdeep has just left the residence of our party, leaving the three of them a bit stunned. She wants them to find the Stone of Golorr before Manshoon does, to save the city from whatever havoc he’ll unleash once he has the location of the hidden millions in gold, which the stone keeps.

They’re not quite sure what to do next, but it’s Simril, one of the city’s favorite celebrations, and everyone on Trollskull Alley is decorating. The party decides to decorate too.

Devon heads over to Embric and Avi’s shop to borrow some decorations, and Sadi questions her mentor on the quarterstaff she found mysteriously in her room. While the trio starts setting up lights and tinsel, a young wealthy woman appears behind them with a mischievous twinkle in her eye - it’s Esvele Rosznar, one of Sadi’s friends growing up, and she thought Sadi was dead.

The four all head to Frewn’s Brews to get the full story. It turns out Sadi was born to a wealthy human family in the city, the only Tabaxi in the family. She and Esvele bonded over their dislike of their family, and when Sadi left home to join Syl and his group, Sadi’s old family told everyone she had died. Esvele seems delighted to know that’s not true, but not that surprised. In fact, she seems to know a lot - about the fireball the other day, and the attack at Gralhund mansion, and even the Nimblewright detector the party finds themselves equipped with.

Esvele wants in.

It takes a while, but Esvele finally convinces the party to trust her. She seems to only be interested in the money she’ll get for tracking down the Stone of Golorr, but she’s willing to split that money four ways. She even offers to drive them around the city in her personal carriage, to help them locate the Nimblewright who Lady Gralhund says stole the Stone of Golorr faster.

It doesn’t take that long. After the party fetches what the need from their manor and piles into the carriage - Devon on top with the driver, Sadi and Carlin toasty warm inside with Esvele - they turn the Nimblewright detector on and it goes off immediately. Devon directs the driver and they eventually end up in the Field Ward, the poorest district in the city and Devon’s old home ward.

The nimblewright is sitting stoically by itself in an alley, and instead of answering any of their questions it attacks. Esvele helps take it down with her hand crossbow. Devon doesn’t find the stone on its body, but he does find a map to a nearby butcher shop he’s familiar with. He leads them there, taking them past his old home on the way, which has now been turned into a soup kitchen by the Cassalanter family.

On the way Devon gives Esvele one of his spare robes, telling her to disguise herself a bit. With her rich clothing she stands out way too much. She goes off in a huff to hide behind her carriage while she switches over to the muddy robes, revealing a rapier at her side, as well as fencing gloves and utility boots. She seems more prepared for a fight than they previously realized.

The butcher shop gives everyone bad vibes. Devon says he lets the local homeless sleep in his extra rooms, as long as they help with odd jobs, but that even those who live there are afraid of him. Carlin picks the lock to the main butcher room, but they find nothing, so they head up to the living space. They eventually find the butcher himself, an old red dragonborn named Thrakkus, but he’s gruff and unhelpful, and slams the door in their faces. 

Devon accidentally finds a shortcut downstairs, which gets the attention of some of the squatters. The party eventually learns from them that Thrakkus has sent a shipment out just a few hours ago, down to a meat pie shop in the Trades Ward. They hop back into Esvele’s carriage and head off - this time Devon rides inside.

The snow is picking up outside, looking to be almost a storm now. It also takes about an hour to travel the whole length of the city down to the meat pie shop. But it’s Simril, and as Esvele keeps reminding them, the city never sleeps on SImril.

The driver finds the meat pie shop with little problem, but the party never reaches the front door. On their way, a team of five bugbears crawl out of a nearby sewer and make towards one of the houses on the street. The party manages to fight some of them off, and Sadi investigates what the bugbears seem to be heading towards. All she sees is a trio of well-armed humans, surprised by the attack, before one of them scrambles completely up the wall of the meat pie shop and on to the roof.

Sadi’s hurt, and cornered, and she doesn’t know if these new people plan to help or not.

[renaer-is-allegedly-hot]

a lesson in domesticity: a wdh fic

2832 words, takes place during the downtime

(note: was this an excuse for me to light something on fire without anyone going to prison? pretty much but also I really fucking miss my friends so this is the next best thing other than video calling)

When Adam saw the list pinned on the announcement board, his first reaction was to wonder if there’d been a mistake. It has been his idea to figure out who was doing what, and they’d agreed to rotate duties every so often to lighten the load on each other. Someone got groceries, two others would be on cleaning duty- hey, it was a big house- someone got some time off, and one person would be in charge of making team dinner. Unfortunately, he’d been stuck with the last task, and frankly, he was freaking out. 

Not that he resented team dinner by any means- in fact, it had turned out to be the highlight of his day on multiple occasions. Bard training, though rewarding, exhausted him sometimes, and it was so nice to decompress and spend a little time with the party that he was starting to really consider as friends. Theodora was very kind, Asyna was a really good listener, Celandine had become a fierce type of affectionate, and Aerana had a brand of dry wit that Adam had come to appreciate. The only problem? Adam had zero cooking experience. His family had always had a cook (who’d been promptly replaced when Adam had accidentally gotten the previous one executed) and he’d been discouraged from learning, as he’d been pushed deeper into studying magic. Unfortunately, none of his magic skills knew how to create food, a fact that Adam made a mental note to ask Yava about later. 

Adam ticked off options on his fingers as he pondered, faintly worried about how the hell to make food that was edible and not just buying fruit or something. Attempting to make food on his own… probably a bad idea. He could ask for help? Maybe, but it dawned on him that maybe he should have thought of that earlier- he was alone in the house and the others wouldn’t be back for a while. Asyna was getting groceries for the next few weeks, Aerana had taken her dog out to get in some bonding time, and Adam wasn’t exactly sure what the two halflings were doing. Theo had mentioned something about Cel helping her track someone down, and Adam kind of pitied the poor creature on the receiving end of Cel’s wrath. Nevertheless, he couldn’t call on anyone in the house, save for Jenkins the stuffed alligator who couldn’t exactly help him make food. 

Adam frowned. This was exactly the point in time where he’d hoped to have several friends, but he’d never really been good at that. He’d suspected that the other party members had also had a tough time making friends, but he wasn’t sure if he should be asking that. Besides, he had more friends now than he’d ever had, especially two weeks ago, when he’d been commissioned to rescue Renaer… Renaer! That’s it! Renaer and Floon lived in the next ward over, and it seemed like they both generally had their shit together- at least, more than Adam did. Maybe they could help him? 

Renaer sighed, closing the door of Mirt’s room behind him. This was the fourth time in the last five days that Mirt had knocked himself out from drinking, and Renaer could never understand how that man didn’t get awful hangovers in the morning. Mirt had been asleep for two hours, and Renaer knew that he’d be out for several more. Mirt’s tolerance was insanely good, and Renaer knew Mirt would be fine once he slept it off- he’d been like this more times than Renaer could count over the years, but that didn’t mean Renaer didn’t worry about the guy. 

It wasn’t like Mirt was alone in the house- he’d invited several of his old friends there to party and the house was uncomfortably loud for Renaer’s taste. Durnan, who was still sober, had offered to keep an eye on Mirt, and Renaer was grateful for the way out. He’d asked Floon to stop by, but Floon had mentioned that he wouldn’t be able to until much later. Renaer was debating leaving the house to go do something else, but the townsfolk weren’t particularly fond of him and he didn’t enjoy wandering around without something to get done. He could go to Floon’s, but there was no guarantee that he was home. 

Renaer was left in the living room, trying to think of an excuse to leave, when the doorbell rang. He peered through the spyhole- he’d learned the hard way that it was better not to have the son of the disgraced former open lord blindly answer to the Waterdeep police force for noise complaints. But instead of a team of law enforcement officers, a scrawny Tiefling teenager leaned against the doorframe, and Renaer couldn’t tell if the kid was out of breath or panicking. Renaer opened the door with a bang. “Adam?”

“Oh thank goodness!” Adam still hadn’t gotten his breath back, but he sprinted up to Renaer with worry-filled red eyes. “You gotta help me, man! I’m on dinner duty and I can’t cook and everyone’s out of the house and I don't have that many friends and I don’t wanna mess this up and-” 

“Adam. ADAM! Calm down,” Renaer commanded. Usually he didn’t like raising his voice (and sounding too much like his dad), but it was obvious that Adam was about to lose it. “Deep breaths. Take a big, deep breath, and then tell me what’s going on. Slowly.”

Adam gulped in a breath and complied, spilling his worry about screwing up the dinner and consequently his friends’ resentment. Renaer was pretty sure that Adam’s housemates wouldn’t resent him for that- they might be a little miffed, sure, but even he could see that the other party members did genuinely like Adam behind all the teasing. Still, Renaer knew how it felt to seek approval like that. 

“Do you have any cooking skills?” Adam asked Renaer, eyes still wide and anxious. Renaer frowned. Technically, he did not. He’d never really needed to- he’d always grown up wealthy and around food that was relatively accessible, and Adam had mentioned that he’d had the same background. Still, Renaer wanted to help, and he definitely wanted to get out of this goddamn house for a second. 

“I mean, how hard could it be?”

Asyna still had not returned with the groceries by the time that Adam and Renaer arrived at Trollskull Manor, so dinner options were rather limited. Adam seemed even more panicked at that- apparently he and the rest of his friends tended to wait until the last minute to pick up groceries and Adam looked like he was going to start hyperventilating, so Renaer made him sit down. Adam tried to protest, but Renaer raised an eyebrow and gave him a skeptical stare, prompting Adam to plop on the armchair in the taproom and curl into a little ball. Poor kid. 

To tell the truth, Renaer didn’t have any idea what to do next. The cupboards were pretty much empty, save for a few spices and the odd vegetable here and there. He could wait for the groceries, but Renaer had never been a particularly patient man. After a bit of searching, he realized that one of the pitchers had quite a bit of dried spaghetti in it. It was supposed to be used for decoration purposes, but Renaer assumed that it was still edible and chucked it into a pot. Flicking the stove on, Renaer watched the fire come to life for a few seconds before abandoning the kitchen to check on Adam.

Renaer found Adam still curled up in the armchair, plucking nervously at his strange instrument- was that a lute?- as if he didn’t know what else to do with his fingers. Adam glanced up at Renaer hurriedly, red eyes meeting slate gray. “Sorry for panicking. Um, do you need more help? I can still try to look for something…”

“No, it's fine. I found spaghetti, so it should be okay,” Renaer said. He hesitated before adding, “You don’t have to be so hard on yourself, kiddo.”

Adam raised one dark eyebrow. “Renaer, I’m seventeen.”

“You’re still a minor, then.”

“Wait, how old are you, then?”

“I, uh, just turned twenty-five.”

“Really? No way!” Adam threw his head back and laughed, and Renaer fought back a grin despite himself; Adam’s laugh was infectious even at the worst of times. “Are you serious? The girls and I all thought you were at least, like, in your thirties!  I mean, it’s been up for debate before. Cel is only like a year younger than you, and even she thought you were more than a few years older than her. Hell, Asyna thought you were like, dad-aged.” Renaer couldn’t help but laugh at that. He was no father himself, but Renaer thought that there was something oddly endearing about his misfit group of friends animatedly debating how old he was and if he was closer to their age or their parents’. (Shit, he really was getting old fast.) He was about to chime in again with another snarky comment on Adam’s age when the doorbell rang, prompting a still-laughing Renaer to the front door. 

The peephole showed a flash of ginger hair and gray eyes, and Renaer grinned further at the appearance of one of his favorite people. “Floon! What are you doing here?” Renaer asked. 

“I came to see you,” Floon replied with a smile. “I stopped by Mirt’s house, but you know how Mirt is... he was out cold again and Durnan said that you’d been summoned by Adam the tiefli-”

Floon stopped mid-sentence and Renaer whirled around to see Adam sprinting from the taproom to the kitchen, tail thumping against the walls as he made a quick turn. He stopped, turned back, and ran towards the kitchen again, this time with his instrument in hand. 

“By Adam,” Floon said after a second, gesturing at the direction Adam had run off to. Floon focused on Renaer again after the moment of confusion gave way to curiosity. “Renaer, what exactly are you doing?”

Renaer opened his mouth to respond, but the sound in this throat died as another sound became more prominent: the sound of Adam screaming, followed by the sound of intense instrument strumming and what could only be described as off-key singing/screeching. Renaer met Floon’s eyes for just a moment longer before he realized holy shit the spaghetti, and bolted towards the kitchen with Floon close at his heels. 

The first thing Renaer registered, besides Adam’s commotion, was the smell- something had evidently been burning in a way that it should not have been. What was once dried spaghetti had turned itself into a tiny torch inside of the pot. It had not cooked properly at all, opting instead to burst into a thin column of orange flames and gray smoke. Adam had turned off the stove and was smothering the flames with one hand while attempting to play his instrument with both his other hand and his tail, all while singing “Flame, flame, go away, come again some other day!” like his life depended on it. 

Floon rushed past Renaer to grab another pot and dash to the nearest sink, and Renaer did the same. After a couple of rounds of water to the spaghetti, the fire disappeared completely and the three boys stood in the kitchen in silence for a few minutes, just getting their breath back. 

It was Floon who finally broke the silence after a while, turning to Renaer with an eyebrow raised. “Did you… Renaer, did you put water in the pot?”

Renaer turned to Floon, confused. Adam piped up, “Well, yeah, he did. You both did, right?” Adam motioned to the water that they’d used to put out the fire that had been dumped into the spaghetti pot, and Floon groaned. 

“No, no, Adam, what I mean is, when you were first cooking the spaghetti, did you put it in a pot that already had boiling water in it?”

Adam and Floon both looked Renaer’s way, and something finally clicked in Renaer’s head. “...Is that a thing you’re supposed to do?” Renaer asked, already knowing what the answer would be. Water in the pot would have made a lot more sense, in hindsight. 

Floon sat down hard and smacked a palm to his forehead, muttering in disbelief. “Renaer, yes, you’re supposed to put water in the pot. Are you- I can’t even believe- why the f-”

Renaer couldn’t help suddenly bursting out laughing- at himself, at Floon’s disbelieving expression, at the slow grin on Adam’s face, at the ridiculous fact that he’d been alive for twenty-five fucking years and had no clue how to make pasta. The way Renaer saw it, it was either laugh about it or have a crisis about it and god, there were plenty of other things to have a crisis about. Adam joined in, and soon the laughter escalated into Renaer and Adam ending up on the floor barely able to breathe as Floon put his head on the table and regretted all of his life choices.

That was how the girls found them a while later, the four of them coming in within a few minutes of each other. It was Aerana who noticed the state of the kitchen first, Asyna following closely at her heels. Aerana’s powdered nose scrunched up at the smell of smoke as Celandine and Theodora walked in, and Asyna asked, “Um, was something burning in here?” 

Floon just looked at the newcomers in tired defeat and glanced at Renaer and Adam, then returned his gaze to the floor. Aerana’s bear dog, Groot, nosed her way over to Renaer and Adam, taking a particular interest in how the insides of their ears smelled. Renaer scratched the top of her head, and Groot wagged her hindquarters with such enthusiasm that her tail hit Adam in the face. 

Renaer sighed. “It’s… Guys, I’m so sorry. It's a long story, but I messed up. Turns out, I don’t actually know how to make food.” 

The girls stared at him in curiosity before Asyna burst out, “Hey, you know, maybe tonight’s just not a cooking sort of night. We could go out for dinner? All of us in the gang, and just not stress out over whatever happened?” She glanced at the others, a kind smile behind her soft hazel eyes. Theo perked up and grinned at Cel, and even Aerana looked thoughtful at the prospect of dinner out with friends.

Renaer hesitated before getting up, stepping past the party and over to where Floon was busy petting Groot. “Um, again, I’m really sorry- I can leave if-”

Cel raised an eyebrow at him. “Buddy, you’re invited to get dinner with us. You and Floon both. I mean, you don’t have to come if you want, but like…” She trailed off, seeming unsure of the right thing to say. “We’re not mad or anything. We still want to spend time with you guys.”

Floon blinked. “Wait, really?”

“Yes, really.” Aerana huffed, humor in her dry tone. “What else are friends for?” She made her way over next to Floon and they sat by each other for a while, just scratching behind Groot’s ears. The bear dog whined like a baby to beg for more attention, and cuddled her way even closer into Aerana and Floon’s laps. Renaer wasn’t usually one to dote on a dog, but Groot’s brown puppy eyes were the sweetest thing he’d ever seen. 

“Maybe the Yawning Portal?” Theo asked, as chipper as ever. “Their food is pretty good- and hey, Volo might be there! We could tell him about all our adventures, and he’d probably really like to meet Groot?”

“Dude, the Yawning Portal?” Adam immediately lit up. “The pork loin over there is so freaking good. I’m in.” 

Asyna laughed and looped her arm around his, promising that she’d help him make pork loin at some point. Aerana stood up and pulled on her hood, Groot and Floon trailing close behind her. When Aerana’s back was turned, Theo and Cel shared a mischievous grin and then Theo hopped onto Groot’s back like she was riding a horse and they bounded out the door. Cel turned to Renaer, the glint of trouble and fire in her expression bringing out the bright green in her eyes. “Hey, buddy, are you coming with us?” She held out one freckled hand to him in invitation as the others glanced in his direction.

Renaer stared at the whole squad, then her hand for half a second before a heaviness in his chest suddenly disappeared, leaving him lighter than he’d been in a long time. “There’s no where else I’d rather be.”  Renaer took Cel’s hand and let her pull him towards the door towards all of his friends, towards a future where as long as they had the group, they’d be okay after all.

[brodingles]

Out of context Waterdeep