#aramil amakiir

[kaiotisk]

au: dragonborn adventurer meets strange fish man that won’t stop flirting

[eldritchblaast]

Amber Temple

I felt like writing something about my D&D character, Saoirse, and how she felt watching the two people she cared about die within an hour of each other. 

There wasn’t much Saoirse could do but stare as the one person she’d considered the closest thing to a friend in this gods forsaken plane ripped the throat out of one of his followers, before drinking his blood. She’d had her suspicions about him; that The Doctor - Morgan - wasn’t all he seemed to be. But to see it like this; to see him attempt to transform into the full-blooded vampire he’d always wished he could be…

It was nothing less than horrifying. She’d already seen her brother die again and again and again, each time being brought back to life by their self-proclaimed Doctor, that she was more or less desensitised to the entire ordeal. She felt nothing. Less than nothing, as her brother was blown up before her eyes. Again and again and again.

Yet this was different. Not once during their entire time in Strahd’s domain had the Doctor fallen. Not once.

And to see him murder someone who cared about him without a second thought and then run off to seek his own violent death at the hands of Rahadin was something she’d never considered a possibility. With her brother dead for the fourth time with no resurrection in sight, and her only friend, his mouth covered in the blood of one of his cultists, being impaled on the greatsword of a madman, Saoirse felt something inside of her give way.

There was nothing left for her in Barovia now. Their original quarry, the werewolves, were dealt with. Strahd was long-dead by their hands. Her brother was killed by a well-aimed fireball; parts of him spread all over the room. And now, Morgan, their impatient and conniving Doctor, was dead by the hands of a man who hated him; destined to rise again as a full-blooded vampire lord. Just like his father.

Saoirse raised her shortsword, its black poison dripping off the tip in viscous globs. The only thing left for her was revenge; against the wizard who killed her brother; against Rahadin, the madman in front of her, holding her friend’s body aloft on his greatsword, and the last remaining tie to Strahd; and every other person in Barovia who’d wronged her. And she would make them pay. A thousand times over for what they’d done. No one would survive.

[themutehalfelf]

Elves are considered children until they declare themselves adults, some time after the hundredth birthday, and before this period they are called by child names.

On declaring adulthood, an elf selects an adult name, although those who knew him or her as a youngster might continue to use the child name. Each elf’s adult name is a unique creation, though it might reflect the names of respected individuals or other family members. Little distinction exists between male names and female names; the groupings here reflect only general tendencies. In addition, every elf bears a family name, typically a combination of other Elvish words. Some elves traveling among humans translate their family names into Common, but others retain the Elvish version.

Child Names: Ara, Bryn, Del, Eryn, Faen, Innil, Lael, Mella, Naill, Naeris, Phann, Rael, Rinn, Sai, Syllin, Thia, Vall

Male Adult Names: Adran, Aelar, Aramil, Arannis, Aust, Beiro, Berrian, Carric, Enialis, Erdan, Erevan, Galinndan, Hadarai, Heian, Himo, Immeral, Ivellios, Laucian, Mindartis, Paelias, Peren, Quarion, Riardon, Rolen, Soveliss, Thamior, Tharivol, Theren, Varis

Female Adult Names: Adrie, Althaea, Anastrianna, Andraste, Antinua, Bethrynna, Birel, Caelynn, Drusilia, Enna, Felosial, Ielenia, Jelenneth, Keyleth, Leshanna, Lia, Meriele, Mialee, Naivara, Quelenna, Quillathe, Sariel, Shanairra, Shava, Silaqui, Theirastra, Thia, Vadania, Valanthe, Xanaphia

Family Names (Common Translations): Amakiir (Gemflower), Amastacia (Starflower), Galanodel (Moonwhisper), Holimion (Diamonddew), Ilphelkiir (Gemblossom), Liadon (Silverfrond), Meliamne (Oakenheel), Naïlo (Nightbreeze), Siannodel (Moonbrook), Xiloscient (Goldpetal)

- MinMin

[kaiotisk]

my perfect boy aramil and his good boy blu!!

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fun fact: aramil and heskan started out as npcs in a oneshot where heskan was a dragonborn shopkeep and aramil was a drow city guard and they were secretly dating

[kaiotisk]

i think fantasy aging is so interesting to think about...

this would be aramil's kid with wren who is 3/4 elf and ages really slowly and his (adopted) dragonborn kid with heskan who ages super fast

anyways had to get these babies out of my head and they are here now and i love them

[kaiotisk]

i may be feeling like shit but at least i'm managing to get some drawing done for the first time in months

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oh to be a wood elf and a dragonborn in love

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i got the friends-to-lovers romance of my dreams w these two

(yes they’re an elf and a dragonborn ((yes they can smooch))

[kaiotisk]

pov: your boyfriend introduces you to all the animals he has adopted

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don’t forget to give ur dragonborn bf forehead kisses for comfort

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first meeting (aramil and heskan)

The first time Aramil saw him was when he accompanied his mother to Ifhlond along with her Scaleback Trading Company. He’d seen the bronze dragonborn woman before, she seemed to be determined to reinforce the newly established trade between the wood elves and her town of Brunswick. Sufaeth Stormscales laughed and spoke loudly in a way not many people in Ifhlond did, yet Aramil found himself instantly fascinated with her. The child she brought with her was small and appeared timid at first, keeping close to his mother's side yet eyeing everything around him with large, turquoise eyes the color of oxidized bronze.

Aramil was sharpening arrowheads on a whetstone nearby to where the newly arrived visitors had set up camp by the edge of town. He always tried to be around when the wagons came into Ifhlond, eternally excited by the prospect of something new and different.

He noticed instantly when soft footsteps came up to him from behind, but he decided not to show it. The dragonborn child padded closer after a moment and crouched down, looking curiously at what Aramil was working on.

The boy was maybe 8 years old? He had heard that dragonborn grew quickly and the kid's limbs already looked too long for his small frame. After a few moments the child spoke.

"I thought wood elves just ate like.. plants and flowers and stuff."

Aramil had to hold back a laugh. "Who says we don't?"

"Those arrows are for hunting though." The boy pointed out confidently.

"Maybe we just don't hunt animals."

The dragonborn wrinkled his snout and gave Aramil a suspicious look. "You mean you hunt people?"

This time Aramil did laugh. "Sometimes, if they are being a threat to my people."

"So you're a soldier? Or a guard but like, with a bow?"

"I suppose. We're usually called rangers around these parts."

"I'm gonna be a soldier one day. I'll be big and strong and have a big sword so I can protect people too." He couldn't help but smile at the look of determination on the kid's face.

"Alright Little Soldier, you got a name?"

He instantly pushed his chest out, looking proud as he declared: "Heskan, Heskan Stormscales."

"I'm Aramil Amakiir, nice to meet you." Heskan nodded in agreement and quietly went back to watching Aramil and he worked the arrowheads to sharp points.

He met Heskan a few more times after that in the following years. The boy was easy to get along with, he started to follow Aramil around Ifhlond, absorbing any information he could like a sponge. Somehow they became quick friends.

Aramil found he didn't much mind having him around, generally he wasn't the biggest fan of children, but Heskan knew when it was time to be quiet and work and sometimes acted way too seriously for his age. The fastest way to break through his tough exterior though was when Aramil teasingly called him Little Soldier which would immediately be met with a "I'm not little!" or a "Just you wait, my mom says I'm gonna be 8 feet tall like my dad was!".

When winter came in the third year and the trade slowed to a halt, the residents of Brunswick all returned to their town. Aramil did not see any of the Stormscales again for many seasons and the next spring there were other traders coming in as envoys for the Scaleback Company, saying Sufaeth had work elsewhere.

[kaiotisk]

the letter

from Aramil Amakiir to Heskan Stormscales

“Heskan, my dearest friend.

At first I would like to apologize for any misspelling or if what I am writing makes little sense. I might not be in the clearest state of mind in this moment but if I were sober this letter would never be finished. I know, I have tried to write it countless times.

I am in Azeark, (remember the spiced wine you brought me after one of your trips here? We finished it all in one night and woke up on Nana Corhym’s roof... anyways) one could imagine a city like this is the place for new beginnings. But I am afraid there is something I hold inside that grows heavier by the day. 

There is something that I need to tell you, and I know I am a coward, but you mean so much to me. I never wanted to ruin our friendship but my heart will not allow me to go on any longer. I have feelings for you, Heskan. Romantic ones. And I have for a long time.

I have spent years imagining all of the ways you would reject my feelings, and how it was an impossibly terrible idea for me to feel this way. I have spent many nights trying to get over you, thinking that this, us, could never be. But I have had little success.

‘A hopeless romantic’ I believe you have called me many times, and I can’t deny the truth in that statement. But I am also a coward. I run from the things that are hard while trying to claim that I am a hero. And I have been running from you for a long time. But it is time for me to inhale a deep breath and take the leap, like when the winter ice has only just melted from the lake in the clearing, the one by the waterfalls, and let the icy cold fear surround me completely.

Because Heskan, I love you.

And I want you. And I miss you. More than anyone. And even though my soul aches, and all of the contemplating of what your answer may be weighs so heavy on my shoulders. I cannot move forwards without hearing your reply, and I will accept it, whatever it may be. But I have spent too long in my head, being a coward, and I need to let myself be free.

Yours always, Aramil.

PS. I know the golden band may not be tailored to your tastes, but I feel better knowing that it is with you, wherever you are.

PPS. Of course you could always sell it or something but honestly, that would be a most cruel form of rejection in my opinion.

PPPS. Just - keep it with you? You don’t have to wear it.

PPPPS. We are staying at The Laughing Bell, if you feel like sending a letter in response.. or ignore this if not.. Okay, yes, um,  - bye”