#avernus was never my home. it was my prison. i'm free now & i'm never going back. — [ v: act i. ]

[avernusfuries]

"I'm just glad that armour isn't melting off; couldn't imagine having to be on fire *and* butt-nekkid the whole time." (Hello. Have ice breaker starter.)

"I don't think the world would be ready for such a sight." The infamous, or, largely unknown, Karlach Cliffgate! A fiery barbarian who fought not only with the ferociousness of hellfire, but entirely in the nude. It might work as a pleasant distraction, best case, but there is only so much pain that the fierceness of her rage could truly dampen. The leather, crafted in the hells specifically to withstand the heat of her skin, did its job wonderfully. Well enough that the hilt of her axe has been meticulously wrapped in it. Fire damage is all well and good, but heated metal proves brittle, yet effective, if it lasts the entirety of battle. The tiefling's grin is toothy, and she holds out her arms as if to give herself a glance over. "Got to give 'em a chance, eh, soldier?"

[avernusfuries]

For a small breath of time, setting up camp felt almost excitingly normal. She could remember a time when her father had taken his little hellion camping, and she had complained very, very bitterly about how long it took. Two sets of hands were only as useful as the willingness for one pair to comply without complaint. Pluck had been ever patient with her, and had, eventually, told her to go find sticks for the campfire.

In what felt like no time at all, their lodgings were set up. Ashen's had more things to it and it had inspired the tiefling to decorate her own with plenty of things they had scrounged up that day. Hard to add a bit of personality when almost everything they had come across had been pathetically flammable.

Clive took his place, pride and joy, at the mouth of her tarp and stick contraption. Suited her just fine, really, as she quite like the fact that she would be seeing stars for the first time in over a decade.

The thought was both thrilling and exciting, and as they moved to the growing campfire, her eyes were cast upwards.

"Yeah? Reckon all you can really do is shoulder it and get on with it," she said with a grunt, as she moved to park her backside on the opposite side of the campfire. The meat sizzled almost immediately, and a keen nose caught the smell of cooking meat. Karlach felt her mouth water. "Don't think it's one of those things you can really get over. I just shove the bad feelings to the back of my head for future me to figure out."

Ashen, it turned out, was quite a great ally to have when it came to making camp. He had done this his whole military life, and it showed in how quickly the tents were set up, and campfire lit with flint (an amusing thought, given he would have more easily used a spell - but old habits died hard).

He was less talkative then, focused on his work, but also on observing Karlach. She was... completely different to what he had been used to so far, or even expected from someone like her. She was overjoyed to be free, that was understandable, but she seemed untouched by the horrible sights of war. Did she hate Zariel's devils enough that she felt no remorse for their death in battle? Was she good at hiding her emotions? Was this an incredible feat of resilience?

They had lived through the same things, and yet Ashen felt their experiences could not be further apart.

"You have a strong presence," the soldier finally commented. "Such unbridled enthusiasm. I escaped Avernus a few years ago, but I felt I would never recover from it. I did not... not yet."

A small sigh escaped his lips, before he opened his supplies to take out enough food for two, throwing vegetables and small pieces of meat over the fire. He had not asked for help from Karlach, sometimes forgetting he was not on his own anymore.

[mirrorhouse]

Avernus was never my home. It was my prison. I'm free now. And I'm NEVER GOING BACK.

[avernusfuries]

@lolthswcrn asked: He moves a tiiiiny but closer to Karlach because it's cold and he's not used to nights on the surface. But he doesn't say anything, and looks away in hopes that she didn't pick up on it.

She missed the cold. Karlach understood that the others felt it when the campfire had long-since dimmed, and one by one, they all shuffled off to the comforts of their makeshift beds and blankets. The tiefling struggled to sleep, sometimes. She'd heard the phrase silence is deafening more than a handful of times over her thirty-three years of life, but until she'd landed back onto the Sword Coast, she hadn't quite understood it. It was easy enough to fill the quiet with incessant chatter, much to the annoyance of their resident vampire spawn at times, but that was difficult to do when there was no one who would respond.

While she did not miss The Blood War, getting used to the quiet was going to take a moment. It would be a few hours before she went to sleep, and Sornin was the same. They had sat more than a few evenings in comfortable quiet, sometimes there would be chatter, other times... Nothing.

Tonight was a quiet evening. He tried to hide the fact that he had scooted closer to her over the span of fifteen minutes, but she had learned hypervigilance over the past decade and noticed it right away. Karlach would say nothing that drew attention to him shifting closer, but smiled to herself and leant slightly closer.

[avernusfuries]

@ode-of-odr:

"I understand that on some level. Because you don't even mean it like loving a toxic lover who belittles you. But your dreams hurt because you can't have them. And it's like thorns growing in your lungs when you think about them. You love them though; those dreams. Hold them close even if they are killing you too."

"Hopes and dreams are about the only thing that kept me going." The chance that she would get to live once she'd made a break for it, infernal engine be damned. That she would have friends she could trust not to stab her in the back the second things went sour. "Feels a little weird to want to err on the side of caution, and I'm trying not to. One foot in front of the other or whatever. Think about tomorrow, not next tenday."

[avernusfuries]

"I don't know," said Karlach with a toothy grin. "The stew he made us last night was preeettty tasty." Leagues better than anything in Avernus, with the exception of the stew in the Infernal Rapture. Though the hells were not known for their delicious cuisine, Mahadi had done wonders with roasted Wereboar, if one were to forget that they were two-legged walkers when they were caught. Desperate times and all that nonsense.

A hand lifted, almost as if to give Gale a fond clap on the shoulder before her hand balled into a fist a fell to her side. No touchy, she forgot briefly. Just as well she had managed to catch herself long before she ever touched him. For a long moment, she felt a small ache in her chest, heavy and horrible. Maybe, with a little luck and a scoopful of hope, she would be able to in the not so distant future.

That quickly shoved aside the icky feeling for something closer to excitement. The tiefling's eye wandered to their leader now and as Rakatak nodded, Karlach was quick to mimic the gesture. Approval, also.

"Maybe sell some of our wares, too. Reckon we'll get a pretty penny for what we've gathered. Well, once we've weighed up what might be useful, see about feeding Gale a trinket or two so he stops swaying on his feet."

The tiefling turned her eye to the wizard who was, by literal definition, a little green around the gills. Poor fucker.

"Alright soldier, by your lead."

"Did he now."

Whatever happened to her before, it's over now. As Rakatak strides out through the same doors she barrelled into not even an hour previously, she's back to the poised, slightly condescending bearing she always has. One hand is clasped behind her back, the other is gripping the Tooth. Slow, even steps towards the impressively-sized cooking fire, blood splashing against the soles of her boots.

She glances to the meat. Then to the wizard, still looking a bit like he regrets having had lunch that day. The corner of her mouth quirks. "Be kind to him, Karlach. I would imagine his only interaction with open-cooked food has been whatever he charbroiled with his magic before meeting us. How would he know to recognize..."

Her eyes trail to what is, almost certainly, a humanoid leg - with the foot removed, granted, but the shape is rather unmistakable. "Well. You know." The hobgoblin straightens up and brushes her cape away as she turns from the fire, looking to the others.

"Well. Our venture here is concluded. I trust that my instructions have been followed, and everything worth taking from this place is now in our possession. We will find a less bloodied and hopefully less dirty part of this fort to rest in, and once we have recovered from our respective exertions, we will return to the grove to receive our... spoils."

With the sun coming close to the horizon and smoke still rising into the sky from the various open fires around the temple, the paladin briefly meets Karlach's gaze. A moment passes, then she smiles. Nods her head. Approves.

[avernusfuries]

If there was one thing Karlach had learned about @weaverots, it was that he was a fast reader. Though the evenings were usually filled with chatter and other forms of merriment, tonight, they were the last two awake. Karlach had sat cross-legged beside Gale as he poured over a tome, and she'd sneakily been reading over his shoulder. She was halfway through the left page when his hand raised, as if to turn the page. "Gale, if you even think about changing page again, I'm going to eat your book."

[avernusfuries]

@sanguisarcana, continued from here.

Like any and all uninvited guests, Karlach had taken to poking her head through the flap of his tent. She had gotten good at not accidentally setting it ablaze as she had with her own, and they never did get around to replacing the lost coverings. That suited her just fine. The others slept — or meditated — in the comforts of their own lodgings, yet she always knew that with a certainty that he would be awake.

She needed very little, as far as rest went. The Blood War had made Karlach a light sleeper, and something as small as the tiredly excited yips of the camp's hound could push her from snooze to wakefulness in a fraction of a second. She had wondered, idly, if the future possibility of a soft bed might help. Maybe when they reached the city.

"Oh, you know. Fascinated endlessly by the vampire of the group, bored out of my mind waiting for everyone else to wake up, torn apart by nightmares and sleep visitors. Take your pick."

Karlach had a knack for telling when something was bothering him, even if he was sealed shut like an age-old tomb, unwilling to spill his secrets. She knew better than to pressed. Learned that the hard way with Shadowheart when the curiosity had gotten the better of her. Astarion was not quite as prickly, but she had yet to infringe on the social boundaries that he had set, and she had decided that, like a feral cat, he would need to come to her in her own time.

That was fine. She could be patient when she needed to.

Astartion offered her his hand, and for a moment, she looked at it. Almost reached for it, too, out of habit. No offense intended, none taken. She knew that.

"Makes one of us," she said with a smile that was almost coy. Same way the infatuated and adoring sometimes master the habits of lovers. Not quite as pretty as his, she noted mentally. "You gonna leave me here on my hands and knees like the floaty-headed nightmares of childhood, or do you wanna come out and have a little chat? Keep little old me company for a spell?"

[avernusfuries]

@stellanimarum asked: "I thought you might like some company."

Karlach Cliffgate had not been this happy in years. Ten years, to be exact. Though the quietness of the wilds would take some getting used to, the fact that she could hear herself think at all was a gift unto itself. She'd always imagined what the first thing she would do the second she'd snatched her freedom. Step one: get under someone. Step two: eat enough food that she felt fit to burst. Step three: go and achieve the life she'd been dreaming about. Wife. Husband. Maybe a cat, since the city had put a ban on dogs.

One thing she hadn't factored in, however, was the new temperament of the fucking engine. While it had worked perfectly for what it was needed for in the hells, it did not agree with the storm coast, and the tiefling wasn't entirely sure what to do with this newfound predicament. Dammon was an angel, and had almost melted his ear off when he'd leant in for a listen. He'd spewed some technical stuff that had flown over her head, but it had sounded right and that was all that mattered.

They camped near water. Made perfect sense to, when there was a camp full of people who would not only need fed, but bathed and watered. Karlach had waited for the rest of them to go to bed before she'd made her way there, and watched as the dog, Scratch, snuffled around in the dirt by the bank. The barbarian herself had settled with skipping stones. Just like Pluck had taught her when she was tiny. Think of every little stone as a bad or sad thought, and throw those away with the pebbles. It had sounded like complete nonsense when she'd been knee-high, but now that she had actually water, there was a comforting plop plop plop as they skipped across the still running water and sank, never to be seen again.

Her father had been onto something with that.

Karlach heard her come long before she spoke, and she paused right before she skipped another stone. Her head half turned and she greeted Callonetta with a bright and easy smile. "Soldier." Curt and to the point, the tiefling turned back to the water, and cast that pebble back into the dirt for another throw later. There was a part of her that wondered how she'd noticed she'd stolen off, until logical thought reminded her that she was a mortal torch, and the darkness was broken by the glow of her. Not bright enough to illuminate the entirety of the river, but enough to be noticed.

Hadn't worked like that in Avernus, because almost everything was made of fire, brimstone, all that bollocks.

"Can't sleep either? Got a few choice stones here, ripe for skipping if you wanna join in."

[avernusfuries]

The press of little paw pads and the affectionate sting of needly claws was a pleasant one. While her attention had, largely, been on how other people might touch her, she forgot about the pure, unbridled elation that came with being an animal companions attentions. Frumpkin was nor ordinary feline, but that was very, very easy to forget when he settled on her like this. Karlach's attention was briefly diverted to the cat, where a large hand stroked from the back of his head and dragged downwards to the length of his tail.

Adorable. Whoops, attention.

"Heard from a lot of folks that school was an unpleasant time for them. Either the teachers, the learning material or the bullies is what killed their thirst for knowledge." Not that Karlach knew what the thirst for knowledge felt like. She'd been sent, sulking, to the temple in the city to be taught to read and write. Something about giving her a chance in the world, and a job that wouldn't kill her to do. Caerlack would be turning in her grave, knowing what had happened to her.

Just as quickly as the subject was touched upon, it moved. Karlach perked up at the notion of being taught a little magic, and her eye wandered towards Frumpkin. There was a long beat of silence, where she stroked him again, and pointed her chin towards the little cat.

"Taskmaster away, mate," Karlach said with a grin. "Is... I mean, if it's not too complicated, how about you teach me how to summon a fuzzy little critter myself? Or should we start smaller?"

Caleb's gaze drifted over to Karlach, a mix of vulnerability and apprehension flickering across his features. The offer to talk about his struggles was a kind one, but the wizard found himself hesitating, unsure of how much he wanted to divulge. His past was a tangled web of pain and regret, a burden he carried with him every day.

"Ach, it's nothing really," Caleb attempted to deflect with a wave of his hand, but his voice lacked conviction. He cleared his throat, focusing his attention back on Frumpkin who was now kneading his paws against Karlach's leg, purring contentedly. "Just some unpleasant memories from my time at the academy. It was a… difficult period in my life."

The wizard fell silent for a moment, his mind drifting back to those dark days. The relentless training, the pressure to excel, the slow erosion of his moral compass under Trent Ikithon's manipulative guidance. It all felt like a lifetime ago, yet the scars—both physical and emotional—remained.

Caleb shook his head, as if trying to physically dislodge the memories. He forced a small smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "But that is in the past now and things have changed since then." His gaze met Karlach's, a flicker of warmth and gratitude in his blue eyes. "And I have good friends like you to thank for that."

The wizard reached out, gently patting Karlach's hand in a rare display of physical affection. It was a small gesture, but one that carried the weight of his appreciation for her presence in his life.

"Now," Caleb said, his tone lightening as he attempted to steer the conversation back to more pleasant topics, "about those magic lessons. When would you like to start? I warn you, I can be a bit of a taskmaster when it comes to studying the arcane arts."

[avernusfuries]

@ofcrossrcads asked:  “We shouldn’t be fighting each other. We have enough enemies as it is.” 

If there was one thing Karlach knew of devils, it was that not a single fucking one of them could be trusted. Not the ones with the friendly smiles, nor the so-called tempting offers with small print attached. Avernus had quickly beat whatever trust she'd had in anyone that shared the same space of hell that she did. The exception to that had been Floretta, but as with most friendships forged in the fires of The Blood War, that had not been symbiotic at all. Karlach had found herself with a considerable number of soul coins at her disposal thanks to her, but it had not been without condition. Nothing ever was with these devils.

Had her mother not shook out the habit of spitting, she might've. Right at her feet. The tieflings expression twisted into something closer to a sneer, nose wrinkled and teeth bared.

"You're right, I'm looking at one of them right now. Full offense, I think it's better for both you and me if I say on one side of the camp, and you on the other. Maybe when Mizora shows her ugly mug, the two of you can sit and gossip with one another, instead."

[avernusfuries]

@sanguisarcana, continued from here.

Much like the bad ideas of a long passed youth, Karlach donned an expression of innocence. One so blatantly obvious, really, that behind the almost sheepish smile lay an undertone of guilt. 

In truth, she had hoped that he would miss the fact that, if she could have sweated, she would have been.

“You are so welcome.” 

It was a little too bright, and certainly a touch too happy. Underneath that, there came the immediate relief, however short lived as it decided to be. Astarion had a way of looking right through the shoddy facade, and right into the heart of her.

Especially now, as he fixed her with a look that felt as though it sank right into her mind with curious fingers determined to pick apart her secret.

As a child who had been caught lying about a  hand still currently caught in a sweet jar, Karlach stood a little too tall, a little to proud.“Found it. Why, what do you think I did? Drink it? Nu uh, that is too far.”

[avernusfuries]

@crookedredemption asked: "i wouldn't mind getting second degree burns from you."

Karlach let out a small huff of laughter, jaw jutting almost playfully. "Careful, soldier, when the time comes I may hold you to that."

[avernusfuries]

"What's the difference between a jelly and a jam? You can't jelly a clown into a tiny carriage." It is about as awful as bad jokes can get, but that does not stop her grinning widely at it. It is the first time in ten whole years that she has someone to share them with. No more chuckling quietly in the confines of her tent, but with someone who would, ultimately either groan or laugh with her. What bliss.

STARTER CALL. NOT ACCEPTING. @doighnadair.

[avernusfuries]

endless karlach edits. 1 / ∞. non mutuals dni.

[avernusfuries]

She'd never understood the notion of time stopping still until she had been handed over to Zariel as though she were something to be bought. Everything else in her life past that point had sped up to the point where she hadn't known whether she was coming or going. Karlach had decided on going, so she'd learned how to be fast.

This was the second time in her life that she felt time stand still. Her mind raced through all of the possibilities of her escape, and though the cliff was not something that could easily scaled... Fuck, she was cornered like a rapid wolf, snarling at the point of the nocked arrow of a hunter.

No escape. Time to face the Blade of fucking Frontiers head on. With a deep, composure regaining inhale, Karlach straightened and a steady gaze held Wyll's. Well, she'd never been known to be a coward. Selfishly ploughing her way through a battle field, fuelled on the souls in the coins, doing whatever it was she needed to do to survive.

"Not quite," Karlach said, tightly. She finally, and against her better judgement, turned her attention to the druid. Now she really took him in. Fuck, that's a huge elf. She hoped to the Gods she stubbornly refused to admit existed that he did not take the side of Wyll, for then she would be honestly and truly fucked beyond all recognition.

Wyll spoke again, and Karlach let out a frustrated groan, not entirely unlike that of a teenager being sent off to bed without her supper. An under reaction, if anything.

"For fuck's sake, you've seen it with your own eyes! I wasn't a willing participant, I was a conscript. Look me in the eyes and tell me you wouldn't have done what I've done to survive."

It was a selfish argument, but heartfelt enough. There was a small beat of silence that hung between them, heavy and uncomfortable in the way that a probably death sentence would always be. Until the druid spoke.

Quickly, Karlach felt relief flood through her, warm enough that it chase away the ice of the desperate panic that had settled in the pit of her stomach. It would not be two against one (not in her favour, at least). She couldn't remember the last time she'd truly had someone in her corner, if only temporarily.

The tiefling almost jolted when the bandage snaked around her arm, and she shot Halsin a look that was grateful.

"Look," Karlach continued. "There's little point in fighting each other when we have bigger fish to fry. You've got something in your head. I have something in mine, I think that's gonna take priority over whatever the fuck the Blood War did to make enemies of you and me. See sense, would you?"

She took a moment to admire Halsin's handiwork and shot him a grateful smile. Or what could pass as a smile and easily be read as a grimace. "Thanks."

As a mediator, it was in his best interests to keep things civil. Though, with tensions rising like the afternoon sun it was clear that there may be some intervention needed.

Speaking out to cut through the hostility was Halsin's first input before the two individuals collectively recoiled at something the druid could not sense. A psychic connection perhaps? He certainly did not share their sudden pangs of pain. His hand gently twitched with a soft, verdant glow, readying a simple restoration should this harm grow too great.

"It seems as though you two share a greater bond than you expected." He observed. If this malady had something to do with the sudden infestation of goblins at the nearby selunite temple, then the situation might have gotten far worse than he expected.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the bank the Blade of the Frontiers was unwilfully subjected to horrid, intense visions of the greater hells. False truths? Surely. Each hacked skull made by the tiefling woman before him through each painful, passing vision showed her defiance to her captors.

The shared feelings. The vitriolic rage to be freed from enslavement. These did not fit the villainous picture painted by his contractor. Hells, these painted a poor soul being used as a tool for the greater evil if anything.

One could never take these visions as truth. Perhaps it was a trick! All devils were mischievous - even their pawns. That must be so...

...and yet, the feelings that surged through every fibre of his being sought for a wisp of sympathy. Fake or not. It was a convincing psychic attack.

"Creatures from the hells should not be given a scrap of forgiveness.. I - I know you've slaughtered innocents. You've raised your sword as a soldier in Zariel's army!"

"How can I accept these vision? How can I trust a devil?" Wyll groaned out, his eyes fierce with unkempt determination.

Halsin's eye sights switched towards the crumbling male. His rapier was poised, faltering even with his words being spat out. With his arms stretched, he fanned down the confrontation, hoping to lower the noise as his own senses felt a horrid presence fermenting in the near distance.

"My friend. Wyll, was it? What you see here is no devil. No wings bear her back. No malice is present in her eyes. She bears no intention other than fleeing for her own safety!" Halsin reasoned, mediating their little spat.

Reaching out, the druid unwrapped a set of linen to aid the tiefling's own injuries, patching what could be covered. The stench of iron was dizzying and would surely attract patrolling predators.

What kind, one might ask? Perhaps the newly born gnolls that were grotesquely hatched at the nearby broken bridge, crawling out of their mother's bodies to sniff the putrid air for their first meal, a trio that was unaware of the dangers spawned before them.