#bazzoxan

[ludinusdaleth]

on todays cr bear agenda but also genuine headcanons. we know that elves can be hairy & fat in a few instances in exandria. so my idea is:

uthodurnian elves are known far and wide for being hairy like their dwarven neighbors but also as stocky as them too. even those without any dwarf blood in them tend to eat a lot more, especially carbs, and ignore the poshness that just doesnt work in uthodurn. it's not unheard of for elves to be deeply, bara-like muscular & fat there. king imathan, grace of molaesmyr, among them, with a bit of scruff and a body that will never know the trial of running from home again.

while they arent as known for it, drow of the kryn dynasty just dont care what other elven cultures may think about them, and jewelry is braided through their beards, and the most handsome & beautiful of their houses are often seen with soft frames. almost any elf with testosterone stationed out in areas like bazzoxan or asarius is lumberjack-like in fur growth, often encouraged & peer pressured & celebrated for it all at once by beastfolk friends.

in general elves are becoming less conservative about their appearances in exandria these days, syngorn holding onto a hairless thin ideal the most but still beginning to break down - in large part due to globalization but also artagans lodge and the feygrove. young elves find a sort of rebellion in learning about the fae, who snicker at how uptight syngornian elves are - they value being so close to fae in heritage and yet every fae looks utterly unique! the feygrove encourages indulgence and self love and more and more syngorn elves find themselves with a belly and attempts to grow facial & body hair whenever possible even admist harsh glares.

[floatysparrowthing]

The Savior of the Damned

Relationships: Verin Thelyss/Original Demon Character, Verin Thelyss & Essek Thelyss, Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast

Rating: Mature

Chapter 1/?

This is technically CR fanfic but is truly an off-shoot of my Netherdeep campaign. Please take a chance on this even though it’s got an OC!

Taskhand Verin Thelyss will do anything to close the planar rift allowing Abyssal demons access to Bazzoxan. He’s desperate to save his people from the threat, and, though he won’t admit it, desperate to get a much deserved break.

So if it comes down to fucking a demon, he will fuck that demon.

But when said demon divulges information about his long lost father, he enlists the help of his brother, Essek, to journey into the Abyss for answers and, hopefully, solutions. At the same time, this messy thing between him and his demon guide seems determined to develop into something more—if it doesn’t kill him first.

So, meet: Mairon, a demon mage with a sweet tongue and rocking bod who almost certainly has a hidden agenda. 😉

And of course, Verin: little brother of Essek Thelyss, the dutiful son, the Taskhand of Bazzoxan, and my precious lawful good cinnamon roll who seriously wants to get laid (but craves emotional intimacy even more).

Tags:

lawful good x neutral evil, mutually manipulative relationship, both the characters are bi sluts and I can’t keep their pants on, non-graphic sexual assault that’s not between the main pairing, Road-trip Fic! if a roadtrip is slashing your way through Betrayer’s Rise and journeying through the Abyss on foot with your captive/maybe boyfriend?? and your brother and his partner

[aeoris4lovers]

i know bazzoxan is supposed to be a place that most people fled because of the demons, but personally, i choose to imagine that it's still way more populated than it should be because its residents are equal parts infuriatingly stubborn and batshit fucking insane. just think about it:

people from elsewhere in xhorhas having the same visceral reaction to headlines about bazzoxan residents that we have to the words "florida man," and dynasty parents threatening to send their kids to bazzoxan when they misbehave.

locals telling visitors dropbear-style stories about the demons they might encounter (which absolutely do not actually exist) just to freak them out, because why deny the rumors that the town is constantly overrun with demons when they could have fun with leaning into it instead?

religious leaders and worshipers who openly give placatory offerings to betrayer gods and demon lords alongside the luxon and other gods/beings without persecution or even judgment, because no one's going to argue over the philosophy of it when the utility is so clear.

on that note, a general tolerance for religious deviations that most members of the dynasty would call heresy and mock or punish, because being so far from the seat of the theocracy and so deeply embroiled in a conflict that no amount of faith will solve makes it difficult to care much about how others choose (or refuse) to worship.

an abundance of abyssal tiefling children and low-level warlocks in pacts with demons, because in a place where demonic presence is so concentrated near where people are living, of course more of those people will be touched by it.

teenagers sneaking past the guards and into betrayer's rise to drink or smoke or make out or stay the night on a dare or leave graffiti or haze a newcomer to their group or just try to fuck with the demons the way kids at a sleepover might play with a ouija board.

wild conspiracy theories circulating about what's really down in betrayer's rise and what caused it, from "the demons aren't real at all" to "they were intentionally unleashed by a spy posing as one of the original miners to sabotage the town" to "the empire planted them to use up military resources".

extreme circumstances leading to more extremist sentiments weaving through the town – survivalists who insist on preparing for a catastrophic incursion exponentially more deadly than even the worst so far and zealots who claim that one such grand incursion will kickstart an apocalypse of calamity-level proportions, secessionists who insist the town should leave the dynasty entirely and insurrectionists who encourage more drastic action against a political hierarchy that they feel has failed to properly address the gravity of the town's situation.

legends and ghost stories about what happens to people who go down into the tunnels – how they might be trapped or transformed by it, or what the demons might use them for – that are used to scare children into not running off alone or told around fires just for the thrill of the fear.

numerous research outposts from knowledge-seeking groups across exandria, most with research groups at least a dozen scholars strong living there year-round to do their work, and at least one relatively high-level wizard there to study the abyssal magic out of personal interest, all of whom are given protection on their trips into the tunnels in return for presenting their findings (and any solutions those findings reveal) to the military.

tons of drow who finally figured out sunscreen and sunglasses and other sun protection, because everyone knows none of the rich wizard fucks in rosohna are going to bother giving them the safety of constant darkness and the town's own mages have far bigger things to spend their arcane reserves on than the sun.

a general sense of casual disinterest and disregard for the brewing war and the politics of dynasty vs empire in general because they live on the defensive side of a very different fight, which is far more real and urgent than a bunch of powerful people's bickering as far as they're concerned.

streets decorated and full of music and laughter on festival days, with all the games and food and other pleasures you would expect anywhere else, including on festival days that only they celebrate, like the anniversaries of famous victories against the demons or improvised events thrown together with the sole purpose of lifting the townspeople’s spirits in harder times.

cuisine specific to the town, known for unique features like its much heavier incorporation of sun-grown crops than most kryn food and its utilization of enough spices to make even demon flesh taste good (a feat that many people living elsewhere would think is impossible, but when you have more access to abyssal corpses than livestock, you learn to make it work).

despite its lack of a true inn (because frankly, very few people ever think to visit), the town having a variety of places to eat and drink and shop and relax and be entertained, because no one needs leisure more than people who live their entire lives on the brink of very immediate mortal peril.

logically, of course it would make sense for people to flee when they realized how dangerous bazzoxan truly is, but are people ever really logical when it comes to their home? how many would truly be willing to leave after devoting themselves to building something there, and how many would insist on staying and adapting and eventually outlasting the demonic presence there?

canon bazzoxan may be a village populated largely by a skeleton crew of military personnel and the people who keep them alive, but the bazzoxan in my heart is a fully populated and improbably lively town full of people with the balls of steel required to live in an abyssal hot spot for the rest of their lives.

[theartofhellebarde]

Bazzoxan - Battle at the Temple Gate

[exandriacityshowdown]

Round 3 Poll 5

Vasselheim, Issylra: Vasselheim, also known as the Dawn City or the Cradle of Creation, is the oldest surviving city in Exandria. It is the capital of Othanzia, and is known as a major spiritual centre and the origin or headquarters of multiple religions.

image is BTS content by creators of the legend of vox machina

Bazzoxan, Wildemount: Bazzoxan is a Kryn military outpost in Xhorhas. It exists to defend against demonic incursions from a nearby Betrayer God temple. The Mighty Nein visited while trying to solve the mystery of the Angel of Irons.

image is official art by kent davis from call of the netherdeep

[critrolesideblog]

Chapters: 2/4 Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Verin Thelyss, Essek Thelyss Additional Tags: Bazzoxan, OC's abound, I don't think this qualifies as angst exactly but it's definitely not my usual SoftTM MO, part two will have some canon-typical monster-slaying violence, i will update tags and archive warnings accordingly Summary: A storm is brewing over Bazzoxan. Two Lens agents bring news from Rosohna that promises to turn Verin's world upside-down, if he can survive the night.

Part 2: Bazzoxan is under attack, but monsters aren't the only dangers awaiting Verin in the storm.

[wardensantoineandevka]

WHY IS SCANLAN IN XHORHAS LMAO

also Asarius and Bazzoxan are nearly on OPPOSITE sides of Xhorhas, so that's REAL nonspecific

[essektheylyss]

Honestly, the implication with the Sendings that there is something wrong with the leylines and the weave of magic in Exandria is so funny to me. There is a non-zero chance, not even a low chance, that Ludinus is pissed because he got tossed to some random point in Exandria, and now he has to walk places. And maybe get on a ship. God forbid.*

But this also has a lot of other implications. The leylines tend to be associated with both intra- and interdimensional travel, as well as things like Scrying, Sending of course, and possibly other methods of divination.

It is also possible that, given what we know about dunamis, that dunamancy is also tied to the leylines or the weave in some way.

We know that divine magic is at least working—but we only know this to be true of divine magic granted by a god of the Pantheon.

So, with all of that in mind, a HIGHLY incomplete sample of things that may or may not be happening across Exandria while the Hells A-Team is traveling to Uthodurn:

Yussa is torn between gratitude for being free from the menace of Caleb Widogast teleporting into his house and Jester Lavorre sending him messages at all hours, and irritation that he can't get any of his work done because it all has to do with planar magic.

Any gratitude wears off when Fjord and Jester come banging on his door because Jester cannot send any messages nor contact Artagan, who is bound by the rules of the planes and by extension the leylines (since he can, unlike the gods, pass mostly freely from plane to plane).

Fjord's magic is completely fine because he is operating on sheer force of will and obeys no laws known to mortals, physics, or nature. Essek, who was holed up in the Lavorres' spare room for the week, is absolutely pissed because half of his magic is broken (and also he has no idea where his partner is).

Caleb and Beau take like seven hours to get the collar off before discovering that they are stuck somewhere in the Issylran tundra. (They would probably get fined by the Slayer's Take for the number of bounties they take out their rage on, if the Slayer's Take had ANY idea who the fuck they were.)

Caduceus is cheerfully gardening and has no idea this has happened. Melora decides not to bother him. Let him live in bliss, unlike the rest of Exandria.

Dorian has been having a meltdown into his Sending stone while Opal and Dariax run rampant and Cyrus looks very pretty but does absolutely nothing. It has no effect.

Keyleth is sitting in a daze somewhere next to a tree that will not open wondering if the last thirty-six hours were a fever dream.

The city of Syngorn saw the moon nonsense, panicked, tried to hop to the Feywild, then panicked harder. Fortunately, they could not contact anyone, and Allura Vysoren did not have to hear about it.

Ludinus has murdered several people. It has gotten him no closer to leaving whatever random part of the Tal'dorei countryside he is menacing.

Somewhere, there is a bird. That bird saw this beam, looked down into a very old, very precious orb, and said, "Not this fucking shit again."

All in all, very funny couple of days Exandria is happening. I'm sure things will not get any worse.

*I know he traveled by ship to the peace talks, okay, but that was for appearances. He didn't have shit to be doing at the time.

[raymuratadraws]

" I was just guessing at numbers and figures.... (...) Oh take me back to the start." @skullhaver

[revvethasmythh]

HE'S IN XHORHAS????

[floatysparrowthing]

“Look, Verin,” his brother’s voice sounds in his head. “I know it’s hard and perhaps… I should be more sympathetic.” Verin gets to his feet and tries to catch the handle of his glaive as the demon flails with it still stuck in his arm. “Do you know what I’ve found that helps? A cat.”

“I am”—Verin finally catches hold of it—“a little busy”—pulling the glaive only brings down a fountain of stinking black ooze on him—“right now.”—but the demon is now distracted by his echo and Verin takes the chance to go for its belly—“But good to hear from you”—he slashes upward, looking for any important organs—“I will consider”—and has to scramble to the side to avoid getting stepped on—“getting a cat.”

The Savior of the Damned

Chapter 3: Abysmal Pleasures

In which Verin is very conflicted.

Under the stars, in a quieter-than-usual Bazzoxan, the visit feels almost clandestine. Verin has been obfuscating how often he sees Mairon: rotating the guards frequently, being vague about his Taskhand duties, and wearing dark clothing to avoid being noticed.

He’s not sure anyone else would understand why he’s getting to know Mairon and spending so much time talking about mundane things. Trust is not a word anyone in Bazzoxan would apply to a demon. Of course, neither would Verin. But desperate times, desperate measures, and all that.

Tonight, Verin sits leaned against the far wall and Mairon lounges on his bed. Verin suggests they play a classic from his youth: Never Have I Ever. When he tells Mairon the winner is the one who’s done the least, Mairon scoffs and suggests they switch it around.

“You won’t win this one,” he says, grinning.

“Don’t discount me so fast,” Verin shoots back. Of course he wouldn’t win if they play it exclusively in the horny teenager fashion, but Verin figures he can veer out of that territory.

“Alright. You go first. What has our brave hero Verin never done, but secretly wishes he could?” Looking every bit demonic, Mairon rests his chin in his hands, piercing Verin with his unwavering gaze.

Read the rest here:

[natroze]

wow netherdeep party finally has villains! unfortunately for us it's.... our cool flirty rivals, who betrayed us! and also a lady who has absolutely committed arson and grand theft book from our bard, and seems to be behind our rivals turning on us...

also re: mom--when your mother is an archduke of hell, that's a pretty valid reason to be concerned. Hang in there buddy...

[gilmores-glorious-blog]

VERIN!!!!!!!!!!!

[exandriacityshowdown]

Round 2 Poll 10

Bazzoxan, Wildemount: Bazzoxan is a Kryn military outpost in Xhorhas. It exists to defend against demonic incursions from a nearby Betrayer God temple. The Mighty Nein visited while trying to solve the mystery of the Angel of Irons.

image is official art by kent davis from call of the netherdeep

Silken Squall, Marquet: Somewhere in Marquet travels a flying tent city, primarily inhabited by air genasi, called the Silken Squall. Dorian Storm, of the Crown Keepers and Bells Hells, hails from here.

[stylographic-blue-rhapsody]

good morning it is again blorbos-from-my-game hours

.

729 PD, Rosohna. Luminata Eve

Espen’s hands twitched behind her back, held in a stiff soldier’s attention to keep from picking anxiously at her hakama. She had attended Luminata Eve celebrations with nobility in years past, hosted by Den Beltune, but this was the first time she had been brought as a guest-companion to a ruling Den’s party. She had objected at first when Fyrna invited her along, but eventually gave in to the teasing requests and agreed. She regretted this lapse in resolve.

“And anyway,” Fyrna said with a grin, “That’s why I told him he should pick up a glaive instead. I know your Den’s traditional choice is the longsword, but you should see how he wields a polearm. It was a really clever use of an echo in combination with the weapon reach. Naturally talented, aren’t you, Lieutenant Thelyss?”

Verin Thelyss, eldest son of Den Mother Deirta Thelyss, blushed faintly over his stoic expression and demurred politely as his mother looked at him appraisingly. Espen’s nerves over being included in conversation with an Umavi had been soothed as soon as Fyrna had started talking: the Moonsage seemed perfectly content to be swept up in complimentary stories of her son by his martial mentor and ignore her entirely. Fyrna’s casual charm and self assured gregariousness made it easy to linger silently in the periphery.

A sudden crash and snarled insult in the center of the room interrupted the first words of Den Mother Thelyss’ reply. From Espen’s side, a thrumming burst of dunamis raised the hair along her arms and at the back of her neck like standing in an electrical storm. Espen stuttered, first towards the noise and then jerking back to look at her wife, only to find Fyrna absent: beside her was instead a shimmering, tangible shadow bearing an impression of Fyrna’s likeness.

A dunamantic echo. Espen’s hand flew instinctively to her unbelted hip in search of a sword that wasn’t there. Fyrna would not generate an echo without the presence of a real threat. Espen whirled back towards the commotion at the center of the room, seeking the source of the trouble.

The spectacle she found was not one of the sort of danger that had her heart racing in anticipation, but perilous nonetheless. At the center of the tableau stood Fyrna, grip tight on the wrist of a noblewoman whose palm was raised in a striking gesture. Usola Omrifar, Espen’s thinking brain recalled helpfully—politically powerful and friendly with the Moonsage. Behind Fyrna, an adolescent half-Kryn server was cradled in the arms of a second dunamantic echo, apparently having prevented him from falling into the mess of wine and shattered glass on the floor from a dropped tray. Belatedly, Espen noticed the dark, wet splash across Lady Omrifar’s kimono: a collision between the noblewoman and the server.

The room was still for a few heartbeats, the crowd collectively frozen with tension. In the hush, Espen couldn’t help the awe that surged in her chest and buzzed along her skin.

Taskhand Fyrna Beltune, heir to Den Beltune and Espen’s beloved wife, was so fucking beautiful. The demonstration of power via fine-tuned control of not one but two echoes was radiant and all-consuming. The shadow beside Espen was so dense with dunamis that her vision warped at the edges, creating a duplicating effect that made her feel as though she could see into the alternate timeline it came from if she could just focus hard enough. A pressure began to build in her sinuses, uncomfortable magical resonance flaring outwards along her Luxonmark.

Taskhand Fyrna Beltune was a legion of one, and resplendent.

Time seemed to jerk back into motion when Fyrna tipped her chin at Usola and said lowly, “Cool off. You dishonor your station, Lady.”

However quietly she spoke, the calm command carried easily to the outskirts of the room. The guests in immediate proximity to the scene stepped back, and if the mood weren’t so tense Espen might have laughed at the pair of Den guards at the entrance of the hall as they straightened unconsciously.

Lady Omrifar snarled and tried to wrench her hand away. Fyrna’s grip held fast, letting the older woman struggle futilely for a beat longer than necessary before letting go. Usola spat, “That clumsy, half breed brat spilled the whole tray on me! It’s ruined the silk!”

“The drink is easily removed by simple prestidigitation.” Drily, she added, “If you’d like proof of this, we can find another tray of drinks and dump it down my uniform as well. I am confident someone here will help us out.”

Lady Omrifar’s cheeks, which Espen noted were already flushed with drink and rage, grew darker. Her voice pitched upwards, and she said, “All that glass is dangerous! He could have hurt me!”

Fyrna’s even expression broke, mouth twisting in contempt. “But you were not hurt, and in fact, it was you who ran into him. If there is any redress to be made, it is to the kid.”

Did she run into the server? Espen hadn’t known anything was happening until the crash, but wasn’t surprised that Fyrna had had eyes on what happened. Her reaction speed made that clear enough. As Lady Omrifar sputtered, Fyrna glanced over her shoulder at the boy, now steady on his feet but looking as if he might throw up. “What’s your name?”

The boy jumped, hands fisting at the edge of his uniform, gaze darting between Fyrna and her echo beside him. “Um, it’s R-Rhiah, Taskhand. Rhiah Thalphen.”

Fyrna said coolly, “Lady Omrifar, you should apologize or take your leave. If you do neither, I pledge myself to Rhiah Thalphen to act as his sword, voice, or hand, should he demand an honor challenge.”

Behind her, Rhiah stammered a protest, but neither woman paid him any mind.

“This is not your home, Beltune. You are not an authority here,” Lady Omrifar hissed.

“I agree with Taskhand Beltune.”

Espen turned, surprised to see Verin Thelyss step forward. He glanced at his mother, and Espen could not parse the expression on her face, but Verin clearly could. He continued, “Den Thelyss does not endure abuse of our hands.”

“But she—”

“Come with me, Lady Usola.”

The murmurings around the room hushed completely in the wake of the Moonsage’s gentle, gravel-voiced command. Omrifar’s face paled to a sickly grey. She bowed stiffly, and the crowd parted to allow her to trail after Deirta Thelyss’ graceful, unhurried stride from the hall. She gave Fyrna a poisonous look over her shoulder before vanishing through the doorway.

Chatter resumed like a thunderclap once the two noblewomen were out of sight, but the crowd maintained a wide berth from Fyrna and the server. Verin strode to them, nodded at Fyrna and then offered a bow to Rhiah. The boy scrambled to bow back, stammering ungracefully through whatever formal apologies Verin was making to him, and fled as soon as he was given a dismissal.

As Fyrna and her protégé leaned in to speak together in hushed tones, Espen let out the breath she was holding. That could have gone much worse, if Verin and his mother had not backed Fyrna in the escalation of the conflict.

[Oh, the Moonsage is not happy about any of this.] Espen jumped at the voice ringing with laughter in her head. It took her a few scans, but eventually she found him—Jinoire Olios, beloved friend and traitor, wiggled bejeweled fingers at her in greeting from sixty paces across from her in an alcove at the edge of the hall.

[You read the Moonsage’s thoughts? Are you daft?] Espen thought back furiously as she pushed her way through the crowd to his hiding spot.

[Of course not, she has some sort of nondetection up. I got that from baby Thelyss.]

[Do not call him that, he’s your coworker.]

“I will call him whatever I please until he outranks me,” Jin said cheerfully when Espen reached speaking distance. “Which will be never, because the day he surpasses me is the day I retire.”

“You are not going to reach retirement, Olios, because I am going to kill you for telling me you were not coming and that I would have to attend this awful party alone, then showing up anyway.”

Jin scoffed, tugging her into a brief embrace and kissing her cheek. Up close, she could see the soft shimmer of cosmetic glitter on his skin and smell his peony perfume. “You weren’t alone, Beltune is here! And the party is quite nice. Have you tried the octopus? Apparently they had it magicked to keep it fresh all the way from the Emerald.”

“Like Hells, I ‘wasn’t alone.’ I have not spoken to a single person since I got here because Fyrna was occupied doing the Den Heir thing.” Espen pulled away more quickly than usual and straightened her haori. She knew the focus wasn’t on the two of them, uninteresting in comparison to the Heirs still at the center of the room, but it was instinctual: too many unkind things could be said—had been said—about her overt displays of physical affection. “Where’s Trestilya?”

“Khith has a stronger backbone than you or me,” Jin informed her. “They didn’t cave to Beltune. They’re spending tonight in the Coronas with Bas.”

“Bastard.”

“We should join them after this! I can’t imagine staying much longer, not after that display.”

The warmth Espen felt at discovering Jin at the party faded slightly as she glanced back towards Fyrna and Verin. “What did you overhear?”

“A bit of this and that. Enough to paint a picture.” He hummed and performatively inspected his fingernails, lacquered in sapphire blue. Disconcertingly, his voice once again echoed in her head, but there was no movement of his lips, or somatic gesture made with his hands, or even a telltale pulse of arcane energy. Espen would never get used to his ability to manipulate the Weave with nothing but force of will. [Thelyss thinks his mother would have preferred that to have been handled more subtly, but I imagine that would have been difficult, considering how intent Omrifar was on making a scene.]

“Elaborate, please.”

“Well,” Jin murmured, still picking at his manicure, “She was drunk, obviously. But just this month her sister was named successor to their mother as Den matriarch instead of her like she’d expected. Needed to take all that frustration out on someone inconsequential, I suppose.”

Espen’s mouth twisted with disgust. She said, “What else?”

[The Moonsage doesn’t like drama in her own home. She cares about subtlety. Probably would have preferred to have coaxed Omrifar outside first and made apologies to the kid later.] Jin raised a hand to cover his satisfied smirk with his fingers. “But Beltune decided to make sure Omrifar was properly, publicly shamed for it. Light, that was so sexy of her.” He peered out from the alcove to scan the room. “Where did she run off to? I need to propose marriage.”

Even as she worried for the social consequences, Espen couldn’t agree more. That Fyrna would fight this battle in someone else’s home—an Umavi’s, no less—without knowing whether or not she would be supported by the hosting Den made her so damn proud. And Verin! Espen was sure that his support had tipped the scales in her favor, forcing his mother to either show a united front with her beloved son or openly suggest friction within her Den. She might still reprimand Fyrna for it later, but for now, at least, they were on the same side.

“Taskhand, my precious demagogue!” Jin laughed as Fyrna found them at the edge of the crowd, bowing dramatically low over clasped hands when she approached. “Please reconsider the offer for my hand in marriage. I have so many relatives I would love for you to correct the way you corrected that hag.”

Fyrna grinned in reply. “You know, Olios, I don’t have to be married to you to be introduced to them.”

“But the sting would be so much sharper if it came from my wife,” Jin sighed wistfully.

She chuckled, and then her amusement turned softer as she looked at Espen. “Hello, starshine.”

Espen smiled. Light, she loved her. “Hello.”

“Khith is with Bas in the Coronas. Want to finish the night out at a party that’s actually fun?” Jin asked Fyrna.

“Will there be orc-stuff?”

He snorted. “Don’t ask stupid questions. Bas’s sister is hosting, obviously there will be orc-stuff.”

“Fuck yes.” Fyrna glanced over her shoulder. “I should probably wait to leave until Den Mother Thelyss returns, at least. Make my proper goodbyes and all that. Meet you both at Neref’s in an hour or two?”

“You got it, boss.”

Espen reached out to squeeze Fyrna’s hand before following Jin towards the foyer. “Good work.”

“Hush. Love you, too.”

[aeoris4lovers]

thinking about verin having a little bit of paladin in him alongside being an echo knight.

his sense of honor and justice being his defining traits. his willingness to walk into a town that’s fighting a fight where a stalemate has been the best case scenario for as long as anyone can remember and saying “we’re going to win this.” him swearing to protect them and refusing to let his conviction be shaken even as the mounting threats weigh on him. his faith in the luxon being more based on ideals than religious belief, and how his commitment to those ideals must be genuine and not just blind faith, given that he can question them enough to understand why essek doesn’t feel the same. him being a “beacon of hope” for the people of bazzoxan, a light cutting through the darkness they’ve grown used to.

thinking about him, in the heat of battle, rushing to the side of a fallen soldier under his command, and a light suddenly reaching out from his hands to touch the soldier, closing their wounds just enough to keep them from fading away. him not knowing where it came from, keeping the powers close to his chest until he needs them most because he knows that people will talk, that they’ll make a big deal of him being “chosen” by the luxon when he doesn’t want to be a chosen one or even know if he believes that’s where they came from, and all he wants is to do his job well and protect the people under his care. thinking that maybe one day he can show them and get the respect and approval he craves, but not until he’s sure it won’t mean being whisked away from people who still need him.

i don’t know, i just think it would be fitting if he had a touch of paladin in him.