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grailfinders · 1 year ago

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Grailfinders #326: Elisabeth Bathory (Cinderella)

last but certainly not least, the leading lady herself, Elisabeth Bathory (Cinderella)! this sidney princess is a Lore Bard to grab the various princess powers we need from reading a metric ton of faerie tales, and she’s also a Cavalier Fighter to get herself some riding skills and her snow white protection.

check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

next up: let me put myself in your shoes as a puppet loosely strung…

Ancestry & Background

everything else is pretty similar to the base Eli-chan, but we finally have one of her builds coming out after that big dragonborn update, giving us access to the Gem Dragonborn! with this new subrace, we gain access to all sorts of fun new breath weapons, but as a Sapphire dragonborn you can use a Breath Weapon that deals thunder damage! that’s right, Eli’s singing is a natively supported part of the ancestry now! this attack replaces one of your regular attacks, and you can use it proficiency times a day. you also have Draconic Resistance to thunder damage, and you can share secrets with your allies via your Psionic Mind, letting you speak telepathically with anyone within 30’ of you. also, at fifth level you can take Gem Flight for a minute per day. it’s not much, but it should help you up Castle Csejte Pyramid Himeji.

with how perfectly this subrace fits her, it’s a shame this doesn’t match her usual red scales. at least it matches the dress, right?

oh, almost forgot- you have +2 Dexterity and +1 Charisma.

you’re still a Noble though, so that’s proficiency in History and Persuasion.

Ability Scores

your scores, wildly enough, ended up exactly the same as the original- your Charisma is the highest, followed by your Dexterity, Strength, Constitution, Intelligence, and finally Wisdom is in last. you had to be reminded how to beat the final boss, that’s pretty embarrassing ngl.

Class Levels

1. Bard 1: I’m pretty sure starting as fighter is the smarter moooove, but the muuusic caalllls to meeee! it gives you proficiency in Dexterity and Charisma saves, plus some in Acrobatics to daance, Performance to siiing, and Animal Handling. that last one isn’t music-based, but just to fit the faerie-tale princess aesthetic. they always have birds or cute mice around them, y’know?

you also start off with a little Bardic Inspiration you can give allies Charisma Modifier times a day. they’re d6s you can give an ally to boost one of their attacks, saves, or checks for a short while afterwards. you can also cast Spells using your Charisma!

for cantrips, grab Dancing Lights mostly for the name (but every idol needs good lighting for photos), and Mending to make glass slippers a halfway decent idea. for your spells, Heroism and Bane will allow your singing to empower your allies or weaken your enemies respectively, while Command helps you act more princessly, and Speak with Animals will help you negotiate with the local critters for your photo shoots.

2. Bard 2: second level bards are Jacks of All Trades, adding half your proficiency bonus to all your checks that it wouldn’t usually be added to. you’re the protagonist, dangit! you have to be good at everything!

you can also cast a Song of Rest over a short rest, adding a d6 to your party’s healing.

if you’d rather your singing do the exact opposite, Thunderwave can help you with that. blast people and items back, it’s fun!

3. Bard 3: at third level you’ve read enough faerie tales to become a Lore bard, giving you proficiency in Athletics, Nature, and Survival! I guess hanging out with the seven hotties is rubbing off on you?

ew, that could’ve been phrased better.

speaking of better, you have Expertise in two skills now, doubling your proficiency bonus for Performance and Acrobatics checks.

you can also use some Cutting Words to reduce an enemy’s attack, check, or damage, reacting and spending inspiration to reduce their roll.

finally, you can cast second level spells! I’m pretty sure it was the ass-kicking that freed the other seven hotties from mind control, but it might’ve also been you casting Calm Emotions! maybe!

4. Bard 4: use your first Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Charisma! you use it for all your spells, so it only makes sense to make it better.

you also get another cantrip this level, Thunderclap, and a new spell! now you’ll be able to dance through the danger easily with a quick Kinetic Jaunt!

5. bard 5: yeah you get your gem flight this level, but you can also make bigger inspiration with d8s, and you’re a font of inspiration, so they recharge on short rests instead of long ones!

you can also cast third level spells like fast friends, so now even your enemies will join in your dance numbers! as long as it won’t kill them. sorry, the torture scene will have to wait.

6. bard 6: sixth level bards have countercharm, which you actually use for once! you can spend an action to give people advantage on saves to break out of charming stuff! you also get additional magical secrets (weirdly enough, before regular magical secrets), giving you two extra spells you can learn form any spell list, not just bard! conjure barrage will help you fire off your fingies for your quick attacks, and conjure animals is the best we can do for your dwarves. sorry, we need the higher level spell slots for other stuff!

also, you can give a motivational speech now! yaaaay! that means your party gets temporary hp, and as long as that hp remains they have advantage on wisdom saves and retaliatory attacks!

7. fighter 1: bouncing over to fighter gives you a fighting style, and dueling will give your glass slippers a little more oomph! yeah, we’re calling those daggers here, sorry. still, with this fighting style you get an extra 2 damage each attack!

also, you can use your bonus action to gather a second wind for some more health between short rests! princesses never give up, right?

8. fighter 2: second level fighters can make an action surge once per short rest so you can action while you action! its kind of like quickened spell, but you can use two levelled spells or even do non-spell stuff. fighters- they’re sorcerers but better.

9. fighter 3: at third level you become a cavalier, gaining proficiency in insight bc it’s the only option left for you. you’re also born to the saddle so you can’t get knocked out of your carriage that easily, and if you fall less than 10 feet you land on your feet. also, getting onto or off your carriage only takes five feet. as for getting the carriage? good luck! better find a fairy godmother!

(you can also place an unwavering mark on a creature you hit, and then for the next round they have disadvantage to hit anyone else. if they hurt someone else anyway, you can make a special attack on your next turn as a bonus action, it’s made with advantage and you deal extra damage too! it’s not very eli-y though)

10. fighter 4: use your first asi (as a fighter) to bump up your dexterity for a higher ac and better glass slipper attacks.

11. fighter 5: fifth level fighters get an extra attack each action. you have two feet, probably. yep, that’s all i got this level.

12. fighter 6: sixth level fighters get a bonus asi, so now your dexterity is all maxed out. your footsie game? absolutely legendary.

13. Fighter 7: a seventh level cavalier can make a Warding Maneuver as a reaction to block an incoming attack against anyone within five feet of you. this plus the disadvantage is the closest we’re getting to true invulnerability in this build, but it does add a d8 to the defender’s AC, which isn’t something to sneeze at. you can only use this once per long rest at the moment, but that one attack can be a game changer if you time it right.

14. Fighter 8: one last level of fighter for now gets you another ASI, so bump up that Constitution. now you get plenty more HP to work with, and you have an extra warding maneuver each day.

15. Bard 7: seventh level bards get fourth level spells. Confusion is really just the general vibe of Halloween events these days, but being able to direct that on your enemies is nice.

16. Bard 8: eighth level bards get one more ASI, so bump up your Charisma to the maximum for the strongest musical numbers possible! you can also Charm Monsters now. you’d probably have to use this to keep the gudemon sitting still long enough to headbutt it back to normal.

17. Bard 9: ninth level bards have a stronger song of rest, plus access to fifth level spells! healing a forest? you need Greater Restoration! or maybe a spell we’ll get next level. still, it’ll definitely work on deerlet.

18. Bard 10: the tenth level of bard is mostly just getting better at stuff we already do. bigger inspiration, another round of expertise in animal handling and persuasion, and another round of magical secrets!

while it’s not a new feature, magical secrets are always fun to get, especially since yours are Hallow to clear up that forest and Immolation to finally fire off your NP! yeah, it’s pretty brutal. if your target fails their dex save they take a bunch of damage and they keep taking damage for up to a minute, taking even more damage every time they fail their secondary saves. the spells can’t be extinguished otherwise, and if they die from that damage they don’t even leave a corpse.

19. Bard 11: we don’t really quote unquote “need’ a sixth level spell for this build, but we can’t let your fighter level get too much higher, so Otto’s Irresistible Dance is a fun addition to your repertoire. make someone dance so much they can’t move, and they can only make a save at the end of their turn, so it’s guaranteed to work for at least one turn.

20. Fighter 9: was also don’t want you to get too bardy either, so- last level is fighter. you become Indomitable, so you can reroll a failed save once a short rest. princesses aren’t supposed to be set on fire, so make sure you make those dexterity saves!

Pros & Cons:

Pros:

flight is never not useful. I’ve been over this again and again, but flying instantly nullifies the threat of a majority of enemies in D&D, especially for a spellcaster. it’s also just really cool, I’m glad wotc added the gem dragonborn.

you can do a little bit of everything, both in and out of combat, with good melee fighting skills and ac blending with your buffing, debuffing, and direct damage spells, as well as Jack of All Trades giving you at least half proficiency in literally everything.

fighter/caster is a great multiclass, helping you pump out spells super quickly.

Cons:

while the extra health and action surge from fighter are cool, your cavalier abilities have their usability tied to your strength and constitution, and you may have noticed neither of which are good, so unless you bought a carriage or horse at some point it’s mostly like you just don’t have a subclass. not fun.

also, while daggers are almost certainly the best replacement for sharpened slippers, they’re still the worst finesse weapon you could be using. just grab a rapier or something.

we never picked up mage armor anywhere, so your AC is left wanting. we maxed out your dexterity, so it isn’t bad, but you’d definitely want leather or something if you’re planning on using your slippers.

#fgo #fate grand order #D&D 5e #DND #Elisabeth Bathory #Fighter #Bard

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ralofofriverwoods · 1 year ago

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Made some character descriptions!! For all of my Skyrim characters, minus zuft’zahr’s siblings and my other werewolf :3

There’s a lot more under the read more thing but I don’t wanna fully clog people’s dash up, so the Dragonborn characters are the only visible ones for now

Farlian Seven - Khajiit(Cathay), dragonborn. Farlian has white fur with black stripes reminiscent of a white tiger, and has yellow eyes. She uses heavy armor, favoring blades armor and ebony, and she uses the dragon priest mask Nahkriin. She has two golden hoop earrings on each ear. Casual clothes include a turtleneck and a long skirt with varying patterns and styles, the most common being an animated blue starry shirt and an orange cloudy sky dress. || Farlian uses an ebony mace and the daedric artifact ‘spellbreaker’, a boon from Peryite. She also utilizes some destruction magic and some restoration. || She is affiliated with almost every Skyrim faction, including; the companions, the college of winterhold, the thieves guild, the dark brotherhood, the bards college, etc.

Virthik Fjovur - nord, dragonborn. Virthik has pale pinkish skin, blue dragon like eyes, and blonde hair with a braid near the front. He has two horns reminiscent of a dragon’s, the right one broken close to the scalp. At around the middle of the forearm his hands transition from white to a scale like grey, and become a little tougher. His fingers end in slightly sharpened claws growing out of the bone of the hand. He also has rather noticeable eye bags, regardless of how much sleep he gets. He wears carved Nordic armor with no helmet when in battle. When relaxing he wears a cozy blue knit sweater, a very fluffy scarf of sorts, and fur lined cargo pants. His dragon form is a dark grey with a lighter grey highlight, and dark blue horns/joint scales.[gore until the dark red text stops] The stomach, throat, and chest of the dragon are hollowed out excluding the bones, lungs, and heart, and it is missing the usual scales and muscles that cover it up. The jawbone is also missing scales and muscles. Despite the lack of proper muscles he can still fly, eat, and breathe just fine. || Virthik uses a specially enchanted and crafted ebony sword named “ “, as well as minimal restoration magic and a wide variety of shouts. || He is affiliated with the companions, the thieves guild, the rebuilt helgen, and a few others. He is also a follower of ikalis matrix, mentioned in the section labeled gods.

Zuft’zahr Satanni - Khajiit(Cathay), dragonborn. He has mostly brown fur with black stripes. His chin, belly, and underside of his tail/inner ears are a red to tan gradient. He has a daedric reminiscent symbol on his forehead that is seemingly natural in origin. His hair is black, and He uses dragon scale armor for most open combat, but otherwise uses a mix of thieves guild and dark brotherhood armor. No matter what he he wears an orange knit scarf with red accents, however. When not out for business he wears a sweater under a nice warm coat with many pockets, and either some sweat pants or an ankle length dress. || He primarily uses the blade of woe or chillrend, but has a battleaxe as a backup weapon as well. He uses quite a lot of illusion and alteration magic as well. Zuft'zahr also owns a small enchanted pocket watch which can rewind time. He uses this to attempt for the best possible scenario in every applicable situation. || He is affiliated with the dark brotherhood, the thieves guild, the blades, the college of winterhold, and the bards college.

Ka’rah Seven - Khajiit(Suthay-raht). Ka’rah has the same fur colors as her sister, but has bluish purple eyes with bright purple veins. Her markings are much flowy and curly than farlian’s. She has a large magic scar on the left side of her face. Her hair is braided and tied together down her back, and she has “facial hair” which is puffy and flows down a few inches past her collar bone. She wears a cape, heavy duty half skirt, and a loose green shirt most of the time, but also has a ritual outfit with many skulls and whatnot. Her casual outfit is a formal skintight shirt with lace making it a turtleneck, and flowy open sleeved arms. Her pants are heavy duty with a few decorative holes at the top of the leg. She also wears a manacle that functions as a detect magic and block magic charm. She also has a talking skull named torbar, which can either be worn or carried. || She wields a staff made of bone and leather, with insets of amethyst and a large purple orb that appears to be an unknown magical gem, possibly a soul gem. This is used to focus on many spells at once, and also lets her command her skeleton army with minimal shouting. || She is affiliated very loosely with the thieves guild and the dark brotherhood, for a steady supply of corpses and gemstones to use in spellcasting, but otherwise avoids most upstanding organizations. She is a “professional Necromancer warlord”, in other words, a necromancer that just really likes showing off.

Donein Seedmire - Bosmer. Donenin has slightly desaturated yellow skin with many scars and marks. His hair is a plain dark ish brown, as are his eyes. He always looks like he has cried recently, and is a little more flushed than a Bosmer would usually be. He wears a simple green shirt with an orange scarf, as well as some plain brown pants and quality(if a little worn) leather boots. He noticeably does not possess any sort of antler or horn. His teeth are incredibly sharp, and grow back in when they either fall out or are removed. || Donenin favors the bow, and has a specially made one crafted from particularly bendable bits of cartilage, and has little garnets studded around the handle. It also sports special ebony fittings. He also carries a small, rough ebony dagger with similar garnet fittings and a bone handle. || He is not affiliated with any of the bigger organizations of skyrim, but he goes around and helps out in smaller towns like rorikstead and karthwasten. He worships kynareth and mara.

Sifaris Denhan - snow elf, vampire. Sifaris has very pale skin, and exceedingly short hair. He has a tail reminiscent of a rat’s, as well as slightly clawed hands. His eyes are a slightly harsh yellow with a red rim and black scleras, as well as a pupil reminiscent of a cat’s. He has faded red tattoos on his back(which appear more pink than red), which curl around his torso to just under his top surgery scars. He wears a black turtleneck, as well as bits of homemade chaurus armor. He has thick, padded pants and heavy duty chaurus boots and gauntlets. He also has a hood with goggles and a mask, to make sure nobody knows he's a vampire. Also it looks good. He prefers to wear hoodies and other baggy clothes when not on a job. || He usually uses a double sided greatsword, but also has been seen using alteration, and occasionally a dual set of daggers. He specifically does not use any vampire abilities in battle, because honestly he doesn't know where that blood has been. || He was affiliated with the snow elves of the forgotten vale, but now he mostly just does mercenary work. He is married to citrine. He is a vampire that is tied to sanguine, not molag bal.

Citrine - altmer, werewolf. Citrine has healthy, sunny yellow skin with a few scars and sunburns at all times. He has silver eyes, clawed hands, and very light, fluffy blonde hair. Not quite platinum blonde, but very close. Occasionally he may have certain wolfish characteristics such as a tail or claws. || Citrine usually wears a classic monk outfit, with as few buttons as possible, and no shoes or footwraps. He wears the ring of Hircine infrequently, essentially just when he's in highly populated areas. He doesn't mind randomly wolfing out, says it gives life a little more spice. || He occasionally uses brass knuckles, but otherwise sticks completely to unarmed strikes and werewolf attacks. He wields some restoration magic as well, but mostly studies whatever he can that would help out sifaris in a pinch, as he has very fast natural regeneration. || He is as dedicated to sif as the tide is to the moon. He also somewhat follows Hircine, but more in the way that an employee likes their nice ish boss (Don't call when I'm off the clock cos I prolly won't answer). He is also a fan of dibella+sanguine’s teachings, but doesn't actively follow either of them. And of course he is married to sif.

Imerae Semalion - Falmer(the in game enemy kind). Imerae also has pale pale skin, though it is much rougher than Sif’s. She has many little scrapes just about everywhere. She also has a tail similar to sif’s, but it acts more as a prehensile tail than a cat tail. She has white hair grouped into two braided pigtails. She wears the usual thieves guild getup, minus the shoes. The only difference is that it’s all a pinkish hue, as is everything she wears ever. She usually doesn’t wear much other than her thieves guild attire, but she doesn’t mind baggy short sleeve shirts. || she uses a mix of daggers and bows, and favors stealth bow techniques, with the use of detect life and undead. || she’s obviously connected to the thieves guild, but she’s also semi related to the bard’s college and the college of winterhold. She appreciates nocturnal and boethia’s thing, though she doesn’t really follow follow any one deity.

Beynir Pale-sky - Nord. Beynir is very close to your typical Nord, and ironically extremely close to the looks of the preset for a Nord in the base game. He just has stubble instead of full mutton chops, and his hair is a little curlier. He wears the usual whiterun guard outfit, but with long yellow sleeves under the Chain mail. He also has brown eyes. || he uses the standard one handed sword+shield combo, but also has trained a little bit in unarmed combat. Just in case!! || he of course is affiliated with the whiterun guard, and a little bit of the thieves guild and companions.

Lurks-in-Darkness - argonian/saxhleel. LD has mostly black scales, with dark red accents and muddy chartreuse scales along the spine+top of the head. She has shiny red feathers that end with a tick of black on her head/neck and tail. Her tongue and inner mouth is black, and has a bite similar to that of a Komodo dragon. Her eyes are a shiny blood red with very thin, sharp pupils, and she has 3 chartreuse mini horns on each side of her head. She wears many daedric related suits of armor, her favorite being a modified suit of Daedric mail with a sickly green glow and red details. She wears a casual yellow long sleeve shirt under a blacksmith’s apron, with durable leather pants and leather foot wraps. She does not actually have boobs as one may assume, she actually just hides any contraband/stolen goods she finds in a pocket in her shirt :). Taking advantage of peoples stupidity 25/8 baby! || she wields both a Daedric greatsword or an orcish hammer, as well as almost all of the offensive schools of magic, excluding some illusion and most restoration. She also owns quite a few Daedric artifacts, and can wield most all of them at least semi effectively. || she is of course affiliated with quite a few of the Daedric princes, as well as limited interaction with their respective organizations, though she also has interactions with the college of winterhold quite often. This is to get access to the Atronach forge and the Daedric gauntlet.

Sara dellum - Dunmer . Sara has grayish skin, with white and red face paint and orange-red hair in the style of dreads, tucked back in a ponytail. He wears a mix of morag tong styled gear and specially crafted bonemold, designed for peak stealth. He also has little bits of skin where a keratin like structure acts as ‘scales’ on places like the bicep, outer thigh, and stomach. This is the same color as his skin. || Sara wields dual daggers exclusively, but also knows rudimentary hand to hand combat. He has a special coin that, when incorporated with other coins, can tell him whether or not any are illegitimate. || he was affiliated with the morag tong, but has since moved on to be a lone contractor. He has occasionally run into the dark brotherhood, and visits the thieves guild often in the dark corners, for those looking to strike a quick deal for a little cheaper than the larger groups. He has also been seen skulking around in raven rock and tel mythrin.

Mako Lograk - orsimer. Mako has rough green skin with a tinge of yellow, and is quite hairy. In addition to a lot of body hair, he has mustard yellow scales speckled around his cheeks, chest, shoulders, stomach, and forearms. Essentially everywhere there is hair. His hair is dark brown, and the hair on his head is curly, while his body hair is more reminiscent of a wild hogs’, being thick and wiry, and relatively straight. He wears no shirt, but his pants are a soft and warm wool, and his boots are a waterproof leather insulated with bits of animal pelts and fur. He wears a harness for his axe to be idly carried, and lugs around a large bag meant to preserve any alchemical ingredients he may come across. || he uses a large axe to do most fighting, but also owns multiple sets of different scissors to harvest various plants and whatnot with. || he is not affiliated with any major groups, but just about every alchemist in Skyrim knows him as an extremely reliable source of ingredients for potions, and a little bit of gossip from the other alchemists.

Alriac Vilri - maomer. Alriac has pale blue skin that seems slightly transparent and shiny, and large web shaped ears. His eyes have a low blue glow, and his hair is dark ish blue with almost white streaks. He has webbed hands and feet, and his fingers end in a hard and sharp point. When on land he wears a loose, flowy button up shirt at least halfway unbuttoned, a slightly weathered teal dress, and quite honestly the worst looking boots you’ve ever seen, with mold starting to grow on the sides and at least one hole in the seams or from pure wear and tear on the leather. He also has a pearl bracelet and a silver necklace, inlaid with sapphire. When in the water he simply wears his jewelry. His mermaid tail is a shimmery silver with sapphire blue stripes near the waist, and he has gills in between his ribs. || he does not frequently fight, but when he does he prefers ice based destruction magic or alteration. Otherwise he uses sharp, shark like teeth, as well as claws to hook into prey or foe, to rip and tear.

Ithvozal Raogarn - Dwemer. Ithvozal has dark ish yellow skin meant to withstand pressure and heat. They have brown frizzy hair which they pull back into a low ponytail, and bright blue eyes. Their body is paralyzed from the waist down, and as such they use a wheelchair designed for maximum mobility and effectiveness. Some functions of this mobility device include: a built in crossbow, the ability to curl up into a ball and speed around with Ithvozal inside, interface and control of many dwarven constructs, heating and cooling, and many more small functions. || they mainly utilize a specialized hand crossbow and the weapons on their chair. They keep a notebook and pen with them at all times, to mark down what may need to be repaired or removed, as well as to plan out what they’ll build next. They also carry a wide range of tools for impromptu repairs. || ithvozal follows no gods. They are also the only one in their large cave system other than their non Dwemer friends.

Bivelle rivera - dunmer. She has pinkish grey skin with red and black face paint around the eyes. She has small dragonfly like wings, the membranes of which are a dark shimmery black-blue color, reminiscent of stained glass. She also has a small dragonfly like ‘tail’. She is wearing a red and black corset with shiny silver filigree and buckles, soft red and yellow striped pants, black boots with yellow accentwork, and a short red half skirt. Under the corset there is a flowy black blouse. || She wields a wavy dagger, as well as a variety of embalming tools and torture tools. She uses mainly necromantic magic when she is casting, but also has been seen using illusion magic when needed. || She is not affiliated with any large organizations, but has started a small cult that sows discord throughout solstheim and windhelm, and really any place they see fit. She is good acquaintances with Sara, and helps score clients whenever possible.

And that’s all the Skyrim lovelies!

#random #skyrim #farlian’s ocs #original character #oc #writing

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snakeoil2 · 8 months ago

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Part 1: Conquest

You know, I’m not an old man. Even by dragonborn standards, I’m pretty young. I’m only twenty seven. But I’ve had a pretty eventful life, assassination, murder, and adventuring. I fought the Conqueror, and helped take Pakan.

However, there is something that I’m not too happy to see. When I lived with Kallum’s Clan below Dracor, I bore witness to all manner of stories. Tales of titanic dragons, scouring villages with a breath. Legends of unflappable tyrants, ruling with an iron fist. Whispers of vile mages, breaking the laws of nature.

Now, I see none of that. In this sunlit world, no tyrants, few legendary dragons, and “villains” that proclaim the better good while murdering aimlessly. And hired murderers, oh right, “assassins,” who only kill for a good cause. It’s sickening.

Why, even one of the Sleeping Dragon Crew was like that. She called herself Crybaby. Going on and on about good, and how one could do bad, in the name of good.

I’m writing this book for any aspiring villains of the world. Here’s the first lesson for you lot.

BE EVIL.

Don’t become some greater good. BE A VILLAIN! Revel in the dramatic! Pillage! Plunder! Live!

So many I see just… fail. Fail because they can’t stand what they need to do. They’re crushed by the weight of their desire to do what’s right competing with just how inherently destructive what they’re doing is.

I met a hobgoblin once. Insisted on calling herself a hero. Unfortunately, she began to fall apart when she reaped the seeds of war. Luckily, I was there!

She forgot to burn a couple towns, she was so distraught.

Ultimately, the most important facet of villainy, the cornerstone of villainy, is the desire to do evil. Doing wrong, ENJOYING doing wrong, is what ultimately allows us our drive. And that drive is what grants us true power.

-Yoku Zuna, Archlord and Titan of Pakan, Professional Villain

Chapter 1: Yoku’s Woes

Ah, Pakan. A land torn apart by a hard fought war against the conqueror. Between the Conqueror, the Giants, and the land itself, most preferred to leave it alone. Even the kingdom of Epanak tries to leave it alone.

All those factors were what led Yoku to try and claim it. A land with little to no governing authority, no laws he had to work around, wasn’t that just perfect?

No. No it wasn’t.

Everything that made it a tempting target, also made it rather difficult to take over.

A pair of ogres were lumbering over. The metal plates armoring their body indicated their station as members of the conqueror’s army. The brutes towered over most men, bearing a cruel axe, and a wicked hammer.

Yoku sighed.

To most a pair of ogres would be a fearsome opponent. Even if they weren’t terribly powerful, at ten feet tall, they loomed head and shoulders over most humanoids.

Yoku was not most humanoids.

His horns, tail, and red scales marked him as one of the Dragonborn. His Hacenalian heritage had blessed him with extraordinary size, such that he was eye level with these lesser giants. Yoku was not skinny either, layers of fat and muscle rippled throughout his body.

Yoku’s size meant most recognized his strength, but it was hard to recognize just how strong he was, for more than mere muscles were at work.

Yoku felt the magic pump through his veins as he threw the first punch. It connected with a sickening crunch. The ogre began to stumble backwards, only for Yoku to then grab it, pulling it back for a punch to its stomach.

The other ogre rushed forward while Yoku was occupied. With a guttural bellow, it raised its hammer, and brought it crashing down. Yoku raised his arm to catch the blow, and grumbled at the sting. Luckily, it seemed that this pair had not been outfitted with magic weapons.

The ogre Yoku had grappled attempted its own swing, chopping at Yoku’s arm. Again, Yoku merely grumbled at the sting. His thick scales took the edge off most blows, so he’d probably get out of this with only flesh wounds.

It still hurt though.

Yoku chose to ignore the hammer-wielding ogre, instead focusing on the one in his clutches. He hammered its face with several punches until it melted into a bloody sauce, and its struggles ceased.

The other ogre had not simply paused to let Yoku pummel its partner. It rained down blow after blow upon his back, but Yoku ignored it.

Now that the first ogre was dead, Yoku turned his attention to the second. He seized its raised arm, and twisted it. The ogre first thought he meant to take his hammer, but the increasing pressure alerted it to its mistake.

With sudden desperate howls, it struck Yoku with its free hand, aiming to break his grip. Yoku didn’t stop it, continuing to twist, until, finally, the bone snapped.

The hammer fell from the now useless arm, the ogre staring in shock at its broken limb. By this time, Yoku would normally be gloating, or monologuing, or something, but he didn’t bother wasting words on this stupid creature.

He reached over and snapped its neck.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Yoku had chosen the wastes of Pakan, hoping that they might serve as a decent first conquest, but all he’d found were the remnants of the Conqueror’s army, numerous giants, and no proper towns.

Currently, a hill giant was attempting to kill him. The towering oaf carried a long log which served it as a club. It swung the log, making the most of its reach to prevent Yoku from retaliating.

Yoku opened his mouth, unleashing three streams of fire into its face. The giant staggered, raising a hand to its burnt face. Yoku charged forward, raising his blade, hewing its leg with ease.

There wasn’t even anything fun to fight here, it was all just tedious busy work. Go kill these pathetic ogres, kill this starving hill giant.

Occasionally, he would be told by one of the bosses of the Epanakian forces to handle some special quest, a band of trolls burnt to a crisp, a rising star among the Conqueror’s legions crushed by a boulder, et cetera. It reminded him of old times, but something was missing.

He missed the Sleepy Dragon Crew. At least when he’d been adventuring with them, Yoku wasn’t bored.

Corvus could be annoying, but her magic was fun, and she enjoyed being with him, more than these soldiers anyhow. It was mostly the bird that bugged Yoku anyhow. Nasty little meal thief. She had been given a place among the nobility.

Navar… Yoku could always trust Navar to be at his side through thick and thin, dire straits, or whatever stupidity he and Corvus would dive into. He’d left the Sleepy Dragon to study storm magic, and Yoku didn’t know where he’d gone.

Dionysis and Fennec were interesting. Yoku wasn’t that close to them, but they were entertaining. Of course, they kept messing up the table, disrupting meal times. The pair had left to establish their own… kingdom? Cult? Yoku wasn’t too sure what they were up to now.

Godren… Yoku always found Godren… freaky? Even ignoring the whole were-croc thing, his obsession with death was worrying. He stuck his hand out to grab a drop of primordial death energy! Granted, this was after Yoku grabbed the whole death sword, but apples and oranges. Godren still ran the Sleepy Dragon.

Crybaby never made a good impression on Yoku. While the others had never been as open about their evil as Yoku, at least they didn’t bother hiding behind good like Crybaby. She was frustrating. Last he’d heard, she still worked with the Sleepy Dragon.

And then there was Sword Lady. She didn’t have any other name. She was Fey Shaped, a mortal who has a certain path that they are meant to follow, but if they stray, they can shatter. Other Fey Shaped view this as most would view death. But the Sleepy Dragon didn’t really know much about Fey Shaped, and took her in. Over time, she began to develop some sort of personality, but she still had difficulty expressing her wants. For whatever reason, liking Sword Lady was just about the only thing both Yoku and Crybaby agreed on. She still worked with the Sleepy Dragon Crew. Yoku hadn’t talked to her in a while.

Yoku hadn’t talked to any of them in a while.

He looked to the band of soldiers with him. None of them spoke casually with him. Why would they? A ten-foot tall hired killer, with a history of incredibly violent feats, and now had been named Archlord of Pakan.

Sure, there were probably others of a higher rank somewhere in Epanak, but the smart ones avoided getting put in charge of Pakan, and even those that did run Pakan didn’t particularly want to be here.

Yoku was both a terrifying figure, and the highest ranked person here. Sergeant Daniels, an Aasimar who had been given the job of wrangling this wild operation, would discuss missions with him, and while she gave him missions, they often felt like busy work. Dealing with trolls? Yoku’s fire was their most effective weapon against them, sure. But a pair of ogres?

A dull ache was rising from his back again. The entire camp was beginning to run low on potions. And food. And water. They’d need to turn back. Again.

It didn’t matter how many giants were killed, or how far back they drove the Conqueror’s Legion, both had a hold on the region. Pakan wasn’t a rich landscape, but it had enough to sustain people if you knew what to look for. But the Epanakian forces didn’t have time to forage, they needed to establish a foothold. But they didn’t have time to establish a foothold before the supplies they’d brought ran out, and they needed to retreat.

Yoku was angry.

Angry at these soldiers who surrounded him, angry at the giants and Conquerors who fought him, angry at the tribes which just…

The tribes who just survived.

A thought cut through the haze of building rage, like a piccolo in an orchestra. If those tribes would work with them, that would be a step towards solving the food problem. And if the food shortage was no longer an issue, they’d have time to establish a foothold.

For the first time in a while a grin formed on Yoku’s face. It was a grim expression, proof of satisfaction, more than any true enjoyment, but it was a less morose expression than he’d had in months.

He’d need to talk to Sergeant Daniels.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Master Sergeant Daniels was exhausted. She was the highest ranking officer, and she was stuck. Stuck on some dead end assignment, fighting wave after wave of these Conquerors, hoping to one day breakthrough. With the death of the Conqueror, some of the unity had broken, yet there were still a lot of fanatic bodies to try and push through.

This was the third time she’d been sent here. The previous two efforts had failed for the same reasons this one was: lack of support from the nobility. Those fat cats would sit up high, talking about whatever schemes piqued their interest. And their interests didn’t concern Pakan, or the now dead Conqueror.

One of her soldiers, wasn’t his name… Evan?, came into the tent. “Sergeant? Uh, Yoku wants to speak with you.”

She lifted a hand to her face. That was a new headache.

Dalkan had appeared before her company, she’d been worried. An ancient assassin walking up to someone is a recipe for disaster. Then he said that he had an archlord he wanted her to take to Pakan. Normally, she’d have refused, no matter which Count it came from. But Dalkan didn’t like nobles, so she was willing to entertain his request.

And then she met the hired killer, self-proclaimed villain, and one of the people who helped kill the Conqueror.

A towering dragonborn, glowering at all around him. Though, that might have just been his face. Yoku was far less threatening than he had first appeared. Despite calling himself a villain, he was strangely amiable. At least, til they hit Pakan.

When they got there, Yoku’s many… quirks reared their heads. His stubbornness, his simplicity, his lack of tact, and especially his strange independent streak.

Sure, he was shockingly capable of surviving in the wastes of Pakan, and he’d often handle the beasts that their company, only three dozen strong, couldn’t deal with without incurring heavy losses.

BUT WHY DID SHE HAVE TO TALK TO HIM!

Ah well.

“Send him in,” Sergeant Daniels said, resigning herself to this fate.

“Oh he’s-” Evan began, before stumbling away from the door as Yoku poked his head in.

“Hey! Sergeant!” he bellowed.

Daniels didn’t shrink from his volume, but Evan lacked her resolve. Granted, she didn’t have the misfortune of standing next to Yoku’s mouth.

Yoku wriggled through the door, fitting most of himself in the tent. He left his legs and tail in the cold, so as to let the other two have some room to breathe. Evan quickly backed up, giving a wide berth to the dragonborn, as wide as he could anyhow.

“Archlord Yoku, what do you need?” Daniels said as amicably as she could manage.

“Well, I was thinking,”

A miracle, Daniels thought to herself.

“The problem is that we can’t get set up in Pakan? Well, there are tribes that are already set up! Why don’t we just get them to help us? They know how to survive here!”

Daniels sighed. Sure, that’d be swell… just find the hidden tribes that have been hiding out here, unable to be found by the Conqueror or our armies, and then convince them to help us. Brilliant.

“Of course sir, we’ll take that into consideration.”

“Great! Then we should probably retreat for now, thirty some people might be too many,” Yoku replied.

“Wait, what?”

“Yep, glad that’s sorted. I’ll let the soldiers know.”

Daniels watched Yoku squirm out of the door. She turned to look at Evan.

“Did I just lose control of our company?”

Evan just shrugged.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Yoku went to get the soldiers. They were a bit bewildered as Yoku took charge, but they couldn’t exactly ignore him. He was an Archlord.

The troop moved back to Savarak, the territory under the rule of Count Dalkan Arental. They had been using this land as a staging ground for the forays into Pakan. Thanks to Yoku’s favorable relationship, Dalkan had been providing them with a decent amount of resources to maintain their forces, but not enough to properly replenish them. Dalkan had more important things he needed to spend his gold on, and Yoku had asked to take Pakan.

The mood on this return was different than before. The other times there had been a sense of exhaustion, of failure. A weary band, returning bedraggled and starving to a city. This time, they still had a decent amount of food, and only one or two died from the battles they had fought.

Yoku was at the head happily chattering about ways he believed that they could find the tribes of Pakan. Sergeant Daniels was confused. How did he think he could find tribes that hid from the entire army of the Conqueror, or all of the Epanakian armies?

Eventually, they’d returned to their barracks, and the troops dropped all of their packs. Yoku pulled Daniels aside to tell her what he needed.

“Right, I’ll need you to pick, four or five people who you’d want with you. I’ll be back in a week or two.”

“Sir, what is the plan?” Daniels asked. He was surprisingly evasive about answering that question, probably not even intentionally.

“Oh, I got a kobold back in Keep Rememberance who should be able to find the tribes, we just need to avoid the armies.”

Daniels attempted to say something to this proclamation, but Yoku had already begun walking off. She stared after him, shocked. This could not work. But… what other choices did she have? The other lords of Pakan were doing their damndest to avoid this whole issue, the people who could request backup for the armies fighting for Pakan were either uninterested or actively hampering them.

“Sergeant?” Daniels turned. It was one of her soldiers, one who’d been working with her even before the Conqueror’s death. Corporal Reigen. One of the many tired faces who were dying so often from the weather or armies.

“Corporal, gather up some of the most experienced soldiers. We’re making a gamble.”

If she played her cards right, who knows how well this could go. Either they die the same death their previous course was aiming for, or they risk everything for a dream they could never hope for.

#TADA #d&d #d&d character #d&d oc #story #GOD #I wrote this up #and I wanna be making one of these a month in addition to the biweekly comic.#I Don't know why #But the Character of Yoku Fascinates me #He refuses to Leave.

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cagemasterfantasy · 18 days ago

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Dnd Unused Subclass: Barbarian: Path of the Dragon

Barbarians tap into primal powers, and a Barbarian of this path taps into one of the most ancient and primeval of them all: the power of dragons.

As with most Barbarian, ones following this path tend toward Chaos, as they contain potent destructive power that paces at the edges of the cage, just waiting to be unleashed. Some, particularly those rare individuals that channel metallic colors, may be exceptions to this tendency.

Restriction: Dragonborn Only

Only Dragonborn can follow the Path of the Dragon. The path taps into and grows the primal draconic nature that lies inside them.

Level 3 Dragon Form: When you choose this path at level 3, when you enter a rage, you can choose to make your Rage bonus damage deal elemental damage matching your Draconic Ancestry. Additionally, you can you take on aspects of a draconic being, growing savage natural weapons as claws grow from your hands, fangs sprout from your maw, and a vicious lashing tail grows from your back. Your claws deal 1d4 slashing damage, your fangs deal 1d8 piercing damage, and your lashing tail deals 1d6 bludgeoning damage and has the reach property.

Whenever you attack with one of your natural weapons using the Attack action on your turn, if you are not carrying any weapon or shield, you can make a single unarmed strike with your claws as a bonus action.

When you enter a rage, if you choose to deal elemental damage with your rage, and choose not to transform, you can instead focus your powers into intensifying your elemental power, increasing your Rage bonus damage increases by 1.

Level 6 Unleashed Savagery: Starting at level 6, once during a rage, as an attack as part of the Attack action, you can unleash your Rage into pure energy, exhaling a blast of elemental power. Creatures within 15 foot cone must make a Dexterity saving throw. The DC of this saving throw is 8 + your proficiency modifier + your strength modifier. A creature takes 6d6 damage of the Elemental Type of your Draconic Ancestry on a failed save.

The damage and range of this breath weapon increases at level 10 (to 8d6 in a 30 foot cone), and level 14 (to 10d6 in a 60 foot cone). Starting at level 18, you can use this breath weapon twice per rage, but only once per turn.

Level 6 Primal Weapons: Additionally at level 6 the natural weapons you gain while raging now count as magical for the purpose of overcoming resistance and immunity to nonmagical attacks and damage.

Level 10 Dragonhide: Starting at level 10, the marks of your Draconic path no longer entirely fade when you are not raging, and heavy scales grant you resistance to bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage from nonmagical sources even when you are not raging. Additionally, you gain immunity to your Dragonic Ancestry Elemental Type when raging.

Level 14 Tyrant of the Skies: By level 14, when you enter a rage, you can gain massive dragon wings which sprout from your back. If you are not wearing heavy armor, you gain a flying speed equal to your movement speed.

If you choose to manifest natural weapons and wings when you enter a rage, you can choose to entirely take on a draconic form while raging, becoming Large sized. When you take on a full draconic form, you choose whether your equipment falls to the ground in your space, merges into your new form, or is worn by it.

#unused subclasses #unused barbarian #path of the dragon

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wrathbites · 1 year ago

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new game + babey 5 and 15?

New Game + Give me a number 1-100, and I will either tell you what fic the corresponding Spotify Wrapped song inspired, or write you a ficlet/snippet inspired by that song.

5 is "Headlights" by Ashbury Heights. I'm a bit of a wuss with what it inspired so I don't have a fic or snippet to share, but I get "relationship on the rocks" vibes from it. And I can't do that to my precious babs (yet).

Now, 15! Is "Poison Apple", Echo Black and Danny Blu. I don't have a corresponding fic, buuuuuuuuuut...

Another midnight I saw your face The hunger hit me And I had to have a taste No need to fight it Temptation reigns Your touch is wicked And it's burning through my veins

"You're either very brave or very foolish to send your guards away this early, little mouse," his assassin rumbles, detaching from the shadows at last to stand behind him, so close he can feel the scalding heat from hip to shoulder.

There, on his neck, a puff of breath and the lightest skim of too sharp teeth. There, around his knee, the curl of a tail robbing him of escape, as deadly a weapon as the dagger yet to find home in his back.

A dozen reasons to run, to call his men back, to uncork one of the vials in his pocket and splash the contents over his assassin's face, stab at blood red eyes with his claw-tipped fingers. But fear gets him nowhere, and curiosity... well. There's always some fun in that.

"And have them spoil our game? Perish the thought."

"Mmm. So certain you'll survive the night?"

Gortash turns, and his assassin allows it, answer enough in the lack of space between them. His corpse would already be stiff and cold on the floor if his end fell on this night. He frames that scarred face in his hands, scales rough on his skin, and jabs his thumbs under the dragonborn's chin, forcing his head up.

"Careful, kitty cat," he murmurs, "I bite."

Human teeth are too blunt to cause lasting harm, but that's not what he's after. The hiss, the lash of that tail, the crash of magic up his arms, sparking along his veins and stealing the breath from his lungs - that's what he's after. The surge of a body against his forcing him back, another step, another, until he hits the table and tumbles backward over it - that's what he's after.

There's hunger burning in his assassin's stare, it's been there for weeks, and he'll have it.

#korblez #wrathwips #I like to tune it tune it #Gortash/Durge otherwise known in my wip folder as disaster murder husbands

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m8080forsharingwithfamily · 1 year ago

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my dnd character

Character Idea

Scourge (Chaotic Good)

Black Dragonborn College of Valour Bard Level 3/Level 2 Wild Magic Sorcerer

HP: 32

Weapons: 2 Scimitars (d6), 2 Shortswords (d6), 2 Daggers (d4) (+8 to hit)

Armour: Breastplate

Stats: 20 Str (+5), 16 Dex (+3), 12 Con (+1), 12 Int(+1), 10 Wis (+0), 16 Cha (+3)

AC: 16

Urchin Background

Spellcasting

Ability: Cha, Spell Save DC: 13, Spell Attack Modifier +6

Bard Cantrips: Vicious Mockery, Prestigitation

1st Level (4 Slots): Cure Wounds, Healing Word, Disguise Self

2nd Level (2 Slots): Invisibility, Knock, Shatter

Sorcerer Cantrips: Ray of Frost, Fire Bolt, Shocking Grasp, Minor Illusion

Sorcerer 1st Level (3 Slots): Sleep, Charm Person, Expeditious Retreat

Proficiencies (+3)

Skills: Sleight of Hand, Stealth, Intimidation, Perception, Survival, Persuasion, Deception

Equipment: Light and Medium Armor, Simple and Martial Weapons, Shields

Tools: Disguise Kit, Thieves’ Tools, Flute, Reed Pipes, Shawm

Languages: Draconic, Common

Saving Throws: Dex, Cha

Features

Bardic Inspiration (d6, 3 Charges)

Jack of all Trades (+1)

Song of Rest (d6)

Expertise (Sleight of Hand, Stealth)

Combat Inspiration (d6)

Wild Magic Surge

Tides of Chaos

Flexible Casting (2 Sorcery Points available)

City Secrets

Acid Breath

Acid Damage Resistance

Items

Component Pouch

Map of Baldur’s Gate

Common Clothes

Age: 19, Height: 6’3”

Appearance

She has a tall and muscular frame, with a long tail that is significantly taller than her when fully extended. Her scales are black, but fade to a dark blue around the tips of her horns. Her horns curl around from the back of her head before sharpening to a point at either side of her mouth, as well as smaller spikes adorning the top of her head like a crown. At her chin, there are three spikes, two short ones with a taller one in the middle. On her right arm, a spiked ridge travels down and splits into three, going along her pointer, ring, and middle fingers, sharing the same coloration as her horns. On her left arm, a similar pattern appears, though far less pronounced. She wears a cloak dyed a similar colour to her scales, and breastplate with the right sleeve cut off and a cut over the ridge on her other arm. The plate on her armour is painted black, but evidently not recently as the paint is dull and chipped over her heart, revealing the dull gray of steel. Her tail has a dagger tied to the tip for combat, though it hasn’t been used in a while. Her eyes are dark blue, similar to her horns.

Backstory

She never learned her given name, since her parents were exiles who died shortly after she was born, putting her on the street where she had to learn to take care of herself, still keeping a strong sense of independence now after fourteen years. She joined and underground fight club around twelve years old, where she quickly rose to the top (though not exactly by fighting cleanly) and made enough money there to get the equipment to join a mercenary group at sixteen, when an odd ridge appeared on her arm. A couple months later, she realized that she could harness the Weave to cast spells using it to focus her power, though not everything would go to plan. After realizing the power that she had now, she began to study music and integrate it with her magic, disguising herself and opening locks with ease, but also being able to patch up wounds with minimal effort. Her first instrument was a set of simple pipes, but she has since crafted a flute that is now one of her most treasured possessions. As she used magic more, the ridge grew, and eventually formed on her other arm, though not as tall. Now, she will always do her best to help out others in a similar situation to her younger self, giving them enough gold for a few good meals and a night with a roof over their head. If she doesn’t have the gold, she’ll try to convince one of the more generous party members to donate a few gold pieces to her new friend. If that fails, she’ll take the urchin to an inn and do her best to convince the innkeeper to donate a free meal or just try to pickpocket someone nearby for the coin.

You can do any thing with this character, no credit is required but is appreciated

#d&d #d&d character #dnd character #dnd oc #dnd5e #dungeons and dungeons #dungeons and dragons #bard #sorcerer #dnd sorcerer #dnd bard

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barovianbitches · 1 year ago

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Tyyran-y - Constantin & Tyyran (Villain AU)

Years had passed since the Bard College at Ayrenza had banished a young Tyyran Drachedandion from their halls. His comic acts and mirthful melodies had thrown the patrons of the academy into a rage, and in their pearl-clutching fury they'd sent the young Dragonborn away. Since that time, he had gotten drunk, partied, played songs and told jokes... And he had also found himself in the dark realm of Barovia. The land of mists. There, with a Tiefling, a human, a strange Warlock with a crab friend and a few locals in tow, they adventured through the land, gotten into trouble, and through some unfortunate events… found the spark of motivation to return. Marching through the mists, the triumphant, talented Dragonborn marched into the halls of his old academy. He had been forged in the crucible of Barovia, and was no longer the timid young comedian he once was, rather, a charismatic, sly and noble bard of great skill and wit, and with him he brought the wrath of the Land of Mists in the form of Constantin Vasiliev, a towering behemoth of a man. If Tyyran was the body of the revolution, Constantin was the arm that bore the sword, and with it, the Dragonborn quickly found himself at the seat of his own empire, an academy which he was set to run his way, rather than the prude ways of his forebears.

Thus began the Age of Tyyran the Tyyrannical. Ayrenza, once a school of noble import and a respected institution, now devolved to a happy house of jesters and bards, with an utter clown at the seat of authority, and a dark shadow looming at his side.

Tyyran had it. After all that time he had spent wallowing in self-pity. After all that time he spent in Barovia, he had finally figured out what he needed to do. He'd seen so much brutality, so much bloodshed that he was numbed to it. He was bitter and he wanted the revenge he deserved for being exiled and humiliated. He returned in the cover of night with his secret weapon... a maddened brute of a man who hungered for power just as Tyyran did.

They found Shirren. Asleep in the high tower of Tyyran's old bard school. This was the Noble who had ripped the future from him. This was the noble who cast him away for such ludicrous reasons. Tyyran was about to get his sweet sweet revenge, and according to tradition, once he killed Shirren, he would become the new noble of Aryenza. The two had taken care of the guards at the door and crept into the room with an aura of bloodthirst. Constantin was quick and precise. A small grunt of surprise and then a pool of blood dripping down from the bedside. Tyyran emerged from the shadows, scars covered his scales and a deranged smile glinted in the moonlight. Shirren was still clinging to life as the blood left his body. Tyyran grabbed one of the noble's horns and shook him once while he muttered,

"No more jokes and japes here. You created this monster, Shirren. I'm as serious as you wanted me to be." His smile grew wider, "Now die. Alone and surrounded by enemies." He threw the noble's head back and it hit the bed post. Shirren lulled to one side and eyes turned milky as his gurgling last breath escaped.

The next day, he announced his take over with his silver lute. Commanding all in his Presence to love and fear him. He basked in his new position. For the first time he was getting what he always wanted. Love from crowds of people. Respect from complete strangers and dear friends alike. Power to change what he didn't like. Then... his father showed up.

There was a spark of something primal in Tyyran. Something that snapped him out of his power-hungry state when he saw his dad. He wanted to run into his father's arms. He wanted to cry and say how much he missed him. However, when he glanced over at Constantin... He was reminded that his father did nothing for him when he was exiled. His father left him to fend for himself and the anger returned in full force.

"Father." He addressed calmly.

"Tyyran. My son. What has happened to you?" Rhorrin asked with a tremble in his voice.

"What do you mean what happened to me, dad." Tyyran snarled, "I was humiliated and cast into a world of curses and death. And you." Tyyran pointed at him with a glare, "You did nothing for me. You stayed here with your books and stayed quiet."

Rhorrin's expression changed from concerned to indignant, "Tyyran. The whole time you were gone, I was campaigning against the decision. I was doing everything in my power to get the decision reversed. I had to do it by the book though in order to make it a lasting change-"

"PAH! You're weak, RHORRIN. You should have done what I did and just TAKEN what you wanted. Guards, get him out of here. I don't want to see his face again. Put him in jail if you have to." Tyyran spat.

Rhorrin's eyes shimmered in the dim candlelight. The hurt on his face was undeniable. Tyyran felt that pang again. He hated it. He didn't want to think about it. These feelings... he had to fend them off with rage and anger. That's where they stayed... Behind the broiling fires of his hate.

He turned to Constantin, "Now it's time to fulfill my promise to you, my friend. Let's gather that army."

Constantin stared on with a dark glare as Tyyran monologued and made fun of his victims, and exiled his own father to the prisons of the college. The dragon bard Constantin once knew had long since died. He was right, Barovia killed Tyyran the kind, innocent and joyful, and gave birth to an angry, spiteful monster. Charisma, once natural and pure, became a sharpened weapon of word and wit.

He noticed, every now and then, the looks he received from his new ‘lord’. The sideways glances, often before major decisions to be made. Perhaps the Barovian acted as a motivator, a reminder of the price of power. Yet he remained silently loyal. As time went on and Tyyran the Tyyrannical established his claim, he acted as a silent enforcer, the right hand balled into an iron fist.

His focus returned to the moment as Tyyran addressed him. “If I may, my lord.” He grumbled, bowing his head in reverent deference, a reprehensible act but necessary to maintain the image of authority. “You move too hastily. You have your vengeance. To muster an army now would raise suspicion and opposition in equal measure.” The Barovian had found himself a forked tongue, it seems, as the once-noble Paladin schemed with the bard.

“You must cultivate loyalty, form alliances. To march on Ravenloft with the army of a fool’s academy -“ He paused, catching on the presumed insult. “Without, of course, the reinstatement of your discipline and education, as well as allies from other lands… It would be suicide.”

Tyyran reveled in his newfound power yet when Constantin spoke, he found it hard not to listen, "Yeah. You're probably right." He rubbed his chin in thought, "Why don't we invite some of the neighboring tribe's nobles and rulers out for a nice little dinner?" Tyyran cracked a malicious grin. Thinking about the way he could use his lute to influence their decisions and loyalty.

I know this is what needs to be done.

Another voice broke through in an annoying meek way, Remember Yvan? Would he have liked to see you this way?

Tyyran outwardly squirmed and tried to correct his posture again.

Shut up shut up shut up shut up! Yvan is gone! No point in thinking of that now!! I am a vicious ruler. One who will prove to the world he was deserving of love and respect for his talent!!

Yvan loved you for the way you were...

Tyyran got up abruptly and rubbed his brow, "What do you think, Constantin? Should I send the messenger now or wait a few days?"

He had to focus on something else lest this worm of guilt consume him.

“It will be several days travel. Send them now, my lord, if you desire their presence on the first of the week.” Constantin said. “We must make haste as well, lord Tyyran.” He continued, gesturing a black-gloved hand to the door. “You have an appointment with the former chief of the academy guard. He hopes to petition you for his position.”

Tyyran glanced over at the door, "Yeah yeah. Send him in." Tyyran whispered out of the side of his mouth, "Let's see who this buffoon is gunna be." And rolled his eyes as he shifted in his ... throne? Large imposing badass evil chair? Whatever. It was big, fancy and made him look menacing. He was excited to get on with more of his berating.

The armored giant stood next to the throne, and tapped a massive, wicked glaive against the marble floors, signaling the doors to open. Two of the academy guard ushered in a hooded figure, who strode down the marble hall to stand before Tyyran.

“Kneel.” Constantin commanded gruffly, slamming the butt of his glaive into the floor once again for emphasis. The figure dropped to a reverent knee, prostrating themselves before the new Lord.

“Announce yourself.” The Barovian ordered.

Tyyran eyed the new figure in his court. His build was slender... He noticed this dragonborn had jet-black scales with... hints of purple... Tyyran almost choked as the figure looked up from his kneeling position. The hood fell back and the face of a more mature Arrhin stared back at him, "Lord Tyyran... I'm not sure if you remember me... But I'm Arrhin... we met-"

"I know who you are." Tyyran said in a low tone, "What? Do you think just because you were kind to me once you get your position back?"

Arrhin stammered, seemingly flustered at the Tyyran that stood before him now that was nothing like the young exile he met in Bracklewhyte, "No. Not at all. When I heard you had come to power... I-" Arrhin took a breath, "I respect you, My lord. It would be an honor to serve under you." There it was again that gnawing aggravating voice.

Arrhin respected you as you were...Now what will he think of you? Tyyran waved the idiotic thought from his brain and stood up from his chair with a noble flair, raising his chin into the air, "I think you will have to prove yourself to me. Play me a funny song. Immediately."

The Dragonborn looked on, stunned. Constantin offered the tyrant a subtle, questioning side-eye, but said nothing. Silence filled the hall. “Do not defy him!” The black-clad behemoth bellowed, pointing the jagged blade of his glaive at the kneeling Dragonborn. He looked to the guard standing at the petitioner’s left. “Fetch him an instrument of his choice. We will at least play fair, as is the nature of our benevolent Lord.” Constantin snarled.

Arrhin shuddered under the shout of the Barovian. It was a rare sight to see Constantin Vasiliev, even rarer to hear him speak. Legends abound of Tyyran’s dark enforcer, a warlock of a long-lost land who had made a pact with an evil god for revenge against another. Within Ayrenza, the man was simply the dark shadow of the new tyrant, a bodyguard to soothe the Bard’s paranoia and an example of his connections.

Rumors further ran of his true capabilities. Whispers came of dissenters seeing a shadow at their window in the night, and then being found utterly savaged the next morning. Never had anyone seen Constantin execute someone, but all who looked upon him did not doubt he was capable. Having earned the title of the Tyrant’s Lapdog for his unwavering fealty, few would argue what he would do for his Lord.

The Dragonborn grabbed a lute that was offered to him by a nearby guard. He strummed it softly, clearing his throat.

“From Larsten to Dregnaught… This music shall be sought… Try not to start choking… When I am done joking….?” He sang weakly, fearfully, eyes flicking between Tyyran and his bodyguard.

Tyyran froze. His body going as stiff as an old corpse. He turned his head slowly and a rush of feelings and memories came flooding into him. He cried out in a fit of emotion, "STOP"

The room went dreadfully quiet and it felt as though everyone was holding their breath.

"No. no. no." Tyyran mumbled wildly as he strode toward Arrhin. He hated thinking about the past. He hated every moment it stood there in front of him. Mocking him. Tyyran grabbed the more slender dragonborn by the neck. Tyyran was a flaming mass of anger and regret. As he held Arrhin by the throat he considered that this is almost exactly what Shirren had done to him... with a little less violence... Tyyran's anger flickered into realization and he dropped Arrhin to the ground, the other reptilian spluttered and gasped.

"You aren't Tyyran... huff anymore... cough…are you?"

Tyyran had his back to the other dragonborn at this point, casting an eerie shadow over him. Constantin stood watching with narrowed eyes in the background, clearly seeing the madness filling his lord's eyes.

"No. No I'm not" Tyyran giggled. He began to laugh maniacally, "You know... that was a pretty funny song." He turned back, "But the old Tyyran wrote that." He then strode back to his chair, sat down. One leg lifted over the other and he rested his head in his hand, "Throw him in with my father."

The guards complied silently, dragging the screaming Dragonborn away to the prisons, in the cavernous undercroft. Constantin offered a stern glare to the guards as they departed, before turning to Tyyran. “Respectfully, my lord, he was the most qualified individual presently in the academy to command the Guard Corps. Who do you intend to appoint in his stead?” The man intoned flatly.

It was uncommon that Constantin directly challenged one of Tyyran the Tyyrannical’s decisions, but there were ground rules. It was always in private, and the man had a track record of being right. As in, he only stepped up with total certainty, preying on the trust formed in the lands of Barovia and hoping it would prevail over the tyrant’s seeming madness.

“Many of your detractors will see this as powerful ammunition.”

Tyyran took a breath trying to build his walls back up again, he glanced up at Constantin acknowledging his input, "There's another dragonborn who I remember was ruthless at the school." Tyyran uncrossed his legs and leaned forward intertwining his fingers, "His name is Gherro. If he's still in the Guard Corps, and you think he's up to snuff, promote him." The manic Lord sat back up, rubbed his brow and pointed a finger at Constantin, "Oh, and send that messenger for the dinner immediately. I'm going to go have a glass of wine."

Tyyran got up and made his way to his private study.

“As you command.” Constantin muttered, turning towards the door. Outside, he barked a command to a guard to find this ‘Gherro’ and have him report to the training field.

Tyyran’s office was well-decorated, the former occupant leaving behind a great deal of finery as well as an excellent wine selection in the cabinet, that which Constantin had beaten the lock off of. There was a large plush chair ripe for the sitting behind the fine mahogany desk.

Tyyran flopped into the chair. He held back tears of frustration. He was going mad he was sure of it. He flung the doors of the cabinet wide open and grabbed the first bottle of wine he could reach. He hastily pulled the cork and shakily filled a glass with the dark red substance. For a moment he imagined it was blood, pouring all over his hands and he had to take a swig of the bottle just to remind himself it was just wine.

What am I doing to these people who loved me? A whiny quiet voice rang inside of him.

A much louder booming voice came through, "I'M A NEW PERSON! I'M GETTING EVERYTHING I EVER WANTED! NO ONE WILL STAND IN MY WAY."

Tyyran began whispering aloud as he gulped down his wine, "shut up shut up shut up shut up"

Roughly an hour passed as Tyyran mired in his sorrow and drank his grief away. As dusk fell on the Academy, the glow-globes in the office cast a dull amber light over the surroundings, and just as the room fell to total, utter silence, a figure materialized in the corner of the office, one left empty for seemingly no reason.

Tyyran jumped and cursed when Constantin emerged from the shadows, "Fuck, Constantin. You scared the living shit right outta me." Tyyran took another swig trying to half pull himself back together, "What did Ghorrin say about taking over the position." He slurred.

“I tested his mettle.” Constantin grunted, stepping into the light. His armored fists were soaked in blood, and a faint line of crimson ichor trickled down his nose. “If I was not here to ensure your safety, my lord, I would not trust him. However, he is suitable for the position. He has been given the honor of guarding your halls.”

Tyyran could likely tell, even in his stupor, that Constantin likely did not ASK Gherro about taking the job.

Tyyran eyed the man for a second and nodded, "Good. Good. This is why I appreciate you, Constantin. No nonsense. You know what to do and you do it right." Tyyran grabbed the bottle in front of him and swirled the last little bit of liquid. He pushed a handkerchief towards Constantin with the other, "You got a lil... Somethin somethin right uhhh" Tyyran gestured toward his whole body.

The Barovian behemoth stared Tyyran down, sniffing slightly, before wiping the blood from his face. He stared Tyyran down, a piercing stare, even with his dull, sunken blue eyes. He stood silently, looking around the room. His eyes locked on a picture frame, on the corner of the desk. He could not see it, but he knew what it held.

A photo of several figures. A Tiefling, a large, blue woman, a short, golden-eyed man, Constantin, Tyyran, and a large, handsome man with his arms wrapped around Tyyran. Constantin stalked over to the desk, taking the frame in his hands. "The messengers have been dispatched." He said, staring at the picture with a gaze of contempt, turning away from Tyyran to pace as he observed the portrait.

"You swore to me that we would raise an army. We would march again on Barovia, drag Strahd's entrails across Ravenloft's battlements, yes?" He asked suddenly, casting a gaze over his shoulder to the drunken dragon.

Tyyran's face grew dark as well seeing the way Constantin observed the photo... It made him angry again. Tyyran growled and slammed the bottle to the floor, glass shattering everywhere, "Don't doubt me Constantin! I'm just as driven as you are to make this a reality. I, too, want to rip Strahd to shreds! I-" Tyyran realized that Constantin had seen the way he'd been acting today and that he was trying to remind him of why they were here in the first place. Why they had even come back at all from Barovia. They were here to be relentless, gather a powerful army and avenge their fallen friends. Tyyran kicked some glass shards out of the way in a huff and walked past Constantin trying to avoid looking at the photo, "I'm... tired. I'm going to my bedchamber to sleep off this alcohol. Tomorrow, we'll discuss plans for our 'dinner.' "

Constantin’s massive hand shot out and caught Tyyran by the shoulder, in a firm grip. Firm enough to be a reminder of his bone-crushing power, but restrained enough to not hurt. “Remember who we do this for. His death wounds me as deeply as it does you. The only way we can avenge him is through focus.” Constantin snarled. His eyes glowed with an unnatural fury. “Rest, my lord.” He said, the deferent title seeming a bit…. Empty. “We will discuss this once you are again sober.”

With that, the dragon was released and again Constantin simply disappeared into the shadows.

Tyyran shivered then gave an angry scowl. Of course I'll focus. I'll be the most focused. The best at being focused. He turned away to walk to his bedchambers. The bands of moonlight that filtered in from the tall windows illuminated him in beats as he strode briskly down the stone hall. With each bright cadence Tyyran's expression went from anger to complete maniacal madness.

‘What have you done?’

‘I will kill you.’ ‘Shut up SHUT UP. LET ME FOCUS.’

‘You'll kill me?’ ‘I am you or maybe the better you.’ ‘You've become a monster.’

Tyyran stumbled in a streak of pale illumination and fell back into a wall holding his head. The alcohol was making everything swirl. His sense of self breaking down. Images of Yvan began popping into his head. No. No stop.

"STOP!" he cried aloud and began booking it to his door. He threw it open and crumpled to the cold stone in his room. Crawling forward he grabbed his silver lute from its stand.

He strummed a few chords and suddenly, his world went quiet. He took a deep breath and began to quietly hum a tune. That's where he sat, leaned up against the lute stand until the gentle rays of sunlight danced over the horizon.

Constantin had retired to an office of his own, a dark oubliette deep in the pits of the academy. Lit only by dim candles, Constantin found himself face to face with a magic mirror, and as he looked on his mangled, sickly face, relics of years of war against the dark powers of Barovia, another dark power took form in the mirror, a snarling glare fixed on the Paladin-turned-Warlock. A voice, like nails on a chalkboard, ripped into Constantin's mind.

"You waste time with this foolish dragon-lord while I battle the forces of Death AND the laws of Order. Do you understand, Vasiliev, the price I paid to tear your soul from Barovia?" The voice demanded.

"Yes, I am well aware-" Constantin spat, whirling around to face away from the mirror as he spoke. "- of the great price paid, my Lord. I have paid in kind. Strahd will die! I just need TIME!" He roared, planting a boot against his desk, splintering the wood explosively and sending papers and inkwells flying.

"The Dragon is a weakling. If you want to keep in my good graces, you will eradicate this distraction and return to Barovia with haste." The eldritch voice continued, as Constantin's arms began to crackle with sickly green lightning. "That was not our deal."

"I wrote the contract, and I can change it, little bear." The voice said sarcastically. "Fine. Keep your last little friend. You have a month to return to Barovia before I reclaim my powers and allow your soul to disintegrate. Am I understood?"

"Yes, my Lord." Constantin growled, not yet looking at the mirror. "Look at me when you speak." The voice snarled, and a spike of pain shot through Constantin's head, forcing him to a knee, where he then turned to the mirror, his glare rising to the glass. "Yes... My Lord." The man grunted again. With a satisfied smirk, the face disappeared, and Constantin collapsed, heaving a shaky, rageful breath. The Tyyrant's bodyguard was not again seen until morning, when a knock, knock, knock landed on Tyyran's door, shortly after first light.

Tyyran bolted at the knocking, nearly dropping his lute to the floor. He grasped it in panic and got up to put it back on the stand. Whew, that was close... Can't afford to lose this lute. He thought, wiping sweat from his brow. The dragonborn had a splitting headache and the way he slept had him sore from head to toe. Tyyran went to the door and opened it just a crack to see who was there. A dark, imposing presence sat at the door, one that instilled fear and exuded death and danger.

So, Constantin.

Tyyran opened the door fully, "Ah. Constantin. I assume you've come to talk details about our plan?"

"If that is your will. I see you've not slept." The man said bluntly, not yet entering the dragonborn's quarters. He looked past Tyyran into the room, noting the mild state of disarray, before he locked his eyes back on Tyyran. "You must present yourself with confidence, efficiency and nobility. You have more enemies than you know, and they look for any weakness to manipulate." He said, a bit more truth in his words than he'd let on. Tyyran smoothed his hair back and took a deep breath in and breathed out, "Yeah. Yeah. I know. I know. Give me a second to clean myself up. I'll meet you downstairs in the Council Chamber." Constantin nodded, walking away.

The morning glow warmed the cracked stone of the old building as Tyyran made his way downstairs. He had put on his best suit today, brushed his hair back and stood with an air of superiority. Today he had his lute with him, strapped to his back in a protective cover embroidered with purple and gold. He stepped into the Council Chambers, the creaking of the doors echoed through the vast hall. Constantin was already standing next to the round table. A large map set upon the wall. Tyyran briskly made his way over, focusing on the tribes and countries marked, "I see you've already set things up." Tyyran remarked, pretentiously swinging himself into the biggest chair possible.

"Time is too valuable to waste with setup." Constantin replied, holding a long swagger stick in his hand. He used it to refer to the map, as well as tap his palm idly. Once Tyyran had settled in, and the retinue of staff and servants had made their ritual of offering him any manner of food, drink, ottoman to rest his feet on, a glass of wine, a pillow... They disappeared into the wings once the head of the staff noticed Constantin's twitching eyelid and grit teeth.

"If you are satisfied with the service, my Lord, shall I begin?"

Tyyran chomped loudly on a piece of toast and took a small sip of the wine, "Yes."

"Lovely." Constantin replied, through grit teeth, a long, thin smile stretching across his face. The Barovian titan turned his attention to the map, and began to deliver a monologue on the various nation-states and wandering tribes that inhabited their region of the Sword Coast. He went on for nearly two hours, detailing everything one could possibly want to know about them, as well as information about how best to curry their favor, or in certain cases, manipulate them. He finally turned back to Tyyran, to gauge how well he had followed along.

Tyyran tried really hard to pay attention. He really did. but it was SO BORING. The dragonborn sat fiddling his claws and staring out the window. He got some info about some guys to the east being the most powerful ally for resources? And then some warlord who was notorious for having a well-disciplined and strategic army? Constantin turned back to him and he perked up, "Soooo, it sounds like we just need to invite... those guys." Tyyran gestured to the map vaguely.

“Yes... I have done this.” Constantin said plainly, with a note of tired annoyance in his voice. “My Lord, if you are going to simply laze about during these briefings, swill your wine and dream of the flower fields... We do not have to have them.” Crossing his arms, he stared down at the dragon in his little chair. “I would not waste your valuable time. I understand your desire to remain informed, but perhaps... Perhaps I issue a shorter briefing, and simply take charge of decisions at this level?” The man inquired.

This was a clear and obvious power play. Constantin was suggesting that Tyyran relinquish authority over international, interorganizational and public relations to the Barovian with violent tendencies and anger issues. Decorum was not particularly Constantin’s strongest suit, and Tyyran knew this... But think of all the time he could have to drink, play his lute and try not to think of Yvan while Connie did all the dirty work…

Tyyran looked offended, "I'm here, aren't I? I'm not 'LAZING' about! Sure I want a glass of wine here and some breakfast... and perhaps these meetings make my brain hurt." Tyyran gritted his teeth a bit, frustrated with how Constantin saw him. Though, he partly knew Constantin was right, "Fine. We'll be brief with these meetings. I think I remember most of the names of those who will be at the dinner. At least then I can put into play what I am good at." Tyyran gave a mischievous smile, "And that's charming my way through to a crown."

“Precisely.” Replied the Barovian, with a sharp smile. For a moment, something in his eyes softened. A familiar gaze showing through. Constantin. Not the executioner he had become, but Tyyran’s old friend. “T-“ He caught himself. “My lord. I mean no offense. Your talent and aptitude lies in charm and charisma. Duties I could never fulfill. I simply suggest you allow me to handle that of which I am capable, to allow you to direct your focus to your talents.” He pauses. “With such efficiency, we can redouble our efforts to avenge our friends…. And to resurrect Yvan.”

Tyyran could feel his heart skip at the mention of Yvan. However, every few short happy memories of the two together was replaced with bitter sorrow from the aftermath. Tyyran focused upward with a glint in his eye, "I agree, Constantin. Let's be more... efficient."

As Tyyran wandered away from the briefing, Constantin leered over the map. A voice whispered in his mind, a sickening sneer. “Tick, tock, Vasiliev. You are running out of time.” Gritting his teeth and bringing a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, the man cursed in hushed Barovian. The taunting continued, and as a guard poked their head in to ask after the Lord’s bodyguard, they witnessed him drive his fist through the map table, shattering the entire display into splinters with an enraged shout. The guard disappeared as quickly as he’d arrived once Constantin established eye contact, a murderous glare in his dull, blue eyes. Leaving the wreckage of his briefing, the man stepped into the shadows, again disappearing, this time for nearly a week.

Several days had passed since Constantin had sent out dinner invitations on behalf of the dragon Bard. Ayrenza was alight with hustle and bustle, students, servants, staff all doing their best to stay out of the way of everyone else. The guard was thoroughly stressed, as their new commander and inexperienced staff did their best to process courts, retinues and organized parties from all across the Sword Coast. An Ennari delegation from the Elven highlands, Spirit-seers offering their foresight to any who would listen, essayed into the dining hall where their chief, Eldrad took a seat at a table. The barbaric warlords from the northlands, somehow bringing a civilized retinue and presenting gifts of weapons and fine furs. Thallax Gorechild escorted away from the head of the table, to a seat a few chairs down. In Tyyran's house, only he sat at the head of the table.

Several more processions and delegates essayed their way in, before the final guest arrived. A drifter, in a cloak of leather and a dark hood, known only to the Ayrenzan Academy Guard as... The Desert Wind. He was offered a seat at the other end of the table, as the others vied for proximity to Tyyran. As servants loaded the table and served wine, Constantin stomped through a door, his heavy footfalls echoing across the marble. Armor black as night, seeming to consume nearby light, his voice echoed, distinct Barovian accent tinting every word. "Presenting the grand, noble, mighty Lord Tyyran Drachedandion. Master of Ayrenza, First of the Reformists. Honored be his name." With such an introduction, all rose, the Desert Wind last to join them.

Tyyran swept in with an elegant air. His chin held high and his posture strong. The dragonborn was elaborately decorated in silver, gold and purple hues. The suit he wore was embroidered head to toe in magnificent floral patterns. The lute he cherished strapped to his back. He made his way to the head of his table, his reptilian eyes scanning those who had come. Almost everyone had cloaks on because of the cold weather that was persistent in this area. However, Tyyran's eye caught one figure whose cloak obscured his face. He immediately became suspicious but rubbed it off for now. Once he was able to perform for everyone at this dinner, they'd all be wrapped around his claw.

Tyyran stood next to his chair. He raised a goblet full of wine, "Welcome, valued guests. As the new Noble of Aryenza, I intend on getting to know all of you as esteemed neighbors and, hopefully, as friends. Drink and be merry as I play a ballad for all of you." Tyyran began to extract the silver lute from its holster. The gathered delegation applauded politely, and all took their seats at the table. As they sat, the man at the end of the table brought hands subtly to the sides of his head, looking to smooth his hair under his hat. Tyyran held the attention of the room, save for Constantin, whose eyes scanned across the gathered nobility, ready to leap at the first sign of trouble.

The gathered delegation applauded politely, and all took their seats at the table. As they sat, the man at the end of the table brought hands subtly to the sides of his head, looking to smooth his hair under his hat. Tyyran held the attention of the room, save for Constantin, whose eyes scanned across the gathered nobility, ready to leap at the first sign of trouble.

Tyyran took to a small stage at the head of the room. His eyes glinted with mischievous intent. Tyyran began to play the lute. A new song he wrote specifically for this event;

A ballad of bravery.

Of sadness and memory.

A Vengeance turned stone.

And rising to the throne.

As Tyyran strummed on the little instrument, a haze fell over the audience. The crazed Noble smiled with glee as he focused on everyone in the room, imparting a feeling of loyalty and respect.

We worship the master of song!

A reign that will last and is strong!

A power that rings like a sound.

He sure would look good in a crown!

Tyyran put his all into the performance, trying to keep everyone mesmerized. Watching all of them to make sure the spell was working. He couldn't let any of them get away in case the charm didn't work. He eyed Constantin making sure he also was watching the assembly... He surely was, glaring at the assembled delegation, faint wards glowing over his ears. What good would a warrior be if he were charmed by every little song? The gathered nobles were enraptured with the song. At least, it looked that way. All of them applauded loudly and raucously, all except for one, who offered a polite measure of applause, not yet looking up to meet Tyyran’s gaze. Leather-gloved hands gave out a muted applause.

Tyyran made his way down from the stage, examining everyone's faces, "Thank you. Thank you. You're all too much!" His already toothy grin cracked farther, as he posed a question to test how the spell worked, "Now, how do we all feel about forming a union? One under my rule?" Everyone at the table hooted and hollered, even the most stony and beastly leaders were compelled to shout “YES YES! MAKE TYYRAN OUR KING!” Tyyran could feel that little annoying voice in the back of his mind get drowned out by the cheering crowd. This is exactly what I've always wanted. I love this. I want this all the time. I love this power. I deserve this power.

“You really have changed, Silvertongue.” A voice drawled from the end of the table. Needles of familiarity poked at the back of Tyyran’s mind, yet they did not knit a picture just yet. “I mean, not really.” The voice continued. “You were always the charmin’ sort, but it looks like you went mad fer’ power, and you brought the walkin’ corpse along for muscle.”

Tyyran froze where he stood. He eyed the cloaked figure who had drawn the attention of the whole room. ‘Where have I heard that voice before?’ Tyyran began to play the lute on one continuous finger pluck as he spoke, hoping the spell's effect might amplify. "I know you...You're-"

“The Desert Wind, silvertongue. It’s been a while.”

With a wry grin, the stranger revealed his face, lifting his hat from his head. A handlebar mustache, well-kempt sat under a large nose, and gleaming green eyes stared down the Dragonborn. A long-lost face, likely thought lost to time, or the Mists. It was that man he’d met so long ago. Rough, uncouth, outright rude… But a helping hand. A hired gun.

Sterling John Moses Winchester.

What he was doing here, none could tell. He was no noble, no great leader of men. How he’d made the dinner list was a mystery to all, even Constantin, who stared on with no sort of recognizance whatsoever. Tyyran grew frustrated. His tune clearly not wrapping itself around his target... Sterling!! ‘No! It had been so long... How is he still alive??’

Tyyran spat at the old acquaintance, "YOU SAW HOW CLOSE ALL OF US WERE! YOU KNOW THEY'RE ALL DEAD NOW, RIGHT?! This is what comes when evil begets evil."

Tyyran kept strumming the lute to keep everyone in the room calm and orderly, "Moreover... STERLING... You're outnumbered here." Tyyran laughed and nodded to Constantin while he commanded those in the room to attack the cowboy.

"Sorry, son. Ain't gonna be that easy." The Cowboy’s pistol twirled in his hand, a dexterous spin as it was drawn from the leather holster on his belt. The man fired three shots. The first, aimed at the lute. A classic Sterling technique, a disarming shot. The next two, walked up the fretboard of the instrument, as the man was intent on disabling Tyyran's control over the crowd. Constantin was slow on the uptake, reaching for his glaive, as if all of this seemed to happen in slow motion. Tyyran felt the hard ricochet of bullets off the lute, the fretboard shattered under his fingers which caused him to drop the instrument entirely. Tyyran cried out in both fear and grief, "Constantin! Grab the gun from him!"

Constantin leaped into action, hefting his polearm and tearing off towards Sterling, but before he could make it, two cloaked figures leaped out from behind pillars. Dragonborn, with longswords and parrying daggers. Their hoods were torn from their heads as they met the dark giant in combat. Prisoners escaped from their cell, Rhorrin and Arrhin. They swung at Constantin's knees, Tyyran's father catching an armored boot to the face while Arrhin caught a vicious swipe from the glaive in response. They did not survive long, but the escapees had fulfilled their task. They'd given Sterling time. "Sorry to hear about yer' friends, and yer' boyfriend. Sure they woulda' known you were better than this. Sorry, buckaroo. You went about it wrong, and I can't let it continue." Sterling drawled, the barrel of his gun still smoking from the rapid burst. "For what it's worth... I really liked you when you weren't a maniac. You were a real good singer. Shame it had to end this way."

Click... BANG!

Everything happened in an instant. However, to Tyyran, it seemed the world slowed down. He witnessed how Constantin tore through two of the people he knew he loved but didn't want to face... Echoes of the past booming with the sound of a revolver... a little voice that sang quietly in the back of his head... And something warm began to flush in his chest. He looked down to see vivid red dripping through his dress shirt. He'd been...shot.

‘Tyyran, what have you become? You're going to die as a monster... you idiot. You stupid lizard-’ Tyyran fell to his knees making painful eye contact with Constantin for a brief moment and tears began to form in his eyes... In this moment, He was no longer a power hungry tyrant... he was no longer mad with guilt and grief... For a moment he was Tyyran. The Tyyran that was banished from this very school for being a goof... The Tyyran Yvan loved. The Tyyran of the before. With a raspy gurgling breath Tyyran wheezed to Constantin, "I'm sorry, Constantin... I couldn't do it..." Then he crumpled... his head swirling with last thoughts and distant memories. The laughs and long conversations with Rorali. The moments of reflection and healing with Bettany. Fighting and singing alongside Constantin. Learning new things and exploring with Thalassia... plus... the sweet tender morning and evening kisses with Yvan... All of it was fading to black..

Constantin's eyes flared with a sickly green glow, rage filling every ounce of his body. His opportunity, his chance at revenge... His friend. Dying. With a series of rapid hand gestures, Constantin channeled a healing spell, directing it at Tyyran. One that would bring him back from death. Sterling ripped a scroll from his jacket and yelled a word of power. The scroll glowed and incinerated itself, as Constantin's magic fizzled. The bastard had brought a Scroll of Counterspell. As he watched Tyyran bleed out, incapable of conjuring more than one healing spell due to his dark pact, he screamed with rage, turning and hurling the glaive across the table. The Cowboy ducked as the polearm went to impale him. Constantin stepped to Tyyran, attempting without any success to conjure more healing magic. He was a Paladin no more, and that was the price. "He will pay." Constantin swore, as he spoke to Tyyran, kneeling by him in his final moments. "Be at peace." He mumbled, before disappearing in a coal-black cloud.

Sterling was on the run. Bursting through the dining hall archway, spurs jingling with every pounding footstep. Every turn, a look thrown over his shoulder, waiting for the big man to catch him. He turned back to face the direction he was running, just to nearly run into the Warlock as he appeared from a cloud of shadow, reaching out with a spikey, gloved hand, a grab for the throat. The short man ducked under it and kept going, drawing his pistol again and firing six shots at the Barovian, all of which ricocheted off of his heavy armor. The man tore off after the assassin, footfalls cracking the marble floor as he raged after the murderer. He had done it. He had laid low the tyrant that put the entire Sword Coast at risk with his charisma, control and power-hungry madness... But now he was probably going to pay with his life.

He burst through into the campus courtyard, blowing past a handful of panicked guards and students as he raced for the bridge. On the other end, a Half-elven woman with striking red hair held a portal open, gesturing panickedly for Sterling to hurry as the Barovian behemoth came bearing down on him. When he reached the end of the bridge, he stopped. He grabbed the woman by the shoulders, saying something inaudible. They shared a look, a kiss, and then the woman was shoved through the portal, the rift closing behind her. The night was falling on Ayrenza, the academy under attack, their new lord and master staining the tiles of the dinner room with his lifeblood. Constantin came to a stop at the far end of the bridge, staring the cowboy down as he looked away from the college, towards the direction of the now-closed portal.

The sun hung low in the sky, the western sky ablaze with the warm palette of a summer sunset, hues from orange to purple struck across the clouds and open air, a painting worthy of the gods of art. Sterling did not yet face his enemy, who roared furiously. "YOU TOOK MY ONLY CHANCE!" He raged. "MY ARMY. GONE! MY FRIEND! DEAD! WHAT DID YOU SEEK TO GAIN FROM THIS?" The Barovian screamed, taking another earth-shaking step forward, hands crackling with green flame. "Tyranny cannot stand, big man. You woulda' said the same, all those years ago. Before that poison or wha'ever got to yer' mind. I remember yer' friends, how hard they fought to save you, they would not have wanted thi-"

Sterling was cut off by a shockwave of anger rippling from Constantin's position. DO NOT SPEAK OF THEM!" He howled. "I challenge you. Death. Here and now." Sterling spat on the ground. "Fine, that's how you want it, Vasiliev? That's the way it'll be." Sterling turned to face Constantin, his hand hovering over the pearl-handled revolver in his right-hip holster. A crackling of energy formed violently in Constantin's right hand, as they stared each other down. The sun dipped lower in the sky. Overhead, a raven's wing-beats broke the silence, with a loud caw. The tension built, built, built... To a palpable level. Neither man moved, until suddenly the silence was again broken by the screech of an angry, desperate Eldritch Blast...

And the sure-fire crack of a Deadeye's gun.

Fin.

#Villain AU #Villains #constantin #constantin vasiliev #Tyyran #Tyyran Drachedandion #d&d #lore #Sterling #Sterling John Moses Winchester

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whirlwindsprint · 1 year ago

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sonic biography!

NAME: Sonic the Stead-Fast RACE: hedgehog... biracial / wood elf & nord inspired CLASS: dual class - rogue / scout ALIGNMENT: chaotic good PLACE OF ORIGIN: small fishing village that has now been turned into a bandit hideout, just on the outskirts of riften's hold RELIGION: fairly open minded & mixed due to having different cultures in his heritage, but mainly gravitates towards kynareth (the human god of wind/sky/rain) and y'ffre (the bosmer god of storytelling & the now.) OCCUPATION: dragonborn adventurer SKILLS & PERKS: ★★★★☆ one handed (dual wielding focused) ★★★☆☆ sneak ★★★★☆ speech (persuasion focused) ★★★★★ light armor ★★☆☆☆ archery ★★★☆☆ restoration ★★★☆☆ alteration SPELLS (if any): fast healing healing hands iron flesh water breathing SHOUTS (if any): WULD NAH KEST whirlwind sprint KAAN DREM OV kyne's peace SU GRAH DUN elemental fury ZUN HAAL VIIK disarm VEN GAAR NOS cyclone LOK VAH KOOR clear skies WEAPONS: two ebony swords elven dagger long bow (weak paralysis enchantment) ARMOR & APPAREL: dragon scale armor + minor health enchantment dragon scale boots + minor stamina enchantment dragon scale arm guards + minor archery enchantment novice mage hood amulet of kynareth ring of the wind (artifact of kynareth) wearer's movement speed increases 40% & is said to grant incredible agility POTIONS: so..so many magica potions…… INVENTORY: cooked salmon, rabbit haunch, & pheasant breast juniper berries, snow berries, & mountain flowers bed roll & tent cup, plate, fork, ink pen, journal, torch, his father's lute BACKSTORY: - grew up in small fishing village on the outskirts of riften hold, home was ransacked by bandits & his mother sent him away with a blessing from kynareth that would grant him the speed he needed to always get away safely - as he got older & began to understand what happened he made a vow to never run away again, now travels the land in search of new adventures and people that need his help - got caught up in an imperial ambush & was taken prisoner. they planned to execute him despite the fact that he clearly was not with the stormcloaks. before he could be executed, alduin attacked and he was able to get away in the midst of the chaos - goes through main dragon born quest line !

#tbt #MY BOYYY

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the-sympathetic-villain · 3 years ago

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A Life For A Life - Chapter 6

AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

Prompt by @local-space-case: Prince Roman and his two loyal friends, Patton and Logan, are on the hunt for a dragon. Meanwhile, Dragonshifter!Janus is just trying to find the right herbs to cure a sick/injured Dragonshifter!Virgil. Bonus points for Anxciet and/or Protective Remus.

Word Count: 3332

Chapter Warnings: Injuries, Blood, Prejudice, Threats, Medical Treatment, Guilt, Weapons mention, Exhaustion, Romantic Contact/Language (Let me know if I missed anything!)

A/N: For reader's reference:

M'henich - You were a bad egg abandoned by your mother at birth! Dokaal - "Two-Legger" Wyrmkiller - Draconic/Common hybrid worm meaning dragonkillerI used this site for reference on possible draconic words :) https://slushlush.com/2013/04/a-draconic-primer/

“Jan, I'm fine.”

Roman blinked, coming out of a daze as he turned back to the strange, hissing voices of the creatures huddled together in the darkness of the far side of the cave. The bright, flickering light of the fiery nest had dulled to a warm glow and the creatures’ focus seemed to have shifted their attention away from Logan and himself.

He found himself staring at the smaller creatures purple scales as they glittered in the dull light. The injured stranger forced himself to straighten upright, letting out a strained breath as he clutched his wound and leaned his head into his partner. A series of hisses and harsh syllables started fell from the lips of the man with the golden scales as his partner’s knees threatened to buckle.

“My prince,” Logan’s cold tone pulled at Roman’s heart as he turned back to his courtier. “I fear he will lose consciousness if we do not act soon.”

Wet streaks stained Logan’s cheeks as he stared past Roman to the scaled creatures. His expression remained blank as the man with the golden scales spun his head toward them with a threatening growl.

“Whoa.” Roman held up a hand as he stepped between Logan and the fierce, glowing gold of the man's eyes. His other hand automatically came to hover over the dagger sheathed at his hip as the creature bared his glistening teeth at Logan. “Stand down. He's only trying to help.”

The man's lips curled into a sneer as he let out a huff. A hint of a spark jumped from his teeth as he let lose a string of hissed words at Roman.

“He says, if you come anywhere near me, he'll open up your rib cage and rip out your still beating heart.” The other man's purple eyes flickered with amusement as he leaned into his partner’s chest. “A human prince's heart is a rare delicacy among dragonborn. We'd gladly take advantage of the opportunity to try it for ourselves.”

Roman froze as his gaze flitted from the subtle glint of purple eyes back to the threatening smirk of his partner. “I do not fear you.”

A sudden, bright light pulled a surprised yelp from Roman’s throat as a growing wall of heat forced him back. The heat quickly abated as the flames were quelled by the man's lips, leaving behind an infuriating grin as he smirked at Roman.

“M'henich.” The purple creature growled, spitting his words at Roman. “Do not assume we are weaker now because we look like you.”

Roman chewed his lip, taking a step back as he held the man’s gaze. For the first time, his mind stalled with uncertainty of how to proceed. The purple eyes glaring back at him were filled with hatred as he leaned against his partner’s chest, glad to hold the stalemate as long as it brought them misery.

“Surely, you don’t intend to incapacitate yourself on the first leg of our journey.” The air seemed to still as Logan stepped up next to Roman to address the men directly, his voice steady even a storm of emotion brewed in his eyes. “Despite what your master seemed to imply, it seems that his magic is not keeping the less deadly side effects of my poison at bay.”

The creature’s smirk turned to a grimace as he snarled at Logan. “Remus is not my master, nor am I foolish enough to take the word of a human who downed me.”

Logan didn’t flinch as the creature spat words filled with venom back at him. His eyes flitted about the creature’s body, noting the stranger’s white-knuckled grip on his partner’s chest.

“You can choose to ignore my advice. Neither Roman, nor myself, will force you.” Logan’s voice seemed to falter at the promise, though he remained resolute as he addressed the purple-eyed creature. “I cannot blame you for your decision after the pain we've caused you, but please understand, your actions will affect us all. Most of all your guardian, whom I assume will insist on carrying you should you fall unconscious.”

The smallest movements in the room seemed to still as Logan held his own against the hostile glares of the fiery beasts. Their very breaths seemed to still as they leered back at Logan, contemplating his words in perfect silence.

“Am I correct in understanding your name is Virgil?”

The smaller creature seemed to bristle in the darkness as Logan spoke his name. “And what’s it to you, wyrmkiller?”

“Virgil, please understand that the poison currently coursing through your veins is made from many of my own signature components.” Logan started, shifting his weight back to appear less threatening. “One of the less deadly herbs’ sole purpose is to thin your blood. This was intended to leave you weak and defenseless as your body bled out. Which means, if you have internal injuries, the poison forcing your body to work harder to heal itself and resist succumbing to the more deadly aspects—”

“Do not quote your texts to me.” Virgil growled as his eyes flashed with a dark shade of purple. “I'm no mere beast. I will not fall to you.”

Logan paused as the man anger degraded into a coughing fit. His expression flashed briefly with empathy as the pained expression on Virgil’s face deepened. “I understand your anger, but I beg you to not underestimate the effects of the poison.”

“You are a witch.” Virgil spat back at him as his quickly paling complexion reddened with anger. “Dokaal, I hope your flesh and blood turn his teeth on you when he realizes the evil inside you.”

Logan bit his lip as he watched the man’s knees quiver. His partner quickly adjusted his grip, eyes wide as he whispered to the poor, trembling figure paling. “I will have earned Patton’s ire, and he can do with that what he chooses when we save him, but for now my attention is on you.”

Virgil’s eyes flashed purple as he bared his teeth at Logan. “Take your attention elsewhere.”

“I can stop your pain.” Logan interrupted abruptly. A slight quiver started to enter his voice as Roman noticed a growing desperation in his eyes. “You may not trust me but I assure you medical intervention will be necessary if we are to make it to our destination—”

“No.” Virgil growled as his eyes shifted to almost cat-like slits and he glared at Logan. “I refuse to let you treat me like a means to an end. You chose to take flight during a storm, and I hope that pride will be your end, so I may watch you fall to the Earth penniless and unfeared!”

“Virgil.”

Roman’s breath stopped as the man with the golden eyes spoke, his deep voice rasping with strain as he stared down at Virgil.

“Janus, don’t you dare contradict me.” Virgil’s head dropped away as his partner’s piercing gaze shifted down to him. “It's my life."

The stranger’s golden scales seemed to glitter in the warm light as he stared down at Virgil, slowly reaching a hand to his cheek. A melancholic smile spread across his face as he guided Virgil’s chin up to stare into his golden eyes.

The pure amount of reverence in Janus' voice stilled the movement in the air as gentle words fell from the man's lips. The moment felt so intimate and human that Roman could hardly breathe as Virgil’s eyes filled with guilt, shifting back to a more humanoid appearance.

“That's not fair, Jan.”

“I won't lose you, Virgil. Not today of all days.”

Janus’ hissing smoothed as he addressed his partner in the Common language for the first time. His words seemed to draw a defeated sigh from the Virgil’s lips, surprising both himself and Logan.

“I will carry you to the valley if that is your choice, Virgil. I would never force your hand.”

“No, Jan.” Virgil's hand grasped a handful of Janus’ shirt as he bowed his head into his partner’s chest. “You're exhausted. You can't keep going like you’ve been.”

Roman’s heart skipped a beat in his chest as Janus’ eyes flashed at him. Janus’ golden scales rose defensively as he snarled at Roman, almost as if daring the prince to take advantage of his weakness before turning his attention back to Virgil.

“You are my everything.” Janus took Virgil’s hand into his own. “Choose your path and I will follow.”

Virgil let out a long sigh, clenching his fists as he gave in to Janus’ urging. “I will allow the human to treat me.”

A small, appreciative smirk twitched on Janus' lip as his thumb brushed Virgil’s cheek. The adoration in his eyes stirred an uneasy guilt in Roman’s stomach as Janus turned his eyes up to Roman.

“We have conditions.”

Roman nodded as the man who called himself Janus turned to Logan. His courtier and fiancé seemed to be jolted from his stupor as Janus addressed him.

“Certainly, I would expect nothing less given the circumstances.”

Janus pursed his lips at Logan’s relief, barely concealing his disgust as he cast a cautious glance at Roman. “First, we expect your prince to drop all of his weapons and step away.”

Logan blinked, turning to look over his shoulder for confirmation. “Roman?”

“Certainly, Logan.”

Nodding slowly, Roman's eyes flitted to Logan before unsheathing his dagger to lay it to the ground. Once his bow, dagger and shortsword rested neatly on the ground before him, he raised his hands and took a step back, his body tense with concern as he watched Logan address the creatures alone.

Janus turned to ease Virgil back into the nest of embers. The man’s purple scales seemed to have dulled as his weight collapsed back on the ground, muscles exhausted by the effort of standing.

“You are certain you can ease his pain?” Janus' sharp teeth glistened in the dark as his eyes narrowed on Logan.

“Due to the severity of his weakness, presumably he will need multiple treatments to completely eliminate the pain.” Logan answered. His voice remained cautious as he eyed Janus for permission to approach. “But yes. I am certain I can reduce his discomfort significantly.”

“Very well. You may approach, but—"

Logan stopped in his tracks as Janus held his hand up. All of the warmth had left Janus' eyes. His face distorted as his reptilian features emerged enough to show his glistening teeth and claws.

“—if you cause him even an inkling of pain, I will snap your bones like dry, branches of tinder.”

“There is no guarantee that treatment won't cause pain. Any small mistake may cause temporary—”

“Then, be careful.”

Logan pursed his lips, nodding as he returned Janus' glare. He dropped his head and picked up his pace as he approached the creatures’ side, pulling his bag off his shoulder. “I never intended to be anything less.”

Janus hissed, kneeling next to Virgil’s head as he monitored Logan’s movements. “Only a fool lets a poisonous flower prick him twice, dokaal.”

Logan dropped his bag next to Virgil on the ground as he dropped down next to the dragonshifter’s body. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Virgil’s body grow stiff as his purple eyes narrowed on him with distrust.

“Relax, you’ll only make it worse by tensing your muscles.”

“Forgive me if I fail to relax watching a murderer mend my—Hey! What are you doing?”

Logan paused as Virgil hissed at him, letting out a sigh. “I have to roll up your shirt to see your wound.”

“The least you could do is warn me,” Virgil hissed, giving Logan a stiff nod to continue. “but I guess that would be too much courtesy to expect from a human.”

“Forgive me. I assumed it was self-apparent that was necessary. I will do better to acknowledge what I am doing in the future.” Logan rolled up the bloody shirt to reveal the hastily cauterized wound. He ran his thumb along the inflamed skin, breathless at the sheer redness of the skin. “So, that’s how you stopped the bleeding.”

A growl escaped Virgil’s lips as he tried to ignore the burning of the human’s touch on his skin. “Yeah, so what?”

“Nothing, I’m impressed.” Logan’s gaze grew distant as he thought out loud. “Cauterizing the wound was quick thinking, though I imagine it has been incredibly painful.”

“We didn’t exactly have many optio—”

Virgil’s statement cut off abruptly as he sucked in a breath, arching his back into the ground. A soft, blue light emanated from Logan’s hand as he held Virgil’s injury. “Janus, I may need you to hold him.”

Janus snapped out of his stupor as Virgil’s face contorted, breath stilling on his lips. He turned on Logan with a hiss, slamming his hand into the human's chest as he slammed him into the wall of stone behind him.

“I said not to hurt him—”

“I didn’t—”

Roman’s body tensed, preparing to jump into action as Logan wheezed out his response.

“Logan—"

“I’m okay, Roman. Remain where you are."

“Very presumptuous of you to assume you will stay that way.” Janus snarled as he held up his other hand, talons extended as his hateful glare lingered on Logan’s neck. “I warned you. If you caused him even an inkling of pain, I’d—”

“Janus—Stop.”

Roman eyed his weapons on the ground in front of him as Virgil’s weak plea stopped the movement in the room. With one quick movement, Janus could end Logan’s life and Roman could do nothing about it. He could only wait with baited breath as the dragonshifter seemed to consider the possibility.

“It didn’t hurt, Jan.”

“He brought this on himself, Virgil.” Janus huffed out a breath as a snarl twisted on his lip. “They do not deserve your protection.”

“I wouldn’t protect him. It—It's a strange feeling but I swear it doesn’t hurt.” Virgil pleaded weakly, his eyes fluttering as he rolled his head back. “Please, let him finish.”

Blinking slowly, Janus turned back to Logan’s determined stare. The hatred in his eyes faltered as he loosened his grip on Logan’s neck, allowing him to take a breath.

“You have my word that I will not hurt him.” Logan muttered as he maintained his gaze with Janus. “Even if you do not believe I wish him no harm, you can trust that I will not take any risks with own my brother’s life on the line.”

Contempt flared in Janus’ nostrils, releasing a puff of smoke as he leaned into Logan’s face. “Your brother’s life means nothing to me, but I assure you that if that good will falters, I will end your life in a manner befitting of the adder you are.”

Logan grunted as Janus released his neck. He slumped back against the stone wall, catching his breath as he raised a hand to his neck. The imprints of the shifter’s claws felt burned into his throat as he leaned forward to return to Virgil’s wound.

“Whatever you were doing,” Virgil whimpered, his breath weak. “Please, I’m asking you to finish.”

“I can’t.” Logan sputtered staring up at Janus’ eyes glowing in the darkness. “If you move while I’m working, I could do serious damage to your organs.”

“Janus, hold me down.”

“Fine.”

Janus hissed the word reluctantly as he knelt next to Virgil. He was gentle as he met Virgil’s eyes and placed his hands on his partner’s body. His voice changed as he reassured Virgil in their shared language, worry quivering in his voice as Virgil nodded for Logan to continue.

A soft, blue glow started to emanate from Logan’s hand as he continued, pulling a gasp from Virgil’s lips. Roman watched helplessly as Janus held Virgil to the ground, both of their scales glowing as they reacted to Logan’s magic. The sight of their scales glimmering in the faint blue light was stunning. He could have stared for hours at the beautiful display of colors if his heart had not fixated on the exhaustion in Logan’s eyes. The magic was draining his energy away, leaving him weak and vulnerable in the middle of monsters.

Roman’s attention was jarred upward as the shifter’s body eased back against the ground and Logan’s light began to fade. He finally dared to step forward, leaving his weapons as the blue light disappeared into the darkness.

“Logan.”

He dropped to his knees as Logan started to sway with exhaustion, quickly pulling him against his chest as he slumped back. Roman held him close, letting him rest as Janus leaned in to examine Virgil. His grip tightened as Logan’s fingers curled around his shirt, his eyes wet with tears. A whisper of guilt fluttered in his heart as he glanced up at Janus mutter quiet reassurances to Virgil.

“Perhaps, we should give our new companions a moment to regroup without our presence looming over them. Logan, can I—”

“Please, Roman.”

Taking his cue, Roman reached his arm under Logan’s legs and lifted him from the ground. He turned to carry Logan back along the tunnel, ducking around the corner to give their new acquaintances some privacy. They were close enough to know if the dragonshifters attempted to flee from them but far enough away to speak openly as he laid Logan against the stone wall, heart sinking as his lover buried his face in his chest.

“What have we done, Roman?”

“We did only what we thought was right, Lo.” Roman whispered as wet streaks stained down Logan’s face. “You cannot blame yourself for what’s happened.”

“He’s gone.”

“Patton's absence is only temporary.” Roman urged him. “I do not believe that the creature who called himself Remus was lying. We only need to travel to Doragon Valley and he will be returned to us.”

Logan blinked away his tears as he looked up at Roman. “You said yourself, the spring is in the center of the city. We’ll be stopped before we even pass the outer walls of the city.”

“I am the prince of this realm, Logan.” Roma reassured him. “No city official would dare interfere with my task. My mission to prove my worth has failed, but the city officials no nothing of what has happened. Their ignorance will allow me to bypass the bureaucracy that would have truly made this task difficult. We need only be careful with our words once we arrive.”

“You’re sure?”

“Bringing such beasts into the city will cause a stir, and I cannot guarantee there will not be any consequences for you or myself ” Roman acknowledged with a shrug. “but I’m willing to break every law in the kingdom to bring your brother home.”

“Thank you, Roman.” Logan let out a breath as he loosened his iron grip on the prince’s arm. “I know you don’t have to do this.”

“Of course, I do.” Roman laughed quietly as Logan looked up at him. “The day you agreed to marry me, your brother became as much my family as my own flesh and blood. I have a responsibility to keep him safe, for his own sake as well as yours.”

Logan’s worry softened to a smile as he allowed his head to rest against Roman’s chest. He was grateful be far away from prying eyes, where they could finally be together without having to feign detachment to maintain the dignity of Roman’s reputation. In this moment, no titles nor power held sway over them. They could simply lean into each other for support, together in the way that both of them so desperately needed.

Their journey had only just begun, but in that a single moment, they took solace in the fact that they were together. They'd offered the energy from their bodies to bring their enemy back from the brink of exhaustion and they could only hope that good will would not go unreciprocated.

General Taglist:

@justanotherhumanstuff @im-an-anxious-wreck

A Life For A Life Taglist:

@arodynamic-enby @pixelated-pineapple @simplestoryteller @bloodymari-0666

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #ts roman #roman sanders #ts logan #logan sanders #ts janus #janus sanders #ts virgil #virgil sanders #anxceit #logince #dragonshifter!virgil #dragonshifter!janus #A Life For A Life #villain writes

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britcision · 2 years ago

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IT HAS BEEN A WHILE but it’s 3am and I’m not in bed so it’s DRAGONS O’CLOCK

And today we’re going to CHEAT

So I told you about my good good dragonborn lad, Yuriy Babin

And now I’m going to tell you more about his good good son, Havoc, aka my favourite NPC about 70% of the time

He’s a void dragonborn like his daddy, but only half dragonborn (dragonbiefling, because I refuse to allow humans to be the only monsterfuckers in the world), but he is still a very good boy

And my Havoc is an extremely good boy

He does not have any kind of disabilities or learning disorders; he’s just around 7’ tall, built like a brick shit house, and decided that since thinking too hard only made him sad, he will never have a single thought again

And when you’re about 7’ tall, massive, and have two beefy and much smarter girlfriends, approaching every person like a new friend and every situation as a fun adventure doesn’t really have consequences

He has all the sense of direction of a particularly confused duckling, which is appropriate because he is a path of the duck barbarian, and is frequently found Leroy Jenkinsing his way about town

(In spite of at least one of his girlfriends trying to keep some form of track of him; the other is perfectly happy to cheer him on and is therefore unhelpful)

Finding Havoc and bringing him back to his mom’s shop will net any adventurer a 15% discount for a month on her magical potions and wares

This discount is frequently necessary

The party already met Havoc because I’ll allow them to try and cast Message to each other without knowing where the other is, with a d20 roll to see if it succeeds

And Havoc was extremely interested to suddenly hear a new voice in his head, because heavens know it wasn’t a thought, so when the voice stopped he wandered around til he found them

Most of them promptly adopted my sweet golden retriever ass boy but he’s had a couple run ins with the cleric because the cleric tried to get Havoc to help him find the party when they got separated

Havoc, who had left the party about 5 minutes before, did not recognise their descriptions until the ranger’s dire wolf found them both

The cleric is not a fan of Havoc

Havoc is a barbarian lad, but he’s an interesting barbarian lad partially because of his heritage

And I actually don’t mean the dragon side

He’s got a nifty breath weapon that can be either gravity, star fire (radiant/fire damage mix), or for some ungodly reason a teleport, and a scattering of black scales on royal blue skin that have the occasional moving star or nebula peeking through

But see, that’s just aesthetic

That’s not what makes him interesting (although being a lovely himbo lad is justification all its own)

See, Havoc’s mom is a level 20 chaos warlock formerly known as Mayhem, who could probably ascend to patronhood under her primordial chaos spelldaddy with a little extra work thanks to a dash of extra fey heritage

(Mostly useless, but I really can’t recommend The Half Race Handbook from DMs Guild enough, it keeps shit balanced by taking primary traits from one species and secondary traits from the other; mixes beyond that are just for flavour)

And Mama wants to make sure her boy is safe on the road, so she pulled some strings, and got her sweet little boy a pact weapon

No, Havoc does not have a single level in warlock

Because in this magical land we value informed consent, and even warlock pact magic has to acknowledge that this himbo ass motherfucker cannot and will not be informed

What he does have is the only gun in the entire game

This gun is sentient, as all good pact weapons should be, and used to go by the name Pierce Braxton Percival vonKron Cheswick Fernsby Dankworth the third because yes, he’s an homage to Critical Role’s Percy and his original dark path

Havoc calls him Crunchy

And Crunchy is a throwing gun

What is a throwing gun you ask? Why, it’s a gun in a world where no guns have yet existed, in the hands of a sweet, beautiful himbo who knows that this is not what crossbows look like

Silly Crunchy, you can’t shoot. You have no arms!

So clearly he’s some kind of bad boomerang

Crunchy would love nothing more than to not come back to Havoc ever again

He’d love to be lost, or stolen, or put in the hands of someone with a single surviving braincell who he could persuade to use his trigger

But he’s a magic pact weapon

So he always comes back

Much to his dismay

The ranger’s going to be pissed cuz I told her I put a gun in the world and that she couldn’t have it and I think she’s been planning to have the rogues help her

Buuuuuuut that’s not gonna go their way 😈

They don’t know Havoc has Crunchy yet but I can’t wait for them to find out

One of Havoc’s girlfriends is also a dragonborn but she’ll have to wait for it to be 3am another bad night

And at some point I’ll get back to the actual dragon dragons on the list but fuck you guys Havoc is the best of them all and no we can NEVER let him talk to Chatsmont

#fuck i have so many good dragons #dnd npcs #queer dnd #dnd homebrew #havoc #my beloved himbo barbarian #‘you’re not the dumbest person in the world but you best hope Havoc doesn’t die’#throwing gun #My beautiful perfect son havoc

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saskiavalentineapologist · 3 years ago

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Dragon's Blight is a rare and poorly understood affliction. The disease infects primarily dragons and causes the draconian host little side effects. It's only when the host transmits the disease to a mammalian creature that the true effects start to show themselves. Dragon's Blight is often transmitted through injuries caused by infected dragons. Once in the bloodstream of the new host, the disease takes hold. The disease causes hair to fall out around the point of infection, and scales to overtake the surrounding skin. As the disease establishes a hold in the body, the infection spreads, causing horns, wings, sharpened teeth, and other draconic mutations to start growing in and on the host. The disease gradually turns the infected mammal into a draconic version of themself, mirroring the dragon that infected them. Dragon's Blight has a secondary effect. The draconic disease brings with it the draconic power native to the original host. Those infected with Red Dragon's Blight have a propensity to rage along with fiery abilities, while those affected with Copper Dragon's Blight have a tendency towards mischief and acidic powers. Dragon's Blight can replace the Draconic Sorcerer Subclass. Your sorcerer gains the following effects: 1st level- The disease is in its infancy. Your scales are limited to the point of infection, and you look mostly human. Your hitpoint maximum increases by 1, and does so at every level. You gain resistance to the damage type corresponding with the type of dragon that infected you. If you do not have darkvision, you gain it to a distance of 30 ft. 6th level- Your disease has progressed. Depending on where you were infected, your draconic traits may manifest as the beginnings of a tail, horns, or wings, scales on portions of your body, altered eyes, sharp teeth, etc. Because of this, your AC is equal to 13+ your Dex modifier. You also gain a breath weapon ability corresponding to the dragon that infected you. See the Dragonborn subraces for details. The saving throw for this breath weapon is 8 + your Cha modifier + your Prof. bonus. You can use this breath weapon in the place of an attack. For every sorcery point you spend using this ability, you can do 1d8 damage. Your Darkvision also increases to 60 ft, if it isn't higher. 14th level- Your disease has overtaken most of your body. You look more dragon than human, and your disease has progressed in a way that has now produced wings. You cannot dismiss them, and must accommodate them when wearing clothing and casting spells like Seeming. You gain a flying speed equal to your walking speed. 18th level- Your disease has reached its final stages. You are more dragon than human, and are unsettling to most you meet. You gain the Draconic Presence effect, where you can spend 5 sorcery points to exude an aura of fear or awe to a distance of 60 feet. For 1 minute or until you lose concentration, each creature within range that can see you must succeed on a Wisdom save vs your Spell Save DC or be charmed or frightened until the aura ends. A creature that succeeds on this saving throw is immune to this aura for 24 hours. While a creature is charmed, you have advantage on persuasion checks, and while a creature is frightened, you have advantage on intimidation checks. This aura can be used outside of combat, inspiring anything from awe to total devotion for the charm effect's duration and anything from discomfort to terror for the frightened effect's duration. This disease has a downside. The Dragon's Blight metastasizes like cancer, and once the disease progresses, it will gradually kill the user unless cured by a spell or potion. Once cured, the powers gained are lost, as are the draconic traits. Your scales will fall off, your horns will drop, and your wings and tail will wither. Your magic will weaken until it vanishes. Your point of infection and a few minor traits will be the only signs you were ever in possession of the draconic power you used to command. Swallow your pride and live a normal life after your adventure, or cling

desperately to the power you've found and be consumed by it. The choice is yours.

Please leave feedback if you have any strong opinions, and let me know if you use this in your game!

#roselyn talks #roselyn plays dnd

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hellishhin · 3 years ago

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And They Fell

Length: ~1,500

Content warnings: Violence, blood, injury, magical attacks, electrocution, unconsciousness

Post themes: combat

Summary: This post is a little different because it's just the subsequent combat scene following up from the last post. This is my first real combat scene ever and I got a lot of great advice for it. If you want to, I would really love some solid critique on how this went. A few questions I'm wondering about most: is this confusing? Does it pace correctly for a fight scene? Did I jump around too much? You can reblog/reply with as much or as little critique as you want. You also can just read for fun and you don't have to critique anything if you don't want to! I also may repost this as a rewrite depending on advice I get, we will see :)

Intro with links to all previous posts

[next post]—-[previous post]

Taglist: (adds/removes always open!) @betwixtofficial @taerandcalentavar @talesfromaurea @faelanvance @definitelyquestionit @drippingmoon @dontcrywrite @a-wild-bloog

One time fight scene tag: @author-a-holmes thanks for being willing to look it over!

Kireen’s blade sang from its sheath and her warrior’s mind kicked into action. This was enough evidence to start an investigation so it was clear they wouldn’t be allowed to escape. Two strides, sword in motion, but it came to a jarring halt against two elvish scimitars belonging to the crossbow man’s comrade. Kireen was able to stave off the biting steel but she couldn’t match the speed of two swords forever.

Another bolt was being loaded but Kireen was too preoccupied to notice so K’lai’a’la, throwing knives at the ready, sent them hurtling in his direction. One caught the wood of the crossbow which did no more than mar its polished surface. The second struck his upper arm. She saw the crossbow shudder in his hands and his lips tighten but he slammed the bolt fully into place. K’lai’a’la knew it was coming. With her reflexes, it was nothing to sidestep the bolt and hear it clatter against the stone. Before he could load another, her attention was drawn to a battle cry from Brimir who had drawn his own sword and plunged into contest with the two remaining elves. Sadie seemed to be safely keeping behind the lines so K’lai’a’la drew her own scimitar and stepped to Brimir’s side.

It was vital to keep to one’s strengths so as her friends stepped up to engage the elves, Sadie stayed back. As another bolt was prepared, she knew she must target him to keep his attention off her friends.

“Hey!” she called and he turned his attention to her “if arrogance and stupidity had a baby, you would be the afterbirth.” Each word was wrapped tightly into the weave and entered his mind like a dozen shards of glass. She watched him recoil but regain his composure quickly and loose a bolt just for her. It breezed through her hair as she flinched away, unharmed. He was quickly placing another bolt and she shouted at him once more. “If you don’t start using your head for more than a hat rack, I’ll start using it to store my swords!” His shot went wide and lacking the patience to reload, he tossed the crossbow away and yelled something in elvish. Sadie grinned, knowing in her soul that she was just insulted, but his carried no magic.

A man twice her height barreled down on her but she drew her rapier and held her ground. One misdirection and his blade went wide. She went in for the groin but he backhanded her blade away. She could hear his blade whistling toward her again but she didn’t move in time, giving her a stinging bite across the jaw; her vision blurred. She thrust blindly and felt it give into something soft. She heard a grunt, steel flashed, her rapier lifted in defense to take a moment and make sense of the blur in front of her.

The elf who had intercepted Kireen was not prepared for her draconic strength. He was parrying her blows but losing ground and Kireen saw it. She pushed harder, increasing the force of each swing but she faltered when the man with the crossbow discarded his weapon and charged past her to where she knew Sadie was standing. Her opponent took his opportunity to step into her guard and thrust his sword into her underarm. Sensing his move she twisted so the armor took most of the blow only leaving her with a sharp ache. With him inside her guard, a quick pommel strike to his head crumpled him. Kireen spun and saw Sadie with blood dripping off her chin, barely holding her own against the onslaught. With a roar, Kireen charged.

Sweat beaded, muscles burned, breath rasped sharply but K’lai’a’la and Brimir kept pace with their two opponents. They all bled from several minor cuts but the pain heightened their instincts. One slip was all it took and when K’lai’a’la over-rotated her wrist, the enemy sword broke her guard and cut deeply into her arm. With a feral snarl she lashed out with pure instinct and landed a similar blow across his shoulder. Brimir’s peripheral caught the break in motion. He flipped his sword out, sinking the point into the other elf’s thigh but the one he had engaged swung for the opening. Brimir brought his arm up, catching the sword on his bracer and he winced at the force.

Seeing her opponent stumble to Brimir’s sword, like a predator to the weakest prey, K’lai’a’la redoubled her efforts. As her sword whistled through the air, she watched the elf’s lips move. The air around him rippled and he sidestepped, disappearing entirely. Her sword continued through the air with such force that the tip struck the ground. Brimir’s opponent balked, realizing it was now two on one. He retreated toward the open door just as an older elf with vicious blue eyes stepped through it. Lightning arced through his fingers and K’lai’a’la could hear the arcane language on his lips.

The draconic roar behind him made the elf turn his attention away from Sadie to see a blur of red scales and teeth grab him by the front of his armor. Kireen made to bite his face but he pulled away in terror and she only grabbed the side of his neck. Her mind was set on protecting Sadie so the elf’s dagger plunging into her side surprised her and she pulled away. This left her open for two more dagger thrusts to her gut almost bringing her to her knees. A third was incoming but was pulled up at the last second when Sadie’s rapier plunged into the back of the man’s thigh. Kireen was about to rally when a second set of swords appeared seemingly out of nowhere and began pressing her back.

There was a carnal satisfaction that flashed through Sadie when she saw the elf’s features contort with pain while her rapier embedded itself further into his thigh. All Kireen needed to do was take advantage of his distraction. Then the second elf from across the room stepped out of a ripple in the air.

The enemies were aware that the dragonborn was the bigger threat. With Kireen already weakened, Sadie knew it was now or never. With a deathgrip on the weave she twisted the strands around the mind of the elf who just appeared before them. His strangled mind succumbed to her power. He began to laugh, a horrible cackling laughter that rang above the clash of swords and scuff of boots. Sadie’s laughter rose with his but the elf laughed so hard he dropped to his knees. Presented with the opportunity, Kireen took it, her sword sprouting from his back in a wash of blood. He died with a twisted smile on his face.

Kireen’s entire body burned but whether from wounds or exertion she didn’t know. There was now a second elf or she was seeing double. Either way she was swinging frantically at both until one of them began to laugh. Once on his knees she thrust and found that it was no illusion. She wrenched her sword free of his corpse but her strength flagged, she was backed against the wall, her breath came in ragged gasps. Then she couldn’t see. Everything was white, her muscles contracted all at once and fire seared through her. She couldn’t even scream. It stopped as fast as it started and she welcomed the coolness of the floor on her cheek.

The arc of lightning ripped through his body and he staggered but managed to stay on his feet. Beside him, K’lai’a’la was not so lucky. She succumbed without a cry of pain, collapsing into a heap. He looked over his shoulder and saw Kireen fall as well but to his relief, Sadie remained standing. He had one chance to save his friends. One well-placed sword thrust and this mage would be done. Brimir made it one step before there was a silent concussive force around him and the man spoke a word. “Kneel”. The word echoed around in his thoughts erasing all others. He dropped to his knees.

When she could finally breathe again, Sadie let out a sob. She looked to Kireen for reassurance but saw her friend lifeless on the ground. Her thoughts were sluggish, looking to call K’lai’a’la for help but she too was on the ground and Brimir was kneeling before the man in the doorway. She was the only one left. It was up to her to get them out of this. Emotions hit her like rolling thunder and a scream of rage pealed out of her. She released her grip on the magic she handled with such care and brought her hands together. A shattering crack echoed around the room loud enough she thought the roof might collapse.

When the dust settled, all the elves were still standing. She had failed. Her last hope was to heal them, she had the magic, she could help her friends. Sadie took one step but a hand in her hair halted her. Pain blossomed across her cheek from a sadistic backhand and that was all it took for the world to go dark. Silence fell along with Sadie. Pure chaos, over in seconds that stretched out into a lifetime but not even the chaos stirred the unconscious people still laying in the corner.

#original work #high fantasy #oc #d&d #writeblr #sadieblaze #kireen #k'lai'a'la #brimir #combat #violence cw #blood cw #injury cw #electric shock cw

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nerdythebard · 4 years ago

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#14: Ao Kuang, Dragon King of the Eastern Seas

Gods and Goddesses!

We return from our journey, to once again bring divinity to your D&D game! We take our first look into the Chinese pantheon, with the Great Dragon King – Ao Kuang! This violent dragon, associated with storms and seas, may be known to some of you Journey to the West readers as the one from whom Sun Wukong received the Ruyi Jingu Bang (aka Power Pole, for you Dragon Ball weebs ;D). In SMITE, Ao Kuang is a melee mage, so let's see what we can do!

Next Time: Hey, Tumblr staff, please don't ban me. I swear there is a reason she's almost naked!

So, what do we need to play as the world's most dangerous wet noodle?

A MIGHTY SWORD: Ao Kuang is a melee fighter with magical powers and a sword that channels electricity and summons dragons to fight on his behalf.

Water Illusionist: As the dragon of storms and seas, we need to command those particular forces of nature. Ao Kuang also has the ability to set decoys and disappear from sight.

A GIANT F**K-YOU DRAGON: Ao Kuang's Ultimate lets him transform into his draconic form and rain death from above. I'll tell you right away, we won't be able to transform fully into a dragon, but we'll get the very best close second.

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When it comes to Ao Kuang's race, I don't see any other option than Dragonborn. More specifically, we're going to use the 2021 Draconic Options Unearthed Arcana and play as a Metallic Dragonborn. We get to choose two of our abilities to boost (+2 Charisma and +1 Dexterity), and also pick our Metallic Ancestry; although the Dragon Form in the picture above is shown as green, we're going with Bronze ancestry for its Lightning damage type. We also get a Breath Weapon, a dragon standard. We can replace our melee or spell attack with a 15-foot cone of energy burst. Each creature within the cone must make a Dexterity saving throw (DC = 8 + our Constitution modifier + our proficiency bonus), or take 2d8 lightning damage (half damage on a successful save; damage increases as we level up).

Metallic Dragonborns also get Draconic Resilience, which grants us resistance to damage type associated with our draconic ancestry, in this case, lightning. We also know Common and one language of our choice (most likely Draconic).

The regal and powerful Ao Kuang is definitely a Noble. We gain proficiency in History and Persuasion, one type of gaming set, and we learn one more language of our choice. The Position of Privilege feature grants us enough clout to walk around like we own whatever place we're in... because we probably do. It lets us secure an audience with another noble, better accommodation than others, or perhaps convince locals to fight on your behalf.

ABILITY SCORES

We'll start with Dexterity, as it's going to be our primary damage-dealing ability. We're flowing like a river, but striking swiftly like a lightning. Charisma is next, we've gained our title of the Dragon King by being intimidating as all hells and by keeping our subjects' loyalty (spoiler alert, it's also going to be our spellcasting ability). Follow that up with Constitution, we're a dragon, we need to be tough enough.

Wisdom is next, once again - we're a dragon and we're Chinese - we're practically the epitome of that trait. Strength is a little lower than I would like it, but it's fixable. Finally, we'll dump Intelligence; we're not stupid, we just need other abilities more.

CLASS

This one was another tough one. Ao Kuang is a swordsman primarily, but there are several high-level spells that fit his style and abilities. I think I've arrived at a satisfying conclusion, though, so sit back and enjoy the ride:

Level 1 - Fighter: We begin as the generic damage-dealer. Starting with a d10 Hit Dice, [10 + Constitution modifier] initial Hit Points, and proficiency with light armour, medium armour, heavy armour, shields, simple weapons, and martial weapons (I suggest going with a shortsword, because of its Finesse property). Our saving throws are Strength and Constitution, and we get to pick two class skills (Intimidation and Athletics).

Fighters begin by choosing their Fighting Style. Since Ao Kuang uses just a sword and no shield, Duelling is the style we're going to go with; while wielding a weapon in one hand and no other weapon, we gain a +2 to damage rolls with that weapon. We also get Second Wind, which lets us recover [1d10 + our Fighter level] Hit Points as a bonus action once per short or long rest.

Level 2 - Fighter: Starting at this level, we get Action Surge. It lets us take one additional action on our turn once per short or long rest. The number of extra actions we can take increases as we level up.

Level 3 - Fighter: We get a secondary racial ability, the Metallic Breath Weapon. Similarly to the other one, it covers a 15-foot cone, but this time we exhale a magical gas (Save DC = 8 + our Constitution modifier + our proficiency bonus). We get to choose one of two effects:

Each affected creature must make a Strength saving throw or be pushed back 20 feet from us, and be knocked prone;

Each creature in the cone must succeed on a Constitution saving throw or be incapacitated until the end of our next turn.

At this level, we also get to pick our subclass - our Martial Archetype. Now, I decided to go with Matt Mercer's Echo Knight to at least get the taste of Ao Kuang's duplicate ability (since we won't get access to the Mislead spell). Simply re-flavour the 'summoning yourself from another timeline' into 'creating water & vapour illusions' and we're good to go.

Echo Knight's signature ability is Manifest Echo. We summon one magical, translucent shade of ourselves that lasts until it is destroyed/we dismiss it/we're incapacitated. Our Echo has the AC of [14 + our proficiency bonus], 1 Hit Point, and is immune to all conditions. During our turn, we can move our Echo up to 30 feet in any direction (any further distance destroys it). We can use our Echo in the following ways:

As a bonus action, we can swap places with our Echo, at a cost of 15 feet of movement, no matter the distance between us;

When we take the Attack action, it can come from our Echo's space, essentially giving us 30 feet reach for our attacks;

If a creature that's within 5 feet of our Echo moves out of its melee range, we can make the attack of opportunity against it.

We also get Unleash Incarnation. When we take the Attack action, we can make one additional attack from our Echo's position. We can use this feature a number of times equal to our Constitution modifier.

Level 4 - Fighter: Time for our first Ability Score Improvement. We're not going to raise any numbers, however. Instead, we'll take the Dragon Hide feat from Xanathar's Guide to Everything. As we manifest draconic scales on our body, we get to increase one of three abilities (let's make it Constitution), and our AC while not wearing any armour becomes [13 + our Dexterity modifier]. We also gain a natural weapon in the form of our long dragon claws; we can use those to make an unarmed strike that deals [1d4 + our Strength modifier] bludgeoning damage.

Level 5 - Fighter: We gain Extra Attack. This lets us attack twice instead of once during one Attack action.

Level 6 - Sorcerer: Time to mess with some magic. In-game, Ao Kuang is not a ranged caster, so all the spells we choose here will be more in the support category. Sorcerers start with picking their subclass, their Sorcerous Origin. Since we are the Dragon King, it's only natural to pick Draconic. Sike. We're the storm lord, we're going with Storm Sorcery from Xanathar's Guide to Everything.

The Wind Speaker feature teaches us how to speak and read Primordial, the language of elementals. Tempestuous Magic gives us a flying speed of 10 feet, any time we cast a spell of 1st-level or higher. If we use this flight to escape the enemy, we do not provoke attacks of opportunity.

Sorcerers are creatures with the innate ability to control magic, therefore they start with the Spellcasting feature and know both standard spells and cantrips. We start with four cantrips:

Blade Ward gives us resistance to bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage until the end of our next turn;

Minor Illusion creates a sound or an image within 30 feet of us and lasts for 1 minute. The image cannot be interacted with, and a successful Investigation check reveals the illusion.

Shape Water grants us control over a 5-foot cube area of water within 30 feet of us. We can choose from several different effects: we can change the water's flow, create small shapes on its surface, change the water's colour and opacity, or freeze it for 1 hour.

Shocking Grasp sends a jolt of electricity into one target we touch. On a successful melee attack (we get an advantage if the target's wearing metal), the enemy suffers 1d8 lightning damage (damage increases as we level us) and cannot take reactions until the start of its next turn.

We start with two 1st-level spell slots, and we know two 1st-level spells:

Fog Cloud creates a 20-foot-radius sphere of dense mist within 120 feet for 1 hour (concentration). The fogged area is considered heavily obscured, effectively blinding all creatures within.

Shield can be used as a reaction to when we're being hit. Until the start of our next turn, we get a +5 bonus to our AC.

Level 7 - Sorcerer: We gain the Sorcerer's signature ability, Font of Magic. We get access to Sorcery Points (currently 2), which can be spent on our Metamagic abilities or to create spell slots. We also gain another spell slot, and we learn one more 1st-level spell: Feather Fall greatly decreases the falling speed for us and up to five falling creatures within 60 feet for 1 minute. If we reach the ground before the spell ends, we take no fall damage.

Level 8 - Sorcerer: We unlock the previously mentioned Metamagic. This allows us to burn Sorcery Points, in order to modify our spells in a variety of ways. We learn two Metamagic options from the start:

Quickened Spell: Spending 2 Sorcery Points lets us change the spell's casting time from Action to Bonus Action;

Subtle Spell: Spending 2 Sorcery Points lets us cast a spell without using verbal or somatic components.

At this level, we unlock 2nd-level spell slots and can learn one more spell: Magic Weapon gives our weapon magical properties for 1 hour (concentration), for the purpose of overcoming resistances. It also gains a +1 to both attack and damage rolls.

Level 9 - Sorcerer: We get another ASI. Let's raise our Dexterity by 2 points, to get some better AC.

We also get another cantrip: Frostbite causes numbing frost to appear on one target within 60 feet of us. The enemy must make a Constitution saving throw or take 1d6 cold damage (damage increases as we level up) and the next weapon attack roll they make before the end of its next turn is made with a disadvantage.

We learn another spell: Warding Wind creates a 10-foot-radius sphere of strong, howling wind centred on us and moving along with us. The wind lasts for 10 minutes (concentration) and has the following effects:

It deafens us and all creatures within;

It extinguished any unprotected flames;

It hedges out vapours, gases, and fogs;

The area becomes difficult terrain for creatures other than us;

The attack rolls of ranged weapons coming in or out of the wind are made with a disadvantage.

Level 10 - Sorcerer: Halfway through the build, and we unlock 3rd-level spell slots. One more spell enters our repertoire:

Tidal Wave creates a rolling mass of water that crashes down on an area within range (120 feet). The area can be up to 30 feet long, 10 feet wide, and 10 feet tall. Each creature in the area must make a Dexterity saving throw or take 4d8 bludgeoning damage and be knocked prone (half damage on a successful save and no knockdown).

Level 11 - Sorcerer: We get our Storm Sorcery upgrades. Heart of the Storm gives us resistance to lightning and thunder damage. In addition, whenever we cast a spell that deals lightning or thunder damage, storm magic erupts within 10 feet of us, dealing [half of our Sorcerer level] either lightning or thunder damage to all creatures of our choice within range.

Storm Guide gives us the ability to subtly influence the weather around us. If it's raining, we can use a bonus action to stop the rainfall in a 20-foot-radius sphere. If it's windy, we can use a bonus action to change the direction of the wind within a 100-foot-radius sphere.

For this level's spell, Lightning Bolt creates a stroke of lightning blasting in a 100 feet long and 5 feet wide line. Each creature in the line must make a Dexterity saving throw or take 8d6 lightning damage (half damage on a successful save). The lightning ignites any flammable objects.

Level 12 - Sorcerer: We unlock 4th-level spell slots here and gain one more spell:

Greater Invisibility renders our body (along with clothes and weaponry) completely imperceptible for 1 minute (concentration). Unlike regular Invisibility, this ability does not end when we attack with weapons.

Level 13 - Sorcerer: We get another ASI here. Let's get +2 to our Constitution for better Hit Points and our racial abilities.

For this level's spell, Dimension Door lets us teleport to a spot within 500 feet of us. It can be a place we can see or visualize. We can also bring objects with us or one willing creature. If we were to arrive at a spot already occupied by a creature or an object, we take 4d6 force damage and the spell doesn't teleport us.

Level 14 - Sorcerer: We unlock 5th-level spells, and we can finally take the one spell I've been waiting for:

Summon Draconic Spirit lets us call forth a spirit that takes the form of a giant f**k-you dragon! For 1 hour (concentration) a Large dragon spirit appears in an unoccupied space within 60 feet of us and obeys our commands. This is the best we can get to portray Ao Kuang's Ultimate ability.

Level 15 - Fighter: Having obtained our dragon summon, we can come back to swinging our Mighty Sword! And we return to an ASI! Let's get a +2 to our Strength score.

Level 16 - Fighter: We get our Echo Knight upgrade. We can temporarily see and hear through our Echo's eyes and ears thanks to Echo Avatar. We can use this ability for 10 minutes and during this time we can move our Echo up to 1,000 feet from us without it being destroyed.

Level 17 - Fighter: We get another ASI. Let's get a +2 to our Intelligence to avoid negative modifiers in our sheet.

Level 18 - Fighter: We gain the Indomitable feature. Once per long rest, we can reroll a failed saving throw, but we must use the new result even if it's worse than the original one.

Level 19 - Fighter: We get our final subclass upgrade, the Shadow Martyr feature. Once per short or long rest, we can make our Echo protect another creature by sacrificing itself. Before the attack roll is made, we can use a reaction to move the Echo in front of the targeted creature. The triggered attack roll is then made against our Echo instead.

Level 20 - Fighter: Our capstone is Fighter 11, which gives us an upgrade to our Extra Attack feature. We can now attack three times whenever we take the Attack action.

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And that is Ao Kuang, the Dragon King of the Eastern Seas. Let's see how well we've portrayed him:

I gotta be honest with you guys, I'm pretty proud of this build. I might have to pat myself on the back for this one. We have a very nice combination of sword and sorcery, with draconic flavour and good survivability. We have an Unarmoured AC of 17 (going up to 22 with the Shield spell), +4 to our Initiative rolls, and 148 Hit Points on average. None of our abilities reaches 20, but we don't suffer from negative modifiers so I consider that an absolute win. The only downside I can see is, we have very few skills and only two related to an ability we're good at.

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this one, and I'll see you for the next one!

- Nerdy out!

#smite #smite gods #dnd #dungeons and dragons #d&d 5e #character building #ao kuang #ao guang #dragon #dragonborn #metallic dragon #sorcerer #fighter #echo knight #storm sorcerer

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