#faebhaal01

[exigencism]

@faebhaal <3'd!

FEY CREATURES are... intriguing. So are Bhaalspawn. Put the two together, and you've the great concept for a best-seller! Volo can practically feel it in his veins, what potential such a book concept could hold; but what would it entail? The unique intricacies of fey culture in unique contrast ( or comparison ! ) to that of Bhaal cultists? The implications of a fey creature being a Bhaalspawn? Or perhaps the salacious erotica one could write out of such a scenario? ( He crossed that idea out immediately; the ink of his pen is leaving deep lines on the page from the hurried cancellation of TITLE PENDING. )

"I simply must request your comment-" and out comes the quill and notebook. "Just to clarify- you are now, completely, one-hundred-percent certain that you are a Bhaalspawn, yes?" He hardly waits for an answer before his penmanship gets to work. "And you are clearly a fey creature... Have you found any... unique qualities to being both?" Perhaps Elminster would finally end his bemoaning over Volo's work for something as groundbreaking as this discovery!

[exigencism]

Perhaps if he was just a slight bit more clever, he would've backed off. But if the gods have willed him to be alive for this long, to go poking at wasp nests with barely just his finger, then he finds no reason not to keep poking. One calls it a misplaced confidence, but Volo would say he has an unmatched bravery. Diligently does his quill scratch upon paper. He scribbled notes on the top half, and then a crude thumbnail of a fey creature feasting on the head of a bhaalspawn in its slayer form. Not a most accurate retelling of events, but it would make for a great illustration once he started writing properly of this in his book.

"And can you remember, what these callings were? Did he speak to you in words, or was it more like..." Hallucinations was not the right word. And as naive as Volo was, he was not stupid. He knew ( sometimes ) when he should tread lightly and when he should step hard. "Was it comparable to a gust of wind carrying past the echo of a whisper?"

His hand provided additional flourish, mimicking the wind. He can see it now, in his next bestseller; The Hero of Baldur's Gate. Volothamp Geddarm, travelling in the peculiar party led by a bhaalspawn. His daring curiosity, bringing truth to light. Yes, oh how great it would be. He considers giving the right to the foreword to his bhaalspawn friend, but he'll hold off on mentioning so until Baldur's Gate was actually saved ( thanks in part, of course, to Volo! )

"Oh-- And your mother! Was she privy to these callings? Any sagely advice from her?" It is a good thing his dear friend Elminster must be preoccupied by now. Volo had a sneaking suspicion that he'd be whacked across the head with his staff or turned into a frog for daring to ask the questions that he had to in order to write a good book!

And he didn't answer hers. Tit for tat one could say. The audacity he has in practically telling her to go read his book! Honestly...

<Roll: 6 + 5 = 11; you recall his book after a few minutes of hard contemplation. However, you remember that you only flipped through it, admiring the pictures mostly. The words had failed to hold your attention and without a second thought, it had been shelved to collect dust....or burned.>

But she has to hand it to him, if anything he's got what seems like an endless well of determination.

Despite the foul mood that's lingered, she finds his imitation entertaining — so much so she wants to laugh. But she doesn't. Not outwardly. Or tries not to yet fails. Though she's not sure what's more hilarious, his performance the fact he finds her trustworthy enough to ask such thorny inquiries.

"I am very intimately aware of what the Slayer is." Almost as if on cue, she feels the beast within stir deep in her entrails. There's the consideration if he pushes her buttons too much, she can give him a bit of a sneak peek; scare the blood right out of him. Would certainly be material for whatever damned book he's seeking to put out. Alas, such would not be wise in broad daylight of the city. "I have the brutal bloodlust of a bhaalspawn and all the charming trickery of a fey. Although, you know fey can be just as cruel as any bhaalspawn. In fact, I believe if I recall the story correctly, it was a wayward bhaalspawn that caught my mother's eye once. It could only be once because when their tryst was done, she ate him head first like a praying mantis."

For a moment she gets lost in her memories of the very far off past, down the rabbit hole like Alice after a rabbit. "I spent my childhood in the Wilds. And even when I was just a tiny nymph, I heard Bhaal's calling."

[exigencism]

FAEBHAAL

The victory of finally reaching Baldur's Gate had soured so quickly upon her tongue. The excitement for the climax of their journey, turned to ashes the second she stepped foot into Wyrm's Rock Fortress. Just about all the puzzle pieces fell into place. And after the visit with now Archduke Enver Gortash, the trickle of memories had become much more steady. Word, of course, had spread quickly through camp. That was truly disheartening. Though she supposes the reactions earned were understandable. But it still hurt. Because ontop of dealing with her companions, now she had to deal with some existential identity crisis as well as the volatile emotions that came with it.

For the time being, she's put some space between her and the rest of her sore party. Silently she's lost in thought, plucking the petals from a couple of wild flowers idly. Better them than sating the urge to pluck eyeballs from skulls. Her meditation is shattered, which causes her to pause. Yet she need not look up to see who has done such a thing. No, she knows that voice well enough. That and the scratching of quill on paper. "Do you really think it wise to be kicking the metaphorical wasp nest, Volo?" Ithaca asks. There's a flare of anger at thought that she's being observed, questioned, like some creature to dissect. The blossoms in her hands are so easily crushed. Not as satisfying as crushing bone. There's a sigh but at least she finally makes eye contact with him. "And what exactly do you know of bhaalspawn or even fey, hm? Surely you know well enough that neither are to lightly be trifled with."

"I find, sometimes, wasp nests are home to some of the most blessed gems inside!" ( not a metaphor; Volo is victim more than once to wasp stings- and worse ). While off-put slightly by the withering blossoms, he is far from deterred. Mustache twitching in curiosity, he pushes his beret up just slightly, and grins. "Why, most of anything I know about fey has been published in my guide! Volo's Guide to Monsters! And bhaalspawn, well, I do have a book by-"

"Ah, but I get ahead of myself. I find myself in the company of a very trustable fey and bhaalspawn! Not an event so easily reproduced-" his quill-occupied hand waves dismissively. "You've yet to answer my question, however!" So insistent; one could mistaken him as Tymora's chosen ( even he, on many occasions ). "Are you aware, my friend, of the Slayer form? A most terrifyingly grotesque creature- the pure form of murder, one may even say!"

<DC10 SUCCESS!> Volo imitates the form, his arms lifting large and wide, hands in claw-like formations. He even imitates the sound of roaring, just for good measure. "Truly a force to be reckoned with. I shiver at the thought!"