#fallen aasimar Reader

[pursuitseternal]

“𝕵𝖚𝖉𝖌𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝕯𝖆𝖞”

Archdevil Supreme Raphael x f!Reader | E | 2.3K

🎨 by the illustrious @marimosalad

Based on this 🫠 Audio by @ogyscrypt available on his Patre0n link

Summary: His beloved mouse… Raphael has given you immortality, his fallen, broken angel to worship at his feet. The reigning Archdevil of all the hells calls you to entertain him and help him send souls to their torment.

CW: public sex, throne sex, Dom/sub, master/slave/pet, vaginal fingering, lap riding, Cambion form sex, scratching/marking.

Ao3 Link | Masterlist

The echo of chains resound around the halls, the warm stone walls trap the heat of Avernus. It’s a misleading comfort, the warmth, a deceptively soothing temperature on the skin and in the air. It’s one single comfort that tethers you still to your mind… although most of your coherent thoughts have long since scrambled away. Rational thought is a struggle, a constant battle to focus your mind on anything but the heat of the hells that seeps in from outside and your unending need for pleasure… for your Master.

For Raphael, newly victorious Archdevil Supreme of all the hells.

Perhaps it was a lingering shred of his mortal ancestry, his predilection for Avernus as the seat of his power. Perhaps it was its proximity to the mortal realms from whence he loved to pluck souls for his collection.

You among them.

But to you… he’s so good to you. Good? Is that the word? You struggle to think… to question it. Generous, yes. You feel it in your bones, bones that he has broken and healed countless times already in your service to him.

You smile, at least you think you do, at the memories of being knit back together in those healing waters of his boudoir. But for now you are whole and your body and soul is demanded in his presence. Your bare feet make their way, one foot in front of the other, until you reach the grandeur of his hall. Those soul pillars hum with silent screams, the vibrant green and golds of their sweet, tortured souls makes you smile. You’re not one of them, and that means you are… special.

His mouse, his toy, his sweetling… his angel.

Since your victory, he claimed you, imbued you with immortality, an ember of the hells just for you. That spark of his power burrowed into your soul, changing you forever in his image. Your own set of wings, black and feathered like the fallen aasimars of legend. His plaything. His toy to break and mend and break again…

The weight of the wings on your back has taken some getting used to… you keep your head lowered, your hands folded so neatly before you, all while ignoring and thriving on the pain they summon that burns in your back. Heavy and flightless… just for the appeal. For the devil so does love the angel he has made to sit at his feet and serve his every ephemeral desire.

The mass of people part to let you through, and there his is, finest scarlet silk and darkest black brocade, the paragon of power as he sits enthroned.

A ready judge with the world at his mercy.

The glow of Avernus through the colored glass only makes his scarlet skin seem to glow. Even now, it makes you catch your breath. Those great leather wings stretch behind him, enthroned as he is high up on his dais.

His black and yellow eyes rove over the crowd, alighting on you. One single cherry red, long-clawed finger extends in your direction and crooks. “My dear, come join me. Let these damned get one last glimpse of near-heavenly beauty before they’re sent off to their ends.”

You slide forward, cautious, and careful, and yet undeniably eager. Since his victory, his conquest of all Nine Hells, you can’t fight the shiver it gives you to see him, cherry red in devil form, glinting crown to match his impressive horns, all while reclining on his opulent throne like the ruler he is.

You keep your eyes downcast, watching your bare feet step closer and closer… ascending those sleek black stone stairs until you see his own booted feet, his legs spread wide. The warm tendril of his tail wraps gently around your waist, pulling you down to nestle against his seat, your body pressing against his thighs. His tail cinches tighter, fastening you just right, just the way he likes you to be. Then, and only then, do you lift your gaze. A sharp toothed grin greets you, forked tongue licking his lips to wet them as he lifts your hand and kisses your knuckles. “My dear, you look sinfully tempting today. To think you might be the last beautiful sight these souls gaze upon,” he croons, that rich, velvet baritone wrapping its magic around you. Such damning, sinister words murmured so enticingly.

His hand winds it claws into your hair, pulling you higher, until you’re forced to look into his scrutinizing gaze. His lips smirk, parting to show those rows of teeth. “Come along, my dear, my sweet fallen angel, the hero of the realms under my power.” His chuckle overwhelms you, waves or rumbling velvet that caresses your ears as he pulls you on his lap.

Those large, warm hands grab the soft, squishy flesh of your thighs, pulling you on his knee. “Don’t fret, sweetling, none of these souls would know you, none are from your reckless days of adventuring before you became mine, little mouse.” That chuckle disorients you again, somehow even lower in pitch and richer in timbre than before. It seems to waver from one ear to the other, a tremor of bliss racing up and down your spine.

“Watch carefully, and enjoy how the Archdevil Supreme will exact proper payments for my magnanimous generosity. As these fools have shuffled off their mortal coils, it is time for my pound of flesh,” Raphael crows. His hands grip firmly into your bare thighs, the red of his skin a bright hue against where your smooth-skinned form buckles beneath his grip. That commanding hold on your body pries your legs apart, even the warm air feels cool on your cunt, the way you burn just to be near him.

You’ve long forgotten the feeling of underthings, your body growing hot and flushed and wet an automatic response now to just being in the devil’s presence. One whiff of his scent and you rub your thighs together for relief. One brush of that cherry red leathery skin on your supple flesh, and you whimper for more.

A single claw swept between your thighs, spreading your slick, loud enough to make the mortals before you raise their brows.

And Raphael laughs. “You pitiful lot, doomed to my judgment. You dare to stand there in judgment of my precious pet?” He bares his pointed, yellow teeth. Right hand reaching out, he beckons the first unfortunate mortal to the bottom of his dais. That one crooking curl of his finger commands the first soul forward for judgment, a slender male… but you barely register his features as the rush of sensations pulls you under… fingers in your cunt… devil-hot breath on your neck…

It’s through this haze you hear that silken baritone, a wash of contract details, of violations… that’s when the razor sharp tone of your devil lover bites through your blissed out state. “Do not toy with me, human. A breach of terms is mine to decide. You, mortal, you seem all innocent, but your contract would prove to the contrary. A goodly apple, rotten at the heart….”

Suddenly his warm lips suck on your ear, making you squirm on his hand buried inside you. The loud, wet suckling sends you into instant orgasm at his discretion. And Raphael only laughs. “What think you, oh apple of my eye?” He runs that forked tongue up the pulsing side of your neck. “Does your still-beating heart quiver with mercy for those who have broken their word to your master… or…”

He lets the sinuous rumble of his voice fade into silence. But you know better than to show any mercy… that kind concept is but a distant memory of a word. Its meaning is lost. “Damn him to the Styx,” you rasp, your voice cracking from overuse screaming in bliss for hours in your service to him.

A deafening snap of his fingers and the mortal vanishes into ember-ridden smoke, a puff of ash and his fate is sealed.

All thanks to you. It’s a heady rush, to be such a plaything and yet… with one capricious utterance, a mortal’s fate is yours to decide. You shiver at the thrill.

And the devil knows it as your squirm on his lap.

“Eager little mouse, aren’t you?” he purrs. “Just how eager, sweetling?”

A challenge issued, one you are in fact more than eager to meet head on. Turning in his lap, you face the devil, hands running over the dry, scaly skin of his form, scoring your nails to make even those black and yellow eyes roll back slightly in arousal.

“Take care, or these mortals doomed for eternity will have more than an eyeful as a parting gift. Or is that what you want?”

You answer with small, little rolls of your hips on his lap. That ridged and twitching devil-cock already pushing perfectly between your thighs. You let your wings unfurl a little, the brush of their raven-black feathers tickles his skin, and you pout, pretending it is nothing more than an accident.

A contrived accident.

And he knows it. He knows your mind and soul better than you know them yourself anymore.

“Oh ho,” he rumbles a laugh in his chest pressing into you, arms wrapping roughly behind your back to grab at the joints of your wings. The pain, the pleasure of his yank arches your back and summons a mewl to tear from your throat. “Careful, my dear, lest you think I’ve given you wings to be free. No, they are but another way for me to possess you, to hold you down and break you even further.”

You whimper once more, hips rocking harder against his clothed erection as it twitches forcefully with each little broken moan you make.

His gaze lifts to the crowd of souls again, one hand reaching to free himself as he calls forward the next for judgment. It’s tedious, the words he spouts, and they are lost on you. All you can think about is taking him again… and again… and again. Somewhere in the middle of his sentencing, you line him up and sink mercilessly on his cock.

Somewhere between article and clause numbers, he groans, great horned head thrown back and hips snapping up at your sudden warmth and wet.

Claws rake down your back, red welts raising as he grips into your hips. “Eager thing, you decide to make all the hells your stage, and you but an actor upon it. Very well,” he growls in your ear. Two arms wrap tightly around you, wings and all as he thrusts up hard inside you. “You have my undivided attention, little mouse. And these fools can wait for their fates. After all, I have eternity to perfect their torments.”

Smoke fills the halls, the mortals sink back into shadow and flame as they disappear… nothing but the stink of sulphur and cherry musk on your Master’s skin remains. Hells, it makes you bounce hard on his cock.

“Recalling when you were my favorite client, hmm? Those fated days that drew you on your inexorable path to my feet… my lap… my bed,” he gloats, that velvet voice roughed in his throat, each scrape in his voicebox timed with the rough thrusts he makes. “And just as you fell from your almighty pedestal, the hero of the city and mortal realms, you landed so softly, so squarely in my arms.” That last word is a monstrous growl, barely understandable anymore. But the way he squeezes you down on him in his searing embrace leaves no room for doubt. “My sweet, corrupted, broken angel…”

One hand roughly scores round your front. “They say that music is the fruit of love…” he hisses in your ear, forked tongue wagging from between his lips to wet the shell of it. “But I think your screams make the most pleasing, sonorous symphony I could ever hope to savour.”

Pointed teeth nip at your ear, a kiss of fangs and hot breath as his large clawed hand clamps around your breast. You arch, you keen, you shatter into a million blissful pieces as you ride his cock. Suddenly, he feels massive inside you, your walls fluttering and gripping him, every ridge along his shaft scrapes you. Those devil-ridges deliciously score your walls, overstimulating your gripping muscles. They flutter, they spasm until you can’t take any more. Your body tightens in ecstacy only to go limp as your climax wanes.

Nails slice into your skin, digging into your breast, Raphael draws one last shattered groan from your slack lips. Down come the claws… the line seems to laugh inside your broken mind, a threat and a promise wrapped in sinful, agonizing bliss. His grunts and snarls are rough in your ear, his thrusts up into you split you apart. A chorus of feral grating noises, crescendos until you can feel his rhythm growing stilted as he’s close. You gasp and writhe in his grip with what little energy you can muster until that searing hot seed fills your belly.

He breathes a heavy sigh of pure satisfaction into one ear, tingles racing down your spine at the deafening blast of breath. “Let those unfortunate souls languish in torment a little while longer…” he stands, arms around your body, cock still buried deep in your cunt. “Shall I give you more of the same torture and pleasure that made you mine… that granted me your body and soul?” He chuckles deep and rough in your ear. “Shall we have a little repeat performance, little mouse, of the way I left you dangling on the precipice of bliss for days… for tendays?” Long strides cross the distance from his throne to the halls… And bliss or torture, pain or pleasure, you crave both as you cling to his neck, waiting for your judgment with a smile.

[randoimago]

I dowloaded the aasimar mod to my Baldurs Gate and I just want !!! More winged beauties is this game ;;; how would Gale, Astarion and Halsin react to meeting the reader who is an aasimar? Maybe they’re the first the guys have ever seen!

Meeting an Aasimar For the First Time

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Character(s): Astarion, Gale, Halsin

Type of Request: Headcanons

Note(s): Hopefully there's some patch in the future or expansion that adds more races and subclasses to the game. I mean, there's goblins, Shadar-Kai, and Deva NPCS. Why can't we play as those too 😖

Also, while I love the idea of Aasimar, I can just imagine the angst/comfort with a Fallen Aasimar. Maybe that's just cause I'm a SadoMasochist tho

Astarion

Oh he is so fascinated when he meets you. Thinks your wings are a bit much (if reader is a fallen Aasimar with the featherless wings then Astarion will probably comment about "There's enough brooding without you one upping me").

Debates rather to ask you for a feather. The only reason he debates it is because he doesn't want to take a piece of you away, he's had that happen to himself enough times that he doesn't want to do it to others.

I will say that Astarion probably would either get along the most or avoid a Fallen Aasimar the most just because the darkness those Aasimar carry reminds him too much of himself and his past. While it would be good to talk to someone that might have an idea of the level of trauma he has, he also would rather repress it all and act like he's fine instead.

Gale

He finds you fascinating. Of course he knows what Aasimars are and it does make him feel a bit bittersweet. I mean, here you are, a champion of the gods. And yet he can't even get a message from his own.

If you are an Aasimar with feathered wings then he'd love to have a few (maybe after you've molted or if you're willing to just part with some) to add some new quills to help him with his writing and transcribing spell scrolls in his book.

Now if you're a fallen Aasimar, that just makes him more curious. He's probably heard an unreliable telling of the fallen ones from Mystra so he'd want to hear more about your story. Maybe you both can both lament about losing your connections to your deities as well as help build each other back up because who needs those asshole gods anyway.

Halsin

Halsin has probably heard of Aasimar but has never had the pleasure of meeting one before. He finds you to be beyond beautiful. Might chuckle and make a comment about being under-dressed while in your presence.

He would love to sit down with you and learn more about what it's like to be a champion of the gods. Of course, if you're a fallen Aasimar then he can only imagine the weight and burdens you must carry, ones that he'd gladly help you carry so you don't feel so alone.

Should your wings need grooming and you trust Halsin enough, then he'd like to help. He's befriended (and sometimes bedded) quite a few winged friends that he'd be gentle and delicate with helping you take care of your wings.

Taglist:

@reo-the-leo @unhelpfulnpc

[sorcerous-caress]

How do you think the party would react if Tav was a Fallen Aasimar? I sure it hinges on the God's aliment. What if it was a God they worship?

Reacting to a fallen aasimar Tav

[Bg3, fluff, nb!reader]

[Shadowheart, Wyll, Karlach, Halsin, Astarion, Gale, Minthara, Laezel]

You used to serve a god they worship/worshipped. I took some liberties with the godless characters.

Shadowheart - Selune

Assuming it happens either after the game ends or in an alternative universe where Shadowheart never abandoned Selune. Then she'd be very conflicted.

What could you have possibly done to have the most gentle of goddesses stripping your wings? Moonlight melting your silvery feathers until they're nothing but abyssal black and ash.

Her lady is wise, therefore she will be very wary of you. Yet at the same time, she can't help but feel a sense of familiarity when she looks at you. It drives away her prejudice for a moment and lets her judge you for your action, no matter how blasphemous the act of questioning her goddess's judgment might be.

Wyll - Tyr

To fall from celeste is to become a fiend. How are you any better than the devils below in the hells?

If he was his younger self, he wouldn't have hesitated to deliver you to justice, and yet the horns on his own head weight heavy like a crown paid for in a lifetime of experience. He knows better than anyone that nothing is ever what it seems like.

This Wyll is wiser, more understanding and open. He's willing to extend the same courtesy to you that he wished someone would've done to him before.

Let him hear you out, friend. Tell him what befelled this fate upon you.

Karlach - Tymora

She is more confused about how you managed to anger the smiling lady herself. It takes a special kind of asshole to turn their back on good fortune and lady luck.

An aasimar at that too? A messenger of luck?

She's never been big on the whole religion thing, to be honest with you, yet the wamrth and good fortune her goddess extended to her is still one of the best gifts she has ever been given.

So what happened? How did this even happen?

She'd never be hostile towards you nor exlude you as long as you don't do anything sinister. She genuinely belives in sharing her good fortune with everyone no matter who.

Halsin - Silvanus

Oak father preserve him. To Halsin, seeing you brings as much joy to him as seeing the shadow curse spread.

His God's teachings aren't that hard to follow, just respect the natural order and preserve all living beings. He has been diligently upholding this code through his life and spreading the teachings back at the grove.

Yet, the oak father himself marked you as an endangerment to the very being of nature. To the ancient trees and sprouting spring flowers, you reprsent the slithering all-consuming wither and rot.

He is very uncomfortable around you, not just on his guard, but you can see that he would rather be anywhere else than near you. Yet, feels like he had to keep an eye on you just in case you burn down a forest or something behind his back.

Astarion - Corellon

Honestly, he doesn't even remember worshipping the old elf or anything. He just assumes it given his previous stature and ancestry.

Not that the self-proclaimed protector of all elves has ever given him a single second of his time since he became an undead. No matter how much he prayed, it seems that the blood running through his veins barely counted anymore when it wasn't his own blood to begin with.

Fuck him, along all the other gods who turned their back on him for 200 hundred years of pure shit. It's a good thing you fell, he tells you, at least now your powers are yours alone. What's a god if not just another master to get you to do their biddings?

He is interested in you, mostly in your powers, to be more precise.

But it also encourages you to seek your own path and never think of grovelling for forgiveness or your feathers back.

Gale - Mystra

He makes a lame ass joke about if that makes him your stepfather. Dad puns included.

Surprisingly, he doesn't make a big deal out of it, even if it was before he fully got over his ex.

He's a scholar first and a lover second. He is genuinely very interested in learning about you and aasimars. Meeting one in a lifetime is a miracle. They're so rare that they're barely documented even. So imagine meeting a fallen one? He is beyond intrigued by you and your nature.

Sure, your morality might come into question, but he will worry about that later. For now, he is more interested in inspecting your wings and asking borderline intrusive questions about how serving Mystra was like.

Evil alligned deities.

Aasimars don't have many rules about them in dnd, but for one, they are classified as celestial beings. So technically, they can't ever serve evil alligned gods. It's never officially stated, tho so it is up to interpretation.

Devils or fiends serve the evil deities instead, so i thought why not make the reason the aasmire fell is because they decided to serve the evil god for the character.

In the next headcanons, falling is considered a good thing. Whoever your previous good god was that you used to serve, you abandoned them and went to serve an evil deity instead which is why you fell.

Laezel - Vlaakith

A good choice, a wise choice even. Laezel might not be versed much in the gods pantheon but she is sure whoever your old deity was, they couldn't have compared to her queen.

You have her respect, the same respect she'd extend to a kitherak even. In her eyes, you're the embodiment of the red dragon and rider knight both in one. Your wings and shinning blade speak for themselves.

She is honoured, fascinated too. Yet her admiration is a double edged sword, for she will hold you to impossible standards and consider it meeting the bare minimum.

Minthara - Lolth

She almost pities you, willingly becoming another pawn in this endless chessboard of drow conflict. Another gem to decorate Lolth's whip with as she inflicts it on whoever she sees fit.

Either you're foolishly naive or a complete masochist to dedicate yourself to the spider queen. Either way, she will test you herself to see exactly what you're made of.

As someone who abandoned Lolth, she'd be wary of anyone who serves her goddess. Yet you haven't cut off her head yet, how strange?

Minthara doesn't hide her disdain for Lolth around you, both warning you of the cruel fate awaiting you no matter how much of a good pet you're to your goddess.

For the longer you stay loyal to Lolth, the more of an endangerment you become to Minthara herself.

Shadowheart - Shar

Another child of the darkness, another sibling of the night to guide her through this journey. Shadowheart thinks your meeting was fate, a reward from her dark lady.

Especially if you saved her from the ship, she'd see you as her hero, a shining black diamond amonst the rubble and mud.

Mirroring how Laezel would've acted in fact, their dangerous fickle admiration of you that you never asked for would force a magnifying glass over both your flaws while exaggerating your achievements.

She doesn't hide her Shar worship from you this time around. She is proud, especially by you by her side. She will be your shield and recovery as long as you be her sword and wings.

[cambion-companion]

Fallen in Flame (AO3) Raphael x f!Aasimar!reader

Horns and Halos (AO3) Raphael x female! Aasimar OC

NEW:

Dinner Date | Raphael x Gn!reader

Sandwiched | Raphael x Haarlep x f!reader smut

Tail Talk | Raphael x Gn!Tiefling reader

Ridges | Raphael x gn!reader smut

Teaching the Devil how to smut | Raphael x f!oc

Ripples | Raphael x gn!reader bathing

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

"Hold Monster"| Raphael x int8 Tav

Annoying Raphael INT 8 Tav

Tav accidentally falls into the House of Hope

Intelligence 8 Tav x Intelligence 14 Raphael

Drunk Drabble | Raphael x reader (gn)

Raphael teaches difference between demon and devil

Horn Balm | Raphael x gn!reader

Soothe the Devil | Raphael x gn!Tiefling reader

Curled Atop Raphael to Thaw | Raphael x Reader

Cambion Cuddles | Raphael x reader

Infernal cuddles | Raphael x reader (gn)

Wearing His Shirt | Raphael x reader

Raphael's reaction to genuine affection from Tav

Raphael gets a lil surprise smooch from Tav

Love | Raphael x reader

I Hate That I Love You | Raphael x reader/Tav

Your Lips, My Supper | Raphael x f!reader (drabble)

His Muse | Patron!Raphael x reader (gn)

Masquerade | Raphael x reader

Posession | Raphael x Tav (female)

Marriage Contract | Raphael x reader (gn)

Artist!reader x Raphael with Haarlep guest appearance

The Devil's Bard | Raphael x Tav (gn)

Descent to Cania, to rescue your cambion | Raphael x reader

Cat and Mouse | Raphael x reader (gn)

Raphael drafts his villain song| GN Tav

Raphael is Tav's Fiend Patron

Thirst | Raphael x f!pregnant!reader

Thirst Pt 2

Overstimulation | Raphael x gn!reader

Smutty Snuggles | Raphael x reader (gn)

Gagged | Raphael smut blurb

Master of the Mouse | Raphael x f!reader x Haarlep SMUT

Inferna Victoria | Raphael x reader (ft. Haarlep)

Knot | Raphael x f!reader SMUT

50 Shades of Devil | Raphael x reader

Frozen Contract | Raphael x reader

Aftermath by @loveless-nameless-graceless-two

Down by the River by @unreadpoppy

Tongue by @breadandbloodybutter

The Devil You Share a Room With by @djmorn

You and Your Devil at the Circus by @red-dead-sakharine

Devil and His Eager Pup by @dark-and-kawaii

Tav is in Danger, Raphael Saves Her by @sky-kiss

Devour by @adarlingmess

Sweetening the Deal by @adevilyoudo

OTHER:

BG3 characters w/ virgin reader

Glimpses | sneak peaks into Tav x BG3 characters

I Want to Live | Astarion x reader

BG3 companions on Halloween date

My Heritage post (will include in my will)

[irulaan]

CHAPTER ONE ; HEAVEN ON EARTH

RAPHAEL X FEM!ANGEL!READER

⤷ chapter summary: Tav walks a delicate line, guarded by an angel's presence yet haunted by dreams of a devil. warnings for this chapter. mentions of mystra. blood and other fluids. astarion. i don’t use physical descriptors with the angel. word count. 4k.

back to masterlist / next chapter

The Angels exchanged concerned glances as one of them conjured an image of a peculiar crown, its purple magic radiating an imposing aura even in illusion. An illusion of power. They recognized the opulent jewelry immediately, aware of its destructive potential, appealing to the ambitious and those who dream of self-destruction.

In the tranquil confines of the garden, the atmosphere grew tense as the oldest among them acknowledged the significance of the artifact. Their collective knowledge of magical relics whispered tales of devastation and chaos brought by such items. One of them stepped forward to examine the artifact, her brow furrowed in deep thought. "Does this belong to the Weave? To Mystra?" She asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty. Some tilted their heads in contemplation, offering no sympathy to the ones not aware of the power of such thing.

"The Crown of Karsus doesn't exactly belong to the Weave—or Mystra, by extent," replied an Aasimar who had traversed Faerûn extensively, and had seen and heard about these men-crafted things. Her tone is grave. "Now it resides in its homeland, and that is cause for great concern."

A sense of unease settled over the group as they pondered their next steps. "What can we even do? It's beyond our reach. Shouldn't this concern the Goddess of Magic? Surely, she has a plan?"

A sudden breeze swept through the celestial creatures gathered in one of the smallest gardens of the second circle of heaven. Though rarely used for discussions of importance, the ancient angel deemed it a suitable location, free from any imminent threats that could jeopardize their safety in heaven. They chose this secluded spot to prevent any speculation or unwarranted interference from other beings—a precautionary measure against potential dangers. Despite the fact that two fallen angels now held dominion over circles of Hell, their existence was accepted as an inevitable recurrence.

"Of course Mystra has a plan," scoffed the angel holding the image of the crown, a devout follower of the Goddess. It was not uncommon for angels to serve deities or aspire to do so.

Raising an eyebrow, another celestial's wings quivered with uncertainty. "Then it's her problem. And it's fixed."

"To kill her chosen one?" One of the celestials laughed, her bright blonde hair dancing in the gentle breeze. "Humans are... unstable, and I wouldn't trust them. I'd say this concerns us too," Her voice was strong, as she added with a soft yet cautionary tone. Having witnessed countless tragedies across various planes of existence, she understood the potential ramifications of seemingly minor events. Though they were shielded within the confines of Heaven, danger always lurked on the horizon—whether in the form of wars, fiendish creatures, or even threats from humans.

"What's the situation on Earth?" Another inquired.

One raised their eyebrows. “Where’s the crown now?”

The earth-born, now an Aasimar, responded softly, “It's in the hands of some cultists. They're threatening an entire city.”

“And the stones?”

The Aasimar stood in silence for a moment. “The cultist... The Dark Gods have their chosen ones... Bhaal chose Orin the Red, whose mother was also a follower of him; they've both been manipulated by the mortal turned God... Bane has Lord Enver Gortash, and Ketheric Thorne has been resurrected by Myrkul.”

“—Jergal was such an idiot!” One of them interjected.

Many sighs were heard. “Maybe Mystra is going to need a hand…”

“But is the crown safe in her hands?”

“She's already powerful—“

One of the youngest angels chimed in, “But she can’t stop this. How can we even call her a Goddess?”

There was a moment of silence as they locked eyes. The air crackled with tension, a palpable anticipation lingering between them. The energy of the angels clashed, swirling in a chaotic dance instead of harmonizing as one. Then, unexpectedly, another pair of wings fluttered against the breeze.

"I've been having strange dreams," Came from behind them.

It was some battle angel. Her armored body and wings emitted an eerie sound as she approached the group, unaware of their reunion until her innate ability to reach beyond brought her there.

"I've seen him wielding his father's sword, his head crowned by that dangerous jewelry, the Crown of Karsus," She rushed out her words, her voice filled with urgency. "I've been haunted by his black sclera and bright demon pupils. He's so hungry for power—I can feel it. But it's not by his own merit, no... it's an earth-born that hands him the crown," she continued, her tone growing more desperate as her fellow celestial beings regarded her with nonchalance. The mother of angels had recently given birth to a new offspring, and her own conscience urged her to be protected. She felt her vulnerability, having experienced so little of the universe's dangers.

It was clear to everyone that she was referring to Mephistopheles’ son, as the Archduke was the previous keeper of the crown. He had hidden it among his most prized possessions until it mysteriously vanished—stolen, perhaps, though he remained largely silent on the matter. But that happened many years ago.

"The crown could crush a cambion's soul—as they still retain some semblance of humanity, even if he's the infamous son of Mephistopheles," One continued, their voice tinged with concern.

"And he doesn't care much... as human as he may seem, he has carnal urges and can be easily manipulated, even by something as simple as an incubus—his father's idea," Another angel chimed in, rolling his eyes dismissively. "I don't believe he's the real threat here."

“But what about the human who could deliver the crown to him? Isn’t she significant?” The battle angel interjected. She was often wise, but now a few eyes squinted at her recklessness and unconventional approach. “Isn’t she just a human? How many mortals possess the knowledge and bravery to trade with a devil? True, he may be a cambion, but his lineage, as the son of Mephistopheles, changes everything.”

It was as clear as crystal that the Archduke’s son posed no threat to anyone, not even the lowliest celestial creature. Cambions were as frail and wicked as their human counterparts..

But some were intrigued; “Is it a possibility?”

“Indeed, everything is within the realm of possibility,” she responded sternly. Her voice commanded attention and obedience, as if she were the embodiment of authority itself. Having led thousands of battles, guiding celestial beings to both hell and victory, her words held weight.

“Then assign her a guardian angel,” the ancient one suggested plainly. “Your most recent daughter would be suitable. She possesses a strong moral compass and lacks the hint of corruption that deems her vulnerable.”

The battle angel was taken aback. Her most recent daughter had endured the icy clutches of hell, but she was ill-prepared to take on the role of guardian angel, despite her uncorrupted moral compass.

“I... I'm not sure... What if we're underestimating the gravity of this situation?” interjected the follower of Mystra.

The ancient one rolled her bright blue eyes, emitting a quiet, almost haunting laugh. “Mystra herself? She knows the potential devastation the crown can unleash, yet her only plan is to eliminate her former lover with it? Assigning a guardian angel to a lost human seems equally absurd.”

“I–I don’t think… What if we’re sub-estimating this matter?”, interrupted the Mystra follower.

"I think we should help he–"

A deep rage seized the ancient being, wounds from encounters with numerous deities and creatures flaring up within her. "I don’t and won’t ever serve a God! They’re equal to devils… they sicken me! She’s no good even when she tries to be," she declared vehemently, her frustration palpable, as there was nothing else to do; everything was beyond their reach. "This is everything we’re doing!"

A tense silence enveloped them as they exchanged stares; none dared to speak further. The ancient one commanded both respect and fear.

With that, the conversation took a pivotal turn, setting fate on a new and uncertain path. Angel wings would soon be stained with blood, as they ventured into uncharted territories.

Mornings at the camp unfolded in tranquil serenity, with birds harmonizing their soft melodies into the air. Tree branches swayed gently in the warm summer breeze, infused with a familiar hint of coastal saltiness. Despite the dying warmth of the campfire and the wilting flowers, the atmosphere exuded a profound sense of peace, a harmony between life and death. It was still as everything should be, they were at the right place.

Yet, this idyllic scene was shattered by the piercing cries of birds and the ominous crack of breaking branches. Something—or someone—was hurtling through the sky, falling toward the earth with alarming speed. The sudden change of scene jolted half of the camp awake, their senses reeling from the unexpected disturbance. They didn’t even have the chance to get out of their tents as a loud crash was heard outside — it was definitely someone that collided against the dirt… against the cold ground.

Emerging from his tent, Astarion furrowed his brow at the commotion, silver hair tousled in disarray. His gaze fell upon the figure amidst the dirt, unmistakably an angel fallen from the heavens. "Well, isn't this a delightful turn of events?" he remarked wryly, a hint of amusement lacing his words. "As if our situation couldn't become any more... interesting."

She lay sprawled on her stomach, her once pristine wings now splayed out to shield her body, though futilely, from the impact of the fall. They appeared broken in places, blood seeping from beneath the soft feathers, showing the tender skin under. Her celestial garments, once immaculate, were now stained with dirt and torn by branches, though they still provided ample coverage. Despite the damage, there was an otherworldly elegance to her form, juxtaposed with the stark reality of her injuries. It was both heavenly and apocalyptic.

Shadowheart cautiously approached the fallen angel, her keen eyes scanning for signs of injury. "I believe her wing is... damaged," she observed, concern evident in her voice.

Astarion's senses were overwhelmed by the sweet yet invigorating aroma emanating from the angel's presence. If the blood of a devilish creature repulsed, then surely an angel's blood was akin to tasting the very essence of heaven. "Indeed," he murmured, his gaze lingering on the wounded wing. "Heavenly indeed—I mean the smell." The temptation to partake of such divine essence was almost palpable, stirring an unfamiliar hunger within him.

Gladly, Karlach interrupted his ruminations. “Do you think heaven has a certain smell?”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course, and it’s this,” Astarion declared, gesturing towards the fallen angel. “Can we keep her? I bet she’d make the best companion.”

Gale interjected, “She's a celestial being, you can't keep her.”

“Ah, Gale! Boo, spoilsport…” the vampire huffed.

Gale, not unfamiliar with the presence of angels or gods, approached the scene. As the chosen one of the Goddess of Magic, he had encountered many celestial beings before. It was only natural for him to share his knowledge with the party. "She might be an angel, or perhaps an Aasimar... I haven’t seen one in person since…” He paused, lost in thought for a moment. “Mystra had some followers who were angels, battle angels. But she doesn’t seem to fit that description... she's not wearing any armor,” he observed, moving closer to the celestial being. “I believe she's an angel.”

“Should we wake her up?”

“Mmm, I don’t really know…” Gale kept his eyes on the angel, as Shadowheart was examining her wounds. “Angels are very powerful creatures and we don’t know if we are on her wrong side”

Astarion cried, “And why on earth would we be on her wrong side! We are the victims here!”

The wizard gestured for Astarion to lower his tone, a silent reminder of caution. “She probably doesn’t know any of us… and their intelligence and wisdom are great. If we lie, she'll likely discern the truth, which wouldn’t bode well for us.”

“If she ever wakes up, we can ask for her assistance… Wouldn’t she be helpful?” Shadowheart frowned, muttering incantations for a healing spell.

“But what if she attacks us?! It would be a shame to kill her!”

They were all well-versed in the workings of deities and celestials; they don’t simply appear by chance, something Astarion seemed oblivious to. His bitterness toward them fueled by his unanswered pleas to the gods. Shadowheart attempted to ground their thoughts. “I do believe she could be helpful – I mean, angels. If she just fell here… I don’t know. I’m certain she’s here for another reason.” There was a moment of silence. “We should wait.”

“Where’s Tav?”

Not a second passed before they heard someone take a deep breath. "Where is she?!" The angel had awakened in a frenzy, fluttering her wings and desperately searching for something.

Astarion frowned, glancing at the sky as if seeking guidance, then turned to Gale. "So... does that sound like a good or bad angel?"

If Gale hadn't been a bit nervous about the angel, he might have chuckled. "There's no such thing as a bad angel," he replied. Astarion rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed by Gale's optimistic view. Another ‘too good for everyone and everything’ creature. He already hated her. "She's looking for someone... but there's no malice in her voice."

The angel rose to her feet, her wings still and her expression twisted in pain. "I need to find her... where is she, Gale of Waterdeep?"

Even though Gale had encountered angels before, he was taken aback. After all, he was just a humble human. He struggled to find the right words as the angel's gaze seemed to penetrate his soul. She couldn't be a follower of Mystra if she wasn't connected to the Weave.

“Are you an… an angel… how does–how do you know me?” He muttered utterly confused.

"I'm not asking again," the angel stated firmly, conjuring a spell that would have taken Gale at least a few minutes to prepare.

Astarion ran away, “For fuck’s sake! Can’t we have an uneventful day?! What the hell is an angel looking for–?”

Tav found herself ensnared in the tumultuous grasp of a restless slumber, her breaths quickened and jagged amidst the confines of what scarcely passed for a bed. Each twist and turn brought no solace, only exacerbating the disarray of her unkempt hair, while beads of sweat cascaded like raindrops upon her furrowed brow and the scant linens beneath her. This nightmarish feeling was all too familiar, since she and a bunch of other outcasts started this long journey to take back and free Baldur’s Gate.

Outside her sanctuary, an ominous silence permeated the air, punctuated by the eerie whispers of the soft wind that whispered strange secrets to those willing to listen. Abruptly, her eyes snapped open to a realm devoid of company, bathed solely in the warm luminescence of the sun gentle embrace and the waning embers of a dying campfire.

Within the realm of her troubled dreams, a conflagration blazed with an intensity that threatened to consume her very essence. Amidst the infernal glow, she beheld orbs of darkness, each adorned with irises of bright yellow that fixated upon her with an unsettling intensity. Veins of pulsating blood marred their scarlet-hued skin, crowned by a profusion of horns behind the intoxicating smoke. The acrid scent of their presence assailed her senses, though its origins remained unknown, forgotten.

At times, she attributed the noxious aroma to the campfire's burning branches.

Yet, in her state of desperation, bereft of recourse and ensnared by the flames' searing embrace, she found herself imprisoned within the confines of her own subconscious. Even as she cast her gaze skyward, the high ceiling above was adorned with ostentatious frescoes, each one a macabre manifestation of her innermost fears. Nightmare after nightmare, she fights against the specter of impending demise, with the allure of death’s sweet kiss looming ever closer.

It was not until the faint aroma of the somewhat familiar freshly cut lawn covered with rain, mingled with the soft rustle of giant wings that she found reprieve, her eyes fluttering open to behold a vision of winter white feathers that offered, in some way, sanctuary.

Only then did she emerge from the clutches of her torturing dream, liberated from the gaze of those infernal orbs, and welcomed into the embrace of wakefulness. The embrace of life.

It was morning once more… and the first thing she heard was Astarion’s screams.

Still groggy from sleep, she emerged from her warm tent, gripping a blade in her skilled hand. The sun's rays blinded her momentarily as they hit her face. "I thought we were going to be safe here—what?" She paused, her gaze falling upon the celestial being, whose wings shimmered under the light.

Pointing directly at Tav, the celestial spoke in a soft and delicate tone, attempting to ease the noticeable stress and fear on Tav's face. "You are the one I'm looking for. I'd recognize you even in a crowded room." The angel introduced herself by her given name, emphasizing that being in her presence wouldn't transform Tav into an Aasimar. "I haven't been authorized to do so. But I’m here nonetheless…"

"I don't understand... Why?" Tav questioned, confusion evident in her voice.

"Because you're playing an important part in the present event," the celestial explained calmly. "You're going to need as much help as you can gather. Even if your companions are resourceful, they might lack morals or be blinded by deities and religion." She gestured towards Astarion, Gale, Lae'zel, and Shadowheart as she spoke, unapologetic about her words. "I'm not insulting them; they're sincere, but they're only human, even as chosen ones."

Tav frowned, processing the information. "Are you always going to be around me? Following us around?" Her intuition was failing her, but she sensed that the angel meant no harm.

"I'm no babysitter," the celestial replied firmly. "You'll make your own decisions. I won't try to manipulate you like others might. But I offer insight and guidance when needed."

"You seem so blunt to speak, haven’t you been around humans, dear?” Astarion's bitterness tainted his words as he got uncomfortably close to the angel, attempting to intimidate her with his presence.

Her hand glided gracefully across his cheek in a fleeting touch. “Why should I sugarcoat my words, vampling? I do not seek approval from mortals.” Despite the sting in her words, her gentle tone didn't enrage Astarion.

Attempting to maintain his composure, Astarion pressed on, “Aren’t angels naive and easy to manipulate creatures? How can you be a compass? You have been living in a fantasy bubble.”

“Is that what you think about me?” The celestial directed her gaze at Tav, though Astarion was the one who spoke.

“He’s a… friend. I trust in him,” Tav stuttered. “They’ve been wandering this world for longer than me… So I think – I haven’t even read or heard anything about angels.”

The angel nodded, sensing the sincerity in Tav's words, a sentiment she reciprocated. "I am here solely for you, with no other purpose in this world but to do good and eradicate evil... devils and demons," she declared, causing Tav's companions to narrow their eyes in suspicion. "I can walk by your side without these."

In the blink of an eye, her celestial essence vanished. Her once-dirty wings disappeared, and the halo of ethereal light surrounding her faded from sight, blending her seamlessly with the earth-bound creatures around her. She appeared just like one of them.

Tav smiled warmly. "There's plenty of room in the camp," she offered. But Astarion couldn't help but roll his eyes in annoyance.

The tension in the air didn't escape the angel's keen senses. "It wouldn't be wise. I don't want to wake up in a pool of blood," she stated bluntly, her gaze unwavering. "Your bonds aren't strong enough... You're alone."

Tav held firm. "I trust them... Despite their differences, we're all united by the same goal."

But nothing could sway the angel from her decision to keep her distance from the group — not from Tav. "Whenever you need me, I'll assume this appearance to walk by your side," she assured Tav, handing her a small, irregular crystal-like artifact. Inside, a flow of energy danced in a spectrum of light colors. Its sharp edges spoke of its potential power. "Use this if you need me. We can't be summoned like devils, so use it wisely. It will take me a few minutes to reach you."

The air changed, charged with such energy that seemed to ripple through the forest. The earth was anticipating the departure of the celestial being from Faerûn. In her absence, a palpable void lingered, leaving behind so many questions. It was as if a fleeting dream had slipped away, leaving behind only fragments of memory and a lingering sense of uneasiness.

Despite the many centuries by his side, the incubus still found amusement in their playful banter, a dance of manipulation and desire that always seemed to end in the same and routinely climax. But this time was different, a palpable tension hung in the air, casting a shadow over their usual exchanges. There was something stirring within his master, a hunger for power and dominion that surpassed anything they had encountered before. Even if his House of Hope filled with weeping tortured souls was the greatest evidence of his desires.

As he watched the demon lord with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, the incubus couldn't shake the feeling that they were on the brink of something great. With a sly grin, he leaned closer, his voice dripping with wicked amusement. "Back to meddling in the affairs of mortals, are we? Oh, this should be delicious."

The Devil shot him a withering glance, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. "Yes, I'm planning to visit... earth," he replied curtly, his tone laced with impatience.

The Demon's lips curled into a knowing smile as he sensed the simmering excitement emanating from his master. With a languid walk, he approached, the sinuous movement of his tail betraying his amusement. "Ah, I've not felt such excitement in ages," he remarked, his voice dripping with suggestive innuendo. "You know you can always bring me back something as I enjoy earthly delights..."

The Devil's response was swift and harsh. "No."

Undeterred, the Demon chuckled, unfazed by the rejection. He knew his role well, and he relished in it, knowing that the consequences of his actions would never truly be a punishment for him. He knew his master wouldn’t dare to entertain the thought of murdering him—not with the knowledge that he would report to his Father. And even though he didn't harbor fear of his father, it was a strategic move to keep him out of the picture, to avoid any unnecessary complications.

A smug smile twisted the Devil's lips, though it seemed out of place on his typically composed face. "She's naive, too gullible. This will be child's play," he declared confidently.

That single glance, that imperceptible shift in demeanor, was all the incubus needed to know the Devil was lying.

a/n. I’m so excited! First things first, since english isn’t my first language there might be some grammar mistakes; I use grammarly to fix any possible mistake but I’m only a girl living at the end of the world, therefore, we don’t speak english. Then, I use deepl to translate the work to my mother tongue and see if there are any mistakes left, but still, I know it has. Secondly, I know it was looooong and descriptive and probably a bit boring, but I wanted a somewhat proper background; I know I’m probably drifting away from the dnd lore but I hope you can enjoy the story nonetheless. I was mainly inspired by biblical angels, since I think Raphael is pretty much a biblical devil. I had some other inspiration such as the divine comedy, because —again, I think Raphael’s fiendish form was inspired by Dante’s Satan.

Thank you so much for reading this, I’d love some feedback. If you liked this you can reblog or leave a comment or something <3 I’d be so grateful you don’t even image how much.

I like to speak about Raphael and bg3; so this is an invitation jeje.

Kisses, see you around!

[moonselune]

Ohhh Aasimar reader if they were a companion bad end would be them unable to cope with their suffering and giving in to despair. Going from sweet and kind to broken fallen angel embracing violence and their worst impulses to desperately escape their despair. (Not an ask. Just idea)

ahhh I feel like as well you would have the companions where this would be the worst thing they would want for their love; Karlach, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Shadowheart etc

Then you have the companions who would be so down for it, like avenge me! punish the world! ; Minthara, Astarion, Lae'zel

[svartalfhild]

Summer Reading/Writing/Arting Tag

Tagged by @late-nite-scholar to complete this "get to know the author" tag game. Thank you~!

Tagging: @wayfaring-rune, @celamity, @boxingcleverrr, @mxphanes

1) Describe one creative WIP project you’re planning to work on over the summer.

Just one? Well shit, that's tough. I have so many ideas percolating in my noodle, both in terms of writing and art.

Let's see...aside from my current ongoing march of ESO fic which is very likely to continue through the rest of the year, I do have a cyberpunk novel I've been wanting to continue working on. It's currently titled Ars Voltaica, and it's set in Detroit about a hundred years from now. It's about a young woman fresh out of college who gets into a corporate sponsored debt relief program in which she has to sign a contract to work in the data entry department of said corporation for five years and also live entirely on their campus. While she's there, she becomes privy to some information she shouldn't know and oops! suddenly she has to flee for her life. And that's just the beginning! There's a lot of stuff to do with androids in there. One of the central characters, the personal assistant of the corporate boss, is an android, and he's got wild shit going on with him. A lot of my motivation for this story comes out of me being mightily salty about how bad Detroit: Become Human is lol.

Anyway! In terms of art, the main thing on the docket is doing the final player character portrait for my DnD group. He's a Fallen Aasimar Conquest Paladin who's getting his holy power from Bane but doesn't realize it yet. He's played by my friend Jim.

2) Rec a book!

Aw shit I'm not the reader I used to be, and unfortunately I've disliked more of the books I've read lately than I've liked. I can always go back to reccing the Starlight & Shadows trilogy by Elaine Cunningham for the DnD novel inclined who want to read about a drow other than Drizzt or Jarlaxle who is also a lady. The story actually explains why drow magic works on the surface when it didn't used to. Also a good series if you're a fan of fancy wizard/scruffy barbarian romances.

3) Rec a fic! (outside your character tag)

Once again, I'm not the reader I used to be, but every now and again, when I'm thinking about my love for Perc'ahlia from Campaign 1 of Critical Role, I remember AFK: a critrole MMO AU and how fucking good it was, both in concept and execution. The premise is that the characters are living in the modern world and all know each other through playing an MMO together.

4) Rec music!

Kill the Alarm's album Fire Away is nothing but bangers (especially the title song) and tastes of distilled 2008 to me. Been listening to those songs for a looooong time.

Eva Under Fire's cover of Separate Ways fucking slaps and it's been in heavy rotation lately.

5) Share one piece of advice!

Let me share a writing secret from your friendly neighbourhood linguist: in fiction, grammar is your bitch, and anyone who tells you different is trying to sell something. Obviously it's good to know grammar rules, and a certain amount of obeying those rules is necessary for coherent and clear communication, but everything after that is fair game. You can have your characters speak in run-on sentences, because people do that all the time in real life, and it doesn't even always sound awkward. You. Can. Put. Periods. In. Improper. Places. You know why? Because bending and breaking the rules can convey something that following the rules can't. Think of the way people convey tone and cadence in their posts online or in texts. You can totally do some of those tricks in your writing to get the vibe you want, especially in dialogue.

Related: "don't split your infinitives" and "never end a sentence with a preposition" are fake rules literally made up by some asshole scholars during the Renaissance because they thought English needed to be more like Latin. Don't pay any mind to that shit. You can quote me on that.

[writing-with-olive]

Hello!

Quick question if u don't mind 😉

How to chose character names that make the reader go "that's dope" when all the foreshadowing is wrapped up?

Also, I have trouble finding a female Mongol name which suits the phonetic I want but also have a meaning that matches the oc's personality and the themes? The ressources are so poor online. It's a shame.

Thought u could help 😸

Thanks Olive 💕

Hey anon!

So when I make characters, the way I name them can vary. Sometimes it's just Their Name and I have very little control over it. That was the case for my current MC Zia. Sometimes, I'll build up their names by syllable, like "okay, it's gotta have at least one unusual letter, and start with a hard sound. It needs to be short. One or two syllables max." etc. The second one is how I usually make names, though I usually work in a fantasy/sci-fi setting where the names are more western-based or entirely made up.

When it comes to making names that have meanings, I usually hit up nameberry.com. It's not perfect, but it's got a large enough database that it's pretty good to start. For example, my dnd character is named Kian which means darkness, partially because she was a fallen aasimar shadow sorcerer (basically super edgy dark magic) born to a bunch of protector aasimar healers (think golden and glowey).

I guess what I'm trying to get at is start with a name you think has the meaning you're trying to go for, or a near enough equivalant (name databases are a great way to do that). The foreshadowing part comes from how you write it. Most readers aren't necessarily know that the names of your characters will mean something specifically (so if you want to make it a sort of extra little nugget for the super invested ones you can), which means if you want it to be something that is apparent to more readers, drop in a little hint or snippet about their name when the reader is more focused on other details. Introductions are often a great place because individual details don't stick out as much, and you can include it in a wave of other information (just don't infodump).

For the Mongol name specifically, I'm not really the one to help you. Since names have different significance between different cultures, and I'm not Mongolian nor have I looked that far into the culture, I'm more likely to spread misinformation/bad advice than anything else. I would recommend seeing if you can find anyone here or elsewhere who is, and see if they'd be willing to help, as you've got a better chance at finding someone more knowledgeable that way.

Sorry this has sat in my inbox so long. Happy writing!

[dmsden]

From the Ashes - Running a post-apocalypse style campaign

Hullo, Gentle Readers. Maybe it’s the current state of things, but I find that I’m not the only D&D player with an apocalypse on the mind. Another such person is tallowren, who asks, “Do you mind answering multiple questions from the same person? I'll add a real question: I'm working on a world set after an apocalypse-type event, in which the old civilization was destroyed and the surviving people live in small scattered villages. Large monsters keep everyone separated, occasionally a trade caravan reaches another village. I'm intentionally making it "low-medieval", no nobility, and no Gods. What are some things I have to consider to make this kind of setting believable?”

What a timely and relevant Question from a Denizen!

Well, tallowren, I don’t know about believable. We’re talking about a game with elves, dragons, and magic. What you’re after is a little word we writers love called “verisimilitude.” Verisimilitude is about creating the illusion that something is real. Many DMs strive for it, myself included, and I find that the same things that give any world verisimilitude will work for the setting you propose. You want to give your world structure, an internal logic, and a consistency.

It sounds like you’re already working on a solid structure. In this context, we could define structure as “how is this world different from ‘off-the-shelf’ D&D medieval fantasy?” And I have a surprise for you...at the core, it isn’t. As I’ve said in past articles, D&D is an inherently post-apocalyptic game. Things like cultures that no longer exist, fallen empires, lost cities, and more are part of the basic lore. The very name “Forgotten Realms” means that there were cultures in that setting that no longer exist, although their echoes continue to be felt in the world’s modern day. Many games even feature an apocalyptic event, such as the Cataclysm of Dragonlance, the Day of Mourning of Eberron, Greyhawk’s Rain of Colorless Fire, and Dark’s Sun’s...everything. My own campaign setting features the Tarrasque, which destroyed numerous cultures in the past (such as the Old Ones who created it) and an event called The Rending which shattered an entire continent.

Still, you have great ideas for ways to make your specific apocalypse interesting and unique. It sounds a lot like a “points of light” setting, a la 4th edition, which I love. Having only smaller villages is a great way to emphasize how bad a beating civilization took. The idea of large monsters keeping folks separated is very cool, as it suggests that, if your PCs become higher level adventurers, they could have real world-shaping consequences if they defeated one or more of these threats, allowing people to come together more.

A lack of nobility sounds like what you really mean is “a lack of a relatively benign feudal system.” Most D&D worlds seem to operate in general imitation of medieval Europe, where power filters down from kings through lesser nobles, and where peasants work the land, paying taxes in food and coin to those above them in exchange for protection. Shattering this style of government will definitely make for an interesting campaign world. If the apocalypse was relatively recent, I would imagine some nobles will still try to keep this order, clinging to the past. Some may be benign, but many will not. With no one to keep them in check, many might choose to exercise a “might makes right” policy, ending up as little better than the villains of the Seven Samurai (or the Magnificent Seven if you prefer. I love them both.) You might want to consider removing the Noble background in a case like this.

A lack of Gods is a very interesting choice, but it’s one that’s going to limit a number of player choices. There are backgrounds and classes entirely based around a relationship with a deity. I would make absolutely sure your players know about this ahead of time, because if someone gets their heart set on being a cleric or paladin, you might have to let them down easy. Personally, I might lean into this idea if a DM told me about it, and play an aasimar. Or maybe a character who follows the long-vanished gods, hoping to bring them back. I think it could make for a very interesting character arc.

Things I think you’ll want to nail down (if you haven’t already) are how long ago the apocalypse was and what the nature of it was. Even if these pieces of information aren’t common knowledge, *you* should be aware of it. Given the way you describe it, I’m guessing it wasn’t that long ago, since people are still isolating in smaller groups rather than working to rebuild what they once had. The further in the past the event is, the more it will fall into legend rather than being something that people still alive might remember. If it was long ago, maybe only the elves remember what it was like before the Event, and maybe they’re fighting to restore what once was.

For inspiration, I’d say to take a look at any of the Mad Max films, as they depict a world falling into apocalypse (Mad Max) and the kinds of events and societies that emerge after one (Road Warrior, Beyond Thunderdome, Fury Road). Exchange gasoline for residuum and you could almost lift the plots of any of them. You can even use the Infernal Engines rules from Baldur’s Gate: Descent into Avernus to simulate the vehicle battles.

For fantasy books set in post-Apocalypse times, you can look at Stephen King’s Dark Tower series, Brandon Sanderson’s Mistborn stories, and Jack Vance’s Dying Earth tales. You can look at the Dark Sun D&D setting for inspiration. And, if you want something fun and offbeat, there’s always the T.V. Series Adventure Time, which takes place on Earth far in the future after an event that the inhabitants refer to as the Mushroom War. It’s quirky and bizarre, but it feels like D&D to me.

I hope this helps, tallowren. Let us know how your game works out!

[peach-the-owl]

New Friends (aka Meeting the Rest of the M9)

Child of the Nein (Mighty Nein & Child!Reader)

Jester

While on the road you had encountered a half-orc named Fjord who was headed to Rexxentrum, something about studying magic, you didn’t pay too much attention to the conversation until he asked about you. Jester explained how the two of you were travel buddies to a concerned looking Fjord, before long though he joined your small group, and about a week or so after that while on the Amber Road you three met Beau and together helped save a fisherman’s daughter from a vicious serpent. Well they saved her, you were mostly moral support and comforted the girl while the others took care of the giant snake. Come the next day the four of you now were looking to split the rewards when Jester caught sight of a stinky looking man and a halfling? You were going to join her but something much more entertaining caught your eye when the tavern doors slammed open and the most colorful tiefling you’ve seen struts in like he owned the place, advertising a circus no less. The tiefling approaches you and introduces himself as Mollymauk or just Molly, because now you were friends, you happily accept the flier for the show and go to show Jester asking if you could go. She of course agrees and by the looks of things everyone else you’ve met today seemed interested too. You couldn’t help but get this feeling that this was the start of something mighty.

Nott

On your travels to help hide from guards Nott had taught you how to speak halfling and had stolen some porcelain masks to hide your goblin identity. Unfortunately this still didn’t always work, but you did make a new friend out of one of your prison escapades, a man who went by the name Caleb. Nott had gotten aquatinted with him while you squeezed your way out of the cell to find a key or anything to pick the lock, after the successful escape it seemed you now had a new member to your little party. With this new companion came new and interesting ideas, the most recent being to head to Trostenwald and find people to "join", however just before you reach the town you get attacked by some gnolls, but are able to take care of them quickly. Well Nott and Caleb took care of them while you scurried out of range, still not great at the whole combat thing. You find yourself curled up between the two of them the next morning as they also stir awake and head down to start the day. Not long after finding a place to seat yourselves, the sound of coin hitting a table next to yours draws Nott's and your attention, you both start discussing how to get your hands on it with Caleb trying to interject. Your little talk gets the attention of the blue tiefling at the table who comes over and almost immediately comments on poor Calebs hygiene, the other two occupants of the table are now also interested and question you three, and if that wasn't exciting enough then the appearance of a colourful tiefling and a well built woman strutting into the tavern promoting a carnival sure was. You duck your head down to avoid any sort of confrontation and just wait for everything to settle down a little, when it finally does it seems your other two party members decided checking out this carnival would be a good idea. Maybe it was, it did sound fun and if you were being honest you kinda hoped to see those other individuals you met, but who knows what the future holds.

Caleb

Over the years of travel Caleb's grown to appreciate your presents, sure you still had the tendency to be annoying to him but otherwise you were a good listener. Whenever he’d get into trouble he made a plan that you’d keep your distance but follow them to the jail, Caleb would also lend you Frumpkin to keep you company and keep an eye on you. When you find the window to the cell Caleb's in, you'd give Frumpkin back as well as anything small and sharp to pick the locks with. On one particular escapade you had a new friend sharing the cell with Caleb, you handed the metal wire you found to him and he gave it to the goblin lady who was much better at picking locks then he was. When the two were finally out of jail you got to properly meet your new travel companion, Nott. When she realized you were apart of the little group she instantly went from defensive to protective of you, you found this kinda funny, not fully up understanding why she was like this. With someone else to talk to, you and Nott were already forming a new bond together. These new bond you were making would only grow once you reached Trostenwald, it was there you first encounter a bubbly blue tiefling who introduces herself as Jester. While Nott and Caleb "acquaint" themselves with the two Jester was with you talk with the tiefling a little more, the two of you form a fast friendship. To make matters more interesting a very flamboyant tiefling and mysterious looking woman soon stroll into the tavern, the former making their way towards you and Jester. He introduces himself as Mollymauk but asks you call him Molly, handing you both a flier to a circus that was in town before strutting off to the other patrons. You show the flier to Caleb and practically beg to go to see the show, he seems to cave after a bit and agrees, you clutch the flier to your chest with a big smile on your face. You couldn’t wait for tonight.

Caduceus

What started as a normal day truned into something much bigger then you’d ever expect when a group of adventurers showed up asking for assistance to bring back a fallen friend and save the others from a group known as the Iron Shepherds. The female firbolg with them, Nila was her name, asked for a hug when seeing Caduceus who happily accepted, when she noticed your presence she asked you the same question as well. You of course also agreed and the two of you shared a silent moment of understanding, as she held you tightly in a grip only a longing mother could provide and you returning the gesture, missing your own mothers embrace. After some tea, a demonstration of Caduceus' skills and Nila promising to have those of her tribe watch over the temple it was time to leave. At first everyone thought it best to leave you at the temple as they were headed to dangerous territory but Caduceus put up the argument that the two of you were like a package deal and that you were skilled enough to hold your own, should the situation demand it. To your surprise they all seemed fine with this, except maybe Nila, and off you went following whatever path destiny had set you on.

Fjord

You were headed to Rexxentrum after Fjord discovered these newfound abilities he obtained, and let’s just say you your jaw dropped in awe the first time he fired an Eldritch Blast. While on the road you bumped into an excitable tiefling named Jester who decided to join you on your journey. After another week maybe, you sorta lost track of time on the road, you meet Beaureguard or Beau as she prefers. When it came to saving the daughter of that nice fisherman, you weren’t always good at remembering names, you stayed to the sidelines helping keep her and yourself out of the way while the others beat the giant snake to a pulp. Come the next day while splitting the rewards, Jester hobbles off to one of the nearby tables and acquaints herself with a shaggy looking man and a strange halfling woman. You go back to helping sort the reward, ignoring the stares of the strange halfling, what you couldn’t ignore was the appearance of a rainbow clad tiefling and their companion as they waltzed into the tavern. The tiefling walks over and introduces himself to you before handing you a flier, you accept the flier and chat with him a bit before he wonders to the next patron. You stare at the circus flier admiring the different colors and designs, having never been to one the flier alone captured your interest and you go to ask Fjord if you could check it out. After some thought he agrees as well as the others you’ve acquainted yourself to today. Tonight was going to be something magical, you could just feel it.

Beau

You’d noticed Beau acting more standoffish during training then usual, so you decide to do some digging and discover a letter from her parents explaining how they now had a son. Still a little confused you didn’t notice Beau enter her room until she questioned why you were invading her privacy. You in return questioned her about the letter and behaviour, it turned into a mini argument ending with Beau telling you she would be leaving tonight. Not wanting to be left without a teacher you decided you’d tag along, Beau refuses the idea but you were stubborn, guess her teaching method payed off for something. You played a little dirty saying she’d be abandoning you like your parents did, and that you could just tell the other monks. She was both pissed and impressed with your persuasion skills, mostly pissed though, but a part of her did feel grateful to have you come along. When the two of you reached the Amber Road after days of travel you encountered a half-orc named Fjord and a tiefling named (hilariously this got autocorrected to naked) Jester. The four of you soon after meeting a fisherman named Rinaldo who asked for the groups help to save his daughter from a giant serpent, this being your first real battle outside of training proved to be a bit tricky for you but your smaller size helped you maneuver around the beast easier and helped keep it distracted while the others finished it off. The next day you and Beau were sorting out how to split the reward while Jester went over to the next table to chat with a very filthy man and odd halfling who looked more like a goblin to you. Then enters the circus, no seriously a tiefling and aasimar burst into the tavern promoting a circus that was in town. It sounded interesting and you’d be lying if you didn’t say you were a bit excited to go see it. With the reward money sorted out and something to do for the evening today was turning out to be a good one.

Yasha

The two of you had been wandering for a long time, how long you weren’t entirely sure but it’s been a long journey. It felt like this was how life was gonna be for the long haul, but oh how wrong you were, when moving from southern Xhorhas over into the Dwendalian Empire the two of you encountered a circus or carnival if you prefer. It was here at this carnival that the two of you met Mollymauk though he insisted you just call him Molly. Days turned into months and your travels had brought you to Trostenwald, when arriving Gustav asked the three of you to head into town to advertise the show. Molly suggested the greatest place to start would be at the local tavern, Yasha had no arguments and neither did you. When you arrive at the tavern, in all his glory Molly slams the doors open and walks right in, you and Yasha following closely behind. Since you still weren’t great with large, confined groups of people you decide to stick closer to Yasha as a sort of shield while she starts talking with a woman who seemed to be hitting on her. You do end up chatting a little with the half-orc that the woman was with but you keep your sentences short and sweet, making the goblin from the next table over comment on your cute demeanor, this making you feel a little embarrassed. You felt a little more relieved when you were finally done with the tavern and got to move on somewhere else to advertise, though as embarrassed as you felt you did kinda hope you'd get to see those people again at the show.

Molly

You’ve been with the circus for two years now and it was never a dull moment here since you and Molly had completed you little entrance exam as you’d referred to it. Molly worked as both a promoter and fortune-teller, and you worked as his co-promoter and a musician, having learned you have great skill in playing a flute. While traveling the vastness of Wildemount you come across a mysterious woman named Yasha, you and Molly instantly welcome her to your circus family, no questions asked, and are happy to hear when she agrees to join you. She was a bit distant at first but soon slowly starts to warm up to you. Cut to several months later and you’ve reached the town of Trostenwald, the three of you head in to advertise the show, starting with the local tavern. Molly makes a grand entrance, you playing your flute to add to its grandness before making your way around the tavern handing out fliers. While Molly starts interacting with another tiefling, you make your way over to a duo that looks like they’ve seen more time on the street then in a bath, not that you’d judge of course. You hand them the flier and try talking with them a bit, the man didn’t say much but did say his name was Caleb while the goblin, Nott defiantly struck up more of a conversation, asking some questions and even cracking a few jokes with you. Alas you had to leave and continue spreading fliers to the rest of the town, before heading out the tavern you give one last call hoping to see everyone at the show tonight.

[thatboomerkid]

City of Looking-Glass Shadows

City of Looking-Glass Shadows -- an urban-fantasy D&D 5E campaign

The year is 199X.

It’s been this way for a while now.

The world is a lie. We live within an artificial construct, a facsimile of mundane reality forged upon a pocket-shard of arable land -- adrift somewhere deep in the Shadowfell -- built with slave labor by the illithid to house, to monitor & to control a teeming, screeching, anxious mass of hand-selected human cattle.

The goal of their project is simple: we are here to generate new technological applications. We are a living algorithm, assembled by our starry masters to the endless & perpetually-accelerating task of spitting out ever-deadlier and more brutally efficient weapons of conquest & control, engines of wealth & war, tools of mechanical intelligence & information-manipulation.

No wonder we all feel a little ... stuck, huh?

The simplest, most brute-force way to produce the desired technological output at the necessary volume involved building an invisible cage and keeping several hundred million humans magically-illiterate, desperate, confused & tech-hungry.

So that’s what they built, way out here in the echoing void.

Welcome home.

A desperate, silent war for the future of this ugly, distant demiplane is being fought in the shadows, right now ... and the monsters are winning.

Brought to you absolutely free to enjoy, to test & to share – as always – by the fine folks of my Patreon.

Inspired by Big Trouble in Little China, Blade, Dark City, Hackers, Heavy Metal, Highlander, They Live & Werewolf: the Apocalypse.

This website references trademarks and/or copyrights owned by Hasbro, Inc. We are expressly prohibited from charging you to use or access this content. This website is not published, endorsed, or specifically approved by Hasbro. This material is posted under the Fair Use clause of copyright law.

Created by Clinton Boomer & Uncle Twitchy.

Special thanks to Jessica Redekop of Redcap Miniatures, Blaine Bass of Scrapfinder, Landon Bellavia of Quest Writer, Neal Litherland of Improved Initiative & Sam Berry of Nomad Tattoos for being my beta-readers.

image by jim pinto

Our false universe has been invaded. Several times.

Playable Races:

Awakened Human: Somewhere in the range of 99.9% of all humans within the City of Looking-Glass Shadows exist fully under the thrall of the illithid; seeing only what their masters desire for them to see, knowing only what their master choose for them to know, remembering only what their masters allow them to remember. But a small, ultra-select few have shaken off the chains. These are the crazy folks, the dirty & paranoid madmen. People like you: people who know that magic is real.

Duergar: The brick-&-mortar labor force of the illithid, thousands of mind-wiped duergar still serve deep beneath the earth in vast, dim-lit caverns, forge-pits and echoing armories alongside masses of grimlocks, ogres, quaggoths, troglodytes and other, less-describable slave races. The grey dwarves possess resilient minds, however ... and they are the most-common escapees of this prison.

Githyanki: Way back in 198X, a force of githyanki warriors and their red dragonborn allies stormed the gate between the Astral Plane and the City of Looking-Glass Shadows: it was an apocalypse of fire, psychic thunder, death-screams & silver heavy-blades above exploding skyscrapers and panicked crowds. It’s all been wiped from the history & memory of the world, of course: you’ll find nary a whisper in the official records. But a few survivors still plot in the shadows, rebuilding their strength.

Githzerai: Even further back, in 197X, a trio of githzerai dojos assaulted this stronghold of the illithid. Those who fled, bleeding, from the failure of that onslaught are still hiding here amongst a teeming press of the timid humans who huddle against one another in the delusion of warmth and safety. Within their sewer strongholds and rooftop dojos, these stubborn students of Zerthimon train, maintaining the secretive ZethiNet and making plans to strike once more.

Prized Exotic: Although there are only a handful of aasimar, tiefling & dark elf inhabitants of the world, some are kept as beloved pets by illithid masters. The rarest of escapees, these creatures -- once their chains are flung free -- are hunted a with singular devotion of purpose. A very few are rumored to have maintained their freedom.

Red Dragonborn: It is well known that Vlaakith the Lich-Queen, 157th of her name, bears the dread Scepter of Ephelomon; by means of this unholy artifact, she commands the obedience of all crimson-scaled wyrms for use in her eternal war. Far from her omnipotent influence, the red dragonborn who once served alongside the githyanki are free again.

Shadar-Kai: The original inhabitants of that stark chuck of rock from which the City of Looking-Glass Shadows rises are still here. They lurk, and they hate, and they take their kills where they can. Many are allied to the mysterious Sleeper in the Woods, and they make sacrifices around huge bonfires to whatever entity it is.

image from here

First-Level PC Character-Origin Options:

Awakened From Injury: Those abject horrors which open battle with the illithid can inflict upon a mortal mind & body are impossible to describe in any sane language. Some of the first through the gate into the City of Looking-Glass Shadows are only now being revived from their comas, their memories scattered like fallen leaves.

Recent Summoning: The githyanki & githzerai alike are highly active in their ongoing quest, attempting to pull resources & reinforcements to the demiplane in mass numbers. Unfortunately, the few who are successfully brought here via ritual-summoning are often limited in their abilities ... and unable to return home by magical means.

Thrown Off the Shackles: Most humans, duergar and assorted other slaves of the illithid are badly damaged, psychically, when they pull free of the influence of their hideous, alien masters: losing bits of themselves in the process of awakening to the world as it truly is.

Eleven Fun Facts about the City of Looking-Glass Shadows

Everyone looks like a human. If it has an Intelligence score higher than an animal and is approximately human-sized, it looks like a person. That means that the illithid and their monstrous slaves can function in public without disguises ... and you can, too. This is some unshakable type of artifact programming inherent to the original demiplane, and it’s one of the reasons they chose the site for their experiment in the first place.

Reflections show the truth. If you’re a non-human, or an Awakened Human, any type of reflection -- in a mirror, in water, whatever -- will show you the truth of who you’re talking to. This may require you to keep a particularly paranoid eye on your surroundings. Have fun!

Members of sentient non-human species can always “feel” the presence of others of their own kind. If a Shadar-Kai, for example, is within 30 feet of another Shadar-Kai, she gets a little “ping”; all gith ping in the same way, which causes a certain level of confusion amongst the two races. Awakened Humans have the distinct advantage of always feeling it when they get within 30 feet of any non-human sentient creature, but the reverse isn’t true: Shadar-Kai have no way of knowing if a given human is Awakened or not, for example, short of seeing the human manipulate magical energies in some way.

The illithid have access to 21st century technology. Everyone else is wandering around with pagers, beepers and battery-hungry car-phones the size of briefcases, while the illithid have smart phones, YouTube and GPS. This gives them several dangerous advantages.

The illithid occupy most positions of power. Not every billionaire CEO, mega-church pastor or politician is an illithid. Some are just their thralls. But it’s even money that if someone has a lifestyle in the top 1%, they’re one of the squid-faced, brain-eating elder horrors.

Sentient non-humans are immune to mundane guns. No one knows why, but anything that isn’t a human or an animal simply isn’t affected by firearms. This means that a single githyanki can casually stand up to an entire SWAT team ... and that an armed populace will never overthrow their alien overlords (for more on the topic, see “This is Not Guns Against the Darkness,” Bloodlines & Black Magic, page 160).

There are three Elder Brains in charge of the City. The three entities are in a constant state of “friendly” competition with each other; their genteel attacks, counterattacks & diversion-tactics drive innovation forward at an enormous cost in human life & sanity. Each one rules a section of the city from a hidden penthouse apartment, underground spa or other luxurious -- but inaccessible & highly fortified -- location.

Undead are dangerously common in the City. As a side effect of the demiplane’s location “within” the Shadowfell, these undead can spawn randomly; these spontaneously-generated undead are a HUGE problem for the illithid, who are on highest possible alert for any new outbreaks. This is often used as a smoke-screen by the Githyanki & Shadar-Kai, especially ... who mask their own operations behind seemingly-mindless attacks by the undead. Undead in the demiplane are also extremely resilient to being turned: undead have advantage on turn saves.

The illithid have access to the only stable portal into & out of the demiplane. While travel from the sprawling city is dangerous & relatively uncommon, the illithid can resupply much more easily than any other faction, moving to and from the deminplane in massive vessels once every month. Maintaining total control of this hidden portal is of the utmost importance to the mind flayers ... and taking the portal is the highest goal of every other faction. 

Because of the demiplane’s “locked” property, spells that rely on dimensional travel or manipulation -- Rope Trick, Blink, Dimension Door, Conjure (Minor) Elemental, Summon Lesser/Greater Demon, Contact Other Plane, Conjure Fey, Planar Ally, Conjure Celestial, Plane Shift, Astral Projection, Gate and others, subject to DM discretion -- are unreliable. In order to cast any of those spells, the caster must succeed at a DC 18 save using their spell-casting stat at disadvantage. A critical failure when casting a spell of this type spontaneously generates an aggressive, uncontrollable undead creature with a CR equal to the level of the spell being cast. Casting such spells in a ritually-prepared “sacred space” allows a character to attempt the spell without disadvantage.

Something dangerous & ancient sleeps in the woods. Several rebel factions have made attempts to contact or awaken this unknown entity in a suicidal bid at challenging illithid control ... but what is it? None can say for certain. Some say it’s an ancient midnight-blue shadow dragon of unutterable age; others suggest that it is Moloch, trapped here after a disastrous attempt to gain the Raven Queen’s support to end his exile. Still others suggest that it’s one of the obscene Great Old Ones, which serves as a patron for some particularly cruel & debased warlocks ...

original photography by Resa LaMont, digital editing by Tim Jenkins of Battle! Studio; image also used here

10 Plot Hooks

Maybe you’re starting a brand new campaign from scratch.

Maybe you’ve just ended a long, complex story-line a little bit early, without all of the mysteries solved; maybe you can’t jump into the next chapter of your narrative until the PCs achieve a certain slightly higher level or meet a specific NPC or learn a particular secret; maybe only half of your players showed up to this session and you need a quick “filler” episode.

Maybe your PCs befriended & adopted the Godzilla, shunted the Terminator to Khyledonia, had the Voldemort removed from office in disgrace or otherwise drove your campaign’s entire plot-arc so far off the frigging rails that you need a few weeks to re-orient your entire game from first principles.

Whatever the reason, you need a brand new plot hook on the fly, and – simply due to setting-assumptions! – “goblins attack the village” or “the princess is a werewolf” or “local knights go questing for the Vast Horror” simply won’t cut it.

No sweat, friend. We’ve got you covered.

Just roll 1d10 on the chart below; if you roll a plot hook that you’ve already used, round up to the nearest unused plot hook (if you rolled seven or above), while rounding down to the nearest unused plot hook if you rolled six or lower.

A rumor starts circulating the underground magical community -- rebels & survivors, all -- about enchanted mirror-shades which allow an Awakened or non-human user to always see another creature’s true species, as if in a reflection. Who is making them, and how? And where are they?

A rumor goes out that the secretive ZerthiNet -- the private web built and maintained by the Githzerai -- came dangerously close to being breached by human hackers in service to the illithid. While this may or may not be true, it shakes the confidence of several powerful groups who are now desperate to relocate their clandestine bases of operation.

An insane derro, presumed to be an escapee of the illithid, is claiming that he knows the exact location of one of the Elder Brains ... and how to circumvent all of the security near it. He’s willing to trade this information to the highest bidder, and a shadowy bidding-war has begun between various war-party sects desperate to make a strike.

A group of traveling Shadar-Kai who are known to work in the city proper as well as to maintain a “clan base” in the forest have begun to trade in more and more powerful magical items, selling them for relatively small change. Some folks suspect that they’ve found something valuable out in the woods: the horde of a monster, perhaps.

A massive security-breach has the entire illithid population on damage control, as a massive shambling horror of undeath & rotting flesh has begun making daring daylight attacks on seemingly-random locations before vanishing once again. Is this the dark work of a single dedicated necromancer, of a clever cabal, or beast “breathed forth” by the strange Sleeper in the Woods?

The illithid were not the first to discover this demiplane. The wreckage of an ancient ship -- perhaps a Spelljammer -- has long been rumored to lie embedded beneath the city.  Now, a recent escapee from a duergar slave camp claims to have found the ship, and perhaps even figured out how to get it flying again.

McHappy kids' meals are making the rounds with toys from the summer cinema blockbuster Secret Agent Kids, including see-around-the-corner periscopes that, as a source of reflected images, should show the truth.  However ... (roll 1d3): (1) Human children have been “waking up” in unprecedented numbers, creating a “mental health crisis” among the City’s youth. (2) Awakened humans and non-humans who look through these "toys" see misleading images, showing some mundane humans as unnatural horrors, and the real horrors as mundane humans.  This has led to certain ... misunderstandings. (3) The magically-initiated are completely unable to see through these periscope toys, and for 1d8-3 (minimum 0) minutes after trying, are unable to see creatures' true natures in reflections, seeing only their human guises.  The rush is on to figure out how this happens, and how to exploit it.

An unknown black-market agent is selling illithid-grade tech to the opposition. Smart phones -- complete with GPS location services, dual high-resolution cameras, and Candy Crush pre-loaded -- are being picked up by rival factions. Are these bonafide goods, or is it all part of a larger mind-flayer scheme?

A charming dark elf swordsman has recently established himself as the undisputed master over a small section of the city’s criminal underworld, making a grand living as a “problem solver” for rival gangs and ruling through a combination of flair & intimidation. His ability to fence stolen goods or to obtain cars & guns is unparalleled, but he’s either an agent of the illithid ... or will soon be their slave once again.

A gang of Red Dragonborn have started a turf-war with a small coterie of githzerai living in half-crumbled public housing; each group is unwilling to back down, even as the fighting drags-on and the bodies pile up; each night of aggression & retribution risks alerting the illithid to both crews.

The world is a lie. Kill its masters. Burn it to the ground.

image from here

[sorcerous-caress]

My works

Sorted in alphabetical order based on the character's names, except when a work contains multiple characters, then you'll find it at the end of the list.

The most recent fics will be at the end of the character's list.

Gold ♡ is a traditionally written style fanfic [ usually crossposted to Ao3 ]

Red ♡ is a drabble/headcanon style Fanfic [ Not on my Ao3 ]

Pink ♡ is interactive stories

🎂 is an event related work

[ A -> Z ]

Arnell Hallowleaf

♡ Agape [comfort, romance]

Astarion

♡ To dance with you [heavy angst]

Dame Aylin & Isobel

♡ dealing with an overworked reader [fluff, poly]

Gale

♡ The Hanged Man [angst]

♡ cat food [ended]

Halsin

♡ Faux Innocence [smut]

Karniss

♡ Giving him a bath [fluff, angst]

Lorroakan

♡ general and smut headcanons [smut, fluff, dark content]

Minthara Baenre

♡ Smut headcanons [ Smut, nb!reader, Dom!minthara ]

♡ Secret confession [ Fluff, nb!reader ]

♡ Dead men's thrones [dark, smut, gore, durge!reader ]

♡ sleep cuddling [ Fluff, nb!reader, soft!Minthara ]

♡ Reflection [ smut, drama, cheating, Gale ]

♡ A beautiful webbing [smut, drider, dark]

♡ drider Minthara hc [fluff]

♡ Homewarming gift [smut]

Mizora

♡ Cucking Wyll [smut]

♡ XXX [smut]

Qudenos

♡ Red dragon smut hc [ heavy smut, nb!reader ]

Rolan

♡ Meta Magic Seduction [ smut, nb!reader, sub!rolan ]

Shadowheart

♡ Eager Plaything [ heavy smut, nb!reader, Dom!shadowheart ]

♡ Aftercare bath [ fluff, nb!reader, Soft!shadowheart ]

♡ pearly collar [ dark content, smut, nb!reader, dom!shadowheart ]

♡ she degrades you [ smut, nb!reader, dom!shadowheart ]

♡ shart au's reacting to a petname [ fluff, nb!reader ]

♡ wereshart and the full moon [ fluff, werewolf ]

♡ Werewolf Shadowheart HC [ fluff, werewolf ]

♡ Mysterious bag [ongoing]

Sorn Orlith

♡ Bad at sex [ crack, heavy smut, Afab!reader ]

Wyll

♡ With a shy Tav [fluff]

♡🎂 We die at the same time [angst, comfort]

♡🎂 Soft Yandere HC [dark content]

♡🎂 Heaven was made for two [fluff]

♡🎂 Into my arms [angst, TW: Self harm]

♡🎂 Karlach poly [fluff]

♡🎂 insecure tiefling Reader [angst, comfort]

♡🎂 girl dad Wyll [fluff]

Yurgir

♡ A rabbit braver than any wolf [smut]

Z'rell

♡ x reader headcanons [fluff, angst]

Several characters

♡ Asking to touch their ears [ fluff ]

♡ Putting makeup on them [ fluff ]

♡ How would they drink your blood [ suggestive ]

♡ Finding out you're ticklish [ fluff ]

♡ Giving them a hug [ fluff ]

♡ finding out you enjoyed being tickled [ fluff, fetish, smut ]

♡ reacting to a motherly reader [ fluff, afab!fem!reader ]

♡ Aftercare [ fluff, nb!reader ]

♡ how they act when they're sad [ angst ]

♡ reacting to Tav's younger sibling/child [ fluff ]

♡ tiefling reader losing a horn / eye [ hurt/comfort ]

♡ praising a shy Tav [ fluff ]

♡ with a teacher Tav [ fluff ]

♡ Accidentally calling them mom [fluff, platonic]

♡ Reacting to a fallen aasimar Tav [fluff]

♡ Dealing with a stressed Tav [fluff]

♡ Gifts they'd give you [fluff]

♡ taking you as their fake date [fluff]

♡ sharing a bed [fluff]

♡ taking care of the kids [fluff]

♡ aftermath of the breakup [suggestive]

♡ Companions with a Halfling Tav [fluff]

♡ early morning cuddling [fluff]

♡ early morning cuddling pt.2 [fluff]

[cambion-companion]

Raphael x Aasimar!reader

My favorite chapter from my Ao3 fanfic Fallen in Flame.

Nostalgic for my cambion x angel dynamic.

Word count: 3500

Flames licked around you, the enveloping darkness surrounding you interrupted by dancing orange light as sparks of fire illuminated the edges of your vision. Instead of harming you, the strokes of heat caressed your legs, all while lapping a possessive trail up to the apex of your thighs and your burning arousal.

You felt strong unseen hands gripping and squeezing your flesh, the nails that bit into your skin drawing blood. These roughly intimate ministrations in the darkness were met by your sighs of pleasure; a drawn-out whimper as you felt him enter you, thrusting deliciously deep only to withdraw and repeat the motion.

A sharp pain in your rib jolted you awake, sending you bolt upright in your bedroll, a sheen of cold sweat on your forehead.

 

“Sorry darling, the noises you’re making are unconscionable even by my low standards.” Astarion withdrew his foot from your side and returned with a slight glower to his bedroll.

“Don’t you have a bear to wrestle?” Your words slurred together.

You were still distracted by the feelings of pleasure that had not disappeared as the waking world intruded.

You pressed your thighs together and bit back a moan as the feeling of being fucked roughly grew to a crescendo and then eased with surprising swiftness.

“What has gotten into you?” Astarion griped, giving your movements a roguishly appraising look. “If you need to relieve some tension, darling, all you have to do is ask.”

“Shut up, Astarion.” You retorted, squeezing your eyes closed as the phantom caresses stilled completely, mercifully, but left you feeling empty and frustrated.

“Mhm.” The vampire said tersely. “Sweet dreams.” Astarion made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat and rolled over, facing his back to you as he entered his trance once more.

You waited for a moment before getting quietly to your feet, wobbling slightly and wracking your brain to make sense of what the hells had just happened.

Moonlight shone gently upon your person as you walked away from your resting companions. You saw Dame Aylin and Isobel speaking together near the rubble of an ancient stone building, repurposed for the moment to house training activities.

You looked at Aylin with mild jealousy, her beautiful full feathered wings gleaming white under the starry sky. Her silver eyes caught your own as she marked your approach and she gave you a curt nod, her gaze following you as you walked past.

Your fellow Aasimar, daughter of Selune as she was, had been little help when you asked if there was a way to regain the missing shard of your soul. She held pity for you, that much was obvious, but there was certainly an undercurrent of disdain as well. As though she saw you as something defiled.

“Away.” Aylin had said haughtily earlier that week when you first tried to speak more with her about your predicament. “I have a darling to adore.” Her attention spent solely on Isobel, her lover.

Aylin’s most helpful advice had been said in clipped tones of annoyance at your own persistence, “Ketheric is vanquished. Your goal must now be ridding yourself of the Illithid parasite”.

Perhaps it was the distance between yourself and the celestial plane, but you couldn’t remember your fellow Aasimar having such an infuriating sense of self-righteous arrogance.

You glanced back over your shoulder at the silvered couple radiating light from the Moonmaiden’s power. An odd wistfulness took hold of your heart, unbidden memories of Raphael and all he had allowed you to experience floated to the forefront of your mind.

Lost in thought you approached the edge of where the roiling shadows of Shar’s curse remained. The dark coils probed against where the silver moon shone her light upon the ground as if trying to test the strength of it.

Halsin had said it would take time for the land to recover, yet in your bones you could sense movements of a great healing taking place in the earth beneath your feet.

You saw movement in the darkness and stopped abruptly, the full moon behind you casting your image in shadow upon the ground and illuminating the path ahead. Another flicker of movement caught your eye; someone or something hiding behind the trunk of a gnarled oak tree long bereft of any leaves.

You withdrew your sword with the long sound of metal against metal finished by a delicate ringing and the ethereal glow the weapon cast around it.

Korilla stepped out from behind the dead tree.

She seemed preoccupied with keeping an eye on the distant toll house looming dark and seemingly empty against the grey horizon. She therefore didn’t mark your surprised expression at her sudden appearance.

“You should be more careful where you set camp.” She said, her voice a harsh whisper. “There are some things not even my master can protect you from.”

“You’re scared of a…toll collector?” You sheathed your weapon, in doing so your surroundings dimmed. “Seems a bit ironic, no?”

Korilla didn’t smile. “I came to warn you to stay away from there. You have proved prone to wandering, so heed my words this time.”

“Speaking of your master…” You waved your hand and negated the whirring orange portal Korilla had just conjured. “Sorry to disrupt your usual dramatic exit but I need to speak with him.”

“He isn’t taking house calls currently.” Korilla gave you a curious look, between suspicion and pity.

“Make an exception.” You growled; your stature so much taller than the shorter woman put in stark contrast as you walked into her personal space.

Korilla hesitated, looking you up and down with a dubious brow. Finally, she shrugged. “Your funeral, angel.”

She turned away, hesitated, then glanced back at you. “May I?” She asked sardonically.

You nodded, suppressing a small smile.

Korilla waved her hand again and conjured her flaming portal. You felt a prickle on the back of your neck as you followed her through into the foyer of Raphael’s home.

“Gaudy as ever.” You murmured, looking around and spotting a bronze statue of the cambion himself set high as it overlooked the marbled hall.

“Be good and stay here.” Korilla said sternly, making a beeline down the dimly lit corridor and out of sight.

She did not return.

You turned slowly on the spot, looking up at the grossly oversized chandelier. Something about the glittering lights reminded you of your own home.

You drew closer while watching how the flame inside each shining crystal moved around like some kind of viscous fluid. You realized it wasn’t flame at all and your stomach clenched.

You pulled your face away and averted your gaze.

These were remnants of souls, shredded and confined into crystals to illuminate the home of a devil. You imagined you could hear the echoes of their screams.

Footsteps, the rustling of leathery wings unfurling and the smell of cherries, musk and sulphur.

“What have we here?” Raphael spoke behind you. “A plucked hen willfully wandering into the fox’s den.”

You huffed an annoyed sigh and faced him, turning your back firmly to the haunting chandelier. “Rhymes?” You forced bravado, clenching your hands to keep from shaking, whether from fear or anger you didn’t know. “Very well, get it all out of your system.”

His yellow eyes flickered in mild surprise before darkening with delight. “But you are no hen are you, my dove?” He approached slowly, his wings moving and stretching languidly with each measured step. “I was going to wait until you came crawling back to me, but I do so enjoy taming my pets.” Raphael slid his hand up along your side, smirking when he felt you shiver beneath his fingers.

“I am not your pet.” You said with vitriol.

Raphael smiled sharply, his eyebrows angling just enough to accentuate the dangerous angles of his face. “Yet with every word uttered from that lush mouth, my grip on your lovely neck tightens.”

To demonstrate he placed his hand gently against your throat, giving a brief squeeze. “I do not enjoy unexpected visitors, my dear. What is the adage? ‘Curiosity killed the cat’?”

“’But satisfaction brought him back’.” You replied, fighting back a smile at his smoldering reaction. “Besides, I thought I was the dove. Or was it a mouse?”

“Take your pick of whatever prey you wish.” Raphael murmured, stroking your skin with deliberate movements. “Tell me, what ill-conceived notion brought you back to my House of Hope?”

“I want an answer, Raphael.” You said, leveling an impassive gaze on him as you pushed his hand away from your neck. “I was visited in dreams by an incubus not long ago.” Your eyes narrowed into slits as Raphael chortled. “Did you send it?”

“I am a generous host.” Raphael ignored your question and burning look. “Therefore, I shall overlook your lack of decorum. Intruding into the home of a devil such as myself isn’t the wisest course of action, columba mea.”

You winced at the sound of the infernal words. Raphael chuckled, amused by your reaction. He tilted your chin up, stroking a thumb along your tense jaw. “Instead of singeing your fingertips, I will offer you a less unpleasant penance.”

“Penance?”

“Why yes. You angels are all about such tripe, after all.” Raphael chuckled again, his face darkening. “Come.”

You hesitated, then followed him into the familiar dining hall. The food was still there, this time however you noticed the foul stench and the flies swarming around the spoiled fruits and meats.

“Did you servants go on strike?” You wrinkled your nose in distaste.

“Something like that.” Raphael intoned, unamused. “They have been preoccupied attending other messes.”

You stopped in your tracks, a cold shudder running from your head down to your feet. Your eyes locked on a feminine figure leaning casually against a dark stone pillar. For a moment you thought it a mirror, your own image made flesh stood casually watching you with a sly smirk.

“Haarlep.” Raphael gestured to your double, his eyes calculating each movement your body made in reaction to this revelation. “Meet…well, you two are already intimately acquainted.”

Your eyes widened in rage, and you reached for the sword on your back. “Devil.” You hissed, realizing too late all of your weapons had been magically stripped from your person upon entering through Korilla’s portal.

“An astute one.” Haarlep straightened slightly and gave you a condescending round of applause. “A nice change from the usual, Raphael.”

“’Haarlep’?” You intoned, pausing as you thought it over. You gave Raphael a disbelieving glance. “This creature bears an anagram of your name?”

Raphael looked slightly impressed. “What a clever little thing you’re turning out to be.”

Your eyes flicked between the cambion and the devil and like a strike of lightning on a humid summer night the truth came to you. “It’s been you.” You pointed with disgust at the incubus. “You’re the reason I’ve been plagued by…these feelings of…” You trailed off, hating yourself for the burning in your cheeks.

“She is a darling broken thing.” Haarlep said in an affectation of your voice. You watched your own lips move to form the words, chills dragging cold fingers down your spine. “I can see why you favor her.” The incubus approached with movements akin to a forest cat stalking prey, causing you to hiss warningly though gritted teeth. “Such a passionate little soul, even if it isn’t whole.”

“Please tell me you don’t speak in rhyme as well.” Steeling your nerves, you remained standing tall and unmoving.

Haarlep only giggled, the coquettish sound making you want to throw a punch and knock yourself flat.

You glared over at where Raphael had sunk languidly into an ebony chair adorned with gothic detailing carved into the black wood. He watched with detached amusement as his orchestrated scene unfolded.

“I signed no agreement to this.” You spat out, keeping a wary side eye on your double as it began circling you.

“Your body signed the contract for you. Your moans of pleasure illustrating a signature dripping with ecstasy rather than ink.” Raphael said, his flaming gaze dropping to the shine of perspiration on your chest. “But I am no incubus, I leave such…unimaginative methods to those more restricted by their natures.”

Next to you Haarlep pouted, pulling yet another simpering expression you hoped to never see upon your face again.

“Now, where were we?” Raphael put a finger to his chin in thought. “Ah, yes. Payment for your impudence.” He beckoned you imperiously with one finger. “Approach.”

Raphael smiled slightly as you grudgingly obeyed. “Kneel.”

You grimaced and wavered where you stood, looking down at his smug expression. You felt hands upon your shoulders and sweet breath on your face as Haarlep intruded into your space, pressing down to encourage continued obeisance.

“Get your hands off me, devil.” A moment of incandescent rage overtook your body at the fiend’s touch, a purely instinctual reaction you had not experienced when Raphael touched you.

Your eyes emitted a sharp blue glow and a burst of stark white energy rippled like a shockwave from your person, pushing Haarlep back several paces. The incubus’ form flickered for a moment before resolving back into your perfect double. The devil opened its mouth, sharp snakelike fangs protruding from your replicated lips as it made an ugly sound between scream and infernal speech.

Claws grew from its hands and Haarlep raised them to swipe at your side.

“Stop.” Raphael said sharply, and to your surprise the incubus froze mid swing. “I will not tolerate such chaos in my house.” He remained calm, untouched by your burst of divine energy, though his appraisal of you had changed into something you’d not seen from him before. He dismissed his incubus with a wave of his hand and impatient glare.

For the first time Raphael spoke your name, and what lingered of your soul within your body responded. “Kneel.” He said again, less genteel this time. “You will come seeking me willing and wanton soon, but that is not my intent tonight.”

You hesitated as Raphael gave you a look of rising impatience and so you knelt upon the hard marble floor.

“Good. She learns.” Raphael purred, looking down at you. He fell silent for a moment, relishing the sight of you so vulnerable before him. “What an interesting little display, we will have to explore such passionate reactions in the future.” He caressed the ebony wood on which his arms rested. “For now, I wish to discuss the matter of your soul.”

You laughed softly, surprising yourself. “I could say I’m shocked.”

“Part of your soul has tragically been parted from you.” Raphael leaned forward slightly, the wooden chair creaking beneath his weight. “And I prefer to deal with those who are whole. Half a meal is not as satisfying after all.”

“I taste terrible.” You said, an echo of Gale’s words to Astarion ringing in your mind. “I wouldn’t recommend trying it.”

“I have it on good authority you taste quite delicious.” Raphael said softly, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip with relish that made your skin crawl and your thighs tighten.

“Do continue to bite your lip like that as I explain my terms.” Raphael continued dryly, his eyes falling appreciatively to your lips. “I will assist you in retrieving the shard of your soul from your estranged kindred. In exchange, you agree to perform three favors for me.”

You furrowed your brow at him, perplexed. “Do you think I’m stupid, Raphael?”

“It depends on the day, my dear.” Raphael gives a short wry laugh and leans back again. “I think you are endlessly entertaining. Which is more than can be said for most who wander so prettily into the palm of my hand.”

You fall silent, the flames crackling in the oversized hearth as you mulled over Raphael’s offer. It was tantalizing how achingly close you were to what you’d fervently desired since landing on the beach beside the Nautiloid wreckage. Since being spurned and cast out of the only home you’d ever known.

“I require revisions.”

“As do all great performances.” Raphael didn’t seem at all surprised or put off. “Life is but a stage, after all. And you, little fledgling, are a most fascinating player.”

“I’m flattered.” You deadpanned.

“Don’t be.” Raphael drawled, his lips twisting into a sinister smirk. “Be careful how you walk this rope. After all you have no wings to catch you, and one misstep would see you hanging from it.” He demonstrated the motion of swinging with his hand.

Despite yourself, you heeded his advice. “I would require you to detail these ‘three favors’ before I sign any contract or make any deal with you. Also, I need a way to reach you, so I don’t have to track down Korilla every time.”

“You’ve had the means to reach me always at the tip of your tongue.” Raphael sighed theatrically and produced a small black sphere into his hand and tossed it to you. “However, this sending stone should suffice for those lacking in imagination.”

You caught the heavy stone orb and looked into it, seeing nothing but your own face mirrored back at you, distorted on the round surface.

“You may call, I may answer.” Raphael stood and offered you his hand, his skin glinting a deep cherry red in the flickering firelight. “Have we an accord?”

You hesitated, your knees aching. You stared for a long minute at the offered hand. Your very blood reviling against the decision you were about to make.

The heat from his skin enveloped your own as you slid your fingers against his and he helped you up. “I agree to seeing and reading the contract you draw up.”

“An angel after my own heart.” Raphael’s voice dripped sarcasm as his clawlike nails bit into your hand momentarily, but he nodded. “Very well, you may peruse the infernal text to your heart’s content.”

Raphael produced a roll of parchment from a conjured cloud of sulphur that stung your eyes and nostrils. He waited with veiled annoyance as you coughed several times.

You spoke again only after clearing the acrid stench from your airways. “Very well, I will have Gale help me translate this since you seem to be hell-bent on making it as hard as possible.”

“Please!” Raphael said in a wounded tone. “Everything I do is aimed to help.”

You rolled your eyes and took the scroll, wincing as it scorched your fingers upon contact. You hastily stowed it and your newly acquired scrying orb into your small pouch of holding.

“Once your binding signature is made upon the parchment, I will come to collect.” Raphael smiled archly at you. “If you do not seek me out first.”

You snorted. “Don’t count on it, devil.” Your words were lined with a touch of familiarity at your usual tension-laden banter.

“I require something more to set the balance. Your intrusion and your little display earlier have set the score against you.” Raphael approached confidently, taking your chin rather roughly before you could protest.

Your eyes widened, thinking he was going to kiss you again but instead his lips and teeth found the side of your neck.

“First Astarion, now you!” You squeaked with undignified aggravation, biting your tongue to suppress a groan of pleasure at the unexpected scrape of his teeth against your skin. You arched into his touch, a ripple of something primal awakening deep within you.

Then his saliva against your neck began to burn and you felt the devil’s mark take hold as Raphael withdrew and licked his lips, his flaming eyes hooded. “While wandering the chaos of the mortal plane, don’t forget the laws of cause and effect, sweetling. There is a reckoning for every action you take with one such as I.”

“As with all devils.” You winced, unable to keep the worry off your face as you felt the welted flesh of where he’d marked your skin.

“I promise you on everything I own.” Raphael leaned into your space again and brushed his fingers through your hair, scraping his nails against your scalp not unpleasantly. He paused, catching your eyes with his before continuing. “You’ve never dealt with a devil like me before.”

And with a sharp push he sent you plummeting through an infernal portal, landing flat on your back upon your vacated bedroll. The noise of impact followed by your groan of pain awakened the rest of camp. Karlach was first on her feet, sword in hand before Gale’s eyes even opened.

You fought to gasp the air back into your lungs, slowly sitting up and opening your bag to gingerly retrieve the contract Raphael had drawn up. Your eyes found the wizard of the party as he too began voicing the same questions being lobbied at you from all sides.

Your voice was shaky but determined. “Gale, do you have the spell Comprehend Languages prepared?”

[cambion-companion]

And she is up...or he is up would be more accurate. 18+ ONLY folks, thar be smut. Lots of it. And some unexpected (yes even for me) tenderness.

(As an aside, I almost feel like Raphael sees some of himself in our reader!Aasimar and thus his reactions reflect a hint of that inner turmoil)

[sorcerous-caress]

Could I request some moon poly thoughts on having kids/how they would be with them. I feel like Alyin probably wants kids to pass on her blessing.

This made me go down a rabbit hole of "can aasimar have kids" and the answer is: Yes.

But they won't be an aasimar.

The kid would have some angelic features or holy aura, but the kid would be a human.

I don't think Dame Aylin would seek out having a child, aasimar aren't full people really, they aren't born. They are made.

I don't think their god would encourage them to have dreams or ambitions. She was made specifically by Seluna for a sole purpose. The fact that she even fell in love with Isobel is a miracle.

Unless it was grade A+ manipulation from Seluna but i doubt it....maybe.

Dame Aylin has free will yes, she can want and long for things outside of being an aasimar, but I don't see her doing that for now. To be a full person with dreams, desires and wants is to sin, that would make her fall.

Isobel is literally a cleric of Seluna with a great clear favouritism from the goddess, do you think Aylin would've kept her wings if she had fallen in love with a sharran Isobel instead? Her and Isobel were literally a perfect match that is suspiciously convenient.

Same with polymoon, unless Shadowheart abandoned Shar, then Dame Aylin would immediately fall. Same goes with her and Reader if you happened to stray from what Seluna approves of.

No matter how kind or morally good a god is, they never are on your side. True love or not.

For Isobel, with how much trauma Ketheric put her through and the horrors he has commited in her name, i wouldn't blame her for wanting to avoid children or being a parent at all.

Shadowheart tho, i see her eventually wanting a kid or two. She would be mostly worried if she's capable enough to be responsible for someone's life, but I think she will do just fine. Her father would definitely offer to lend a hand too.

Now in the most perfect and conventional scenario where everyone in polymoon has mommy Seluna's stamp of approval. The answer is yes.

Dame Aylin and Isobel would want to make you and Shadowheart happy, so they would agree with having kids if you two really want it.

Isobel might advise against using her genes because of the whole history of the Thorm family. She'd greatly encourage using Aylin's tho.

[sorcerous-caress]

Who do you think Sune would be rooting for (because she's the goddess of love) - Shadowheart anon

In the end? Aylin.

She tends to be very fickle and her alliances nor enemies last much. She loves love even when it's obsessive.

I think she was in love with how in love Dame Aylin and Isobel were. So much that she might have harboured a bit of anger towards Aylin for moving on so quickly.

So she picked Shadowheart at the start, maybe as a punishment for Aylin or something.

But the more she observes them, she comes to the conclusion that while Shadowheart clearly loves the Reader, there are many things she will never do for her love. In a way, Shar came first.

And there isn't a single thing that Dame Aylin wouldn't do for her love.

The fallen now mortal aasimar, saving the poor clueless selunite cleric from the clutches of a fake lover. How romantic.

So her anger doesn't last and Dame Aylin goes back to being one of her favourite people to watch the love life of.