#i mean giant werewolf cleric

[ichiro-artosaki]

farm/cottage-life ending for these two please!! farmerzel and wolfheart are just very precious to me lately...

[monsterlovinghours]

What about the Dons in DnD world? 🤔

I'm sure some are really easy but fell free to do an in depth analysis on their role and backstory. (The easiest one would definitely be Scarabee 👀)

Ooooohh. Since I'm on my phone and typing out long things is hard I prooooobably won't go too in-depth but I invite y'all to reblog with your own thoughts and opinions!

-A while back @realmonsterboyhours drew Bajo as a tiefling and now I can't see him as anything else. He's also bard coded, he's definitely got the charisma for it--he also plays that sexy flamenco guitar.

-You're absolutely right though, Scarabee is a no-brainer. Obviously a warlock, he's got a patron already part of his lore. Has just about every spell or potion ingredient you could think of up in his attic. As for race, I could see a half-elf. Like, there's something of the fey about him, but he's been human or at least knows what being human is like.

-Zhuk is an orc and I'll die on this hill. He's big, he's beefy, he's large and in charge. I'm also going with barbarian, based solely again on art drawn by @realmonsterboyhours of him holding a sledgehammer. Imagine big-ass swords in those meathooks of his. Or a giant axe. Or just picture him saying "fuck it" and beating someone to death with his bare hands. Look at me and tell me he wouldn't do it. Not because he isn't civilized or intelligent but because someone's gotta do the dirty work.

-Cia is an elf druid. I mean, *look at him.* Mans is about as fey coded as you can get and looks like he didn't see something that wasn't a tree until he hit triple digits. If you took the daddy energy out of Halsin, you'd be left with Ciaróg. Also, he helps his tiefling husband with his rose gardens and how cute is that??

-Gio is an enigma. He's absolutely an eldritch horror, but just for funsies, I think he'd take the form of a drow. After a couple of centuries he might change his form, but drow is his favorite. He has a lot of arcane knowledge, things that beings of this plane shouldn't know, so he just tells everyone he's a wizard. Did a lot of studying, you know.

-Saft a half-orc artificer. He's a bit of a big boi, sturdy and thick, but despite his size and his brutish heritage, he can tinker with the most delicate mechanisms. Mostly uses his knowledge to make explosives and weapons; incendiary devices are his favorite. Has built so many guns.

-Bjalla is a vampire. "hhhh but what's his race" LISTEN HERE I'M NOT CHANGING WHAT'S ALREADY PERFECT. Of course he's a fucking vampire, what else would he be? And yes, I believe he would be a rogue. No, I am not saying this because I'm also madly in love with Astarion. There will be no further questions. He's canonically an assassin, you can't tell me he wouldn't be a rogue. Yes, I have a type, leave me alone dammit.

-Mozzie gives me dwarf energy, though his size doesn't quite gel with that idea. Maybe an earth genasi? Something earthy idk. He also gives ranger vibes, someone who travels a bunch. Though in this realm of high fantasy, since internet isn't a thing, he deals in information. He can gather intel, spread rumors, manipulate the flow of knowledge from one person or place to another.

-Lag is a firbolg. He's big, he's fluffy, he's a big ol sweetheart who couldn't hurt a soul if he tried. Also probably a druid, though he's less concerned with plant life and more with animals. He's the fauna to Cia's flora.

-Devlin is a shifter. Like, it's obvious, right? Clearly he's a shifter, he's werewolf coded. And honestly, I think he's our cleric, just because I had the idea that the deity he worships is so ancient and he's been cursed so many times, he's actually forgotten its name. But also how funny would it be to have a cleric that bestows blessings and makes things holy by literally absorbing the curses and evil magic. It's fine, he's fine, it doesn't hurt! Not anymore, anyway.

[300iqprower]

So I was playing Elden Ring and just noticed how every boss is literally weakened by the passage of time. Is this a thing in all Fromsoft games? Elden Ring is the first one I've played and it's fascinating how Fromsoft made it a point to show bosses facing their end because they've been eroded by time.

Is that a thing mechanically? Like I know its open world so do the bosses you choose to do later get scaled down/dont scale to your new level to make it so the later you do a boss the weaker they are? If that's what you mean, no that is an Elden Ring thing.

If you mean lorewise, does the game show how these are ancient beings who are long past their prime and at best a hollow shell of what they once were pretending to be the legend described, oh yes that is very much a FromSoftware thing. And I dont know WHY IN GOD’S NAME I felt a need to systematically break down some examples, but I super did. So here we fcking go.  [BUT THATS YOUR TLDR: “YES.” WTF IS WRONG WITH ME THE REST OF THIS IS LIKE 4K WORDS. Oh and sorry in advance for the length before the break but it only lets ya put one Keep Reading i guess...]

Gonna put a spoiler break only later on for heavy spoilers. In the meanwhile there will be light spoilers for Dark Souls 1, 2, 3, and Bloodborne. There will be no Elden Ring or Sekiro spoilers in this post (albeit only cause I've avoided spoiling myself as much as possible on both lol)

Again, the answer is basically “yes.” Like, that is Fromsoft design 101. That has been the core philosophy of every final boss across Dark Souls, Demon's Souls, and Bloodborne. Hell, most bosses in the series in general. It's even a thing in Sekiro, albeit a lot of it is presented very differently (As far as I am anyways. See above.)

> Light spoilers for Bloodborne follow.

Father Gascoigne, the first mandatory boss of Bloodborne, sets the tone very well for this sort of thing. Hunters are very clearly supposed to be the ones who keep order and cull the insane and the beasts during the Night of the Hunt, and when you encounter the only named Hunter thus far it starts out exactly like that, finding a priest in a graveyard with the same weapons you start with, dressed similarly to the default Hunter's attire and hacking at a beast...except, it becomes immediately apparent that it’s already long dead, less a hunter killing prey and more a butcher obsessed with a carcass. Upon noticing you, a fellow hunter, he says “Beasts All Over The Shop…..You’ll be one of them….Sooner Or Later….”

before turning around and revealing he's blindfolded as he lets out a raspy, feral growl. ...And then halfway through the fight he turns into a fucking werewolf.

Yeah, despite being a Fromsoft game, Bloodborne is very quick to make clear what's going on in it. Between the insane mob of villagers, the werewolves running around, the giant roaring abomination that's supposedly a Cleric, and now the first fellow hunter you meet (one working for the Church that is supposed to be the governing authority no less) is as crazed as the beasts themselves and several times as deadly in his brutality, this is clearly a place that has gone to hell long ago, and Gascoigne already told you why: "Sooner or later, you'll be one of them too." Between Gascoigne turning into a beast moments after telling us we'll eventually be one ourselves, and the cryptic lines from our hub dream world about how this is all happened before and is a tradition that will continue, it's pretty clear Bloodborne is about ‘he who fights monsters’ in the most literal sense, and it demonstrates that by having you fight people who have been fighting monsters for far too long to hold onto who they were. This world where crusading hunters once took up arms to defend their home from a plague of beasts are now as bloodlusted as the beasts themselves, to the point where the second mandatory boss ALSO transforms from human to monster before our eyes.

It's really the DLC that goes all in on this idea though. without properly spoiling anything (this is all stuff that is literally in the official description and its CALLED The Old Hunters), names that you heard lauded as great heroes finally make their appearance proper...but as twisted and broken beings who bear no resemblance to their legends and every resemblance to the things they were meant to destroy.

> Light to moderate spoilers for DS3.

You know how Elden Ring does that thing at the start where it shows you all these long fallen characters you yourself will eventually encounter and stuff? Yeah that’s something of a staple of Fromsoftware, specifically what they did with DS1 and 3. While 1 is a lot more coy about it and waits til like the halfway point, though, 3 makes it clear it’s doing the same thing DS1 did right out the gate. “The world is dying, you’re gonna face these guys, and you’re gonna catch on quick they’re all mere shadows of the legends they’re meant to be, in fact we are literally telling you this in the intro.”

And much as I love taking any chance whatsoever to rave about how the best boss in the entire series is The Abyss Watchers, it’s actually everyone’s favorite DS3 meme Yhorm the Giant who takes it. He’s possibly the most built up of all the bosses: Last of the giants and their king, a being who can’t even be killed by the weapons of men, a descendant of a conqueror and a warriors king in his own right...now nothing but a mindless, burnt out husk quietly waiting for death on a subconscious level. He once wielded a greatshield but now two-hands his sword, having long since stopped acting as a ruler in the face of all he’s lost and becoming nothing more than a weapon. Long ago he would give the Storm Ruler, the giant-slaying sword, to those who did not trust him to rule as an act of honor; now it lies carelessly strewn alongside his throne, and Yhorm will attempt to crush you long before you reach it. His one friend Siegward joins you because he knew from the start Yhorm would be like this, and seeks to put the husk out of its misery, even if it costs him his life. Siegward makes clear he would rather die than let his once friend Yhorm spiral ever further into a decay that he is too great to be consumed by yet not great enough to escape, and that’s the entire point. Greatness is a curse, not a blessing. Immortal Life can do nothing to stop the world around you from succumbing to erosion and decay. Just as Yhorm awoke from kindling to find his people still suffered, just as his empire inevitably fell and left him alone, so too did the entire world begin to die as the fire faded ever further. Hollowing is inevitable, because you will always be powerless against entropy in the end. Yhorm knows this beyond any other Lord of Cinder. Whereas the others all went astray in their selfishness or simply went insane from corruption, Yhorm is the one who truly despaired and simply...gave up, on trying to hold onto what he was. His body persisted as a hollowed husk of a once incredible being, but the mind within it died in the face of an immutable reality. Even in gameplay he’s just a walking shell, one of the easiest boss fights in sosulborne history thanks to him having kept a weapon designed for killing him at his side; the Storm Ruler isn’t some measly damage buff against an enemy type, this thing kills him in like 5 hits. From the start you weren’t ‘fighting’ something that was meant to be fought, but to be put down.

> Moderate spoilers for DS1 (middle third of the game or so)

DS1 arguably has the most wide scale example of this, since the entire point of the game is that every major boss is a once great god gone astray, and you have an entire city demonstrating this. At the start of the game we’re shown all these incredible being of old, and it’s made out as if we’re watching legends who created the world give us context on our upcoming adventure. These beings are made out as distant entities so much greater than any of us, meant to be acted in the name of as we kill dragons and stuff. But then, around the third to halfway point, it becomes clear we’ll be fighting them ourselves, and these ‘distant almighty gods’ have fallen from their glory and become what are simply more monsters to be cut down. Nito the lord of the dead is least changed but acts entirely in self interest at this point, dwelling the dark catacombs after imposing the very concept of death onto the world and not caring the slightest for what came after, to the point that what truly weakens him is not Pinwheel’s fucking about, but rather the sheer energy he is putting out to impose the concept of death onto an ever more undead world. The Witch of Izalith? Where to start, how about the fact that in her hubris of thinking she could recreate the first flame, that as a being who had lost their glory she could simply recreate that glory, she turned herself into a horrid abomination and shit-tier boss fight? Because of COURSE that happened. How could you reclaim the height of your power when even at the height of your power you could not hold onto it? How about Seath? Oh the things to say about Seath, what can we call him? Cruel, Jealous, Spiteful, literally and figuratively jaded, insane, pathetic, but of all the things we can call him those things are not “glorious” or “immortal”. He became desperate for the immortality he supposedly “proved” he didnt need by killing his scaled brethren. From declaring he did not need his peers’ immortality, to going insane over his obsession with cloying at whatever possible escape from death there might be.

From Nito’s indifference to Izalith’s hubris to Seath’s madness, they are all fallen in their own way. All their attempts to hold onto their glory only serve to further remove them from it. So many millennia and the god of Death has only become weaker as the world dies. The Witch’s magic that is meant to bend chaos to its will could only damn its wielder in the face of nature’s course. The crystal dragon’s immortality is exactly that: crystal, the fruits of his cruelty and madness nothing more than a feeble crystal easily shattered.

But to loop it all back around, it’s the final bosses of the series who really hammer the theme of ‘faded glory’ home.

> Major spoilers for DS1, DS2, and Demon’s Souls to follow, starting with DS1.

First though....Hey remember that bit I casually dropped about an entire city? You arrive to Anor Londo, carried from desolate undead asylum or the dregs of Blighttown to a great golden city illuminated perpetually by the sunset, powerful knights and cleric giants all over the place, lightning and miracle using enemies whose powers are synonymous with Gwyn’s legacy, and at the end of that gauntlet are Ornstein and Smough in their golden armor and every bit tough and lively as their legends portray. Beyond them, you meet the beautiful Gwynevere who gives you the Lordsoul to truly start your quest for the gods in linking the flame. Even if the gods are all fallen or helpless on their own, we can at least see the legacy they created and hopefully spread through the land. We can at least bring this light back to the rest of the world, knowing it can still be sustained.

Except, that was a lie. It was all a fucking lie. 

A lie orchestrated by one feeble god desperate to maintain a literal illusion of his family’s grandeur. A god whose main tactic should you fight him is to run away forever in an endless hallway and blast you with magic because he’s otherwise powerless against a simple human. Should you find and successfully kill Gwyndolin, the magic he cast over the city fades, and we see Anor Londo for what it really is: Dark. The city of the gods, the capital of the Age of Fire that stands against the Dark, has itself gone Dark, and we can’t even begin to imagine for how long it’s been that way. The gods, their cities, their subjects, their champions, all of it is just a shadow cast so long ago that it doesn’t resemble that which cast it, and any evidence that their time hasn’t passed is just another lie you’ve been fed. (...Side note, watch this video I subconsciously almost quoted verbatim)

Thus enters the God who lived and died for that lie, unable to accept a reality in which he did not rule. Thus we meet Gwyn himself....or at least, what little is left of him. Because that guy the game has been building up as your ultimate challenge? That top god who by this point has Final Boss written all over him? That guy who STARTED all this crap and is basically Zeus the Dragon Butcher? Gwyn, Lord of Sunlight?

You don’t fight him. You fight a walking husk, and this time I mean that literally. Burnt inside and out with a body of charcoal and soul of ash. You fight one of the easiest bosses in the game, a boss the devs explicitly stated was designed to make sure any possible build would not struggle much with. You fight a guy who doesn’t have a single lightning attack. You fight Gwyn, Lord of Cinder. And by the next game, he doesn’t even have a name. The one who conquered the everlasting dragons and ushered humanity into their first age is barely a memory in Dark Souls 2, simply known as a distant sun god; his own miracles that were so crucial to his legacy don’t even acknowledge him. The one person we meet who remembers he properly existed regards Gwyn as a blind fool who did not save humanity, but damn it.  And by Dark Souls 3, Gwyn isn’t even his own being, he’s just one of many nameless souls to link the first flame. 

Once the most powerful of all gods and savior of humankind, now no more valued than the random undead schmuck you played as. Without a doubt the one you see fall the furthest in any Fromsoft game is Gwyn, and it’s exactly what he deserved. 

> Onto DS2

Because while Gwyn is the definitive example, he’s not the most extreme example; I’d argue that’s Vendrick. You might disagree since his fall was not as far, but what we saw of him WAS harsher than anything we saw of Gwyn. If not the most extreme, he’s certainly the most tragic, because unlike so many other cases of this in the series, Vendrick knew and accepted that this would happen to him. He’s one of a handful of figures across the series who embody the idea that, among all these legends, the ones truly worth being remembered for their glory are the ones who recognized they must eventually let go of said glory. 

What I mean by “what we saw” is...well, just like Gwyn, Vendrick is built up over the course of the game as the great king and conqueror who ruled over the world you’re travelling around, and while Gwyn is foreshadowed as the big bad, Vendrick is directly made out to be the final boss. You’re given a quest, you overcome trials, and it’s all directly in the name of reaching this ancient tyrannical being who as a mere man conquered giants and reigned dragons. And when you finally go through a gauntlet to reach him and break his seals...

...you’re met with a feeble, shriveled Hollow who can barely drag his sword. 

Gwyn at least gave the player a sense of who he was. He was a husk, and he was weak, but he put up a fight. He was waiting for you, undeniably himself in body if not mind, and commanding the first flame as his own with a blade wreathed in those flames. He stares you down as you enter and rushes you when you approach, his iconic theme playing as he silently lashes out at you. He was a husk, but he was never completely without dignity. Vendrick doesn’t have any of that. He’s hunched and aimlessly wandering his small chamber when you find him, not even attacking until you’ve hit him several times. He has no grand, iconic requiem accompanying his battle. Instead there is the scant few piano chords of a whisper filled dirge fading in and out, as faded as the empty being before your that has thrown away all but his blade and his crown. His robes, his precious ring, all of it cast aside, knowing the fate that awaited him would have no use for them. He’s nothing more visibly imposing than a giant version of the most basic hollows. His only unique abilities are the incredibly durability and raw strength, both of which he can longer wield effectively as one of the most predictable fights in the game; the same bait and strike tactic that works on any starting grunt works just as well on him. The closest thing to a unique attack he has is a single curse spell that represents everything he was trying to defy. 

Gwyn was a far cry of his once glorious self, but he was a proper final boss in atmosphere and presentation if not strength or challenge. There’s no comparison to Vendrick, who is downright unrecognizable and was never your true foe to begin with...just a poor hollow to be put out of its misery...

> But Wait There’s [one] More [thank god]! It’s finally Demon’s Souls time.

Demon’s Souls is very much the Proto-Dark Souls in a lot of ways and how it conveys its themes is no exception. The big thing about soulsborne games is how, as you said at the start of this essay, the things we fight have all been eroded by the passage of time. We don’t see what their true potential is. We never meet them in their full glory. We can only strike down what remains of that faded legend. Even when something like time travel gets involved with various DLCs, we fight things like the Burnt Ivory King and Artorias of the Abyss. Even in the past, the legends we face are already corrupted almost beyond recognition. You simply don’t get to see what their prime is, no matter how curious we may be, because that’s the whole point of the theme of fading glory: You can’t get that back. You can only accept that it’s gone. 

.....Old King Allant is a massive, blitz speed, Final Explosion-ing, soul sucking exception to this. 

Look at this. Look. At. This.  LOOK  AT  THIS  SHIT.

This is not a shell, this is not a husk, there is nothing faded about this Alabaster curb-stomper - he’s practically radiant. Whether he’s something exceptional in difficulty is up to debate, but what isn’t up for discussion is how he’s presented, because every. single. attack. of his radiates power. I’m talking, like, Vergil levels of  P O W E R. He’s got a winged aura of storm winds, he delays his windups only to then lunge forward at breakneck speed, just the way he draws sword to face you gives off raw “I’m going to fuck you up” energy - the sword in question being Soulbrandt, a blade that he never once let go of out of his infatuation with the way it grew in strength as his soul grew darker. He sends shockwave projectiles, not magic sword beams, pure shockwaves from how hard and fast he’s attacking. He almost never gets stunned compared to any other human, he has resistances against just about everything including the ability to shrug off any magic you throw at him, and his own magic is so powerful he can either one-shot explode you or steal your levels as he kills you. Above all else though, he’s brutal. He’ll attack relentlessly and swiftly, taking out anyone who’s relying on heal-tanking or fucking around to find out. There are various exploits as there always are, but for most players, regardless of difficulty he’s the one boss we all fear: The kind where there is no trick, you just have to git gud at learning his patterns and countering them. And that’s the main thing that stick with you, just like with Artorias or Maria or Ludwig or Gael or every single bloody Sekiro boss [and from what I’ve seen almost certainly Melania], there’s a swiftness, brutality, and efficiency that truly conveys the power of this legendary figure you’re up against.

Not bad for an illusion, eh?

Yeah I’ve ignored that bit long enough. Old King Allant, or to give his other name, the False King Allant, is truly worthy of being called a warrior king at the peak of his glory....because he was created to be that. The game’s final boss, King Allant XII, is not some alabaster tyrant who conquers dragons and command the demons. He is something even lower than Vendrick in its own way, a mass of mutated, inhuman flesh that pulses and can barely so much as reach out to you let alone strike you, unable to even wield the Soulbrandt fused with its lower carcass, still desperately clinging to it even as the power of the Old One has overwhelmed his physical form. He sought ever more glory, ever more certain his could never fade, and so unlike Gwyn who was puppeted or Vendrick who was hollowed, he became something not just less than human, but unrecognizable as human. We saw him in his glory, and while he retained the strength and power to make that zenith seemingly eternal, intent on and complacent with ruling from his dwelling with the Old One as a mere specter goes forth in his image, when confronted he is not powerful at all. He is, if anything, completely powerless.

Gwyn retained his visage and his dignity, but lost who he was, a burnt husk who possesses none of his own legacy and was doomed to ultimately be forgotten for the very reason of desperately holding onto his glory. Vendrick never ceased to represent that which he believed in, but lost his visage, his dignity, his kingdom, his mind, and his soul, ultimately left with nothing but the acceptance of his own inescapable fate.

Compared to the both of them, Allant is still the most on the nose, because unlike the rest we see that glorious legend. We meet it and fight it before we then deal with the reality of what is left of that same legend. Allant is not a once great, now faded light. He is a blazing pyre snuffed out right in front of our eyes. We go back to back from the peak of his tyrannical and power-mad glory, to a wretched and pathetic abomination pleading for mercy and understanding he does not deserve.

.................................................................................................................................... sigh

There. It’s done.

Ideally I would either now go into how Bloodborne does this amazingly as well with its final boss, but i don't want to spoil it. Not even tagged. Bloodborne has what might be my absolute favorite final boss in all video games, both because of themes discussed here and so many other merits, and I don't want to spoil it for anyone under any circumstance. I don’t care if it’s a 7 year old game (oh god my back), I won’t be the person to spoil that experience for anyone, invested or otherwise. Of course, I could go into the much more willing to spoil Lady Maria because just about EVERYONE knows about her, and from what I’ve seen of Elden Ring she might even have been a sort of “Proof of Concept” for Melania, or I could talk about how Maria is an inverse of this philosophy of “fading glory” and how she stands against the idea of holding onto such…

….but i think i already spent far too long on this, especially when for all i know you were in fact referring to a gameplay mechanic in which case this completely unsolicited WHY DID I WRITE THIS-

[raeynbowboi]

How to Play as Belle in DnD 5e

Belle is my favorite Disney Princess, and from my favorite fairytale covered by the Disney company. Which is why it’s a crying shame she hasn’t been properly built until now. I mean, I have built her before, but that was terrible, and I’ve since changed my mind on how best to build her. So, go on. Unfold your menu. Take a glance, and then you’ll, have to suffer through my cringy attempt at humor.

Belle is a perfectly ordinary person. There’s nothing too remarkable about her. As such, it’s easy to write her off as just an ordinary Standard Human. But hold on, there’s her literary version to consider. In the very first version written by Suzanne-Barbot de Villeneuve in 1740, Belle is the daughter of a king and a fairy, making Belle a half-fairy. So, you could also build her as a Variant Human with the Fey Touched feat to give her that fey analogue, or go Half-Elf for the bonus skills.

BACKGROUND

Belle’s background can lean one of two ways, and I recommend shaping her background to the subclass you pick out for her.

Guild Artisan As a guild artisan, Belle can be a tinkerer, metalworker, or alchemist by trade. It’s also called Guild Merchant, and her father is a merchant in most versions of the fairytale, fitting as most peasant girls would likely take up her father’s trade. This puts more emphasis on Belle making things by hand, and gives her proficiency with Insight and Persuasion.

Sage With this background, Belle is a researcher or librarian, recording and preserving knowledge in a vast library or workshop. This feeds more into Belle’s love of literature and reading, and is a good translation of Belle’s hobbies and interests into the realm of Dungeons and Dragons. The Sage background gives Belle proficiency with Arcana and History.

CLASS

ARTIFICER

As tempting as a Lore Mastery or Order of the Scribes Wizard would be to make Belle a magical intellect, I find that the more scientific angle of the Artificer feels more at home with the daughter of an inventor. Granted, if Belle grew up in the setting of DnD, she may be far more fascinated with wizardry and magic, but as a pure translation of her screen counterpart, the logic-driven inventor class feels more appropriate for her. Especially since it can easily allow her spells to be reflavored as whacky inventions created either by Belle or her father. However, if you’d rather play Belle as a dedicated squishy caster with a love for magic instead of science, then either Lore Mastery Wizard or Order of the Scribes Wizard is a perfectly appropriate substitution build for Belle. And if an INT caster isn’t really doing it for you, Belle also works great as a Knowledge Domain Cleric who seeks to understand the universe, or an Arcana Domain Cleric who worships a powerful enchantress and seeks to understand the magical strings that connect all things together in the great glamorweave of magic.

ARCHIVIST (UA)

If Belle chooses this subclass, have her background be a Sage. As an Archivist, Belle is a researcher who uses her technology to gather and store information. The articial mind feature dosen’t specify if the object with the mind can think or talk, however. If it can, Belle can create Lumiere and Cogsworth to store information for her. Or, if the object is just an object that can show Belle information, then have her use Beast’s enchanted mirror to show her things.

ARTILLERIST

As an Artillerist, Belle will gain more from being a Guild Artisan. It’s not quite Belle’s style, but this artificer subclass comes the closest to making Belle an inventor, as she can craft laser cannons, flamethrowers, mobile forcefields, and other things. I did consider the Battle Smith, but that one seems far more focused on Belle herself fighting on the front lines, and that doesn’t really fit her style. Belle is far more at home tinkering and inventing than she is standing over a hot anvil, forging weapons.

SIDEKICK

GNOLL DEFENDER WARRIOR

The new sidekick mechanic introduced in Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything allows us to be joined by a simplified build PC that can be any creature type with a CR 1/2 or lower. I chose a gnoll as these bipedal hyena-like creatures come the closest to Beast’s aesthetic, although the Jackalwere is another great option in its hybrid form, and lets Beast play more with a werewolf type angle. As Belle’s sidekick, Beast can flank her in battle, and so long as he’s within 5 feet of her, Belle’s enemies will have disadvantage on hitting her. Though he also works as an Attacker Warrior, charging ahead to the front lines while Belle stays in the back of the team’s formation to cast her spells from a distance. Just pick his warrior style by how he approaches combat. If you want to lean more into the Artificer angle and make the Beast something she’s built, use the stats for the Stone Giant Statue and make it an Anvilwrought.

Belle’s Spell Library

Cantrips Firebolt Message Ray of Frost Shocking Grasp

1st Level Catapult Grease Tasha’s Caustic Brew

2nd Level Arcane Lock Heat Metal Magic Weapon

3rd Level Elemental Weapon Glyph of Warding Tiny Servant

4th Level Fabricate Otiluke’s Resilient Sphere Summon Construct

5th Level Animate Objects Bigby’s Hand Creation

Ultimately, whether you favor Belle as a tinkerer or a mage, she’ll make great use of her keen intellect in Dungeons and Dragons, and with the sidekick feature, she can be flanked by a bestial creature without having to dip into Beast Master Ranger, or having another player agree to make Beast in order to complete the set. 

[jeeperso]

D&D Quotes Without Context

Ravenloft edition, Non-canon Halloween Suicide Strahd one-off

Marshal punches out the loud shouty bearded idiot paladin before he runs in first and aggroes all.

“We know you’re here, Strahd, you big fucking nerd! Where’s our goddamn cleric!” The castle is indifferent to your taunts.

Jonni puts on her inside shit kicking boots.

As you enter, the next pair of doors open with the sound of organ music coming from the main hall. Marshal: "Ah, our host grants Audience.  Jonni, Behave.  Me, no stupid self-sacrifice this early."

"My master has been expecting you." He says, "If you will follow me to the dining hall." Irost: "... As guests or delivery...?" Marshal: "Yes."

Irost: "Right, so we're taking the professor, and leaving." Strahd: "He is yours, if you can find him." Gorbash: "...Please tell me you didn't lose our cleric." Irost: "Well.. you guys lost him first." Strahd: "Oh I'm sure he's somewhere around here." Gorbash: "I swear I'm going to have to put a bell on him."

Strahd gives an evil smile "Do you remember every piece of bread you've eaten?" Gorbash: *sarcasm* "Why yes, let me just grab my baked good consumption ledger..."

"I presume that while we occupy ourselves, you'll be having rounds of the third most dangerous game." “Swans?” "Is that the one with the riding bears and the lit dynamite? Or was #3 knife monopoly?"

He's just standing there looking menacing. “I give it a 7.5.”

The second you open the door out of the dining hall, BATS. "I see you a bat-man, Strand." [sic]

"Bats attacking us in a vampire's castle, how cliche." "Well its a classier aesthetic than the last bunch we had to deal with."

Enjoy the image of a greatsword being swung above like a broom.

Marshal: "Once we have Edmund and an exit route, Jonni, you will have my blessing to burninate."

GM: You guys descend down the stairs into the LARDER OF ILL OMEN.

"NO CUTTING!" Marshal shouts, again feeling deja mustard.

OOC: We want people storage not food storage... although around here, the distinction is pretty meaningless.

“Bet we could sell this batshit to wizards.”

“Do you wanna open every crypt in spooky vampire death castle?”

Marshal engages his installed everbright lantern, for he has Knight Vision.

"...I could use your help. I came here for a friend. Yay high, blond, showed up naked."

"I would like to trust you, but if you betray that, I will not hesitate to bisect you."

"Your friend seemed rather agreeable to Strahd from what I heard, so I think Strahd put him to work." Gorbash: "We can be polite and cooperative when folks aren't trying to fuck with us." Jonni: “But that’s all the time.”

"Oh good, so we go up now. Away from the worst housekeeping I've ever seen."

"You'd be surprised, this place is filled with vampires that used to be mouthy adventurers." “And I got a bag of dust that used to be mouthy vampires.”

"I can spare you a weapon if you'd like." "I can handle myself." "Monk?" "Yes." "Gregorian?" "Not sure what that means."

"Aww, come on. Is there any way you nice gargoyles would simply let us pass, we are just looking for a friend and doesn't wish to cause any trouble." "Depends.. does anyone have any jalapeños?"

OOC: "Run for you lives, it is Godzilla's 2nd cousin twice removed!"

Gorbash: "In the words of my ancestor... BURNINATE!"

"Werewolf! Oh goodie, I get to test my daggers against someone who can really feel their sting. You picked the wrong gnome to mess with, dogface."

Irost: "This entire castle is full of betrayal!" "No shit, Sherlock." Irost: "Irost. Irost Coldplay."

Jonni: “New Eddie! Ape me!” "One Jonni of the Jungle! Coming up!" Irost said, as he cast Polymorph on their resident genie fucker to turn her into a giant ape. GM OOC: King Kong ain't got shit on Jonni. Jonni looks down at [the werewolf] with a wide, toothy, ape grin.  “Ook, ook, motherfucker.”

Nyx ducks under the gargoyle's attack and sticks her tongue out at it. "Hey, wait your turn. The werewolf is still on the menu for being diced up and then Jonni with roast him."

Back to the top of the round, and she's finally here, performing for you.  Gonna find a gal to fuck and screw.

"Their claws are tough! Do they count as stalactites, or stalagmites?" "I think that's what they call their dicks."

OOC: Look if there's any time to experiment with a new toy its the non-canon suicide mission to gank D&Dracula.

"You dare call me a dumpling, let alone little. Oh, it is groin stabbing time."

Gorbash: "This is why you don't bite the hand that lets you out of prison."

“WE ASKED NICELY!”

Irost looks like a scene from Invincible.

OOC: We're fighting Strahd, In trouble is kind of the definition of this fight.

GM OOC: Good, because I got a nat 1 and that would be embarrassing. OOC: Strahd bites his own tongue. OOC2: *leans in for a bite...headbonk*

As she’s dragged to Super Hell, Jonni flips him off.

Force Ghost Jonni: "Gorb still fucked you up, Grampa Munster."

Sergei: "And THAT is why you can't just barge into castle Ravenloft guns blazing." Gorbash standing over a battle map with little minatures of each of us: "Exactly." Jonni: “Right. Fireballs first.”

"Also, we have a dog," Marshal says, moving his leg so the others can see Pinpup gnawing ineffectually. Pinpup: "Such sights to show you...like ball, tail..... SQUIRREL!"

"She keeps stabbing me in m'dick. Why? Why's she keep stabbin' me in m'dick?"

GM OOC: Roll damage first to establish dominance.

OOC: Yes, I'm literally holding a sentient Sunblade. It's not the same one that is THE anti-Strahd weapon but its functionally identical. OOC2: It's his cousin, Kyle.

Nyx: "Nooo, I don't want to be a vampy snack!"

[today-only-happens-once]

Have you talked about your DnD PCs before? Can you talk about your game on tumblr? What's all been going on last few sessions :o

ANON you are one of my favorite people today this ask made me so freaking happy. (So is @psychedelicships  who said I had an invitation to ramble about my d&d campaign) Sorry for my excited gushing and rambling slkdfjdsklfjskldfj

My D&D Player Character

So my current D&D PC is named Kyssarda. She’s a half-elf neutral-good monk. I’ve rambled about her backstory before but the condensed version is that there’s a pattern of people leaving her/abandoning her in her life. Her parents died in a fire that her older brother rescued her from when she was four. She passed out on the way out, and when she woke up, she’d been told that she’d been left on the doorstep of the temple. Her brother was no where to be found. When she eventually made her way back home, her home was ash. Monks trained her, but they weren’t really equipped to raise a small child, so Kyssarda had a very lonely upbringing. The monks follow Sehanine (d&d deity), so she was raised on the tenants of her teachings and the teachings about following your own path led to her eventually striking out on her own. As a result of her upbringing and past, the people in her life (i.e. the party) are super important to her, because they are the first friends she ever chose and in some ways, they’ve chosen her too. She has abandonment issues up the wazoo, and hoo has she been reminded of that in recent sessions.

She’s very... empathetic and soft. She pays close attention to the mental/emotional state of her party members. Part of that is just who she is, but a lot of that is informed by her own loneliness. She doesn’t want others to feel like they’re alone, because she knows very intimately how much that can suck. Her loyalty and protectiveness of her friends leads her to sometimes not make the most tactically advantageous decision in combat, and also means that she has basically no self-preservation instincts (which is the main reason I’m pretty sure she’s gonna die before the campaign is over).

Campaign Stuff/Ramblings (under a cut because I’m literally just never going to shut up lets goooo):

So the original party consisted of a Teifling Paladin, a Wood Elf Rogue (who is multiclassing in monk), a Leonin Blood Hunter, and Kyssarda. We met during a fighting tournament and was contracted by the king to retrieve something for him. We teamed up for that, and convinced the king to come along too. So we traveled to some ruins, fought some stuff, and found the relic the king needed. We ran into a Jotenheim giant and fought that. In the process, the Leonin ended up attacking Kyssarda (cuz he’s basically a werewolf lion, and when he goes to his hybrid form and drops below half-health, he has to save on a wisdom saving throw or he just attacks the closest figure which happened to be meeee). 

Later on in a different fight in the same place, Kyssarda freaking died thanks to 2 chain lightnings (I took damage while unconcious and then rolled a Nat1 on the death save). But the king we brought along was a cleric who had what was needed for revivify. So Kyssarda came back, with a withered left hand. The Leonin felt responsible for her death because he’d attacked her earlier, and vowed to help her fix her hand. 

I forget exactly when, but during this journey, Kyssarda and the Leonin learned that there was a war brewing between two different kingdoms and that the Elf Rogue seemed to have a personal (but vague?) stake in the outcome of that war.

but ON OUR WAY BACK to the city, we got side-tracked with a quest to help a little girl rescue her family. So we also fought a troll and a hag. And when we were getting her family out, we also found (Surprise!!) the estranged (kinda) sister of the Elf Rogue. 

This lead to some downtime back at the main city. Kyssarda got her hand fixed at a temple. We got the sister of the Elf Rogue healed up at the same temple. The Leonin had a hilarious and embarrassing fight with a creature I can’t remember the name of. And lots of research was done by all about various things. Kyssarda did the most research, as she grew up working in the library section of the monk monastery so she’s always curious. So she starts looking into things about the war going on, and learns that Mr. Elf Rogue is in fact ROYALTY. He’s a prince of one of the countries at war. And we had learned already that he had fled the city with his siblings but not that he was royalty?? So that was a trip to learn. 

Meanwhile, Kyssarda is also helping the Teifling Paladin with some research because he’s been having weird dreams. And while they’re chillin’ in the library, the Paladin finds this book and gets sucked into it. Like. One minute he’s there, one minute he’s not and the book is floating before it closes and slams on the table. So Kyssarda (Ms. Abandonment Issues and also Freshly Traumatized By Havivng Died) panics and takes the book and runs. Our Paladin is still in the book. We sent him a Sending Scroll asking if he was okay and he basically said “Yeah im fine I’ll be back eventually”. Kyssarda also had a nice heart-to-heart with the Elf Rogue about the reemergence of his sister and told him a little about how her own brother abandoned her and encouraged him to just be patient with her (because the sister is not happy with him). 

But the show must go on, and our Elf Rogue really wants to get back to his home and help in the war effort somehow, plus find his brother who also is MIA. So Kyssarda, the Leonin, the Royal Elf Rogue, his sister, AND another human PC (a guy who helped sneak the Elf Rogue and his siblings out the city all those years ago and was being played by the guy who used to be the Paladin) all travel out headed towards the Elf Rogue’s homeland. 

But we get to the border at a bridge, and the party finds themselves facing down some harpies, some marrows, and a water elemental. In the fight, Kyssarda casts silence to help against the siren song the harpies were singing. Which was mostly a good thing. The water elemental was something else though. It engulfed both Kyssarda and the Elf Rogue, and Kyssarda was down to 1 HP when the Leonin yanked her out. However, because of a REALLY unfortunate roll by the human pc to save from a drop into the river (rolled a 2 and had a minus 2 on the modifier), he was unconcious and drowning. And none of our characters knew because. y’know. Silence. He kept drowning as the fight went on. And he eventually got washed up on some rocks and could make one death save after two failed ones. And he failed. And we had no cleric, and besides... it was more than a minute before we found his body down river. 

And all of our characters felt terrible. Kyssarda has a tendency to take blame for things that maybe aren’t strictly her fault, so she definitely feels a weight of responsibility for complicated reasons. The Leonin expressed that he felt some level of responsibility as well, and also hesitation about going forward with the journey though some conversation between Kyssarda and him lead to him continuing on regardless. The Elf Rogue was pretty torn up about it. 

We got some Elf Rogue backstory that addresses the fact that he was royalty (which was something Kyssarda had thought about asking) and more explanation of what’s been going on with him and his connection to the land we’re heading towards. We run into a fey creature that was an old ally of the Elf Rogue and Teifling Paladin, and we agreed to help him.

Cue the session last night.

We go to get some stuff of his back from an Incubus/Succubus pair. And sh!t hit the fan. Our Elf Rogue rolled really high stealth and decided that was a fine reason to dive through the broken window. Meanwhile, we were going on this side-quest with a half-orc barbarian (played by the guy that’s usually the paladin and who had the first PC death of the game the session prior). And the Incubus and Succubus can each essentially mind-control people, or try to. And both our barbarian and our Leonin Blood Hunter failed their wisdom save and so our two biggest heavy hitters were mind-controlled by the enemy. THAT went about as well as you’d expect. 

Over the course of the fight, the Leonin went unconcious twice. Kyssarda once. The Elf Rogue twice. And the barbarian would have gone unconcious but thanks to relentless endurance, he was brought back to one HP. In fact, we reached a point towards the end where the Leonin, Kyssarda, and the Elf Rogue were all unconcious and our barbarian was the only one standing...at one HP. That’s when the incubus (we’d killed his mate by then) took the Elf Rogue’s sister and made a break for it. The barbarian brought me back first (because I was dying in acid and therefore automatically failing death saves). Then I brought back the Leonin and we got the Elf Rogue up too. We managed to chase down the Incubus and save the sister as well. but HOLE. EE. SH!T. Most terrifying, stressful D&D combat of my LIFE. Kyssarda came very, very close for two rounds to offering herself up as a willing victim/slave/whatever if they’d let her friends go. She didn’t because the tide was starting to turn by then in the fight but it was a ROLLERCOASTER.

Before we closed the session, we went back to that fey guy and got paid though Kyssarda stormed off kind of? She didn’t vibe with the guy because she almost lost her friends over his stupid book and she was shaken and upset. But she had a conversation with the Leonin at the end of the session just kinda... dealing with the trauma of the past few days in-game. It was actually a really nice moment. I think my favorite RP moment for Kyssarda so far. 

So yeah! If you read all of this, I’m surprised and touched. Heh. I literally love D&D so freaking much, and I’m especially attached to this party and this character... though her lack of self-preservation does have me starting to plan for another back-up character just in case. ^u^

[punishandenslavesuckers]

Adventuring requires fast solutions to dangerous problems and sometime that problem is gravity, terminal velocity, and the fucking ground. Home-game excerpt. Death Ward lets you do some wild shit.

*

Orlia speaks Sylvan.

She’s a ranger and a dwarf so it’s reasonable she might have the occupational need to do that and also the lifespan to mess with weird supposedly unknowable languages. She’s used it on one previous occasion on this hellish trek; to lure giant elk in for nose-pats and oatmeal treats. She probably did it specifically to appease the party’s gender-indifferent tiefling cleric (Rime) who, being a Secomber local, is aware exactly how terrible it is being out here.

Which is to say, getting to pat a giant deer was one of the very, very few highlights of sneaking around the hobgoblin infested moors. The many lowlights have been vampires, a manticore, flaming skulls, goblinoid assassins, and dreading the fact they’re literally trying to hike across a war zone into giant country.

A fun note: Things that survive being in the same ecosystem as giants are, themselves, motherfuckingly dangerous to say nothing of the giants themselves. Blue – the team sorceress, Triton nobility, and the only one who speaks Giant – insisted that appealing to the diplomatic side of giant-kin is a GREAT idea. Will – the team half-elf, part-time werewolf, former highwayman, and monster hunter – pointed out rather keenly that, no, asshole, that’s a terrible idea. And then they bickered all the way from Secomber to the Emerald Enclave forward camp.

Bian (tabaxi rogue,former privateer, team sneak) and Rime have resigned themselves to a future getting punted two miles across the monster-infested moors. It’s been that kind of month.

Anyway, back to Orlia speaking Sylvan:

“They’re cool with it,” she’s saying in Common.

“How confident are you in your ability to understand Giant Eagle?” asks Will.

“One-hundred percent.” It’s convincing because one of the four giant fucking eagle standing behind her begins to preen her hair amiably. “I mean, like, if you’re a dick and they drop you for being a dick that’s on you, but they’re into the idea of helping y’all clear out hobgoblins.” A beat. “Also, they do understand Common. The Sylvan is for, like, effect. Ya know?”

Will eyeballs the three other giant eagles who are cocking their massive raportial heads at the group. “There’s only four of them…”

“You four go ahead. I can move faster alone. I’ll catch up to you.”

“Are we really going to ride giant eagles?” Rime is beaming, their big jet-black eyes lighting up with glee as the flower crown literally rooted to their horns starts to bloom with happy colors. They snap their fingers again, thaumaturgy generating their words for them. “They’re okay with it?”

“Yup,” says Orlia, her craggy features splitting into a grin. “You get to fly with eagles.”

“Fuck,” says Bian at conversational volume.

Rime laughs. “That’s amazing!”

“Fuck all of you,” Bian emphasizes. Her tail looks like a white bottle brush.

“They aren’t scared of cats,” Orlia says in what is probably meant to be a comforting tone.

“Fuck you especially,” Bian says, pointing. “This is a bad idea.”

“Is it safer though?” Blue asks.

“Yeah,” says Orlia. “They can drop you right in giant country—” Bian mutters something like ‘oh yes, the very definition of ‘safe’, sure’ – “and you can skip all the other heinous shit in this godforsaken tundra.”

“Yeah. God forbid we be tired when we meet the race of enormous bastards who will probably kill us,” says Will, totally deadpan. “Like it’s gonna make a difference.”

“I always make a difference,” Blue declares, marching past her ex-husband and flipping her long white hair so it smacks him right in the face. While he sputters, she approaches the nearest eagle and plants herself arms akimbo before it. “Hello. Your name is Murder Wings. We will totally take out hobgoblins.”

The eagle cocks its head back and forth like it’s considering the name ‘Murder Wings’ with some seriousness.  

“We’re gonna die because you’re all stupid,” says Bian.

Rime, who is already petting their eagle and feeding it scraps of jerky from their ration pouch, looks up from what they’re doing and says, “Hmm?”

“Never mind.”

They all, with varying amounts of awkwardness, clamber onto the horse-sized giant eagles. Rime has the least amount of trouble with this, probably because of the jerky bribery and genuinely friendly vibes. Blue’s eagle literally drops to a sitting position like a nesting sparrow while the tiny Triton woman boosts herself up. Bian, once mounted, clings stiffly to the back of her eagle and says, angrily, “I can’t stab anyone while we’re sitting on big fat birds, you know.”

Will falls off his eagle for the second time and says, “This bastard better not roll while we’re flying.”

“Again, for fuck’s sake,” strains Orlia, “they understand Common.”

Will’s eagle pecks him on the head.

*

Bian can’t quite hear what Rime is yelling at her until they snap their fingers and throw their words across the roaring, open skies directly into her left ear.

“This is amazing!”

Bian doesn’t have thaumaturgy like her adorable teifling priest buddy. (For whom, by the way, she has come out to this miserable inland war zone.) So she can’t tell her newest partner in crime (friend, ally, and genuinely good person pal) to literally go fuck themselves with a cactus the way she would like to. She can only cling to the back of a giant eagle and resist every single instinct in her body to sink tabaxi claws into the feathers beneath her.

They are about half a mile in the air and Bian has been trying not to think about that. Just imagine she’s riding a very feathery magic carpet barely two feet off the floor. The deafening roar of the wind, freezing air, and Rime’s occasional magic bursts of cheerleading are not helping. She would flip Rime off, but she can’t bring herself to spare a paw.

“Murder,” she says to herself like a mantra. “Stabbing. Future glorious vengeance.”

Her eagle’s head jerks a little bit. It eyeballs her suspiciously.

“Not you. Another guy.”

The eagle doesn’t look convinced, but that doesn’t matter because it’s about then Rime’s voice booms at three times its usual volume. Bian jerks, fur standing on end as Rime shouts in panic: “WYVERN! WYVERN, BEHIND AND FOLLOWING!”

Bian risks it then to jerk her head around and look over her shoulder.

Rime is ducked low against the back of their eagle, the wind ripping wildly at the ribbons and flowers that encircle their head. They’re pointing backward and up into a thin mist of cloud cover… and at a massive, draconic shadow as it abandons stealth and dives, screaming, from the stratosphere to gain ground. Bian struggles immediately for the crossbow on her hip, yelping as her eagle starts to fly a lot fucking faster away from the fuck-huge predator now chasing them.

“No, you dumb bird! Go back!”

The eagle flaps even faster.

“Goddammit!”

She looks over her shoulder. Rime shouts something and a flare of divine light ignites at their chest and spirals down their outstretched arm. A blinding bolt bursts from their palm and cuts a line of pure white through the sky, exploding into radiant fire across the wyvern’s chest. It screams as bright beads of magic cling like static to its hulking frame. It’s eyes shimmer with rage even from a distance as it rears up and –

Instantly gets a ball of chromatic lightning to the face.

The sky lights up with azure electricity, crackling as the wyvern shrieks.

Blue is twisted at the waist on the back of her eagle, thighs dug into its flank, one fist buried in dark plumage. Her right arm is up over her head gripping the crackling diamond component of her spell. She bares her teeth in a big battle-grin, her smile white in the light of her spell as her eagle inexplicably cuts its speed and begins to lag back. It places itself between Rime and the shrieking dragon-kin racing after them.

There’s a boom from Bian’s far right as Will pulls his scimitar one-handed from his back and activates the thunderous spell effect on the blade. He, like her, is not doing much good a mile in the air. He, like her, is realizing their eagles are pulling ahead of Rime and Blue. He, like her, is imagining the future six seconds from now when the beast hunting them picks its next target from the two spell casters.

“Fuckity fuck fuck,” Bian hisses, scrabbling for a crossbow bolt, jamming it between her teeth, fangs biting wood as she uses her other hand to rack the bow before slotting the arrow and locking it. “This is so fucked.”

She looks over her shoulder in time to watch Rime light off another bolt of tracing magic from their hand, the glow silhouetting their body against the dreary sky. Ribbons spin in an uncontrollable halo around their head. Their fingers spread wide and infused with light. Impact. The wyvern’s shadow blooms massive across the bone-white backdrop of the cloud wall behind it and it roars, blood spraying as a chunk of lightning-charred flash disintegrates from its neck and shoulder.

Blue’s eagle is still lagging behind, its claws flared with predatory intent.

Bian and Will exchange a look of horror.

“IS SHE TRYING TO FIGHT THE FUCKING DRAGON THING WITH HER FUCKING BIRD?!?!” Will bellows, horror in his wind-reddened face. “IS SHE TRYING TO FIGHT THE–?”

To Blue’s credit, she appears to be kicking her heels into the eagle’s flanks like a rider encouraging a horse to gallop, but the eagle ignores her. Blue yells something inaudible, turns, raises her fist and another lightning burst roars chromatic across the sky and ignites the wyvern, tearing flesh from its back and wings. It thrashes, tumbling, screaming… then flares its wings to catch itself.

It dives at Blue’s eagle.

It hits like a cannonball, feathers and blood bursting into the atmosphere. Blue’s body disappears between two massive beasts as they collide. The wyvern shrieks, talons tearing red lines into flesh. The eagle screams, clawing back, trying to break away… The tail lashes out, like a scorpion’s strike, slamming into the giant eagle’s ribcage and punching deep. Ribbons of blood begin to spiral out from beneath its body, snatched away in the wind. Its wings stop flapping.

“BLUE!” Will is yelling. “BLUE! BLUE, NO!”

Bian stares, transfixed, unmoving, and flying away from the battle.

As Blue’s eagle.

Falls out of the sky.

And drops through the clouds.

Rime screams. They do it with their real voice, the demonic one, and it sounds like a roomful of people screaming their friend’s name. Bian’s eagle just flies away even faster as she yells at it to turns its useless dumb bird ass around. Will’s body erupts on the back of his mount, fur and muscle swelling against the constraints of his chainmail and leathers. He bellows something werewolfy at his eagle and it begins to dive, following Rime’s mount as it too begins to dive.

Then they, like Blue, are gone beneath the clouds.

The wyvern is already gone, chasing its prey to the ground to finish off anything (if anything) still breathing.

Bian doesn’t see what happens next. She only sees the end of the fight.

Will though…

*

Will is a werewolf riding a giant eagle with a roaring scimitar that’s now on fire. It would be fucking legendary if he wasn’t scared shitless and diving at terminal velocity toward the ground. Even that would not be so bad if he wasn’t almost certain that Blue just fell half a mile out of the sky and she’s a burst corpse of organs and blood on the permafrost. Even that would not be so bad if… if…

His eagle slices through the cloud cover into the lower atmosphere, hooking hard up to level out at three-hundred feet up from the ground. The momentum is so intense Will has to literally bearhug his eagle which immediately shrieks as the flaming sword hazards it face.

Immediate landscape: Almost directly beneath them, Blue’s eagle is on the ground, flat, smeared like bloody throw rug. Blue herself is visible, sprawled half on top of the dead bulk of her bird, unmoving, but not (importantly) herself a fucking smear of internal organs across the moorland. Rime’s eagle is not diving with the same zeal that Will’s eagle dove, so the cleric is about 50 feet up from Will, their bird circling downward like an anxious vulture.

Most importantly: The fucking wyvern is on the ground, waddling its way like a hulking, leathery, lizard bat toward Blue who may or may not be too dead for their cleric to do something about.

Their cleric who is stuck on the back of an eagle too far away to do shit.

Will is thinking things like ‘Can’t these stupid birds go faster?’ and ‘Maybe if I jump, I’ll be fine. I’m a werewolf. Yeah, I think… I think it wouldn’t kill me.’ and ‘Blue can’t die yet, we didn’t finish this thing out.’

And that’s what he’s thinking about when Rime jumps off their eagle.

Later, Rime will explain that what they did was pull out the spell scroll they found in a crypt two weeks ago. Later, Rime will explain what Death Ward is: a spell a that wraps the hand of a god around someone and asks a favor from the pantheons of death for a just a little leeway. Later, Rime will explain they clutched that spell scroll to their chest like a fistful of flash paper burning in their fingers as they cast a spell too advanced for them to know.

And it worked.

But right now, in the moment, Will is calculating his odds of surviving the very same jump to the ground…

So Will has enough time to think ‘What the FUCK’ as Rime Raishon falls past him in a blur of armor and ribbons. They drop two-hundred plus feet to the permafrost. Will hears them hit the ground with a hideous, bone-shattering crunch. Will stares down, then, at Rime’s body outlined, sprawled, unmoving, on the rock and grass 200 feet beneath him.

He has time to think numbly, ‘Why did they do that? Whydidtheydothat? Why the FUCK did he—?!’

And then Rime stands up.  

Not, like, easily. But they get up.

Rime levers themselves up on one elbow, then up on one knee. Their scream as they do so – agonized and feral – comes to Will on the wind as they stagger to their feet. Will watches their cleric stumble into a run toward the wyvern, hobbling on phantom limbs splintered in a suicidal drop to earth. Their hand comes up and across the field a familiar eruption of ribbons blooms like a razor-wire flower and begins to tear at the wyvern. Rime’s spiritual weapon whacks the dragon-kin across the skull as it looms over Blue’s body.

Will has no time to figure out, in that moment, what the fuck Rime just did.

He’s too busy hitting the ground as his eagle dives, pulling into a flat glide feet from the ground where he can roll off its back into a stumbling run. He bolts past Rime whose standing, shaking, their eyes glowing with arcane light as they unleash bold of radiant fire, screaming something that might be Infernal at the wyvern as it starts to take flight, the corpse of the giant eagle (not Blue!) in its claws.

Will barely notices. Blue is a crumpled tangle of lacy blue dress, ghost-white hair, and twisted limbs in the grass. She’s like a broken doll and as he skids on his knees to her side, he can hear the ugly, wet, dying noise of her punctured lungs gargling. He tears a potion from his belt, uncorking the vial with his teeth and grabs her jaw, turning her face up and pouring the entire contents into the blood-filled ruin of her mouth. (It looks like she bit through her tongue on impact.)

“Fucking drink it,” he hisses, terrified she’s going to choke it up instead of swallow.

The wyvern is screaming, its wings buffeting the air nearby, but Will ignores it. It’s flying away. Some other direction. He can’t physically tear his eyes away from Blue’s mouth, the pool of purplish blood and glittering magic liquid on her tongue.

“C’mon, c’mon…”

Blue’s throat bobs.

She wretches, rolling on her side and vomiting up blood and phlegm as her lungs knit and immediately struggle to expel what’s blocking her airway. She coughs. Gags. Yells as a twisted wrist snaps back into alignment and cuts on her face sluggishly congeal and clot. She growls in pain, punching the ground repeatedly before rolling onto her back and looking deliriously around her.

“What happened?” She blinks blearily at him. Her eyes drift somewhere over Will’s shoulder. “Where is…?” Her eyes focus. She screams. She jackknifes instantly into a sitting position. “RIME!”

Will looks over his shoulder. Horror makes it slow, like time drags its heels in a nightmare.

He looks over his shoulder.

To see the wyvern flying away at speed.

It’s got something in its jaws – a dripping ragdoll trailing bloody ribbon the colors of a festival god. It’s flying away with Rime’s unmoving body clamped between its jaws. Because, obviously, obviously – idiot, idiot, idiot, oh fuck, oh no – it was flying back to attack the only spell caster left on the field. The one fucking stupid enough to keep inciting its attention until it mauled them unconscious while Will was getting Blue back up.

Will stands, even as his brain tells him it’s too late, it’s too fast, too hale, too healthy to run down.

It’s going to fly away with Rime. If they’re alive it’s going to eat them that way. If they’re dead, there’s no undoing it. Bian, Will thinks dully, Bian is going to be so fucking –

Blue screams in Aquan – a pure primal, primordial shriek – and her hands spin through complex pattern then lock like she’s got her fingers around something’s throat. The air around her sours with ozone, the smell of her magic as her eyes ignite lightning bottle blue.

Static leaps between her teeth and she says, “GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP!”

And the wyvern, against all fucking odds, instantly goes slack in midair.

Its ungainly bulk glides for a moment on its momentum, like a tossed dart through the cold winter winds, the arc of its trajectory falling ground-ward. Not far to the ground (it must have kept low to snatch Rime in its mouth), but it hits and skids to a halt after about 30 feet, a long drag of torn dirt in its path. Then it lies there in a pile of muscle and burnt hide. It doesn’t move. Just lies there, its massive flanks rising and falling slowly.

Dead asleep.

Blue’s hands are shaking. Arcane light still glitters in her eyes. She’s whispering to herself, softly, “Just barely. Just barely. Oh fuck… fuck…”

Will breaks into a run at precisely the moment Bian’s eagle comes wheeling down at a leisurely, cautious flight speed to alight on the ground about nintey feet off from the downed wyvern. It fucks right off the moment it realizes the dragonoid is still breathing and Bian kicks herself free of it, cursing and swiping her claws furiously at the giant bird. Then she rockets, tabaxi-quick, across the gap between her and the wyvern and immediately dives under one limp, tented wing.

Will skids around the body, hand jumping to his belt for a potion, fumbling at the strap.

But Bian looks up – her fur sticking up along the back of her neck – while Rime coughs, choking on the contents of the healing potion she’s just given them. The cleric is literally still wedged between the wyvern’s jaws, the massive points of its fangs grinding and squeaking on the battered metal of their breast plate. Rime’s covered in blood – a slick, sticky dark color just barely distinguishable from their natural tiefling complexion.

“Don’t wake it up!” Will hisses, ducking down and carefully prying the creature’s jaws apart. Like a dog with a chew toy. “Get out. Fast, fast, fast, it’s gonna wake up.”

“It’s asleep?!” Bian yowls, lunging away.

Rime wiggles out of its mouth, gasping with pain as the fangs drag across their armor, using one hand to grip a massive lower canine and push it out from where its shallowly lodged in a gap below their armor. They slip free, blood still running from their gashed arm and upper shoulder, soaking through the ribbons around their arms. Bian drags Rime all the way away across the grass as Will readies a direct blow to the beast’s skull. The burning scimitar flares in his fist.

“Blue?!” he shouts.

She has her diamond in hand already. Lightning crackles in her fist as she strides toward them, hell fire in her eyes.

“Do it!”

Will brings the blade down as Blue calls down lightning.

[eviipaiadin]

Dungeons & Shitposting Episode 47: Time to Meet the Happy Couple

After a billion years on hiatus (read: since April 17th), we finally came back... Well, by ‘we’, I mean half the party. A shame since a big plot reveal occurred but that’s life.

The cast:

Sir J. P. Fluffsworth aka Sir Fluffy, a shifter fighter/paladin who loves friendship and is just a sentient version of Greater Dog. (as played by @friendlyneighbourhood-spider-dan) Recently acquired a magical talking sword called Hollowblade. Original party member. [ATTENDED THE SESSION; MISSED THE REVEAL]

Orion Nebulorn, a half-orc barbarian who loves fighting and seafaring. (as played by @servantproto) Wielder of the Monster Execution Combative Heavy Axe Build 0.8.2 and recently hurt by the betrayal of a clanmate. Original party member. [ARRIVED AT THE END OF THE SESSION FOR THE REVEAL]

Cyrus Cormack, a human tempest cleric of Waukeen. (as played by @blangyouredead) Recently bitten by a werewolf  and was earlier framed by Orion’s clanmate, Lyra. [ABSENT]

Drachedandion Bipen aka Bipen, a ‘dragon’ (tiefling) sorcerer who loves to fly and lives with his Mom and his Maam. (as played by @brokou) Inheritor of the magical helm, Trothar. [ABSENT]

Navitas Stormfey, a tiefling sorcerer/bard who parties hard and trusts few. (as played by @dovahheim) Wields the Horn of Blasting and is still unable to get in Rickert’s pants. [ATTENDED THE SESSION]

Naqine Stormfey, a tiefling demon hunter (homebrew) who lives to rib her older sibling and fight demons. (as played by @spectrefox) Currently freaking out about the fact that multiple demon lords have shown up in the Material Plane. [ATTENDED THE SESSION]

The events:

The session began with the rolling of initiative to kill Diam’Rem, a kuo-toa who hunts followers of Demogorgon. Party disliked the whole ‘harness demonic energy to power up weapons to kill demo and use their soul to ascend to godhood’ angle, despite Diam’s refusal to fight back.

This didn’t matter as Diam’Rem got first initiative, disengaged, and fucked off into the ocean. Most of the party is relieved because Navitas was the only one with a major murderboner over this.

The party takes a moment to harness some spoils from the dead dragon from the previous session and finally get a long rest. (They fought two deadly encounters with only a short rest in-between.)

Party wakes up and spot a flying creature approach. Navitas and Sir Fluffy recognize it as an eala, a sort of big swan thing that fae types like to take as pets/status symbols.

Some tiefling rides it down to the boat, jumps off, and runs up to hug Naqine, calling her ‘twin!’. Everyone is confused, especially Naqine, not knowing any twins, especially ones that have a completely different skin tone.

Party tries to calmly explain she is mistaken and the tiefling has a bit of a breakdown before summoning her ‘children’ out of her magic wand: an owlbear (later to be called Professor Hoots), a basilisk, a girallon, and a catoblepas (aka Cat-Platypus).

Tiefling reveals her name to be Credence and her twin’s name to be Creed, @dovahheim‘s characters in a previous one-shot. She has a strange marking that another one-shot character had: a diamond eye with a jagged line that glows red when stressed.

Due to a well placed Fear spell at the start of combat from Navitas, Credence flees early on her eala, with the girallon following.

Sir Fluffy spends almost all of his combat ability wailing on the catoblepas (due to it being able to shoot death lazers) and trying to make it fear him. He only succeeds in pissing it off (and doing like 85% of its health in damage) and it blasts him with the death lazer doing a whopping 65 necrotic.

The party makes quick work of the catoblepas, making sure it doesn’t get another attempt to pull that shit. Meanwhile, Professor Hoots mauls the fuck outta Naqine but she stands firm. They dismantle both the owlbear and the basilisk without too much extra trouble. Oh also, the mast caught on fire and burned up the sail.

As the party licks their wounds, Sir Fluffy decides to open up the dead animals, hoping for... something??? Honestly, it was weird. They find a pair of unbroken eggs: a white egg with sharp claws protruding the top (later revealed to be a hook horror egg) and a dull grey one with red flecks (later revealed to be a cockatrice egg).

Navitas cases the rest of the boat as Captain Creig Cornswaggle, the Courageous Commander of The Cruel Craven and Co-Owner of The Crow’s Call mourns his losses. She finds the wand Credence used to summon her pets and a locket. Inside the locket is a painting of three people: a halfling male in heavy armour, a human woman with a rapier and fine dress, and Credence (a tiefling barbarian). On the back of the locket, an engraving: “The Four Mulefolk of the Inconveniencing: Zizitoppah, Soleil, Creed, and Credence. Painted by Credence. Love you assholes.” (This is the party from the one-shot: Creed and Credence are twins because Creed got eaten by a purple worm before they even entered the mine they were casing.)

Another boat appears as they approach the continent of Faerun. An aarakocra approaches them, wearing the garb of the Lord’s Alliance, specifically the Border Security unit. Sir Fluffy recognizes him as a friend from his old military unit: The Green Sabres. Jackolas “Flappy Jack” Zakeem eagerly greets his old friend and grants the party (and The Cruel Craven) passage into Neverwinter.

The party gets caught up on some goings-on in Faerun (the up-coming wedding they were invited to, the recent battles they had with the giants before a peace treaty was signed). Fluffy begins explaining the party’s adventure but Flappy Jack points out that there’s a bit too much to unpack and that this would have to wait to have this discussion over some nice glasses of milk.

The party begins to splinter off: Orion is pulled aside by Captain Creig Cornswaggle, the Courageous Commander of The Cruel Craven and Co-Owner of The Crow’s Call to invite her to join as a full-time crewmember and assist in transforming the ship into a travelling tavern (Orion’s player’s new job’s hours make them staying an unfortunate impossibility); Cyrus leaves to speak with the local fishermen to find good spots to fish; Navitas attempts to go drinking only to be given false directions by Flappy Jack and end up at an AA meeting; Naqine follows her sibling, expecting disappointment but getting the world’s most satisfying surprise.

Eventually they all retire to The Sleeping Dragon and get a good night’s rest.

Except Navitas, who decides to go on a late night stroll and finds Egg-cellent Eggs!; a stand run by a young-ish human man by the name of Tomathan. They learn of the nature of the eggs that their companions possess and purchases one of their own: that of a remorhaz.

The next morning, the party notices Navitas has not returned from her night stroll. They are, in fact, sitting on the roof. As the party leaves, she assails Naqin with pebbles on the roof and a bizarre team-up from Sir Fluffy, Bipen, and Naqine attempt to fly up and lasso her. Tomfoolery ensues and eventually they all descend.

Flappy Jack takes them to Ye Olde Teleporte Housee and bids them farewell as they must return to their work on the Border Security unit.

Inside Ye Olde Teleporte Housee, they meet Tedrick, a very tired sounding elf who is in charge of conducting inter-continental teleportation circle travel. He asks some brief important security questions (such as the meaning of their visit to Gauntlgrym as well as if they were an animal what animal would they be) before taking them there.

Arriving at the Gauntlgrym teleportation circle, they meet Rickted, a shockingly similar elf in every regard, before leaving Ye Olde Teleporte Housee and into Gauntlgrym.

Rickted catches up to them and hands them official documentation to get them into Castle Feldrun so they can meet with the people who invited them.

As they arrive, their dwarven escorts attempt to inquire about the location of the soon-to-be-married royal couple before a regal looking elf male, that none of the party recognize, enters the room.

As the servants and the dwarven guards bow, he takes in the party before looking specifically at Orion and Sir Fluffy. He smiles and says “It has been a moment, has it not?” before the doors behind him burst open.

Barreling down the stairs, in a brilliant green tunic, shimmering silver scarf, with her long shock red braids flying behind her, a young dwarven woman tackles Orion and Sir Fluffy with a hug.

They recognize her as one of the jailmates they escaped from the drow with. They recognize her as someone they watched die and bury themselves. They recognize her as Eldeth.

The exuberant Eldeth turns to her fiancee: “Isn’t it nice to have them back with us, Derendil, dear?” (Prince Derendil was also a fellow jailmate; a quaggoth who claimed elven nobility and was secretly ‘dealt with’ by two former party members: Talinid and Kana, both alive but away from the party).

And that’s the end of the session!

[jeeperso]

D&D Quotes Without context

Miscellaneous Edition, for those quotable lines from between sessions

"All I wanna do, is fork a giant woman! A giant woman!" "Jonni, I'm pretty sure she is some type of undead, probably a vampire. Are you sure that is a good idea?" "If I don’t get turned into a blueberry it won’t be my worst date." "Okay, but if you have to defend yourself just don't burn the place down for once." "Oh, Nyx. Sweet summer child. I never make promises we both know I won’t even try to keep." "Jonni, if I wake up to my bed surrounded in flames again I'm short-sheeting your next bed every night for at least a month." "I know you're trying to score here, but Lady Dimitrescu's daughters are literally vampires AND bugs. I can overlook one, but as a Paladin, it is my sacred duty to burn this place to the ground and stir the ashes."

"We don't let Marshall make breakfast anymore." "Those waffles are well-fortified." "I'm going to be charitable and call it hardtack." "We can use these waffles as melee weapons." "Well if we need to deflect siege engines they'll be good to have." "This is still carbon based and digestible by human systems without any poisons." "I can't serve this. It'll cause ... death." "Marshal we've been over this. This Pizza has 10% less of a lethal amount of grease." "Plus they signed the waivers when they bought a ticket. It's fine." "And don't forget to push the Cakeon." "Cakeon being slices of cake wrapped in bacon." "The special sauce is a mixture of mayonnaise, ketchup, mustard, ranch, horseradish, cheddar cheese, sour cream, and anything unfortunate enough to fall into the mixing vat."

"You do have a copy of the legal code I requested in my letter? As landed gentry you should actually have legal avenues to... I'm sorry did you say Burning child?"

"First I'm going to nail a crossbow bolt through your heart. Then I'm going to mount your balls to walls on opposite sides of this chamber." "I need Three Barrels of Butter" "Are you serious? Those Claws could crush an elephant in full plate!" "You're Right!" *Turns to first person* "We might need more than three barrels of butter."

"So Ioun is the patron of poor college kids. that scans "

"its hardtack or a mug of molten cheese-fried... something in a woven mug of bacon. your choice."

"Welp, all this coke ain't gonna snort itself..."

"Right hand me that dress and the bail money. I'll get Jonni." OOC: Well I mean they allow men in the city. Its just no men live in the city. "I stand by my statement. I'm allowed to look pretty every now and then." OOC: And dragons are the most unprejudiced lovers of anyone after bards.

OOC: Well I mean come on, its Ravenloft: saying a place is of death and madness is like making the observation the day ends in y. "Going out. Getting laid." "Jonni, she’s a werewolf." "Going out, forking a werewolf." OOC: Well Lycanthropy isn't usually sexually transmitted. Its just that Mercedes is a biter. OOC: ...I don't have an appropriate response to that.

"You seriously think I’d turn on my friends for a pile of gold?!?" "sigh I’ll show you my tits. "Hot damn, let’s get these murders done!" "No, Jonni, stay good. Besides, there are plenty of other girls who will do that without asking you to murder us." "Hmmmm… this is the moral quandary of my life…" "I’ll give you five bucks." "Scales tipped!" "Phew, I thought I was going to have to cover her next trip to the topless bar." "No, no, I have the bail money right here."

Nyx: So what’s the inside of Jonni’s head like? Edmund (with thousand yard stare): Imagine every ladies only smut magazine you’ve ever heard of going on forever into infinity while everything is on fire. Food was good though.

"It’s cool. They stole it." "And you know this how?" "Magic." “90% of Ravenloft deaths are mysterious vanishings.” "Why does everything come out covered in glitter and … is that …" "Lube. I’ve got a few theories." "Please don’t share them."

OOC: This is a plan that ends with Strahd having fewer brides, his castle is in flames, and he’s lost his cape.

OOC: Our team consists of a horny pyromancer, a gnome who can fillete you in five seconds, an HP lovecraft protagonist with actual magic backing them up, a literal slab of iron with a face, and a guy with a "I went to the eternal city of Ryleth and all I got was PTSD and this lousy T shirt". Gorbash smashing his shield into their face: "Have! You! Considered! Therapy!" OOC: Good news is you guys will no longer be the most conspicuous guys at the masquerade now. Jonni: Challenge accepted! "Nyx, the bounty on stealing his fake mustache is still on."

"Vanilla is the king of flavors. What does it say about society where vanilla is considered just 'regular'?" "That they have a lot of vanilla." Lash: "Don’t you want wishes?" Jonni: "Do I need wishes to get to see you naked?" Lash: "No?" Jonni: "Fuck ‘em." Vesh: "Oh dammit its my arranged fiance." Pit Fiend: "Milady." Vesh: "An extra wish to whoever punches this douchecanoe in the nards." Jonni: "I wish…for Bigby’s clenched fist of nard punching."

Soth: "Oh, gods, why am I on fire and why is Immigrant Song playing?" Jonni: "Take a guess." Hazlik: "Okay, so its a partridge, stuffed inside a chicken, stuffed inside a duck, stuffed inside a turkey, and the whole thing is fried on a stick. Congratulations, that's the most horrible thing I have ever seen, and I once crossbred an elephant and an owl." "I give him the 'itis, and we run like we stole something." OOC: ...weirdly Curse of Strahd has stats for Strahd zombies but not Strahd Skeletons. Or Strahd's skeletal Steed. Strahd once went to a branding seminar hosted by Bane and it changed his life.

"Are we on a high enough floor that if I throw him through the window he'll be killed by the fall?" "Oh, but when I say stuff like that it’s all 'Jonni, murder is wrong.'" "When they say pick your battles they don't mean to pick all of them. That's too many battles Jonni. Put some back." OOC: He's technically already got a symbiote. OOC: They can get married. Gorbash: "I'm increasing the rent." Venom: "Can I keep the pool table?" Gorbash: "I'm not a monster." Giant Brain: "Jonni… I have summoned you here for… WHY AM I ALREADY ON FIRE! PUT ME OUT! PUT ME OUT!"

"Hello We're the party-crashers. This is Jonni, she's here to steal your women and burn your shit down. That's Nyx, she's going to repatriate certain items from the premise. Marshal over there, is here to studiously ignore our shenanigans. This is the New Guy. He seems pretty chill. I'm Gorbash... and I have been distracting you."

"Will you walk into my parlour?" said a spider to a fly. Jonni: "Hold up. Trying to sex a spider." Nyx: (throws her hands up) And then Jonni wakes up with a spider venom hangover webbed to a wall waiting to be eaten. Jonni: "Eh, I’ve had worse one night stands. I’m not a fucking blueberry." OOC 1: Hey, where does your weed elf grow [her] crops? OOC 2: She probably just grows them in the room she hasn’t paid rent on. OOC 3: Because I was also considering a circle of spores druid tortle. OOC 2: We could be partners! We could turn this into road to el dorado staring Cheech and Chong. OOC: Wait, I just realized five people are hanging out in a pirate bar, and none of us are rogues. We are gonna need someone to get thieves tools. OOC: We have a barbarian with a big stick.

"Are we Foxhound now? Blunderbuss Octopus." OOC1: You want to put the stoner in charge of food. OOC2: Eyup. OOC1: I see no way this can go wrong! OOC3: We need the four basic food groups. Beans, Bacon, Whisky, and Lard. “We pray to Almighty Darkseid! Give us a sign! Thumbs up, for the triumph of the human spirit! Thumbs down to begin the everlasting reign of darkness!” “Where did you find this guy?” “Me? I thought you hired him.” OOC: Yup, nature, arcana, history, investigation and religon at +6. MJ got baked and watched the Discovery Orb a lot. Tordek: "But we have a cleric, Jozan, over there." Strahd: *sigh* Snaps fingers, and suddenly one of Strahd's brides sucks Jozan out the window, cue screaming. "Oh look, you suddenly have an opening, how fortunate." Tordek: "We also have a druid...." Vadania: "SHUT UP, TORDEK!" Edmund: "I think the first order of business may be to discuss your Human Resources strategy..." Strahd: "I have a guy for that too."

"When someone as smart as him talks with himself, it's not crazy...They call it monologing." "I thought it was soliloquy?" "No, soliloquy is when you're talk at someone else when your talking to yourself." "Most people would run from a demon, you run towards it to study it." Professor: "THIS IS ABSOLUTELY FASCINATING! A FROGHEMOTH, AND RIGHT UP CLOSE, IT WILL BE AMAZING TO SEE THIS PERFECT KILLING MACHINE IN ACTION." OOC: Also note the Professor is Lawful Good, Archie is Chaotic Good, so collectively they balance out to Neutral good. OOC: That's good. "The incinerations will continue until morale improves!" “You never incinerate the women!” “Because I’m fucking them!” “I… was not expecting you to be so honest about that…”

"You got what you wanted....but you lost what you had...." "Yes, I'm familiar with how capitalism works."

OOC: Dragons are like, “That’s Krandor the shiney. He only fucks other dragons. Weirdo.”

Gorbash: "D'awww, so tiny... perfect size... FOR PUNTING!" *boots tiny mind-flayer into the horizon*

"Dracula hasn't been spotted in almost recently. Whats he gonna do, destroy all we know and love like he definitely can?" "... my god you people are too stupid to live." "What are you doing in my house?" Gorbash: "...well Edmund has been reading your books, I've been sorting through your armory, Nyx and Irost has been going through your other shinies, Marshal has been cleaving anything monstrous that gets too close, and Jonni has been lighting things on fire to stave off boredom." Gorbash: "Okay Marshal, Jonni. Rock, paper, scissors over who gets [to kill] the bishop."

Jonni: "Did you really think this would make up for what you did?" Nima: "I… killed everyone you grew up with." Jonni: "Yeah, and I’m still not forgiving you for what you did to Eddie." Nima: "I am missing some key context here…" Nima: "Also I committed identity theft on you by having my new undead army tell everyone you are running the show." Jonni: "Oh, no. You’ve fooled the boar tribe. Who still haven’t figured out shitting in a hole." Nima: "Yeah I noticed that. I ruined two pairs of shoes attacking their camps."