#i was so excited when i went to the underdark and there were so many mushrooms and mushroom people but alas

[ivypond11]

i am playing baldur's gate 3 as a circle of the spores druid and i am SO MAD that we don't have any special interactions with the myconid colony like?? we literally talk mushrooms why don't we have something special with them

also the rapport spores in that zone is confusing me so much because i can't talk telepathically with my party? unless i'm missing something

[mintharabaenrelore]

Minthara & Orin

(Well-done, beautifully colored Minthara & Orin art by @ravysu, NOT by me!)

Before you continue, please read this! I do not ship this, but I'm not saying you can't do so.

Ketheric Thorm sent a True Soul and 2 novices to Menzoberranzan, 'preaching a message of togetherness'. Minthara killed them. She then used a 'simple act of necromancy'- likely Speak to the Dead, but as I said in my timeline, corpses don't speak to their killer, so I don't know how she did this. They informed her where to strke, and so she went to Moonrise Towers with a retinue of warriors and assassins. As she referred to them as 'her men', I believe they were all male.

She met Ketheric at a feast, he proposed an alliance between Moonrise and Menzoberranzan. During all of this, Orin was at the foot of the table, and Minthara notes she should have been more wary of her- the 'pale woman'. Then, Orin spoke for the first time. Minthara caught only her name. Orin then climbed across the table, 'a dagger in each hand', skipped toward her, 'slicing' the throats of her men as she passed by them. Ketheric held Minthara still, a hand on her shoulder, 'the grip tight enough to crack bone'.

Orin stood before her and touched a dagger to her eye, 'drawing out a tear of blood'. Why did she do this? Potentially preparation for the tadpole to be inserted, but knowing Orin, I think it's just that she enjoys stabbing people's eyes- that's what she does to whoever she kidnaps, after all. Anyways, Orin said, in these exact words, "I want this one." This is where things get vague.

What did "I want this one" mean in this context? I think Orin viewed Minthara as a plaything, and this was her way of saying so. Ketheric gave her permission, and Minthara never forgave him for 'handing' her to Orin. In fact, she says "For that, I hope Myrkul hollows out his bones and lets them be dust." Minthara was then taken 'below'- by Orin herself, I believe. (Whether that means she was dragged to the colony or injured already or some other method, I don't know.)

Why did Orin demand to 'have' Minthara? A childish, twisted curiosity or even obsession. I've seen many comparisons between Minthara and the Dark Urge- both having led lives of violence, tormented by Orin, their minds tampered with- and one thing I theorize is that Orin's fascination with Minthara came from this. Perhaps she thought she was similar to Durge... a replacement, even.

Remember, Orin wasn't supposed to kill Minthara's fellow drow. Here is the note found in Ketheric's room that references Minthara's "recruitment"-

“Sweeping up individual drow renegades is not giving us the cadre of Lolth-trained veterans I want for our staff and officer corps; we must be more ambitious. Agent Xilvre, True Soul 113, will be commanded to infiltrate Menzoberranzan itself, ideally House Baenre, ostensibly to proselytise on the behalf of the divine Absolute. I think Xilvre will be convincing in this role.

This intrusion will excite outrage among the Baenre matrons, who can be counted upon to send a warband to exterminate whoever was so rash as to promote anti-Lolth apostasy in their home. Xilvre will have left a clear trail back here to Moonrise Towers, where the warband will find, not a circle of ragtag heretics, but an army in the making. I will parley with the drow leader, but as we negotiate her warband will be ambushed, and every drow warrior we capture will be tadpoled. This accomplished, the warband leader will meet the same fate, and thus we shall acquire our cadre of hardened Underdark warriors. And all it will cost us is the life of loyal Agent Xilvre, but he is, truth be told, a tedious enthusiast and I will not miss him."

Continuing on- what happened in the colony?

Minthara was kept for days in the mind flayer colony by Orin personally. She was forced to watch as her men were processed as food and thralls. When Orin kidnaps someone, she appears to use a paralysis of some sort, so I theorize that's how Minthara was 'forced to watch'. Unsurprisingly, Minthara has 'grim' memories of the place.

Two contrasting statements are made about exactly how Minthara was tadpoled, but both directly involve Orin. Either Orin placed a tadpole in Minthara's eye herself, or she 'held' her down in a 'cocoon of flesh' (which may or may not mean a mind flayer pod; Minthara is familiar enough with mind flayers by this point that I think she would say so if it was) and 'laughed' at her fear as a mind flayer forced a parasite into her brain.

From that point on, Minthara was brainwashed and believed in the Absolute. Orin was the Absolute's Chosen, who she believed to be speaking for her, and so Minthara says "I worshipped that woman." She says, "Orin was by my side. She told me that the Absolute had chosen me to be a True Soul. Blessed and adored. Now I know those memories are lies." Whether she is saying Orin lied or that these memories were altered, I'm not certain. I know that the memory of her indoctrination was obscured, as as during banter with Shadowheart, Minthara notes "I am glad my memories of the infection are not so clear."

Fortunately, Minthara didn't stay in the mind flayer colony for long. She says, "My indoctrination - my infection - took place at Moonrise, but I did not stay here for long. […] Ketheric recognized me as a soldier, and took me into his army immediately." Less fortunately, this doesn't mean she wasn't still seeing Orin from time to time.

So, there's the information. But what do I think happened, exactly?

It's confirmed Orin physically harmed Minthara- "I have faced Orin before and she left scars on me that will never heal. She will enjoy adding to them" and "I will dissect her for laying her blade on me again" (this confirms that Orin used Bloodthirst on her, as this is Minthara's line when she is Orin's victim and is freed during the battle) are two examples. "[...] Her father is murder incarnate, and she is a devoted daughter. To please Bhaal she would butcher the world. She has the scent of our blood, and she will tease and toy with us until she tires of the hunt. Then she will obliterate us without a second thought," another statement by Minthara, is particularly telling.

And it's suggested that there was romance.

When you ask Minthara "An old flame?" about Orin, she replies, "Jealous? You needn't be- when Orin is in my hands, her agony will nourish me." She also says "During my time in the cult, I came to know one of his"- Ketheric's- "co-conspirators all too well- Bhaal's blood-letter, Orin." And, of course, "I worshipped that woman" is noteworthy. With her own mind, Minthara fears and hates Orin- "I find her. I will murder her. And I will smile."

Orin's statements about Minthara during the love test, disguised as the dryad, are also notable. Example- "Minthara- a mask of ice hides a heart of pure fire- you do well to call her close."

One thing that could be interpreted in many ways is Orin's comments that Minthara relayed- telling her the Absolute had chosen her to be a True Soul, blessed and adored- and that Minthara viewed the Absolute as pure love and total power. If Minthara viewed Orin as speaking for the Absolute, or even the Absolute itself, what does that imply?

"I want this one" could also be viewed as a romantic statement. A disgusting one, but nevertheless.

Orin clearly understands Minthara's trust issues, as if Orin is impersonating her at the camp after kidnapping her, she speaks about that a lot. She also says "When we met, I was beholden to a cult dedicated to a false god that controlled me through a parasite in my brain," reinforcing the fact that Orin knew all of this, the whole time. If the PC threatens to kill Minthara, Orin says "You could stick me through the heart. Stick her through the heart. Cut us to bits."

If she kidnaps her and mimics her in the sewers, she says, "I cut her- I cut her and cut her and cut her, but the more she bled, the harder she fought." It's interesting to speculate whether this echoes their actual interactions. Anyways, while imitating Minthara, she refers to herself as "Bhaal's bitch", which is weird. She claims "Minthara murdered her way out of the womb", which suggests 1. she knows her quite well and 2. wait, what? She also says of Minthara, "her skin will make a pretty-pretty tapestry", which matches Minthara's imitation of Orin- "Pretty little flesh thing".

After Orin is dead, Minthara says "It is hard to believe she is dead, after all that she did to me."

The odd thing is, had Orin not brainwashed Minthara, I could see them getting along. Minthara canonically has a thing for Bhaalspawn; Orin is desperate for someone to be loyal to her and love her unconditionally, and Minthara is VERY devoted. But that's not what happened.

So, do I think they were more than platonic? Probably. But we need to remember, this isn't some cutesy murder wives scenario, as Minthara was under mind control and Orin was well aware of it. That's not consent. That's taking advantage of someone.

And whether or not there was romance, their relationship is horrible, traumatic, and generally terrible. Comparable to Astarion and Cazador, except Minthara wasn't even aware of the situation until much later. She was a brainwashed plaything. That doesn't mean there aren't other aspects- for example, Minthara sees herself in Orin, a mirror that shows her what could have happened had the PC not saved her.

Here is an Emma Gregory quote on their relationship in a Streamily signing video: "I think she's so immensely hurt by Orin it's just unreal isn't because, you know, there's a lovely line actually, I was looking at it earlier today when I was enjoying the scene where she says she refers to Ketheric as Genral Thorm." ... "Because of course she had great admiration and almost love for Orin."

PS: It's possible, but unlikely, that Orin visited her while in the goblin camp, as one of the goblins states the "Moonrise types" rarely see Priestess Gut or Dror Ragzlin, so the PC- if said goblin is under the impression that the PC is from Moonrise- should see Minthara.

PPS: I've seen it suggested that Orin was personally controlling Minthara at moments, which is possible, but a more compelling theory- to me- is about how each of the goblin leaders' personalities are influenced by their Chosen, hence why Minthara is so bloodthirsty and half-mad, described by a guard at Moonrise as "fierce and erratic".

"We were both born of trauma"-Minthara Baenre on Orin the Red

[ask-the-royal-absol]

*It felt strange going back to how things were before the sleepover. A familiar feeling of dizziness washed through Destino. It was the same one Felix and them felt when they were just about to leave the Underdark. Weird. That whole sleepover event was odd. They could remember what happened however some details were fuzzy. They couldn’t remember the being that was with them. Not even a name. Why not? Looking around, Destino drew themself back to the current situation. They were on top of a rocky mountain, it was night and the three of them were heading down a tunnel to go to Terrestria. Yes. That was it.

Destino followed Hope through the tunnel. Felix hovered close by. The absol wondered how long this tunnel that led to Terrestria had been around for. Was it since that trade deal Hope had mentioned around 400 years ago? After then? Or perhaps even before? All Destino knew is that they were in unknown territory and they wouldn’t be able to use their handsome face to travel around. The disguise didn’t look too bad however.

After what felt like ages walking in awkward silence, they made it to a leafy covering. Hope leapt up with ease. Destino struggled to pull their body up so Felix offered a hand, to which the absol accepted.*

*Hope went on ahead, walking through the wooden door in front of them. She didn’t want to waste anymore time on this pointless discussion. Destino followed, with Felix in tow. Felix hung his head low at what Destino had said. He was annoyed with himself. Annoyed he’d let something so secretive slip that easily to someone he barely knew. How was Hope able to get that information out of him like that? It was too late now. Felix would need to have a conversation with Destino to try and clear the air.

The narrow corridor stretched out before the group. Three doors of a similar fashion stood to the left side of the room, each with a towering rock column facing them on the right side. A few stained glass windows were seen along the right walls, each with unique patterns on. A mosaic mural slotted in the centre of two of the windows, each of the tiles used in its creation a different shade of colour. A door hung on the opposite side of the short corridor.*

*Hope could hear a rather loud voice coming from behind the closed door in front of her. A recognisable voice. One that sounded awfully panicked too. The other voice of higher tones. She had to time this perfectly. Hushing Destino’s constant complaining about the similarity of the architecture, Hope told the duo a signal she wanted to use to alert them of the right moment for them to enter. She wanted to brace her old man first before he got to meet the absol he’d heard many stories about. She knew there’d be some level of excitement for Destino’s arrival. Listening in, she could hear the conversation clearer than before.*

*The surprise hit King Flint like a ninjask at full speed. It was them. Prime Destino. In the flesh. He never thought he'd see the day anytime soon, considering what their parents had said about them. Destino, glaring towards Hope, spoke with annoyance. They weren’t going to let Hope call them an idiot when it was clearly her fault. Felix, not wanting to cause anymore freak outs, hid inside of Destino’s shadow. Not the most comfortable hiding place but it’d work for now.*

Destino: Oh I see, it was my fault that your signal wasn't good enough. Of course it was. It totally had nothing to do with the fact that you were taking far too long for my liking.

*Noticing the spear, Destino turned to face the wielder of the weapon, lowering it a bit with a single paw.*

Destino: And you need to get that damn stick away from my face. Do you really think you’re intimidating anyone looking like a walking potato? Come on, a four year old would laugh at you. I would say try harder but I doubt any amount of effort would fix your predicament. Hope, you need better bodyguards. Ones that don’t look like that.

*Flint still stared in disbelief. It really was them. With hushed tones, he spoke to his daughter.*

King Flint: So, Nox and Karma were telling the truth after all. You really did go down to the Underdark. I thought they were pulling my leg so I sent them back on their way.

Hope: Yeah. It was pretty interesting down there. I know Destino’s parents described the huge chunks of crystal ores and all but it’s a whole other thing seeing it. Turns out that prophecy is real too and Destino just so happens to be a part of it.

*The prophecy. One that had been passed down through their family for many, many years. Flint had told it to his daughter as a story, much like his family had to him. It was spoken as fact but there was always some part of him who thought that it may be untrue. It had grave implications if it was indeed coming into fruition.*

King Flint: Was it the Guardian who told you?

Hope: And she told me I was responsible for getting them too.

King Flint: Really? Well, I know we can trust her but I still would have preferred you letting me know where you went off to. I can’t have you running off to who knows where.

Hope: It was a bit of a time-sensitive thing.

King Flint: I see…

*King Flint gave a big smile towards the absol.*

King Flint: Well, I’ll be damned. The Prime of the Underdark. Never thought I’d ever get to meet you at this rate. Your ma and pa have told me all about you, kiddo! Stan, you can put the spear down. They’re not going to cause us any harm!

*The hitmonlee, still worried about the absol making a move towards his king, slowly lowered his spear. With suspicious eyes, he followed the movements of the absol as they made their way towards King Flint.*

Destino: Oh thank the Gods you have tight control over this one. I could see the murder in his eyes from the moment he set them upon me. I wouldn’t be surprised if he stabbed me in the back in this instance. Stan, was it? Keep your spear at a distance away from me, buddy. Or better yet, leave this room so I don’t have to look at your repulsively-bald head ever again. Would probably be best for the both of us.

*The Hitmonlee stared Destino, frustrated by this Absol’s comments. He looked towards the king for some reassurance but all he could see was his majesty laughing at his predicament.*

King Flint: Hahaha! You are hilarious! Utterly hilarious! If you weren’t the heir to the throne of the Underdark, I’d love to have you as my personal jester!

Destino: Wow, I’m hurt by that. Truly, I am. You see me as a lowly jester. Hope, you and your family are not making a good impression on me.

King Flint: That was a compliment, kiddo! I don’t think I’ve laughed this hard in a long time! Your parents never told me you had a sense of humour! Please, I’d love to hear some more of your insults!

Hope: Dad, stop that. You really don’t need to make their ego larger than it needs to be.

*Destino, Felix, Hope and King Flint are available for 6 questions.*

[baldurs-gape]

Hi I absolutely love your fics "Shores" & "Wish'n'bone"! I really like your characterization for both Astarion and Gale in your stories. I've read your past works when I was in the DBH fandom and it's a joy to see you in this fandom as well. I wish you a lovely day and I'm excited for future content!

YOU!!! I remember you from DBH! Oh man, what a blast from the past. It brings me so much joy that we've bumbled into another shared fandom. As you probably know from way back then, I love to reply to asks with a little ficlet of thanks. Think of it like a cat bringing you a leaf and leaving it as a gift on your doorstep.

One Night Only

Gods were cruel without even meaning to be. It wasn't intentional, they were simply unable to comprehend mortal desires and the passage of time. After the crown had been flung into the Chionthar, Gale had regretted it within days. He struggled with living in the Underdark, missed the sun fiercely but his love for Astarion was stronger. It didn't mean that getting used to such a change was easy. He tried, pushed himself and threw himself into his new life with as much vigour as he could. There was so much to study, so many vampire spawn to teach about the modern world. And yet the siren song of natural light still called. He saw it on Astarion too. Felt guilty because while he himself could go out into the sun if he wanted, Astarion did not have such luxury. Which was where the blasted crown came into play.

Locating it, retrieving the pieces and pondering its reassembly was all well and good but it wasn't the reality Gale wanted. Those long, dark days in the Underdark had been enough to help firm up his resolve. He didn't want the power of the crown, didn't want the alienating experience of godhood. As it turned out, Gale was a simple man with simple desires. Taking the crown, he shoved it into a bag and marched to the Stormshore Tabernacle with determination.

The bag landed at the feet of Mystra's statue in a gruff offering.

"I know you're not talking to me. But hear me out."

Nothing happened. Really, Gale shouldn't have been surprised but he was still disappointed. Leaving the bag there, he went back home, guiltily basking in the sunshine for as long as he could. What was unexpected was for Elminster to show up a couple of days after he got back.

"I have never seen anyone vex a deity more than you, Gale," he said by way of greeting. The fact he had literally walked into a nest of vampires didn't seem to bother him. "And the fact you do it with such lack of awareness is even more astounding."

"It's not just deities, Mystra isn't that special." Next to Gale, Astarion had his arms crossed over his chest in an open display of hostility. "I live with the man and if he doesn't vex me twice a day then I start worrying he's been replaced by a shifter."

Playing at being insulted, Gale raised a finger with a practiced "hey now" which was cut off by Elminster.

"I do not wish to get in the middle of a lovers' quarrel. Please remember, I am but a humble messenger of Mystra and have travelled far to see you."

Nose scrunching, Astarion shook his head. "Cheese and wine are in short supply down here. The closest on offer is three day old bulette blood."

Which was to say, Elminster wasn't welcome in their home and he considered Gale's private stash of treats off limits for their sudden guest. Something warm bloomed in Gale's chest at the protective aura Astarion exuded.

"As kind and generous as your offer is, I shall pass." Elminster pulled something from his pocket and passed a paper wrapped package to Gale. "A little extra from her, don't waste it. The orb shouldn't bother you anymore either."

As soon as the delivery was made, Elminster smiled. "It was good to see you. Maybe you'll find happiness this time round."

With that he was off and disappearing into the dark.

"Crusty old cheese fiend," Astarion huffed. "Just who does he think he is, waltzing into our home like that?"

"Mystra's Chosen." Oddly, saying that didn't hurt Gale. He didn't miss what he had, he sometimes missed what he'd thought he'd had. The two were very different thing.

Later, when Gale managed to get a bit of time to himself, he pulled the parcel out. Carefully unwrapping it, he stared at the amulet and the tag attached 'For the one you chose.' It pulsed with power and once upon a time it would have been his biggest wish to feed it to the orb which plagued him. Now, he examined it with suspicion and curiosity.

"What fascinating trinket are you poring over today?" As Astarion spoke, he walked up to Gale and hugged him from behind, hooking his chin over a warm shoulder. As he peered at the amulet, he hummed. "It's pretty."

"Pretty powerful." Gale gave up trying to inspect it for safety before showing it to Astarion, so he grabbed the tag and flipped it. "I don't trust it."

Eager hands grabbed for it, Astarion could never resist anything, especially it if had his name on it. He weighed the amulet and hummed. "Only one way to find out."

Before Gale could do anything as he turned, Astarion put the amulet on. It glowed a rich purple against his chest for a couple of seconds then became inert once more. Nose scrunching, Astarion looked down at himself.

"Well, at least it'll fetch a copper of two at some point."

All the magic was gone and Gale rached to touch the husk of an amulet that remained. As he brushed against it though, so did Astarion's hand. With a gasp, he froze and made to grab the pale hand.

"You-" Words eluded him and Astarion stared at him with amusement and rubbed at his chest absentmindedly. Gale tried again, "Astarion! You're warm!"

Both of his hand enveloped Astarion's newly warm ones. From there it was all too easy to lay a hand over his chest and feel the steady thump of a newly beating heart.

"Huh." Astarion stared at where Gale felt his heartbeat. "I thought something felt off. Assumed it was indigestion from spore infused blood."

A disembodied voice echoed in their heads.

The spell will hold until his next sleep, make the most of it.

A day. That's all they had. Gale wanted to rejoice and rage at the same time. If it was within Mystra's ability to cure Astarion of his affliction, she jolly well could have just done that rather than devise a spell that would remove it for a day. At least Astarion didn't seem to be taking such a dour view for a change.

"Well then, let's not waste it." He offered Gale and arm. "Shall we?"

Stepping out into the warm sunlight was a blessing and Gale almost missed the moment Astarion stepped out of the shadows. Face tipped up into the rays, his eyes fluttered closed and a soft sigh escaped his lips.

It was almost like their adventures all over again. Astarion could walk in the sun, needed no permission to enter an inhabited area. But more than that, he was living, breathing and warm, craved food and drink that had tasted like ash and vinegar for so long. Naturally, the first place Gale led them to was a tavern where he ordered anything Astarion desired. Just watching him eat, eyes closing in bliss as flavours exploded on his tongue was beautiful. As was discovering just what a sweet tooth he had. Pastries, cakes, fruits, they were all eagerly sampled and appreciated. Gale took such pleasure in bringing him new things to try, cost be damned.

"I don't think I can eat another bite," Astarion said, words muffled by a hand over his mouth as he tried not to burp. His other hand rested over his full stomach and he giggled. It was infectious and Gale laughed with him, on the verge of bursting with happiness.

"Let me show you some other delights."

That might have come out more salacious than intended because all Gale had meant was the wonders of ice cream and warming up lips with kisses between spoonfuls. Almost drunk on happiness, Astarion followed and they strolled the streets, hand in hand. As beautiful as the Underdark could be, its colours couldn't compare to the sun lit expanse of the living.

Alas, time couldn't stand still. They only had the day, sitting on a ledge near their return to the Underdark and they watched the sun dip below the horizon. Sighing, Astarion cuddled into Gale with a small shiver. The temperature was dropping now that there was no more sunshine to bathe in.

"Thank you." The words were a rarity to fall from Astarion's lips, to the point that Gale actually startled.

"Whatever for?"

"You must have done something to get me this. Whatever it was, thank you."

"You're not mad that it's just for one day? When it's probably in her power to make it every day?"

Softly, Astarion hummed and shrugged. "At least we got a day. It's more than I could have ever hoped for. Didn't think I'd ever see the sun again and live." A large yawn interrupted anything else Astarion was going to say and he snuggled more comfortably against Gale. They knew the spell was going to wear off when he fell asleep but Gale had hoped it would be a while longer yet. Judging by how Astarion forced himself to sit up, he had remembered too.

At every turn Astarion fought falling asleep. He got up, paced then sat down, tried not to slump, flopped back and stared at the clear sky. Prattling on about the stars, he kept yawning and stubbornly blinking to stay awake. Even when he settled against Gale's chest, he furiously tried to not fall asleep.

"Please don't let me go," he whispered and clutched at Gale's hand, pressing it against his still beating heart. "I don't want to go back."

Kissing his slightly sweaty forehead, Gale wished he could reassure and promise that it was all going to be fine. The best he could do was try and ease the harsh, bitter truth.

"I'll be there with you. I'm not going anywhere, not until you or time demands the breaking of our bond."

"That'll be the day I shall greet the sun again." As far as declarations of love went, that was probably as dramatic and deep as Astarion had ever been. It earned him another kiss which he yawned into.

Tucking him against his body, Gale desperately wanted things to be different. "It's okay. It'll all be okay. You need to rest. I'll watch over you."

"I don't want to."

Truth be told, Gale didn't want it either but it wasn't like they had a choice. Against him, Astarion jerked awake just before he nodded off. It was a futile battle, each desperate grasp at wakefulness was prolonging the inevitable. Gale buried his nose in white curls and clutched at Astarion tighter, palm still against his chest. He could feel the way Astarion went lax, how his heart slowed down, beats further and further apart, more and more faint until it stilled once more. In the cool night air, his body lost its warmth. Only the habitual breaths he tended to take gave sign that he was more than a dead body. Eyes squeezing shut, Gale tried to will away the tears. They had a day together in the sun, it was going to have to be enough for now. But he'd been given a new avenue to explore. One god or another was going to listen to him and give Astarion the freedom he deserved, even if it was the last thing Gale ever did.

[astarionfreak]

The blood on your hands is mine (3/?)

// Spawn Astarion x Wren (Fem!Durge)

Wren is a wretched thing. Dark thoughts consume her mind, urging her to kill, kill, kill. Her hunger for murder is only matched by Astarion’s thirst for blood. She’s fascinated by him. After all, he makes for such a perfect, pretty corpse.

Astarion thinks Wren looks particularly exquisite when she’s killing to protect him. If only he can figure her out, then he’d have her wrapped her around his little finger. It should be easy, right? Manipulate her feelings and ensure her dark thoughts are directed at his enemies — never at him.

Tags (cw): Smut, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Violence, Trauma, Dark, Suicidal Thoughts, Dissociation, Blood Kink, Sex pollen, dubcon

Read on AO3.

***

Wren had every intention of traveling through the Underdark. But a last-minute scolding from Lae’zel encouraged her to change her mind. Besides, this path offered Astarion more time in the sun.

So, through the Mountain Pass they went. But there were no answers at the Crèche. There was only death, destruction, and more questions. Tomorrow they would begin the long journey back and enter the Underdark anyway.

Wren sat by the fire alone. She flexed her fingers and rolled her wrist in a small circle, it cracked and popped. The motion sent a sharp pain up her forearm. She’d jammed it escaping the monastery.

How many died? Wren tried to push down the excitement that thought gave her. As much as she’d preferred to have taken their lives in a more intimate manner, this was still a lovely option. Effective.

She tried not to retch. Disgusting. Horrible. Monster. She had yet to find a reprieve from the dark thoughts that haunted her.

Astarion stepped out of his tent, he was an exquisite distraction. The evening sun lit him perfectly. Gods. He truly was the most beautiful creature she’d ever seen.

Oh, but he could be far more beautiful. She pictured those pale, refined features, those delicate, white curls — adorned with blood.

Wren squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed back the bile that crawled up her throat. Fuck. She hadn’t hurt him. Not yet. But the desire was there — her wicked urges. As long as she remained in control of her body and mind, everything would be fine.

When she opened her eyes, the object of her obsession was standing right in front of her. Shit. She flinched, startled. How he managed to step so quietly, so quickly, was beyond her.

“Did I scare you?” Astarion tilted his head, studying her with an almost-amused expression.

“No,” Wren said.

Astarion smirked. “Liar.”

“Did you want something? Or did you just come over here to annoy me?”

“Simply checking in. I wondered how you were holding up after the earful you got from Lae’zel.”

“Yeah, about that. There’s a chance that blowing up the Githyanki Crèche was the wrong thing to do,” Wren said.

Astarion chuckled. “Oh, you’re just coming to that conclusion now?”

The playfulness in his eyes was there, a curiosity that made Wren want to surrender herself to him completely.

“I mean, they did try to kill us,” Wren said. “But — it really was an accident. I have apologized . . .”

“You can apologize until you’re blue in the face, but Lae’zel isn’t the particularly forgiving sort.”

“You forgave me,” Wren said.

“Oh, did I? I can’t seem to remember actually saying the words I forgive you. What I do remember is you unleashing all sorts of chaos and blowing me to bits.”

“What was it you said again? Something about the full concentrated power of the sun.”

It’s not funny, surely. But Wren still had to bite down on her lower lip to prevent herself from chuckling.

“I’m not laughing, Wren. I died.”

“And Withers brought you back.”

Astarion leaned back, offended. “I’d rather not rely on that dusty old bag of bones for my continued existence, thank you very much.” Astarion sighed. “Next time, just warn me before you do something stupid. At least then I can get out of the blast radius.”

“Fair enough. Next time I steal an ancient weapon protected by an incredibly destructive lance, I’ll warn you,” Wren said.

Astarion rolled his eyes and huffed. “Thank you for reminding me how much that hurt.”

“Speaking of pain, do you have any healing potions to spare? I don’t want to bother Shadowheart, I think she’s sleeping.”

“What’s mine is yours,” Astarion said with a wave of his hand. “There should be one in my pack.”

Wren darted over to his tent. She located Astarion’s bag and rummaged through until she found something that looked vaguely like a healing potion.

It was nearly identical, the only difference was it seemed to reflect the sunlight in a way she could only describe as odd.

She popped the cork, gave it a sniff, and pressed the bottle to her lips.

“Wren, wait, there was actually —”

Too late. Wren downed the entire bottle. She wiped her mouth off on the back of her hand. It only took a few seconds for Wren to realize she’d made a mistake. “What was that? It didn’t taste like a healing potion.”

Astarion closed the distance between them and eyed Wren with a particular level of concern. “Honestly? I’m not entirely sure. It was one we swiped from the hag’s lair.”

“Shit,” Wren said.

“Shit, indeed. Do you feel any different?”

Wren shook her head. “No. I feel like myself."

“Maybe it was nothing.”

“Maybe,” Wren said.

“But probably not.”

“No, probably not.”

A pleasant tingling began to spread outward from the center of her chest. Had she mentioned how beautiful Astarion was? He should be closer. So much closer. Wren moved toward him.

Astarion took a few small steps back. “Ah, I have a theory.”

Wren tilted her head and frowned. Closer. He should be closer. Not farther away.

“What’s your theory?” she asked. The words felt heavy on her tongue. Was she slurring?

“Consider this an educated guess, but I suspect that potion was an aphrodisiac,” he said. “Fast acting too, it seems.”

Wren laughed. No, that couldn’t be right. Could it? “What makes you think that?”

Warmth pooled between her legs. An overwhelming desire crashed into her. Fuck.

“Hm. Let’s see. For starters, the size of your pupils. Then there’s the way you’re staring oh, so eagerly at me,” Astarion said. “And, now you’re trying to pull down my trousers.”

Astarion captured her wrists in one swift motion and held them above her head. The pain in her wrist from her earlier injury was nothing compared to the throbbing ache between her legs.

“Oh.” Wren gasped. Even something as simple as his fingers curled around her wrists sent a wave of pleasure cascading across her body. “I seem to remember you offering me a night of depraved, carnal lust. Can I finally take you up on that?”

Even through her lust-fueled haze, Wren noticed Astarion frown. “I’m not sure if that’s the brightest idea, darling. Ethically speaking.”

“What can I say to convince you?”

“I’m sure you’d say anything to get what you want in your current state,” Astarion said.

“Please, Astarion.” She squirmed, trying to get closer to him. “I want you. I wanted you that night. Now, I need you. Please.”

Astarion held impossibly still, but there was something in his eyes that let Wren know begging was having some sort of effect. If begging worked, would jealousy?

“If you won’t have your way with me, maybe I should find Wyll?”

Astarion laughed. “Wyll? Really, Wren? He’s far too pure to take advantage of you like this.”

"Lae'zel?" An empty threat. They were barely on speaking terms after Wren's explosive mistake.

"You can try that, but she very well might cleave you in half." Astarion barked out another laugh. "I mean with her sword and not her tongue, to be clear."

Wren growled softly. “Fine. Gale then?”

Oh. That struck a nerve. Astarion spun Wren to face his tent and pushed her inside. He kept his grip on her tight as the tent flap fell shut behind them.

Wren shifted to press her back against Astarion’s firm chest. Anything for more contact.

He made a frustrated noise. “Wren.”

“Astarion.” She whimpered and tried to get closer.

Astarion wrapped his arms around her — holding her body tight against his chest. “Do you want Gale to fuck you, Wren?” His lips ghosted over the shell of her ear.

Her heart slammed against her ribcage and that ache between her legs grew more intense. “Use the tadpole. Go in my mind. See for yourself.”

Wren was too consumed by her desperate need for contact, for him, to realize how risky this offer was. As long as she stayed focused on sex, hopefully, he wouldn’t see any of her other — more dangerous — fantasies.

She recalled the first night she masturbated while thinking about Astarion. Then, she opened her mind. She waited for the telltale squirming in her brain before letting the fantasy play out.

Wren on top of Astarion, lowering herself onto his cock as he held her with a bruising grip. Wren in his lap as his teeth sank into her breast, her shoulder, then her neck. He’d drink from her in lazy pulls as she rolled her hips. They’d come undone together. She’d whimper his name again, and again, like a prayer. Her blood would spill, drip, and smear between them. They’d sweat, and moan, and she would lose herself in him.

Astarion freed himself from her thoughts. He shifted, still holding her close. One of his hands though, slid beneath her pants — nearly low enough to offer her pleasure. The other arm remained wrapped around her chest. His face stayed tucked against the curve of her neck.

“In the forest, you said you needed more time to get yourself under control. This . . ." He slid his hand down, fingers just beginning to dip into the heat between her legs. “This isn’t under control.”

Wren closed her eyes and let herself melt into his touch. She tried to grind against his fingers, but her efforts were wasted. She needed him. She needed more. His fingers, his tongue, his cock -- fuck. She'd be happy just to grind against his leg if that's all he'd allow.

"I need to come, Astarion." Wren pressed her body back and felt the beginnings of an erection. "It seems you want this too."

"It wouldn't be right, Wren." He said one thing, but his dexterous fingers did the opposite. He dipped two fingers down into her slick and glided them back up to find her clit.

Wren choked back a moan. "Please, Astarion. Please. Gods. Your fingers feel so fucking good."

"That's all you get, Wren. Two fingers. Nothing else. You're going to come, right here, standing while I hold you. Then you're going back to your bed." His fingers began to move torturously slow circles around her clit.

Wren's cunt clenched around nothing. Her body trembled. She could come right here, with only his feather-light touch bringing her over the cusp of ecstasy. But she wanted more.

"No." As soon as the word left her lips Astarion stopped and withdrew his fingers. "No, no, no, don't stop. I just --"

Wren groaned, body aching for his touch to return.

"You just what, Wren?"

"I want more," she whimpered. "What if we make it fair?"

Astarion's fingers trailed up and down her stomach. "And how would we do that?"

Wren's breath caught in her throat. She pressed back into him again. "Bite me."

Begging? Check. Jealousy? Check. Blood. On offer. If those three things wouldn't encourage him to fuck her senseless, Wren wasn't sure what would.

"Wren." Once again, her name was being used as a warning.

But there was something else in his tone, something that made her think -- maybe -- she won this round.

"Astarion, please. Pretty please." Wren shifted, chasing the path of his hand. Desperate for more.

"I could list a thousand reasons this is a dreadful idea," he said. But his fingers continued to travel back down, down, until they were lightly brushing over her clit again. "But how could I say no when you're just so pathetically wet for me."

Wren choked back a moan. "It's all for you, Astarion. Please. I'll do anything."

She meant it. Anything. Anything at all. Just to feel him near her, on her, inside her.

"Careful what you wish for, darling." Astarion punctuated that sentence by slipping one finger into her weeping cunt.

Wren gasped and rolled her hips, trying to claim more from his tender touch. "Clothes. Less clothes," she whimpered.

Astarion removed his finger, released his hold on her body, and gently pushed her toward his bedroll. "Strip and get on your back."

Wren stumbled and then spun to face him. There was an intensity, a heat in his gaze that sent a shiver up her spine. How could she have forgotten that he was just as dangerous as her?

Wren stopped wasting time. She tugged her shirt off, then her pants, and stood before him in just the thin fabric of her underwear and bra.

His gaze trailed over her breasts, down her hips, and between her legs before snapping back up to meet her eyes.

"Your turn," Wren said. She tugged at the straps of her bra, slowly starting to pull it off.

Astarion tutted. "You said you'd do anything. So, you will obey, or you will get nothing."

Obey. The command went straight to her cunt. Another wave of desperate need crashed over her, this time making her knees weak. "I will obey," she said.

"Good girl," Astarion purred. He looked so fucking smug, and yet Wren would do anything he said just for a taste of what he could offer.

So she tugged her bra off and slid out of her underwear -- which she noticed had been completely drenched. Her thighs were slick as well.

She moved to the ground, stared up at him, and then shifted to lie on her back. Her heart thrashed around in her chest. Her bare skin buzzed with anticipation.

Astarion dropped to his knees at her feet, grabbed her ankles, and spread her legs apart. He crawled forward, his eyes never leaving hers. "You're sure this is what you want, Wren?"

She nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes, I need you. Please, Astarion."

This need for him ran far deeper than some hag's potion. This stranger. This man. This vampire crawling between her legs understood her in ways she didn't even yet understand herself.

Maybe trusting him was an objectively stupid thing to do. Maybe she was putting her life at risk by baring everything to him -- her body, her mind -- her heart. But maybe some things are worth the risk.

Astarion's lips met her thigh. He kissed and bit gently, the light drag of his fangs elicited another quiet moan from her throat. Then he licked a line along her thigh with the flat of his tongue, tasting the mess she'd made between her legs.

Wren grabbed at the furs beneath her, body tensing as he inched closer to the spot that would provide actual relief. "Fuck, Astarion, please."

"Shh, darling. Not too loud. Why don't you cover your mouth with your hand," Astarion said.

Wren did as she was told.

"Good girl. Now, I'm going to bite you right here." He pressed a kiss to her inner thigh. "I'm going to drink. I'm going to use my mouth and my fingers to make you come. Then, if you still want more we'll continue. Nod if you understand."

Wren nodded, her eyes never leaving his face. Such a gentleman. It made her sick. He was so fucking close to where he needed to be and he was checking in.

But she didn't have much time to dwell. His fangs sank into her skin, drawing a muffled moan from her throat.

Wren clenched her jaw and did her best to hold as still as possible while he fed from such a tender place. 

"F-fuck," she whimpered against the palm of her own hand.

He drank, and drank until he was satisfied. Until her blood warmed him. Until the hag's potion took effect.

Astarion tore himself away from her veins. His tongue chased rivulets of blood as it dripped down her thigh, mixing with her sticky desire.

Is this what he saw when she took the potion? His pupils were blown wide and he looked at her with such an intense need. It thrilled her.

He seemed to consider biting down on her other thigh, but instead chose to lap at the twin puncture wounds once, twice, a third time. Then, finally, he gave her what she'd waited oh, so patiently for.

He moaned against her warm cunt as his tongue dove between her folds. His tongue traveled up until he found her clit, where he offered just the right amount of pressure.

Wren kept her hand firmly clamped against her mouth, trying to muffle the ungodly sounds that were trying to escape her. Each skillful flick of his tongue brought her closer and closer to the edge of bliss.

Wren's body tensed and trembled as he worked with perfect precision. She squeezed her thighs against Astarion's ears. Her free hand, the only she wasn't using to silence herself, grabbed hold of Astarion's delicate curls.

She pushed him into her and rolled her hips gently, trying desperately to get more -- more, more, more. The low rumble of another moan against her cunt nearly finished her.

Then two of his fingers slipped inside her with ease. When he curled them, that is what finally sent her over the edge.

Astarion lazily pumped his fingers in and out of her cunt as her orgasm claimed her. At the height of oblivion, his fangs sank into her other thigh -- the sharp pain only deepened her pleasure.

Wren removed her hand from her mouth and reached down to gently touch the tip of his ear. "Fuck, Astarion. I need your cock. Please," she whispered. "Please fuck me."

His eyes snapped up to meet hers, a stare so intense her body shivered. Wren swallowed thickly and watched him from behind her heaving chest. She still hadn't managed to catch her breath.

"Keep begging," he growled. Astarion crawled slowly up her body, planting gentle kisses along her stomach, her chest, and her breasts.

Wren tugged at his shirt and he helped her pull it off, finally revealing his perfect chest. "Please, Astarion. Please. I want you. I need you. I need you to fuck me, please. Please, please, please."

Astarion nipped at her jaw once, twice, before silencing her pleads with a rough kiss. Their lips moved at a bruising rhythm. Astarion rolled his hips, taunting her with an erection still covered by the fabric of his trousers.

Wren put an open palm on his chest and pushed him back. He stared down at her and licked his lips. "Pants off, please. Please, Astarion."

He rolled to his side, shifting to remove his pants. When they were off, he sat up, and Wren used this opportunity to crawl into his lap.

"Bad girl," Astarion said. But his hands settled on her hips and he pulled her closer. "If I remember correctly, you had some ideas similar to this."

Wren lifted herself up slightly and pressed her body closer to him. "A few ideas. If you're still interested."

"Do I not seem interested?" Astarion released his grip on one of her hips to grab his cock, angling it at her entrance.

"It's hard to tell with you," Wren teased. Her breath caught in her throat and she slowly, slowly began to sink down onto his cock.

Astarion tucked his face into the curve of her neck. She felt another low rumble of a moan against her skin, then his gentle lips as he searched for where her pulse beat the strongest.

Wren took the length of him with ease and then began to slowly, carefully roll her hips, fucking herself on him. She continued this languid pace until she knew they were both close. "Bite me again, please, she whimpered.

Astarion growled against her neck. "If I do that I'll come inside you, Wren. Is that okay?"

Fucker. Asking permission. She'd rather he just take what he wanted from her. "Y-yes," she said.

But he gave her what she wanted. His fangs tore through her flesh and he fed as her cunt clenched around him. She picked up the pace until she came, whimpering his name. Until he spilled himself inside her.

She rolled her hips a few more times, riding out her climax and working him through his. When he pulled away from her neck her blood dripped down her heaving chest and between her breasts.

Wren rolled off of him and onto her back. She tried to catch her breath. Her vision blurred and exhaustion overtook her limbs. She glanced over at Astarion, who sat rather still with his eyes closed.

Her stomach lurched. "Are you okay?" Wren asked. Her voice soft.

Astarion nodded, then slipped on what appeared to be a practiced smile. "Of course. That was . . . delightful. I only need a moment."

It was when he leaned forward to reach for his shirt that Wren noticed the scars on his back.

"Interesting scars," she said. "How did you get them?"

As soon as the question left her lips, Wren knew it was a mistake.

It was brief, only a second, but Astarion froze. His body stiffened. Then he grabbed his shirt and pulled it on over his head. "It's a poem. A gift from my old master, Cazador. He considered himself quite the artist and used his slaves as a canvas."

He grabbed his underwear next and shifted to pull them on. Then his trousers. Wren mirrored him, also pulling her clothes on.

"He composed and carved that one over the course of a night. He made a lot of revisions as he went," he said.

"What does it say?" Wren asked. She knew she should let it go, that he didn't want to talk about it -- but she pushed anyway.

Astarion sighed, frustrated. "I don't know. But whatever the bastard wrote it won't change anything he did to me."

At least she knew him well enough not to offer pity. She made her way to the exit but paused to face him. "Astarion?"

He looked up at her from his bedroll. "Yes?"

"Thank you, for tonight." Her heart sank. Something was wrong.

Astarion gave her another one of those practiced smiles. "Of course. Now, go, before I regret my restraint."

Wren slipped out of his tent and made her way to her own bedroll. Sex with him was supposed to be easy, fun, even under the effects of some potion it shouldn't have been complicated. So why did she feel this way?

[namig42]

Lazlow returns with another chapter of his story! I will ride out this hyperfixation until I finish a project, so help me god. Anyways, please enjoy!

Lazlow (Ch. 4)

< Previous Chapter Next Chapter >

Read it on Ao3

Summary: This is the story Lazlow and his life before being abducted by the nautiloid.

---

The next few days went the same way. When the mistress wasn’t busy at work or resting in her coach, she would request Lazlow’s presence to play her music, then have him attend to her other desires. Each time Lazlow returned to the consort coach, he could feel the resentment from everyone inside the car. Well, at least everyone besides Sylvan. Sylvan would smile when Lazlow returned and was even kind enough to offer him some snacks or sweets that he grabbed for himself whenever the caravan stopped at a new town. Lazlow relished those brief little moments, smiling brightly whenever Sylvan showed him that wonderful kindness of his.

After a week traveling through the Underdark, the caravan finally made its way towards its first surface town. The line of cars had just crossed the threshold of the Underdark and the surface not too long ago, and Lazlow couldn’t help but excitedly wait for the caravan to come to a full stop. He sat on his bunk quietly, the excitement brimming from his entire body like a radiant aura. He had heard so many tales of the surface during his youth, and now he could finally see the mystical place for himself. Not even his sisters could boast about something so exciting.

The mistress hadn’t requested any company for this leg of the trip, so all six of her consorts sat restlessly in the car, waiting for something to change. It was odd to have everyone gathered in one place. Lazlow couldn’t help but glance around and wonder what everyone did during their personal time, especially since he was seldom around to see it. Sylvan was in the bunk above Lazlow’s head resting quietly. Damien and Dugan sat across from one another at the front of the car complaining about their last trip to the surface and sharing in a story that only they seemed to understand the humor in. The fourth mysterious gentleman that Lazlow still didn’t know what to call lounged in his bunk with a book. Lazlow tried to look at the title, but the man’s delicate hands obscured the text on the cover. Kasbin was sitting in his own bunk up above and staring intently at something on his bed. His eyes were focused and fixated on something in front of him, but Lazlow couldn’t see what it was. He found it odd how still the wood elf sat and wondered what Kasbin could’ve possibly been looking at. His eyes reminded Lazlow of a fox watching a rabbit from the shadows, remaining stiff and observant while skulking about until finally pouncing at its target in one swift, succinct motion.

Eventually, after a few hours of giddy anticipation, the coach came to a halt. Lazlow’s head perked up at the sudden stillness, but it was Kasbin who was the first to leap out of his bunk and run out the door. Lazlow had never seen someone move so quickly. Kasbin moved like a blur, rushing out of the coach and standing in the early morning sun. Lazlow was the next to rush out, pausing in the door frame right behind Kasbin and observing the man he almost collided with. The wood elf was looking up into the tall trees just outside the door and was frozen in place. Lazlow peeked around Kasbin’s head and saw the wood elf’s wide eyes and a hint of a smile on his strange lips. He was an odd creature, indeed, but he wasn’t from the Underdark. This was his home once upon a time, and he seemed happy to see it again. Lazlow could understand the sentiment in that.

Lazlow carefully side stepped around Kasbin, careful not to interrupt his moment, then gazed for the first time upon the surface sky for himself. He was astounded by all the colors above and around him. There was so much green and brown in the foliage surrounding the caravan and so many blue and yellow hues filling the sky above. Lazlow had never seen the sky or the sun before. He had only heard stories of the way they changed throughout each day and the stories of the weather up on the surface. It was a breathtaking sight, especially the white clouds that languidly drifted across the horizon and caught the light of the sun. Lazlow wondered why the clouds hovered where they did and not lower to the earth.

“First time on the surface?” Sylvan asked, stepping out of the coach as well. His arm bumped Kasbin’s back and shook the wood elf out of his trance. Kasbin glared at Sylvan’s back as the tall man passed him without so much as an “excuse me.” With a huff, Kasbin leapt up onto the coach and crawled along the roof until he found a spot to sit. From his perch up high, he continued to glare down at Sylvan, but Sylvan didn’t seem to notice him at all.

“Yes…” Lazlow responded, a bit baffled at Kasbin’s acrobatic display and still stunned from the beauty around him.

“It’s pretty neat, I’ve gotta say. The town's up here though are where things get real fun. Nothing like back home.”

“Is it true that there are all sorts of creatures? Like goblins and humans and orcs?”

“That and more,” Sylvan said. He put an arm around Lazlow’s shoulders and turned to the treeline facing them. “Maybe when we get to a settlement and we’re both free, we can sneak off for a little fun. What d’ya say?”

Lazlow had already been taken aback by the arm around his shoulders, but the idea of going off together and exploring with Sylvan? It left him giddier than even the thought of the sun. He beamed up at his handsome friend and excitedly said, “yes! I’d love to!”

Sylvan snickered at Lazlow’s excitement. “Good, then I’ll look forward to it as well.” Sylvan placed a small kiss on Lazlow’s forehead before casually making his way back into the coach. Lazlow was frozen, unsure of what just happened. It was a small gesture, barely anything, but why did it leave such a wave of excitement coursing through him? Lazlow gingerly put his fingers to his forehead, afraid of pressing too hard and taking that tingling sensation away. Gods, he couldn’t wait to get to a town. All he could do now was pray that they would have a chance to sneak off together soon.

The caravan stopped for an hour before everyone crawled back inside and the coaches began to move forward again. Before leaving though, that same old servant came and summoned Lazlow to the mistress’s car once more. Lazlow was becoming accustomed to the hateful stares in the front of the car and was learning how to treat them as normal now. He grabbed his violin case and quickly dashed out of the coach, then made his way over to the mistress’s car.

When he walked in today, Lazlow started off as usual. He provided some ambient music while the mistress worked, but something was different about her this time. After only thirty minutes or so of work, the mistress moved to the bed and laid down on her plush pillows with an exhausted groan. She did not gesture for Lazlow to follow or even glance at him as she crossed the room. Unsure of what was happening, Lazlow kept playing and waited for her to give him the order to stop.

She seemed especially tired today, groaning again as she rolled her head to the side to speak. “Play something to soothe my eyes, Lazlow.”

“Yes, mistress.” Lazlow said, playing something soft and lingering for her. He had been momentarily caught off guard when he heard his name fall from the mistress’s lips, but didn’t stop long to process the thought before starting his performance. She hadn’t used his name once since Lazlow joined her harem, and honestly, he was a bit surprised that she knew his name at all. There was something a bit reassuring about hearing it from her. Something… personable.

After only a minute or so, the mistress sighed loudly over his gentle song. “Gods, I hate the surface. The sun always pains me when we arrive.”

Lazlow had heard of drow with sun sensitivity. It made sense, considering they spent their entire lives usually in the dark. He continued to play for her, letting melodies from drow folk songs slip into his performance to hopefully comfort the mistress slightly.

“I don’t mind the nights, but still, the air here always has the lingering taste of light to it. It’s abhorrent.” The mistress Santra continued to complain.

She laid there for about an hour while Lazlow soothed her aching head, and eventually, she managed to sit up and regain her composure.

“Thank you, Lazlow.”

“O-of course, mistress,” he said with a deep bow. Lazlow was surprised to hear gratitude from his mistress and was unsure what the proper response was.

The mistress looked over his bowed form for a moment and seemed contemplative. Lazlow was curious what could possibly be running through her mind and was too afraid to move. Instead, he stood still and silent, waiting for something to change.

After a long moment of tense silence, the mistress Santra stood up from the bed and moved to her desk. “We should be coming up on our next stop in just a few hours. For now, lie down.”

Lazlow hesitantly stood back up and placed his violin in its case. “Yes, mistress.” He began to remove his top out of habit, but Santra held up her hand to stop him. “Don’t bother. My head is still swimming. I must attend to some work still, then I will join you.”

“Yes, mistress,” Lazlow said, unsure of what to expect if not for the rough treatment he had become accustomed to over the last two weeks. She took a seat at her desk and held her head in her hands. After a heavy groan, the mistress picked up her pen and went to work. Lazlow didn’t know what to do, so he lied down as instructed and watched his mistress at work. It was difficult to relax even though the bed was much softer than his cot in the consort coach. He stared at the back of her head, nervous for what would come later when she did join him.

The mistress wasn’t necessarily cruel in her actions. She was just… rough. Intense. There were times where she had a tender touch in between the harsh moments and even seemed affectionate, like a master with a prized pet, but Lazlow was unsure of what went on in the woman’s head. He was so used to the cruel antics of his sisters that he couldn’t tell if this offer of relaxation was some new form of cruelty or if she actually held some kindness or softness in that dark heart of hers.

After an hour of sitting in silence, listening only to a pen scribble on parchment and staring intently at the back of her head, his mistress finally stood up again. “Ugh…” she groaned, holding her head once more and swaying to the bed. Lazlow lifted himself up a bit, unsure of what he should do now. When she made it across the room, she pushed Lazlow back to make room for herself and flipped him around. As she crawled into the covers, her arms moved to wrap around Lazlow’s neck and torso, and her legs intertwined with his. She pressed her chest against Lazlow’s back and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

Once she was settled, Lazlow felt like he was just here to be a large stuffed animal. He felt her breath tickle his neck as she groaned again. “My head…” she whined, her grip tightening around his torso. Lazlow was at a loss. He was frozen, unsure if there was something he should do, or if he should just stay still like a big pillow. This was not an interaction he understood. He was used to intense sensations, not something so soft and tranquil. Everything he had been prepared for when it came to becoming a consort involved pain and degradation, but this wasn’t any of that. He couldn’t tell if it was better or worse, honestly. The vice grip that held him on the bed, the soft cushion of her small chest pressing into his back, her thick legs squeezing around his pelvis. Maybe if she wasn’t squeezing him to death, this could manage to be pleasant, but Lazlow didn’t know. He felt his heart pounding, scared that this could turn into something worse at any moment.

It never did though. They laid like that for what felt like days, but eventually, the coach stopped with a harsh jerk. “Dammit… we’re here,” she groaned as she released her grip on Lazlow. He was too afraid to move and show how relieved he was to be out of her grasp. Mistress Santra sat at the edge of the bed and steadied herself. With her head hung low, she managed to mumble. “You’re excused.”

“Right,” Lazlow said, scurrying to his feet and bowing to her. “Thank you, mistress.”

Lazlow quickly grabbed his things and scurried out of the coach. When he was back outside, Lazlow couldn’t help but pause and look up. The sky was still orange, but it was different now. The sun was on the opposite side of the sky, and the pale yellows were replaced with vibrant oranges and reds. The clouds were completely different from the last time he saw them as well. Fascinating…

As Lazlow walked back to the consort coach, he looked past the mistress’s car and saw a whole town just behind it bustling with noise and firelight. He froze for a moment, taking in the sight, then remembered Sylvan’s offer. Maybe when we get to a settlement and we’re both free, we can sneak off for a little fun. What d’ya say?

They had just arrived, so there was bound to be a bit of time before someone would come looking for them. Lazlow smiled as he ran to the consort coach. He burst inside and ignored the frustrated glares aimed at him from the two chatty men at the front of the car. He ran to his bunk and saw Sylvan resting again on the top one.

“Sylvan,” Lazlow whispered excitedly. He gently shook Sylvan’s shoulder and roused him from his trance.

“Hmm…?” He grumbled groggily. He rolled over and saw Lazlow’s grinning face.

“We’re in a town!” Lazlow said. “Let’s go sneak off!”

It took him a moment to wake up properly, but Sylvan looked at Lazlow’s eagerness and giggled. “That sounds like fun. Sure, let’s go.”

[iamthunderhearmehowl]

❣️I'll Be Gentle ❣️

Dammon x Faeryl

Fluff. Minor Smut. 18+ Minors DNI. (Even if it is minor idc. DNI )

✨️ This is all based off of the "Halsin's Daughter" AU I've been working on! All posts regarding that can be found here -> ( x ) ✨️

Description: It's the eve of the first day of Summer. Mol, Arabella, and Faeryl are celebrating in Halsin's new found grove (Thaniel's realm). Mol swipes a bottle of wine jusr for the three of them and Faeryl confesses her feelings for Dammon. ;)

If you will please listen to this song once you get to the section with Dammon <3

Faeryl crossed her arms and hugged herself. She looked out into the commotion in front of her. Young children were braiding each other's hair and placing flowers in each stitch, some of the teenagers were sharing their first kisses under the night sky by the bonfire, and the smell of alcohol and roasted barbeque filled the air. Tonight marked the eve of the first day of summer. The festivities would go on for two more days. It was two days too many for Faeryl. While the atmosphere seemed fun and exciting for most, it reminded her of the grand parties held for drow nobles in the underdark. Her mother, would force her to wear the most revealing dresses and serve their guests wine, while Malice and Alistair enjoyed the festivities without a care. Her heart sank as she remembered the nobles that she got drunk on purpose. All lips she had to kiss only to steal away their secrets while they were most vulnerable, the indecent acts that she had to preform, only to bring that information to her mother. With her help, her mother fell many of the smaller noble houses. Faeryl wasn't particularly proud of this part of her past, but what choice did she have? She closed her eyes and listened to the laughter and music. Suddenly she felt something jump on her back.

“Hey Fay! Check out what I just nabbed from that fancy fellow over there!” Mol dangled a silver pocket watch in front of Faeryl's face as she struggled to keep her balance. Faeryl instinctively grabbed her legs and started piggy backing her. They were both giggling as Arabella came up to them, crossing her arms.

“Mol, please don't get us kicked out of the festivities here. We never get to let loose like this in Baulder's Gate.”

“Oh shut up Arabella. You and I both know that you want to stay here so you can drink with Rolan,” Mol teased.

Faeryl gasped in surprise. Her and Mol exchanged smirks and started giggling.

“Bella, baby, my love" Faeryl was laughing as she teasingly went down the list of pet names her and Mol called Arabella, “Rolan? Surely you can do better. He's so -"

“Cranky" Mol interrupted. She had hopped off of Faeryl's back and was now working on opening a bottle of wine. The top came off with a pop and nearly hit Arabella in the head. Luckily, Arabella saw it coming and had moved her head to the left right as she heard the pop.

“Mol! Where did you get that? You're going to get us in trouble!” Arabella exclaimed.

“Swiped it from the table. Also, don't change the subject, Bella. We gotta talk about you an' Rolan" Mol took a long swig from the bottle and passed it to Faeryl. She wasn't a novice when it came to alcohol, but she had never had this kind before. She sniffed the bottle. It smelled like strawberries and judging from the bottle it looked like it was home made by the people of this grove. She shrugged and took a long swig from it as well.

“I mean. Don't get me wrong, he's a couple years my senior but I'm not a kid anymore! I am an adult, a young adult, but an adult never the less. Besides, if I recall you used to have a small crush on Dammon. His stuff used to go missing and we all knew it was you.” Arabella took the bottle from Faeryl and started taking sips from it.

“Hey now! I was a girl! And besides he had some good stuff sitting around at his forge" Mol crossed her arms and pursed her lips. Faeryl laughed. Although she wasn't a huge fan of parties, Mol and Arabella made her feel like she was at home. These two teifling girls were her best friends. Being with them almost made her forget about her past and why she was at this grove in the first place. This was all she wanted in life. To be herself without judgement and to enjoy life with the ones she loved.

“Well. It seems that our little drow princess has taken a liking to him. I wonder if she'll even visit him tonight?” Arabella winked at Faeryl.

“That is, if Halsin doesn't tear him apart. He doesn't seem the type to but Arabella and I did over hear him talking to the other druids about you disappearing in between lessons.” Mol was checking her nails and swished her tail. This was something she did whenever she was telling them some juicy information. “Let's just say that daddy dearest is a little upset about you've been putting your druidic studies on the back burner.”

Faeryl was a little surprised. Halsin was always teaching others about the ways of nature. He believed that their hearts should roam free; that nature intended for you to enjoy your desires. Why would he care so much about hers? She had never told him about her daily visits with Dammon. Did he even know? They had just recently found out that they were father and daughter – surely he would not be this invested in her personal life already? Maybe that wasn't it. This grove had multiple archdruids in charge, this was so that the responsibility didn't fall on one person but a council , that worked together. Faeryl was sure that the council had spoken to him about the danger that she was to the grove. Halsin had stood up for her, stating that she was his responsibility and she will learn to control her powers in order to stay here. Was he worried that she would never gain control of the beast?

“Oi!” Faeryl's thoughts were broken up by the acorn that Mol threw at her head, “Did ya hear me? Are ya going to see your smithy boy or nah?”

Faeryl didn't have time to respond back before Arabella put a hand on her shoulder and began to pick some twigs out of her silver hair. “What Mol is trying to say is, let's just relax and have a couple of drinks. We'll help each other braid our hair and then, you'll go see Dammon, I'll go see Rolan, and Mol is going to pay a visit to that pretty little blonde elf girl that keeps eyeing her by the fire.”

Mol was sat down next to them. Her legs were spread, her elbows were on her knees, she had the wine bottle in one hand and was staring at someone. She took a swig and then nodded and winked.

“Okay, we may need to start braiding now. I think we're losing her" Arabella laughed and started working.

---------------------------------------

Faeryl leaned against the door frame to Dammon's small forge. According to what Dammon has told her, this was nothing compared to the one that he had in Baulder's Gate. She was surprised that she had never been to his shop. She knew that Mol and Arabella went there frequently to trade the weapons they would pick up on guild missions, but Faeryl was always out doing something else. The something else was mainly playing with the local cats near the home the three of them rented together. Had she chosen running errands over petting the cats, she may have met him sooner. Maybe they would have been more than just friends by now. She imagined his lips on hers and her heart started to race. His eyes were the color of the sky, a beautiful shade of blue she would have never known in the underdark. Maybe he felt the same about her? Maybe they could explore their favorite pleasures together. Mayb-

“Oh Faeryl! Did you need something?”

Faeryl jumped a little bit. She hadn't realized that she had been staring off into space. She turned a shade of pink when she realized that she had been staring off in his direction for gods know how long.

“Oh um. I was just wondering where you were. I didn't see you out celebrating” She rubbed the back of her neck hoping that it would calm her down a little bit.

“Well. I had a client from this grove request this sword as soon as possible. I come here monthly because many of my clients can't make it to Baulder's Gate to buy my products, so they pay extra when I have to come out. I feel a little bad about celebrating while my job isn't done yet.”

Faeryl walked up to see the sword that he was working on. It was a light weight short sword. No doubt it was for a small woman as the handle was adorned with intricate swirls and designs.

“It's beautiful"

“Thank you" Dammon chuckled and smiled, “Can I ask you why you're not out celebrating? The night is still young and as far as I know they usually celebrate until dawn.”

Faeryl laughed and hopped up on his work table, “Oh I got bored. Mol is out there pit pocketing people and kissing girls. Arabella is flirting with Rolan.”

Dammon laughed and seemed genuinely surprised. He set down his hammer and pulled off his gloves. “Rolan? You can't be serious.”

Faeryl responded with a shrug. “I suppose it’s the wine and brandy speaking, rather than any of the brain cells the two have left after finishing three bottles together.”

“And you? Did you share a drink with anyone?” He came over and sat on the table next to her. She noticed that his feet still touched the ground and hers were dangling. Faeryl couldn't help but to think about how tall and handsome he was.  

“Other than the two idiots I came with? No. Everyone in this grove seems a little scared of me. I don't blame them. The majority of the druids out there are wood elves and they seem to have a disdain for drow, even if I am half wood elf”

“For what it’s worth. I enjoy the company you bring. Well, I also enjoy the honey buns you bring me in the mornings when I'm here. That being said, I do wait on you to stop by.”

Faeryl's heart felt like it was going to explode as he smiled at her. Gods was it noticeable that she was fawning over him? She kissed so many lips and wasn't completely innocent in the sexual favors department, but something about him made her lose all sense.

“It's nice to know that you think of me that way. Thank you. But you must have someone you're excited to see back home?” Faeryl was hoping the answer was no, but she knew there was a good chance that he did have someone back home. Though she never visited his forge, she's always heard many young women mention his name along with how handsome they thought he was.

“Actually, no. It hasn't really crossed my mind. I just keep getting more and more orders and clients. So, it hasn't been a priority. And you?”

“If we're being honest? No. I've kind of been on the run and then I saw my half brother, lost control of my wildshape and now I'm here. I haven't felt safe enough to get close anyone other than Mol and Arabella . . .” Faeryl started to wonder off in her conversation. She looked down at the ground. Everything so far has been a whirlwind of events. All of it happened so fast she never had time to process it. If Alistair found her in Baulder's Gate after all these years, there's no doubt he would find her again. Her days were numbered. It was now or never. She didn't want to die, not yet, not without knowing what love was. Not without knowing the passion behind it. Every act of intimacy up until this point had been a façade. There was no pleasure, just the anxiety of hoping the act was enough to ensure her survival.

“Faeryl?”

“Dammon. Listen. Please don't feel pressured to do or say anything, but I feel safest here. With you.”

She had looked up from the ground to find that he was standing in front of her. He leaned in and kissed her. It was so tender and sweet. Faeryl thought she might faint. The longer their lips intertwined the more light headed she got. When he pulled away he lifted her chin with his index finger and caressed her bottom lip with his thumb.

“Gods, I thought it was all in my head.” He kissed her again. This time it was it was more eager and harder. He kissed her as if he had been starved for a millennium. She began to untie the strings of her blouse. He slowly pulled the garment past her shoulders, exposing her breasts. Her nipples pebbled as the cool night air hit them. He pulled away from their kiss and soaked in the site. She was beautiful. Her cheeks were flushed a rosy pink color, her silver hair fell from her braid and framed her face perfectly, and her eyes, Gods, Dammon couldn't handle how gorgeous her eyes were. They were adorned with long silver lashes, her hazel irises had flecks of gold in them, and they had this innocent doe like look to them.

“Fuck me, you look like a princess,” he breathed. He ripped off his apron and shirt and placed tender kissed on her collar bone. Faeryl let out a small gasp as he began to place light marks on her skin. He began to undo her trousers, but stopped when he felt her hand on top of his. She was shaking.

“I'm sorry, am I going too fast?”

“No, not at all. It's just that. . . I haven't. . . I was only allowed to seduce in the underdark. A kiss was nothing, oral wasn't a big deal, but no one was every allowed to actually have sex with me. My mother, she held my virginity to the highest bidder – of course I ran before that happened”

“Are you frightened?”

“Not with you. Every other man who placed their hands on me wanted to hurt me – I know you would never. Not on purpose.”

He kissed her forehead “I'll be gentle. We'll go your pace. Just tell me when you're uncomfortable.”

She nodded.

Thanks for reading! I also realize that there's a lot of dialogue - that is on purpose - I will eventully be going back and doing voice overs for Faeryl (maybe even Mol and Arabella for practice).

Aso - I realize that I am not a very detailed smut writer. I comend those who can do it but like - I am a caveman and can barely form words in general, let alone word a detailed sex scene.

[bg3-aita]

AITA for trying to stop my best friend from making the worst mistake of his life?

I’m hoping the good people reading this will be able to help me figure this out. It’s been weighing on my mind for days. I can barely sleep, it bothers me so much.

I’ve known my best friend for almost my entire life, ever since we were both skipping rocks on the same Underdark lake as children. Life and various events as we grew older necessarily meant we had to part ways at times, but I never once forgot him. He’s my best and, truthfully, my only friend.

He went missing one day. All I found was a bloodied necklace. I was rightly terrified, to tell the truth, but I knew there was only one course of action. I had to find him. He was in danger.

And find him I did. He was in danger. But with the aid of some rather intrepid (perhaps foolish) adventurers, I was at last reunited with my best friend in what might have been the most cursed but safe inn I’ve ever had the pleasure to rest my head in. But our reunion was…well. Let’s just say it didn’t go the way I thought it would. My best friend was at best dismissive, and at worst…well, a little rude. I might have been the AH here for pestering him when he was tired but I was just so excited to see him.

Anyway, it’s been a few days since then and I've rarely left his side. I thought that once we were home in the city, all would be set to rights. But once we were in the city, everything just got worse. Is worse. My best friend has this plan, you see. A plan that would not only spell trouble for him, but for hundreds of other innocent lives too. He keeps claiming his plan is all for the good of the city. And in some ways, he is right about many things. The city is under, shall we say, dangerous and dubious leadership, but his solution to that little problem is to set off a bomb.

And I do mean that literally.

Not to worry! I’m trying to dissuade him otherwise. There has to be another way. A solution that doesn’t threaten innocent lives. He says these people aren’t innocent and that they’re building weapons of mass destruction, and technically they are doing that, but…I don’t know. Is a bomb really the answer? 

He’s called me the AH for pestering him so much about this. Says he can’t get any work done with me hovering over him “like flies on rothéshit.” Perhaps it’s deserved. I’ve been a thorn in his side for weeks now, but he hasn’t given up. And neither will I. So we’re at a stalemate.

AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[ask-fantasy-sanders-sides]

Could we see some of “disaster year one Virgil” with Remus trying to teach him please?

Disaster, new-to-Topside Virgil and Oh-Shit-why-am-I-the-Adult Remus tidbits:

((tw for,,,,, lots of violence, and some arson))

Virgil’s skin was way too sensitive to survive sun exposure at first, so it was a lot of hanging out in caves and slowly letting him spend more and more time out in the light, until he could withstand a few hours without his cloak on

The first times they ran into Other People, Virgil panicked and shot them dead. Remus had to keep reminding him that not everyone who breathes is an immediate threat

Regardless, Virgil did this five more times

Virgil did not know Common, and Remus had no idea how to teach it to him outside of a few key words and phrases, so it was a lot of Remus doing the talking, and then translating in Undercommon for Virgil. To most people, who have never been to or heard about Undercommon, it sounds like a lot of hissing, growling, and screaming. So, Very Scary

Virgil noticed all the weird looks, and decided he would just talk as little as possible

Virgil was incredibly jumpy, especially in open spaces or around many people, and since he did not speak the language, anything Loud (laughter, excitement, screaming, crying, etc) sounded scary and threatening, along with any (smiling) bearing of teeth, and he would attack the source and/or run away. It was very hard for Remus to take him literally anywhere that had other people

Virgil wouldn’t trust any food or drink that they bought, and would only eat things he had hunted himself. He ended up teaching Remus how to skin and butcher animals!

He also didn’t trust any water they found, because most water in the Underdark is either poisonous or Actually A Slime Monster, so for a long time he existed on animal blood and meat

Virgil was almost always too scared to sleep, to the point where he would stay unconscious for days, and pass out every so often, when his body literally shut down. When he did this, Remus would just carry him around.

There was one point where Virgil was taking too long to come back from hunting, and when he went to go look for him, Remus found Virgil with two small children in his arms – a tiefling boy and girl. Remus pretty much immediately assumed Virgil had stolen someone’s kids, and tried to get him to put them back where he found them, but Virgil refused to. When they woke up, they both just cried and clung to Virgil.

Remus looked around the area for a while, but couldn’t find any evidence of a town or home nearby, except for a barn that had been thoroughly burned to the ground, and Virgil wouldn’t tell him how he’d found the kids. So, he told Virgil they’d take them to the nearest town, and then drop them off at an orphanage or something.

Remus never really grew to like the brats, but Virgil absolutely adored them. It was the first time Remus had ever seen him be gentle with something. He ripped up some extra fabric he had to make little slings to carry them in when they got tired of walking, he taught them to use daggers and hunt, and the kids couldn’t talk, but Virgil was really good at reading their body language, and figuring out what they wanted. 

Whenever they would reach a town, Virgil would ‘coincidentally’ lead them around and get lost, or leave with them, before Remus could drag them to a police station or something. And, after all, it was Very Hard for Remus to tell all three of them no

They had these kids for nearly a year and a half before Remus finally got Virgil to give them up. They were hanging out with a travelling troupe of performers – the one he later meets Pryce in – and the kids showed a vested intrest in the trade. Plus, there were people there who knew how to actually raise children, and Virgil knew they would be safer and happier with the caravan

From then on, when they would run into the troupe and join them for a few days, Virgil would always help out with the children, including the twin tykes he toted around for so long. The Caravan ended up giving them names – Missy and Jester.

[thetradeway]

Session 48 14 Aug 2021: "Dhidth hwe huin?"

I’m late today. Ginger balls. Never admit you were wrong, and never apologise! Has anyone heard from Mina? She may or may not join us. Billy Corgan on a rollercoaster!

Matthew, wondering: “Does Billy Corgan have alopecia, or is that a choice?”

Duncan: “I don’t know, I’m not his mum.”

Matthew opens a 4% by volume Potion of Healing, and we get started. Everyone makes saving throws except Tarragon for their hangovers after the Midsummer festivities. Ahleqs is delicate but not too rough; he has however just discovered that he is no longer immune to alcohol. (He isn’t quite puking up pixies, so he’ll take it.) Gideon is bright as a button, as is Kessler, and Melaina. Ardvack complained that the sherry wasn’t up to snuff, so he didn’t drink much.

Gutpunch is snoring and emitting smells when the boys wake in their room. Tarragon returns as the sun rises. She returns to her chambers to find everyone else asleep; she joins them, and Mina joins us. The gnome bunked in with us is not emitting smells. There’s a bang on our door - it’s one of the Avowed, a runner.

“Your presence is requested in one of the Necessariums.” He’ll return for us in a few minutes.

Same thing happens for the boys; Ahleqs tries to wake Gutpunch, with no success. Ahleqs, blearily: “Necessari- what? What is this Hogwarts bullshit?”

Is Darkspire in with them? Yes. The Avowed asks if he behaved; yes, Ahleqs thinks so. Charity overhears this conversation, and butts in. He opens the door wide and tells Ahleqs to go back to bed; he does so. Charity peers at the Avowed’s face, the one who showed us to our rooms.

“Yes? What? Yes? I’m here. Everything’s fine, nothing occurred.” Assured that no crimes have been committed, the Avowed retreats.

Ahleqs asks Charity why there would be ‘incidents’. He says he has no idea.

We use our ten minutes to head to the Hearth for breakfast. Ahleqs has water. And a small pot of coffee. and one egg, and one bit of toast with some salt. “Is there any tabasco?”

Ardvack explains about the Necessariums. They are tall towers with lots of books; we can’t access them ourselves but the Avowed will get us anything we want. Kessler wants some books about tinkering and artificing.

The vegetarian menu is vast, and very good.

The runner returns as we are stuffing more food in our pockets to take with us.

Ahleqs is delighted to see Mr Pickles in the Necessarium; he’s talking to a green dragonborn. Ahleqs doesn’t want to interrupt so he hops from foot to foot until the Al Miraj spots him. He is bidden to go over so Mr Pickles can take a look at him.

Mr Pickles says Ahleqs looks a little green around the gills; did he not hear about the revels last night, Ahleqs asks? Mr. Pickles was in the library having discussions. Should he order some tea? Yes, Ahleqs will have a small bucket of tea. Mr Pickles summons an Avowed.

Mr Pickles says there are wards on this place to cut noise and prevent eavesdropping from outside; he has some news for us if we will gather around.

An Avowed brings Kessler the books she asked for. (Carl wants some books too; The Very Hungry Caterpillar, A Tiger Came to Tea, The Borrowers, that sort of thing.)

MP introduces us to Bookwyrm, the First Reader of Candlekeep - the dragonborn he was talking to. He is in charge of maintaining the collection and acquiring newbooks. We want access to books about the Shadow Weave?

The knowledge in there is dangerous, those books have been locked away. They don’t usually let people access them, but since Mr. Pickles is involved, he might be able to help - if we can do something for him in return.

Ardvack has a question; is this endeavour going to cut into our ten-day? No, since we will be out of the Candlekeep to do it. Bookwyrm can’t give us details until we agree to help, but Mr. Pickles believes it’s well within the limits of our skills to accomplish what he needs.

Tarragon agrees immediately, but mostly because Ardvack looks dubious. Ahleqs, assured by Mr. Pickles’s confidence that we can do whatever it is we’re being asked, also agrees.

Some time ago, Bookwyrm tells us, the keep was visited by a drow scholar who told them the location of a book the Keep have been seeking. Are we familiar with the caves below the Keep? No, but we’ve seen a picture.

They are beneath the catacombs, in the bedrock. They lead all the way to the Underdark. The book was supposed to be there. Someone went in search of it; a more than capable wizard, Olius Visk, but they were expecting him back a full ten-day ago and he has not been heard from. He is a young man, it is very out of character for him to miss the Midsummer Festival.

What was the title of the book he was after? Bookwyrm doesn’t know. When the wizard applied to go after it, he didn’t mention which one it was.

Where is the drow? He left, as you can only spend a tenday here. He did not book in another visit.

We just need to rescue the wizard, not necessarily complete his mission, Bookwyrm says. If we do locate the book then we could bring that too. It’s not the Underdark proper, it’s not that far down - it and the wizard will be in the Upper Dark.

The First Reader gives us a book about the Underdark. Tarragon gets excited about the fungus that could be down there, and the potions she could make with them.

Will we need any further resources? Healing potions, at the very least.

When we are ready we’ll be teleported to the caves. We can get past the myconids that way, the ones that moved in and live off the mushrooms they grow on the refuse from the keep; they keep the drow and duergar away.

He gives us an orb to follow; Ardvack suggests giving Gideon the ring the activate the thing. While following Olius’ tracks, it will glow brightly to show us we are going the right way. Gideon blusters about the ring; “A fine piece of brass work! That will fit on my finger nicely.”

How many potions will we need? Tarragon, immediately: “All of them.”

They can spare a GHP and two RHPs - each. Oooo! They will give us twenty days’ of rations as well.

Can Carl come? We need Carl, probably more than Ardvack. Ardvack consults his book of manners, then laughs; “Ahahah, very droll.”

We decide to leave Popcorn in the stables while we go; he doesn’t like dark and scary places.

Tarragon is excited to be going into danger again; Ahleqs less so.

Ardvack, resignedly: “To almost certain death?”

Tarragon, far too excited: “To almost certain death!”

Ahleqs does a very shaky sigh.

A runner approaches with our Healing Potions, and we spend ten minutes farting about with our inventories.

Ardvack, bored, pulls a book from his pocket and begins to read; Ahleqs wants to know what it is.

Matthew, OOC: “What languages do you speak?”

Duncan: “Common, Elvish, Infernal and Light Crossbow.”

Are we all ready? Various themes on ‘yeah’, some more excited than others. Ahleqs casts Mage Armour.

Carl is brought from the Hearth (holding a book called ‘Ye Olde Very Hungry Caterpillar’), and we are teleported.

It takes a moment for our eyes to adjust when we arrive in the dark, wet caves. We head deeper underground, and of course someone (Mina) starts singing Jamiroquai. Well, someone had to.

Tarragon looks out for mushrooms for use in her recipes. There are lots, of various sizes. Some have bits that look like they’ve been cut off; as if someone has been eating or harvesting them.

Tarragon takes a bit of mushroom and eats it; it’s tasty. Ahleqs will watch her for about 45 minutes before he eats any himself. Ardvack stands as far as physically possible from all of the fungus.

Joe waits for his computer before telling us what has befallen Ardvack, who has gone ahead; Tarragon starts cackling. (She doesn't do subtly devastating insults, she does this.)

Matthew rolls a d4; he gets a 3. Does 16 hit him? “I think the 8 might do it.” The 16 does hit as he backs away from one mushroom into a violet fungus, for 8 Necrotic damage.

We roll initiative!

Melaina kills the fungus, but we don’t feel as though we’re alone. Tarragon holds a Thorn Whip in case she sees something within 30 feet of her that she doesn’t like, and warns Ardvack that this includes him.

We hear something shuffling towards us. Ahleqs is trying to hide when it attacks him twice for ten necrotic damage, and Tarragon gets it with her Thorn Whip. Ahleqs does Burning Hands at it.

Joe, laughing: “Really? You’re going to make a mushroom do a Dex save??”

He misses the one he was aiming at but hits the one he didn’t know was there, so… a win?

More turn up; Gideon does an Acid Splash, complete with quavery wizard voice as he announces it.

Ahleqs and Ardvack are closest and get a horrible, acrid stench as the acid burns the violet fungi.

A fungus aims at Ahleqs but only manages to sort of caress his face with its tentacles, leaving a slimy residue; he sicks up all the water he drank.

Kessler gets one with her crossbow. “Remove your grubby bits from the Ahleqs!”

Tarragon, yelling “Danger and excitement!”, takes out her quarterstaff and runs at one; she hits, and is pleased when it doesn’t die just yet.

Does Ardvack want to chomp on a tentacle with someone else, do a sort of lady and the tramp manoeuvre?

Duncan, disgusted: “No tentacle sucking, this is not that kind of show!”

Mina, disconcertingly matter-of-fact about it: “Some people would pay good money for that.”

Ardvack chooses to hit the thing with his shillgjakjsgaklghjkghhhjbblhh instead. It crumbles into bits, but is also ‘a little bit on fire’.

Ahleqs spots some little orbs somewhere ahead up the path. He thinks they are probably magic, but has no idea what they are or what they do.

Carl does a ‘friendly yet violent pat’ on one of the violet fungi and does 5 splatting damage. It wraps its tentacles around him - and then lets go, shuddering. Carl goes in for a bonus action grapple-slash-fatal-hug. The fungus loses the grapple. “High point in Carl’s life.”

Sophie, OOC: “Are you going to give it a noogie?”

Ahleqs takes aim at the grappled fungus. Matthew, OOC, singing: “Now that’s fuckin’ teamwork!”

“If I move away they’ll get a tickle of opportunity won’t they?” Ahleqs stays where he is. “I do not consent to this.”

Gideon gets one with Magic Missile.

Joe: “How de do dis?”

Sophie, OOC: “With gusto!”

Carl maintains his grip on the fungus.

Melaina is feeling arrogant so she goes Sharpshooter. “Urgh, five, that’s not going to work is it?” But to her amazement, it does. 29 damage; a little bit overkill. It explodes into truffle oil, which showers Ardvack but completely avoids Tarragon.

Tarragon offers Carl her old quarterstaff, since he doesn’t have a weapon. He rolls an INT check to try and reply to thank her, but gets a 0. He accepts the staff with a nod of thanks; she smiles at him.

We have killed all the Violet Fungi! We have solved Joe’s Underdark puzzle, yay!

Yeah, nah.

The drift globe leads us around the next corner. Tarragon and Carl chase it, and see three little huts made of fungus and dried grass. Two look abandoned, but the third has light inside. The orbs Ahleqs saw seem to be drifting around it. Ahleqs rolls 19 Arcana; the orbs are warding or protection magic.

We decide to approach, because the inhabitants might know something about the missing wizard.

Kessler, approaching: “Helloooooo? Avon calling?” Tarragon casts Guidance on her as she goes by.

A bell sounds; Kessler recognises the Alarm spell. She calls out to say she doesn’t mean any harm. “Ignore the mech armour, and the idiots with me…”

Duncan OOC: “I want to know what happens if we find the ‘How not to be a goblin’ book and Kessler turns out to be a six foot five valkyrie warrior. Ardvack’s not going to know where to put himself, is he?”

An Unknown Woman appears from the hut:

“What on earth are you doing down here?”

Kessler explains about the wizard and the book. Are we from the Keep?

Yeah…

So is she, it turns out. Will we be going back? Yes, unless we’re killed horribly.

Do we have a way to get back in past the myconids and such? (uh oh.) She says she was a speaker for the keep and was looking for some books, and got lost down here and got stuck.

Kessler rolls Insight with Guidance - 13. She seems convinced. We can pick her up on the way back? That would be amazing, she says. She’s smiling especially at Ardvack.

She has some warding magic up here if we want to rest? Ardvack tenses up. He makes an Insight check as well. He rolls a 9, but uses his Inspiration to re-roll - a 12. He feels a kind of kinship with her, as though her magic might have a similar source. He eases a little bit, and ventures a half smile, even though she’s wearing a 'very low-born outfit'.

Ahleqs, scandalised: “She can’t even afford a middle bit on her top!”

We don’t need a rest, do we? Ahleqs got hit a bit. Melaina doesn’t trust her, and doesn’t want to stop.

Tarragon asks the woman’s name. It’s Ava.

We could take a short rest, roll some hit dice? Have a sandwich? Get to know the locals?

Melaina: “Alright, but I’m not going to sleep.”

Ava points out the orbs. Anything on this side of them is safe.

This seems a bit too good to be true. Does Ahleqs get a sense of magic, other than the protective field? A nine; “She seems legit.”

She was looking for a book that the Keep wouldn’t exactly approve of when she got stuck here. She’s been living off the mushrooms. She was fleeing undead when she was chased into the myconid hives? A ghost or wraith or something.

She brings us some tea, apologising that it’s not quite as fresh as she would like. Something is definitely fucky; Tarragon takes watch, on Ava as much as for other dangers. Tarragon rolls 24 Perception, so she can see the colonies of ants coming to get us.

She sees that no-one’s quite at ease. Suddenly Ava’s skin sloughs off, peeling in big chunks, and a blood hag reveals herself.

Me, horrified: “Blood hag?? JOE!” Tarragon Thorn Whips her.

A writhing mass of hair bursts from the hag, and reaches out toward Ahleqs. She reaches out with her claws to Ardvack and Kessler, and hits both. 23 slashing to Ardvack - and 35 slashing to Kessler.

We roll initiative!

Melaina gets in amongst the mushrooms and tries to hide. “And now I’m going to shoot her in the face. Shit. No I’m not, with a ten.” She cowers behind her mushroom.

Gideon Thunderwaves her and hits, and retreats.

Tarragon casts Greater Shillsdghksdfkhsdg, and crit-misses. The quarterstaff bounces off and hits her in the face - she takes half the weapon’s damage and has Disadvantage on her next attack.

Carl hits her with his new quarterstaff and hits!

Ahleqs casts Mage Armour on Ardvack and Carl, using Sorcery Points to twin the spell.

Kessler bonus action slams her Greater Healing Potion. She uses her Thunder Gauntlets and forces Disadvantage on attacks not against her.

The Blood Hag uses something called Call the Blood, to do a Blood Choke Curse on Ardvack - his mouth fills with blood, preventing speech and verbal spell casting components for one minute. She uses her bonus action to Misty Step to Melaina and do another blood drinking hair, and a claw attack on her.

Ardvack’s turn; he riffles through his spells but they all have a verbal component. Matthew OOC, cross: “I needed that to be effective.”

Joe, pleased: “She’s charming, isn’t she? I thought you’d like her. But at least all the blood vessels in your mouth and throat have burst and you’ll keep having to spit blood for the next minute, so that’s something.”

Ardvack clubs her instead, and hits. He somehow manages to do 0 damage.

Duncan, OOC: “If you say ‘good girl’ or something while you attack, you could do some psychic damage…?”

Matthew: “If only I could speak!”

Melaina gets sneak attack plus Sharpshooter with her rapier - 31 points of damage. All of us, fanning ourselves: “… Damn.”

Gideon will cast Scorching Ray - all three bolts hit, for 21 damage total. The blood hag is pissed off, now, we are told. Gideon bravely retreats.

Tarragon misses again, and begrudgingly heals Ardvack. “Come on, it’s not that bad. Get up.”

Carl was going to use his Raging Cadaver ability, but Tarragon is now in the square he was going to rage to. He can probably navigate through the mushrooms. He does that, and then a slam attack. He does a zombie grab as well. He rolls 17 to her 14, so she’s grappled!

Ahleqs casts Shatter right in the huddle of Carl, Charity, Tarragon and the blood hag. But he would hit Carl, so he doesn’t. He does Eldritch Blast with Tides of Chaos and hits both times for 7 total Force damage.

55: His hair falls out again. “Oh… this again. Okay. I mean I was growing that, but whatever.”

Kessler wants to know if the mushrooms are difficult terrain; she can push through them. “I haven’t finished with you yet!” 16 with the Thunder Gauntlets hits for 12 Thunder damage, then 19 to hit for 11 more. The hag has Disadvantage on attacks versus anyone but Kessler.

Carl is surprised when the hag Misty Steps out of his grip. “He is very perplexed.”

Does 26 hit Ardvack? Er… Yes. He takes 24 piercing damage, and is grappled; her hair worms dig into his flesh and start to suck his blood. He makes a Dex save - or he would, but he might be dead…? No, he’s at 1HP. His lucky hit point.

Matthew is fighting his computer. “Dex save… Any minute now… It’s coming… I’ve pressed the button… It’s asked me if I want to make it public… seven.”

Joe has devastating news for him. The hag has reached out and torn his face off.

…

Holy Fuck.

What the fuck???

“I wanted the pretty elf, but this will have to do!”

The hag makes good her escape as Ardvack goes down. Tarragon uses a free action to vomit.

Ardvack has an ability that brings him back with 8HP. “Dhidth hwe huin?”

Melaina shoots the hag in the back but misses; Gideon does a Scorching Ray.

There’s discussion about the face and the fact that it has Ardvack’s memories and personality; Mina, OOC: “Give it a few minutes, she’ll bring it back.”

Duncan, as the hag: “‘Can you take this back, it’s kinda bumming me out’.”

Tarragon does Cure Wounds at the highest slot available to her; Ardvack’s face is now a mass of scar tissue. She uses her bonus action to throw up again.

This is worse than when Wee Jock got Disintegrated. This is worse than the time we were all zombies, and we started off dead.

Joe, put out: “You’re so ungrateful. It took me ages to find this monster.”

Carl can reach the nasty lady. He can Dash, but he can’t do anything when he gets there. He holds out his hand for Ardvack’s face. She ignores him.

Ahleqs: “Okay… Okay… I cast Fireball. Oooh, it’s big!” He casts it at level 4, and places it so he’ll get the hag, but not Carl. The hag must make a Dex save. She gets a 22.

Duncan, OOC: “Well… Yes, she does and she doesn’t.” She takes half the damage, and is really pissed off.

Kessler: “Oi! Come back with that!” She pulls out her crossbow and shoots. First shot is a miss, and so is the second - a crit fail. Booh. Off target: You deal half damage for 1d4+1 rounds (3). She tries to intimidate the hag, who is unimpressed.

“Let me leave, or I’ll cast Cloudkill.” The bitch uses Invisibility.

Ardvack’s turn; he is now un-stunned, and remembers the sensation of having no face. He’s also still spitting blood. He takes out the mirror that Amelia gave him, and looks in it to see the horrible-ness that is his face, still drooling blood. He puts the mirror away. He gives Tarragon a pat of thanks on the shoulder as he turns away so no-one can see him and crawls toward the hut, “Because this is where I live now.” Even Tarragon feels a little sorry for him.

Before we go, Ardvack is crawling into one of the huts, yes? Yes. "I do not wish to take tea with guests." The most complete hut is the hag’s one; he sees some stones on the floor as if she’s been scrying. Next to them is a pebble with a purple ring on it.

He makes an Arcana check on it to make sure it’s not a bum-stealing stone. 21; he knows the mark as the symbol of Shar. He may remember Shar from such activities as fighting a giant scorpion and an assassin, or raising an army of scarecrows to harass a halfling village.

We decide to leave it on that cliffhanger...

[orderofthedyingstar]

RECAP: SESSIONS 12-13

SESSION 12

After an hour of pacing and avoiding the subject, Jun finally starts talking about his past in So’Joh: how he was raised in an orphanage before being taken in by a wizard (Toji), then came to work at the Cobalt Keep when he was twelve years old. He notes that he caught the attention of the Royal court by predicting an assassination attempt (doesn’t specify on who) and ‘blowing the assassin up’. Jun also supplies the name of the Emperor (Qu’ni-lihil) and his advisor, Nirah, a warlock. He clarifies that he traded his heart when he was fourteen years old to Nirah’s patron, the Faceless One, in exchange for access to powerful divination magic. When he was sixteen, he spared Inigo and Umbra from a death sentence at one of the entrances to the Underdark (Death’s Road), something he’d done with a few other prisoners. He then says that he the left the keep a while after the Emperor’s youngest child died at ten years old after following him to the entrance to the Underdark, something he failed to prevent. When Rhododendron asks Jun more about his heart, he says that the Faceless One having a piece of him means that they can scry on him at any time, and says that even though they’d always kept up their end of the bargain he isn’t a very good diviner any more - because he ‘tried to erase his own memories’ and destroy his old spell book.

Jun: “It didn’t work, so I put myself to sleep for five years.” 

Rhododendron: “Five years?!” 

Verrix: “How are you still so tired if you slept for five years?”

Jun hedges around a definitive answer when Rhododendron asks how he got in touch with the Faceless One, and continues to insist on accompanying the party to So’Joh. Rhododendron runs through the list of everyone in the party who is wanted in So’Joh - which is everyone but her and Marlee.

Rhododendron: “Nice. I’m also not wanted in So’Joh…that I know of?”

Verrix: “Yet.” 

Marlee: “The fact that you had to specify So’Joh is a little worrying, but I don’t care enough to ask any questions.” 

Verrix: “We’ve all been wanted in multiple countries, it happens.” 

Marlee: “EVERY SINGLE COUNTRY on the continent, Verrix. EVERY. SINGLE. COUNTRY.”

Rhododendron continues to ask Jun about the danger of him coming along with them, but he insists that he’s fine, and points out that he doesn’t look the same as he used to. (Rhododendron and Jun spend like five minutes sort-of-not-really-flirting until she realizes that they’re wasting time. I really don’t know how else to word it they’re really that ridiculous.) The party leaves the cave and heads down the mountain, Rhododendron and Verrix unsuccessfully trying to get more information out of Jun, with Rhododendron trying to get him to understand why he’s so insistent on staying with them. The party rests about two hours away from Brackenwood, with Inigo taking the first watch. Unfortunately, he isn’t paying very much attention and the party gets attacked by several large lizard-like creatures (they can’t identify them but I’m pretty sure they’re drakons?). They manage to finish them off but Marlee and Rhododendron sustain quite a few injuries, and the party returns to their rest.

The next day, the party heads to Brackenwood, but are unsure where to begin looking for traces of Umbra and Raz. They also decide to try and buy/steal some horses and a cart, pooling all of their gold together and attempting to come up with a plan. While discussing Umbra, Marlee asks Verrix if they’d seemed like they were using ‘wizard magic’, to which he says that the blood magic looked learned but the rest of it didn’t. The party walks through the town, with Verrix ripping down some posters of himself in various disguises; he keeps an eye out for posters of tieflings, but there aren’t any with the name ‘Jun’ on them (Jun catches him looking). There aren’t any wanted posters of Inigo. The party checks a few of the shadier areas/taverns in town for signs of Umbra, going into a tavern Verrix recognizes as the ‘Blue Goat’. Verrix and Rhododendron try to ply some information out of the bartender, who plays coy until they bribe him after which he tells them that Umbra and a dwarf passed through a few days ago but didn’t stay, and that they have ‘special spell components’ for sale if the party’s interested. Rhododendron notices that Jun is distracted by some painted depictions of a figure holding worn and broken weaponry on the back wall of the bar, a set of scales in the background (Zelia). Marlee is also looking at the pictures with some interest, although not with the same apprehension that Jun seems to be; Inigo is squinting at it with some confusion/recognition.

Marlee asks about seeing the temple in town, which is an old one dedicated to Laoteng. Both Rhododendron and Jun are less than excited about this, considering how the last temple went. Nonetheless, Rhododendron wipes the visible blood off of herself and the party enters the temple, which is much nicer than both of the previous ones since it is neither abandoned nor previously buried. The temple is fairly large, lined with statues where people used to pray including a massive statue of Laoteng herself before a big pool of water at the back of the temple. Marlee splits off from the party to sit in a pew by herself for a while. When Rhododendron asks, Marlee says that the temple does kick people out during the time when it used to be night, as a way to honor the old traditions. 

Rhododendron, looking at the pool of water: “I’m morbidly curious. It probably wouldn’t work, right?” 

Jun: “It definitely wouldn’t, and I’m not just saying that because I don’t want you to do it. It’s cause…I don’t want you to do it.”

Despite what happened in the other temple, Rhododendron still wants to try to explore this one because she knows that there’s something about her bow that still isn’t working right. Rhododendron fills Marlee in on how her bow has affected temples of Laoteng in the past, and says that she wants to try and use it on the pool in the Brackenwood temple. Marlee isn’t opposed to the idea, but doesn’t see any real benefit to it, although she is impressed that the bow was stolen from the Queen. Marlee insists on taking Rhododendron shopping before they do anything else, and they get her three fancy outfits - including one really pink, frilly dress. While the party is in the rich district, Verrix swaps his old cloak for a brand new fancy black cloak (“pristine”, 23 sleight of hand) and absolutely nobody notices. The party gets some horse feed and Verrix wheedles a deal out of the cart salesman - although Verrix almost forgets about the feed until Rhododendron reminds him (this leads to several horrible feet jokes and Verrix being a little concerned that that horses are going to try to eat his feet). The party gets ready to go to the temple, but elect to leave Marlee and Inigo behind - Marlee because she’s too loud, and Inigo to keep her company.

Marlee: “Ugh, FINE! But we’re not bonding!”

Rhododendron, Verrix, and Jun sneak around the back and Rhododendron picks the lock, berating Verrix and Jun for not being able to do it despite being arguably shadier. This time when Rhododendron aims an arrow at the pool, it takes all of the light in the entire building with it, blinding everyone. As the three of them descend the staircase, they see that the walls are lined with eerie, faceless humanoid statues.

Danny: “These vibes are rancorous, bro. Like, rancid. Straight up.”

SESSION THIRTEEN

Upon further examination of the humanoid statues, the group sees that they have strange straight lines sticking out of the tops of their heads, and that they’re in a crouched position…

Rhododendron: “What do you think is sticking out of the backs of their necks?” 

Verrix: “I dunno, I’ve never made a statue. I don’t know if that’s required or not.” 

Rhododendron: “Jun, I don’t like these.” 

Jun: “O-oh, yeah, I don’t either, they’re very creepy. Let’s just leave.” 

Rhododendron: “N-no. No! We are here for a reason.” 

Jun: “The lights flickered out, all these weird body-shaped things, we’re still in the first hall continuing on…Nyvarstra, if you can hear me, I know I don’t really pray, but uh…” 

Rhododendron: “Isn’t that sacrilegious in a Laoteng temple?” 

Jun: “……What’s she gonna do, be mad?” 

Rhododendron: ”I…I feel like there’s a point there, but it seems kind of rude.” 

Jun: “I mean, she’s never offered me her protection.” 

Rhododendron: “Well, you took a deal with a devil.” 

Jun, obviously annoyed: “A lot of us have made deals with a lot of different things, haven’t we?”

Verrix takes a good look at the statues, finding them long undisturbed and…softer, than normal statues, along with a faint magical aura to them. Rhododendron tries to look around for traps, but only senses something horribly off with the creepy not-statues.

Rhododendron: “We should be careful around the statues, obviously.” 

Jun: “Uh…are they statues?” 

Rhododendron: “Please don’t say things like that. Like, clearly, yes they’re not statues, but keep that to yourself.” 

Jun: “They almost look like, um…(failed INT check) well, I don’t know what they look like, actually. Magic?” 

Rhododendron: “I think even Verrix parsed that one out for himself.” 

Verrix: “…Thanks. How many spell slots do you have again?” 

Jun: “Not enough.” 

Rhododendron: “He was talking to me.” 

Jun: “I know.” 

Rhododendron: “Hey!”

The group takes a moment to desperately wish they’d brought Inigo and/or Marlee for a meat buffer/extra healing, especially considering how this temple already seems worse that the previous temples. They also get concerned about how dangerous all of these temples have been, seeing as they were supposedly made in Laoteng’s honor. The group tries to sneak down the hall, but Verrix (CRIT MISS) tries and spills everything out of his bag, also ripping his BRAND NEW cloak.

Verrix, tearfully: “My expensive new cape…I worked so hard for it…” 

Val: *cackling*

At the noise, four of the statues stand up, and the things on the back of their necks light, making them look like big human-shaped candles. Verrix shoves everything back into his bag and puts out the Light he’d cast for Rhododendron. Watching the candles, he army-crawls over to the other members of the party and away from the lit statues - Rhododendron refuses to turn around and look at the statues Verrix has disturbed. They manage to sneak down the rest of the hall without disturbing the other statues, and enter a new room with a pool of water in the center and a statues of Laoteng looming over it. There are three exits from the room, two doors to the right and left and a doorway in the back with a staircase leading downwards, the faint sound of rushing water in the distance.

Rhododendron wants to shoot the pool last after investigating the other rooms, finding the one to the left full of bookshelves and tapestries. The books aren’t written in a language Rhododendron recognizes, and most of them are in poor condition. Rhododendron manages to sneak around the animated suit of armor patrolling the room, and finds that the tapestries depict a Holy Knight wielding a silver bow - and that an empty silver quiver is stored in the room. The knight in the image is a mid-height drow wearing some sort of leather armor…they’re depicted slaying drakes, owlbears, and a cluster of sick-looking people. They have red streaks coming out of their eyes and mouths, but Rhododendron cannot remember what the name of their illness is, although it’s a common horror story told to children across the continent. 

In the next room, the group finds crafting supplies that seems as though the people who once frequented the temple were trying to make another silver bow unsuccessfully. Verrix is able to recognize the illness despite depicted on the mosaics in this room as the Crimson Death: during the first week you get feverish and sick, then you start bleeding out of your mouth/nose/eyes for two days, and then you die. It was a horrible plague that occurred a while ago, said to be a curse from Nyvarstra.  The group decides to go through the middle doorway and down the stairs, which are once again flanked by the creepy humanoid candle-statues on one side all the way down. A large waterfall rushes not too far from the staircase down to a pool far below.

Jun: “Don’t trip.”

Rhododendron and Jun spend a few minutes arguing about whether or not you should die trying to help someone else in the party, and then the party tries to sneak down the staircase. Rhododendron fails to sneak, alerting five candles to her presence - Jun tries to put them out but this just aggravates the candles further, and the trio scrambles down the rest of the staircase as the candles’ heads turn towards them. The candles explode just as the party gets to the bottom of the staircase, obliterating their only means of escape. The party stands near a small cave entrance at the base of the waterfall, at the edge of a small pond there doesn’t seem to be any outlet for all of the water.

Jun: “We’re done going downstairs. No more downstairs. No more downstairs.” 

Rhododendron: “The downstairs could lead upstairs though?” 

Jun: “Downstairs could also just keep leading downstairs until it leads to the Underdark.” 

Rhododendron: “What is it with you and thinking that things lead to the Underdark? That’s so far down, you know that, right?” 

Jun: “…Right.”

The party finds a Ring of Water Walking around the cave entrance, and then proceed onwards to a larger room in the back. It has a large pool of water with statues of Nyvarstra and Laoteng on the far side, and between them is a figure kneeling their head bowed, arms chained to both of the statues. They have a large pair of skeletal wings.

Rhododendron: “Maybe he’s nice…”

Jun is very against waking the chained angel, and Rhododendron sneaks around the angel to take a look at another mosaic behind them, but is unable to decipher anything. Verrix suggests swimming in the pool to figure out its properties - and then the trio realizes that the water in the pool is completely black. Rhododendron throws a piton with Light cast on it into the pool, which gets completely submerged in the darkness, the light snuffed out. Rhododendron lies to the group that they’re just going to turn around and leave the pool and the angel alone, and turns to shoot the pool right as they’re leaving - causing the room to plunge into pitch black darkness. Before Verrix can cast Light, the angel breaks free of their chains and summons a magical sword of fire, spitting out something vulgar in Celestial.

Verrix: “Uh, he sounds mad…” 

Jun: “Oh, he doesn’t sound mad at all Verrix, he sounds very friendly.”

The angel beheads both statues of Nyvarstra and Laoteng, crumbling the heads to dust.

Verrix: “They’re just statues, they’re not gonna hurt you. Do you just really not like statues, is that it? I swear we didn’t put those there.”

In broken Celestial the angel cusses out the goddess and any who would help them. Rhododendron and Verrix try to put on brave faces and snark back at the angel as they back away from the angel - who is much taller than even Marlee. The angel accuses Rhododendron of pretending to be a Champion of Dilong, saying she lacks purity. Rhododendron suggests that they try to swim across the pond, but Jun says that he can’t.

Rhododendron: “Why are all of the angels we’ve met just huge fucking assholes?” 

Verrix: “Hey.” 

Rhododendron: “Like you’re not a huge fucking asshole.” 

Verrix: “What about Inigo?” 

Jun: “So no exceptions.”

Without any other choice, the party engages the angel in combat. Rhododendron sends up a prayer to Dilong for guidance in combat, and the arrow strikes true causing the angel to howl in pain. Verrix makes the mistake of getting within melee range of the angel, who practically gores him with its greatsword (instantly halving his health), baring its fangs at him. Jun turns Verrix invisible, and the angel chases the group to the edge of the pond before releasing a wave of necrotic energy at them. Jun is knocked prone but Rhododendron and Verrix manage to stay standing. Rhododendron tries to talk the angel down, but they’re too far gone. Verrix senses that the fallen angel might be weak to radiant damage (too bad they didn’t bring someone with Divine Smite, huh), and he pulls out his wings to deal out some extra radiant damage to the enemy. After a few more attacks from the party as they whittle down its health, the angel gets annoyed with Verrix’s radiant damage and tries to attack him, but cannot reach him - so they grapple Rhododendron instead out of sheer desperation.

Rhododendron, choked: “If you wanted a hug you could have just asked.”

Verrix and Jun try to hit the angel, but Jun’s spells keep fizzling out. They spend a few rounds unable to do any real damage to the angel without risking injuring Rhododendron, who keeps making jokes at the angel about taking her out to dinner first as she’s slowly choked out. Verrix casts Burning Hands directly in the angel’s face, melting and crumbling their face. The angel shatters in a hail of light, covering the party in goop. After cleaning off the angel goop, Rhododendron gives both Verrix and Jun a chocolate - Verrix ends up not having any immediate effects, while Jun screams and coughs up blood.

Rhododendron: “Are you okay??” 

Jun: “No. I think that chocolate tried to cast a love spell on me. Tastes like coconuts, though.” 

Verrix: “Is that gonna happen to me??”

Rhododendron is able to get a better look at the mosaic, which depicts the sun and the moon in balance with one another, equal in their power. Nyvarstra is shown empowering other deities while Laoteng is show in temperance to that, cleansing those that grew clouded by the power. The pool seems like it was restorative at one point. Rhododendron takes the Water Walking ring to scope out the area, but is unable to find anything. Verrix tries to use the ring to walk up the waterfall, but fails miserably. Rhododendron also attempts it but fails in the same way. After several more minutes of unsuccessful investigation of the waterfall, Rhododendron tries to use her bow to shoot at the waterfall. She debates praying to Laoteng or Dilong, since the angel mentioned something about him. She decides to pray to Dilong for help and guidance…(CRIT MISS)

The arrow snaps in half and falls into the water. Rhododendron, out of desperation, decides to try again - Jun suggests making a deal with the god, since powerful entities usually want something in return. Verrix suggests throwing a coin into the water, like making a wish. 

Rhododendron, embarrassed: “I fell asleep most of the time when I went to church with Raz. I tried to stay awake, but he has a very soothing…voice…And there’d be hymns. Really, really long hymns. Everybody’s lulling you to sleep.”

Rhododendron tries another prayer, admitting that she doesn’t know what to offer Dilong. After five long minutes with no response, the group sees a shooting star streak across the dark (underground) chamber, hitting the waterfall and submerging the entire chamber in water - Rhododendron opens her eyes in a bright white room, dry and glowing with a faint silver light. Rhododendron asks aloud if she’s dead, to which an unfamiliar voice tells her she isn’t. Dilong says that aren’t really interested in making a deal with her since they aren’t some hag or fey. Dilong advises Rhododendron to be careful about offering to make deals with strangers.

Dilong: “Not everyone’s that nice.” 

Rhododendron: “Are you..nice…?” 

Dilong: “Depends who you ask.” 

Rhododendron: “What if I’m asking you?” 

Dilong: “I dunno. Some people say neutrality isn’t really nice, but I say walking in the middle isn’t so bad.”

Rhododendron wakes to find herself standing in the middle of the pool in the room with three doorways above the broken staircase, Verrix and Jun passed out on either side of the pool. They’re all dry. Rhododendron sends up a quick prayer of thanks to Dilong, and looks through the bookshelves for information on Dilong. The only book she manages to find is written in Primordial, which Jun says that he can read but that it will take a while since it’s a difficult language to translate. The party finally leaves the temple, going to reunite with Inigo and Marlee. Rhododendron puts on her bright pink dress and Verrix uses his disguise kit to make her look like Donny.

They head back over to the cart, and Inigo has trouble remembering Donny’s name. Marlee tells Rhododendron that she looks ‘pretty bad’ before asking how the temple went. Rhododendron tells Marlee to get in disguise as well, and Inigo tries to come up with a fake name for Rhododendron.

Inigo: “Uh, Romeo?” 

Rhododendron: “Romeo is just me. Romeo is just Rhododendron.” 

Inigo: [CRIT MISS INT CHECK]

Rhododendron tries to check in on Inigo and the status of his memories, but he keeps dodging around her with cryptic and confused-sounding responses. He does manage to remember Donny’s name, and Rhododendron realizes that Verrix made her look like Donny - he ducks behind Marlee. After Verrix finishes Marlee’s disguise, she and Rhododendron come up with fake names and a backstory, with Marlee less than pleased to be on a date with fake-Donny (‘Barbra’).

Marlee: “Ugh, you couldn’t have been, like, hot?” 

Rhododendron: “Hey, I’m not like, ugly.” 

Marlee: “Okay. Couldn’t we be, like, siblings instead?” 

Rhododendron: ”No, we look nothing alike.” 

Marlee: “I know, I actually look nice.”

Marlee pouts as they start their fake-date, heading towards the stables. The stable master seems unswayed by their act, until Marlee (like every time she lies) starts strong and then takes it a little overboard with her threats by the end of her semi-lovelorn speech. She definitely implies they’ll be doing, uh, things on the horses. Marlee ends up taking two of the horses from a completely speechless and embarrassed stable master, and Rhododendron is torn between being impressed and mortified by Marlee’s insinuations. The two of them decide that their meet-cute is that Donny/Barbra/Rhododendron is a clumsy waitress who spilled some sort of non-hot beverage on Julia/Marlee and that they’re engaged with a very specific proposal scene courtesy of Marlee; they spend the rest of the horse ride figuring out the details of their fake couple as Rhododendron tries to bond with Marlee, and the end up circling back to where the rest of their party is waiting with the cart.

The party debates leaving - there is one major city left, and then just the Long Road between them and the capital of So’Joh. Rhododendron asks Marlee for information about Dilong, and she says that he’s the god of the Underdark, the stars, and guidance. She also lists of his holy days, like the Night of Wishes (in the middle of winter). She also supplies that his symbol is a falling star. Rhododendron fills her in on what happened in the temple, and Marlee sounds mildly impressed with most of it - but points out that she should have checked the quiver for a curse before picking it up and using it. When Rhododendron recounts the fight with angel Marlee tries to write an impromptu enemies-to-lovers story about it while she talks. (Verrix pretends like he isn’t eavesdropping the entire time while he guides the horses.) Rhododendron says the Knight/Champion of Dilong had the same bow as her in the temple’s depictions, and that every time she’d tried to pray to Laoteng she never really seemed to get a response.

Marlee: “What made you think it was Laoteng’s bow, anyway?”

Rhododendron: “It’s silver. And I found it in the palace of the Queen.”

Marlee: “Oh, you’re so lucky to have me.”

Marlee also supplies that gods are ‘not a one way street’, and that their relationships with mortals tend to be give-and-take. Rhododendron finishes detailing her strange encounter with Dilong to Marlee, who claims that there’s some ‘romantic tension’ in that. Rhododendron wonders if there’s a possibility that it wasn’t Dilong, to which Marlee says that a Trickster might have tried to interfere but gods like Zelia and Sabio wouldn’t resort to that. She does warn Rhododendron that Nyvarstra wouldn’t be pleased about her meeting with Dilong, and repeats the well-worn mantra that she’s ‘always watching’.

Rhododendron: “There was this shooting star that hit the waterfall, and then we were all drowning.”

Marlee: “Oh, are you dead? Wait, you’re not dead - if you were dead I would sense it, and then I would have to kill you, ‘cause, you know, undead - can’t roll with that. You’re an abomination against nature and Nyvarstra doesn’t like that, so I’d have to Smite you.”

Rhododendron has Jun cast Identify on her bow again, to which he finds that her bow feels much stronger, not quite awakened but definitely not as dormant as it was before.

[annakie]

An Annotated Mass Effect Playthrough, Part Seven

List of Posts: 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Wherein we... talk to the crew. I didn’t quite make it off the ship.

Still, a lot of words.

Aka the nearly All-Gif update.

Didn’t get a chance to play ME at all this week, so I’m going to spend a few hours this weekend (double-checking to make sure screenshotting works :p) and have some real updates later.

So making it back to the ship from Therum, it’s time to talk to the crew.  I maybe could have gone and talked to them after getting on the ship after the Citadel, but they don’t really have any unique lines then so, I usually wait til now to go chat.

First, let’s talk to Liara.

The thing that sucks about talking to Liara (or Kaidan, or Ashley, if you don’t want to romance them) is, you know, the accidental romance.  Making “picking the Paragon-place choices = romance by default with NO WARNING” design was very Not Good.  They fixed this in later games, well moreso in Dragon Age games than ME, (and Andromeda is done very well for this) but still.  In ME3, the BackOff mod does a great job of making romance dialog more obvious and intentional.  

Liara’s dialog choices I feel like are even LESS obviously flirting I feel like than Ash and Kaidan’s.  Honestly with Liara’s most of the lines can be read and even said aloud as friendship then BOOM, all of a sudden she wants a threesome.  I choose middle dialog options whenever possible with Liara just to avoid this.  I’m not interested, never have been, don’t want Kaidan to think he has any competition.  But seriously, it’s poor game design here that you literally have to be a jerk to a companion at some points to avoid having them think you want to bang.   God, half of the reason I’d love a remaster would be to hopefully fix shit like this to avoid some of the pitfalls.  

I hate that some people use this as a reason to dislike these characters more.  And I’ll admit, in my early days as a ME fan, I held it against Liara, too, until I realized how dumb that is.  I especially hate it when you get to the “confrontation scene” and people use Kaidan not wanting to be in a threesome as a reason to dislike him more?  It’s not a bad thing to want to be monogamous?  (And of course, it’s not a bad thing to NOT want to be, assuming everyone is open and OK about it.)

I just prefer to not get that scene at all now, and to avoid “leading anyone on” accidentally etc.  My Shepard knows early on what she wants, and sticks with him all the way through.

I was going to talk more here about my feelings about Liara in general but uh, I guess I’ll do that later.  This is already really long.

Here’s a great post about how to avoid romancing Kaidan while being rude as little as possible to him.  

Well since he’s right outside the medbay anyway, let’s go talk to the LT.  

Have I mentioned how much I hate the orange glow?  

So anyway, I thought maybe I’d talk here a little bit about Why Kaidan?

I will point out here that I am mostly a hetero woman, so my choices in video game romances lean towards men first, though I’m also very cool with doing non-m/f romances in games, and often do on subsequent playthroughs of games I love, but that’s almost never gonna be my primary romance.

I’d already mentioned my love for Carth Onasi, one of the most hated companions in video games, If You’re A Guy.

By today’s standards, even the Carth romance isn’t that great.  But at the time, it was the greatest romance I’d experienced in video games.  There were a few others that were really good -- Valen Shadowbreath in Neverwinter Nights: Horde of the Underdark was the other really great one, but we also got nightmare fuel like Anomen in Baldur’s Gate (though that gets better with mods + the final BG expansion) or just under-written characters or romances like Casavir in NWN2 (who was much better with mods) or hell, either of your choices in KotOR2 imho.  But I used to play KotOR over and over for many reasons, such as holy shit a Star Wars game(!!) and one where you can actually be a female main character AND has that great Bioware storytelling... but a big reason was Carth.  

A funny thing about Carth Onasi... if you play a male main character, you have a very different experience with Carth than if you play a woman.  And even I can agree that hoo boy Carth gets tiresome quick if you play a male, as a female you at least get to flirt and that calms him down and evens him out a lot. But the one time I tried playing as a male, I didn’t make it off Taris because.. yeouch I could actually see what the guys playing were so mad about.

But hey, that voice.  Raphael Sbarge, I love that voice.  So like I said early on in these posts, I immediately knew I was going to romance Kaidan the very second I confirmed he was romancable, before I even ran back into the ship and met anyone on the crew aside from Joker and Kaidan.

And... that only got confirmed more and more as I went through ME for the first time.  The character is smart, and capable, and respected you, and never questioned your command, but made his feelings pretty clear along the way.  He could be a little doofy but in an adorable way with some of the things he said, honestly there was almost never anything I didn’t love about this character.

I realized some time ago that I have a thing for the Paladin archetype personally. 

This is Casavir, from Neverwinter Nights 2, and in NWN2, there are two romance options for women.  An under-written Lawful Good Paladin in his late 30′s who is willing to buck his superiors to do what he thinks is right but also places you on a pedestal and holds back all his emotions.  He’s a romance option. Or....

Bishop, a chaotic evil ranger who insults you a lot, threatens to rape an NPC under your protection, and ultimately betrays you.  

Most people who played NWN2 seemed to prefer the CE Ranger.  I loved the paladin so much I wrote fix-it fic that I never have gotten around to publishing anywhere to retcon his terrible dumb ending.

There’s a fan-made romance mod that helps with the romances in this game, though I dislike a lot of what they did, ultimately I always use it.

In Dragon Age?

Ah yeah, the Templar-Warden.  Love him.  He does have that “Oh I’m so young and experienced tee-hee” thing going on that isn’t my favorite, (at this point mostly because I’m actually in my mid-40′s so uh, I’m just Old) but otherwise, yeah, love Alistair.

Dragon Age 2, I mean I usually romance Anders but... I’m not real excited about either him or Fenris, or even either of the ladies, though I have done Isabella’s romance (as well as Fenris’) and enjoyed it.  I’d probably romance Avaline (or Varric!), if she were an option.  But yeah, Anders mostly because he IS trying to do what’s right, even if he... well.  You know.  

But Dragon Age Inquisition?

Give me that Blackwall-angst.  That stoic guy trying to be a Warden who comes undone for you.  You’d think I’d go for Cullen, but hey this game gave us two paladin archetypes, though one is merely pretending, he still atones and becomes what he was trying to be, one way or another, if you let him.  I picked this paladin archtype first because I did not like Cullen based on interactions with him in DA1 & 2.  I like him well enough in DA:I but Blackwall is my guy here.

Out of all the many, many companions in SWTOR, who’s my fave?

If Aric Jorgan isn’t a Paladin-type I don’t know who is, especially since any romanceable Jedi are uh, all your female padawans (don’t get me started) until Lana (also female) comes along. 

Hell, in a very long-running 4e D&D game I played from around 2009 to 2014 where my character fell in love with our party leader’s son, married him and fought the final boss 4 months pregnant with our twins.  That character’s husband... was a paladin.  I mean look at this art my friend picked out for his character’s son:

I mean dang, who (of those who are attracted to men of this type) wouldn’t?

I always pick the Paladin.  The guy who is gonna Do What’s Right no matter what it costs him, the guy who’s gonna be loyal, the guy who may bottle up his emotions or keep them under control all the time but ultimately does what it takes to get the girl... that’s my fave.  And that’s Kaidan.

I will also say my second fave archetype is rogue-with-a-heart-of-gold, and that’s more of a Garrus or Varric (if only he were a choice!!! :( ) type.. aka my second choice in these games.

Well that was a lot more words on that subject than I meant to do, so I’m going to just say real quick here that what I love about this first conversation with Kaidan is that he’s already no dummy, he knows something is up, and warns you about it.

We’ll save talk about his backstory for another day.

Let’s head downstairs.

Yay for sped-up elevators!  What used to take like 20 seconds now takes like, four.

URDNOT WREX.

This another place where Shepard starts out just sticking their foot in their mouths completely.  I feel like this is something the game definitely has problems with here.  Shepard should know a lot more about the Genophage, like they should have about say, Spectres, even if the player doesn’t. So basically every response you can give to Wrex about the genophage and what his people are going through sounds really insensitive.  Comparing the relatively minor First Contact War with the entire galaxy more or less uniting to keep the Krogan from taking over after the Rachni war seems pretty dumb, and also like something Shepard should already know.

Loredumping on the Krogans a bunch with Wrex is necessary, but  I think it could have been done better.  Though I think there are a lot of questions about the Krogan and the Genophage that ultimately are important but go unanswered. I’m going to be honest, because generally I want my companions to be happy and ultimately I want the happiest ending I can get, I usually cure the genophage and leave Wrex in charge.  But also I don’t think that ends up with the happiest ending for the galaxy.  Everything about the genophage is terrible, how it works, how it was administered, what it’s done to the Krogan as a people, but let’s be honest, the galaxy will also be in huge trouble just from a resources perspective if each krogan woman can have hundreds (or even just dozens) of babies a year, who are gonna all live a thousand years.  There’s got to be a compromise that, eventually, hopefully Wrex works out if he’s alive at the end of ME3 or the council figures out with Wreav or whoever.  

It is kinda funny though that here, I basically met Wrex at C-Sec, told him I’d help him with Fist, sent him to my ship, and basically just kidnapped him to go help with the rest of the mission.  He wanted to be here, right?  I can only assume I’m paying him a lot.

Ashley!

I do love Ashley Williams.

I’m not going to turn this into a “Is Ashley Racist” thinkpiece.  I’ve read a lot of both sides of this argument and no, I don’t think she is.  Some pieces of her attitude do need to be kicked up a bit, for sure.  She’s got about the same issues with aliens as most of the species of the galaxy have with each other, which sometimes isn’t great, but she’s far from supporting Terra Firma.

She’s smart, she’s funny, a hell of a shot, she’s being held back due to her family name.  I would love for if someday a Wilshenko OT3 were possible.  I’d do that in an instant.  I despise the fact that you can only keep Kaidan forever if you lose Ashley forever, though I don’t see that changing even in a remaster.  Please Bioware, for the super ultra remaster?

I know I need to do another run through the game with Ashley alive. I don’t remember too much of what happens in ME3 when she’s there.

I also love that her story is so much one of family.  From her stories of her sisters, to the point that it’s her own grandfather’s legacy that’s holding her back.  She’s so grounded, she reminds us that there are civilians out there we’re keeping safe, a whole world we rarely see, up in space and in the middle of so much military conflict.

GARRUS.

First of all, whew Garrus looks amazing in the lighting and with the textures with ALOT/MEUITM.  Very handsome.

Interestingly, Garrus does not really loredump on the turians.  We absorb a lot of what we find out about the turians more naturally.  Garrus is more all about C-Sec and the general politics of the Council, of Spectres, of C-Sec.  Gonna be honest, I expected C-sec to play into the game as a whole a lot more than it did based on Garrus’ talks about it.  I mean it was always there, but Bailey ends up being the face of C-Sec 

Garrus’ Law vs. I Do What I Want attitude is a nice way to do a non-goody-two-shoes companion story without having to go evil.  I love that Garrus’ story kinda mirrors our own as players, how are we going to get things done?  Shove a blaster in people’s faces, accept collateral damage, and do whatever it takes to get it done?  OR play by the rules, compromise, and see if that fixes things.

The thing is though, Mass Effect actually is great at giving us the illusion of choice without making a huge difference in the end.  Like I mentioned before... not bringing Garrus to ME1 makes little difference in how he acts in ME2 outside of a few lines of dialog.  Lots of things are like that, like pick Ash or Kaidan on Virmire, and yes one is always gone, but 80% of the content is basically the same from there on out for either character.

There are games out now that do that choice better.  Pathfinder: Kingmaker is one I can think of.  Or Tyranny.  Things you choose can alter the endings of those games drastically, locking entire paths out of the game.  

I used to think that was what I wanted.  Until I played Kingmaker and locked myself out of things I really wanted without realizing it.  I stopped playing the game, sad that my LI dumped me and wouldn’t come back without reloading many, many hours worth of game.  Despite enjoying the game overall, I still haven’t gone back.  When I do play again, I’ll probably keep a lot of tabs open of walkthroughs and tips on how to keep things going how I want.  Kind of defeating the purpose of the game.

Anyway, I got super off track again.  The point is, Garrus is the companion that gives us the most Choice in who he is.  Which is cool.  He illustrates our Paragon vs Renegade dilemma.  And it’s neat that it does make changes in some of the things he says in the future, but overall, his story doesn’t change much no matter what you do (Unless you, ya know, get him killed in ME2).

And therein lies a problem with Mass Effect, and video games as a whole.  It’s neat to see the little changes, but it’s rare for anything to be an actual Big Change, because... that’s a loooot of work for a developer and how much more money is all that going to cost him.

At some point in the future I’ll point out how lucky we are for what we did get, though.

Heeeey it’s Chief Engineer Greg Adams!  I wonder how many people don’t even know he has a first name?  Anyway, thank you for your one short conversation in which you explain how the Normandy works (honestly, great job with explaining this, Bioware, even if the science is ???) and like three sentences on who you are.  Wasted opportunity to give you an actual character.  Glad you like Tali, though!  See you in ME3.

TALI!

Okay, I will totally accept that Shepard doesn’t know much past the basics of quarian society.  That makes a lot more sense than Shepards not knowing much about asari.  

The quarians are so much more of an original creation I feel like than a lot of what we’ve seen in the galaxy so far.  Krogan?  Basically Klingons.  Turians?  Space Romans. Asari?  Twilek/Space Elves but ALL Hot Ladies.  Qarians feel like something new though.

I mean, I guess before they had to live in suits they were pretty normal, but their entire culture doesn’t feel like something we’ve seen everyplace before.  I mean I’ve seen space (g-slur)  but, eh not really.  

And Tali herself is such a good character.  I mean, she does suffer a little from being Very Important with her father being one of five admirals in a population of six million people but, I’ll allow it.  Nobody else on the crew has Very Important Parents.  I mean Garrus’ father is a little high up in the ranks but that’s a non-factor, Ash’s grandfather was but he’s dead and never seen, Wrex’s father is a chieftan but none of those is central to their current story or as big as this one. I mean, Spacer Shep’s own mother is a captain of a ship.  Tali herself in-game isn’t that sexualized -- most of that was the fandom’s doing.  She’s young but also confident and has her shit together.  

She shoulda been a same-sex romance in ME2/3 though, damnit!

Joker. Is. Amazing. And uh, also shoulda been a romance option. 

Hey first of all, how great was it that they put in disabled representation in this game.  I have read a few posts on how it could have been better, and definitely agree, but it’s also been so important to have say, Geordi LaForge as chief engineer of the Enterprise and also Joker here, in space, being awesome on spaceships.  And he really earns his the right to his bravado in calling himself the best pilot in the galaxy.  

Also?  Casting Seth Green was such a great choice.  I couldn’t imagine Joker as anyone else.  I mean this is Bioware so we expect, and definitely got, great voice acting (except for... ugh you know, we’ll get there in ME3) but honestly Seth Green was a particularly good choice.  I don’t care that he’s covered with sixteen layers of plot armor, he deserves it.

He’s the companion that we don’t ever get to take in the squad.  (I mean, except for that brief amazing moment in ME2)

I only wish in ME1 he had as much to say as in ME2/3.  At least he gets cool snarky lines after all the major missions.

One last thing before we get off the ship for awhile, I love that the crew is actually comprised of both men AND women in ME1.  With different hairstyles and faces, and even skin tones.  It’s nice to see they didn’t just reuse the same guy over and over for the nameless NPCs.  

Well, I guess they get names in ME2. :v

Anyway, I would like to point out, that there are seventeen nameless NPCs on the Normandy.

Then there’s Adams, Tali, Garrus, Wrex, Ashley, Kaidan, Chakwas, Liara, Pressley, and Joker.

That’s twenty-seven people and eight sleep pods.  Let’s remove the aliens, who couldn’t fit in a sleep pod (Garrus and Wrex), twenty-five people.  Are there people sleeping in the sleep pods now?  There must be, right?  Everyone can’t be awake when we’re on the ship just because we’re there?  How does that math add up?  Who is sleeping where, HOW DOES IT WORK!?  

Well, that’s their problem. I got my own bed.  Kaidan can share.

Also just... don’t get me started on how stupid this is.  I mean it’s nice having a shop on the ship but... the justification is terrible.  We all know it.  He was counted as one of the 17 nameless, btw.

Okay well, I was going to get off the ship this update but this is already stupid long and honestly I don’t have too much more content to post so, I’m gonna go actually play this game!

[noblecrumpet-dorkvision]

Need Help Deciding on a D&D Character

Edit: I made a Twitter poll to help decide: https://twitter.com/noblecrumpet/status/1144389611763961856

As my Tomb of Annihilation campaign is nearing its end (they are exploring level 4 of the Tomb now), I have been offered the opportunity of a lifetime for a DM: to actually play in a game instead of DM-ing it!

The problem is, I have three banger character concepts and no clue which to play. Since I have a lot of followers that can weigh in, I figured I would present them to you guys to help me decide. Each has at least one friendly NPC and one rival/villain NPC in their backstory and a character arc for maximum involvement in the story. Let me know which one sounds the most interesting or exciting to play because I like all of these dudes equally.

The setting is Forgotten Realms, but not the Sword Coast, and I think our team comp has two different barbarians and two other unknown characters. All three of my ideas are spellcasters so I’m not as concerned that I will be going against party comp.

Character 1: Dain, the Undermage

Character: Duergar Slime Sorcerer (homebrewed) focused on dealing a lot of Acid damage.

Appearance: Dain has ash-colored skin with a dirty red beard turned yellow in places from contact with acid. His forehead is magically branded with a column of three dark violet eye symbols rising from his brow. He wears a conglomeration of found and scavenged clothing scraps that form into robes, using bones for ornamentation and clasps. He wears a dark cowl to hide the sorcerous mark on his forehead. His spells all have a visual effect involving green ooze or slime.

Character Arc: Once he understands what heroic comradery is like, or if someone risks their life to save his, he will go from a selfish and greedy miser to someone willing to share his ambitions and to risk his own life for his new friends.

Backstory: Dain was once a proud brewer in a duergar kingdom called Blackmount, a subterranean mountain citadel ruled by Gabrid Grayrune. Brewing is an especially rare and almost taboo art since strong alcohols will cause duergar’s psionic powers to go awry. He lived with his wife, Azntryd.

One day, an aboleth named Thuuldukod took control of a good number of the duergar in the kingdom and spirited them away to its lair. Somehow the aboleth’s transformative slime and Dain’s innate psionic powers awakened a latent form of sorcery within him. He gained power over slimes, acid, and ooze and was also able to break free from Thuuldukod’s control. After freeing some others, they were able to overcome the aboleth and bury it beneath a pile of rock.

   Upon returning to Blackmount, the duergar took in the other freed duergar that survived, but banished Dain. His awakened power marked him with three purple eye symbols on his forehead, and the duergar believed this proved he was somehow still under the aboleth’s control. He left his life and his wife Azntryd behind. Angered by this treatment, he left to wallow in the filthier regions of the Underdark with his newfound powers, going slightly mad as he wondered if he was truly the one in control of his magic.

   Adventurers came by and tried to slay him, thinking the raving duergar was a common monster, but he overcame them. This battle caused him to rethink his priorities and once he noticed the wealth these heroes had accumulated, decided to act on his duergar greed and become a “hero” himself. His ultimate goal is to create his own kingdom to replace the one he lost.

Character 2: Klak, the Dungeon Delver

Character: Kobold Artificer (Artillerist) with a focus on exploration and utility.

Appearance: Klak sports red-grey scaled skin with orange eyes. As an artificer, he is always weighed down with lots of equipment, but thankfully has been able to design a haversack that can hold many of his things despite their weight. His artifacts are primarily made of stonework with glowing crimson runes, including his artillerist turret which grows from nearby stone to attack. The energy of his magic is red with lots of Kirby dots.

Character Arc: Klak is distrustful of warm-bloods but is his curiosity for history and ancient relics easily overcomes this. When he finally reunites with his crush who stayed behind when he was exiled, the only kobold or even person he ever trusted, Klak will have to choose between living in the ancient past or finding his feelings in the present.

Backstory: Klak (“Pebble” in draconic) and his kobold brethren served a green dragon named Andorax the Venom-Fang. Klak was one of the tyrant’s trap-makers. One day when mining out space for a pit trap, Klak came upon the entrance to an ancient lost tomb with magical technology and defenses. Not wanting to tell Andorax, he created a secret door in front of the tomb’s entrance and would steal away to the place when no one was looking. Slowly he began to uncover new secrets and learn how to abuse the magical items there. He even overcame some undead creatures by himself thanks to learning how to recreate a magical turret that once halted his own progress.

   After learning so many new tricks, Klak’s traps began to improve and Andorax started to take notice. He also started to notice when he went missing. Eventually, he discovered the secret entrance and filled it with poison gas while Klak was inside. Thinking quickly, Klak was able to create a gasmask and hide within a secret compartment. He couldn’t risk leaving, and knew that his kobold brethren would soon be combing the tomb for his body, so he dug and mined his way to the surface. Exhausted and running drastically low on air, he breached the ground in the wilderness nearby.

   Now Klak looks for new dungeons to delve, only stopping into town to sell treasures and buy tools and supplies. He knows a dwarven antiques merchant named Helga Goldbraid that shares new leads with him. He has joined adventuring parties before, but is wary of doing so ever since a human fighter, Amyster Bayn, betrayed him to get away with wealth and leave him to die.

   He misses one of his kobold friends whom he had a crush on, Jakryl, a crackshot crossbow sniper who presumably still works for Andorax. Klak was never able to confess his feelings for him before his escape.

Character 3: Gazmin Selunath, the Tide Princess

Character: Triton Bladesinger (elf restriction waived) with a focus on hitting people with her morningstar and blasting things with ice but with valuable utility spells in her back pocket. I imagine her as Thor’s personality, Starfire’s appearance (inverted color scheme) and the feeling of a Frank Frazetta painting.

Appearance: Big wavy green hair down to her calves, blue scaled skin, and yellow-green fins and webbing. She is tall for a triton, and has a powerful muscular build. She wears algae-stained whaleskin leather armor studded with barnacles, and a crown of spiked coral. She wields a magic morningstar whose head is a giant pearl with conical shells for spikes.

Character Arc: Gazmin is a prideful and haughty noble on a self-imposed quest to prove her worthiness to rule by slaying a great evil. However, she will never be satisfied. She has no actual desire to rule, but instead wanted to explore the surface world and its wonders. Her arc will complete once she stops lying to herself.

Backstory: Gazmin Selunath, daughter of Queen Myrthyn and King Genallus, is next in line to the throne of the triton kingdom of Seluna (which lies in a deep part of what the landlubbers call the Shining Sea). Gazmin was taught triton magic at the most prestigious magic schools and also the art of combat from the greatest triton warriors, and combines these skills into a bladesinging style she calls the Orca style. She wanted for nothing, but still realized something was missing. She didn’t feel worthy of attaining the crown and proclaimed that she had been given a task in a prophetic dream from the gods: she cannot rule Seluna until she destroys a great and terrible evil. Seeing no great evils in the kingdom, she opted to leave it and find this evil on land. Her parents gave her powerful triton relics to aid her in her quest. Then they said their goodbyes and she left in search of glory.

   Gazmin is unfamiliar with the ways and workings of the surface world. The first thing she did upon arriving was save a mountain man named Riff Bin from a group of marauding orcs. When asked where he lived that she may return him safely, he said his home was the mountain. She mistook this to mean that he was a great king who owned an entire mountain, and now offers him fealty and occasionally visits to send him tribute. Riff takes this in stride, not wanting to offend the terrifying woman who froze ten orcs solid and shattered them with her morningstar.

   Little to Gazmin’s knowledge, her jealous and treacherous younger brother Elganus has followed her to the surface world in hopes of ensuring Gazmin never returns to claim the throne he believes he deserves.

[dunewizard]

30 Days of Autism Acceptance - Day 15

The questions I’m answering can be found here!

April 15: Free day! Write about any topic you want!

I have a few things to say today. 

In this post I talk about coming back to running my own Dungeons and Dragons games. Theres also a paragraph tangent about Drow and RA Salvatores Drizzt series. Because Drow are my favs.

.

One thing I’m very excited about is the fact that I’m getting back into running my own D&D games. I lost the passion for it for a while. it wasnt right, I wasnt running my own work and the work I was running was depressing. I’m not big into gothic horror, at least not anymore - I sort of burnt myself out on the topic after I ran Curse of Strahd. So when i went to run it a second time because I “am comfortable/know the story well” it was right off the back of doing it already.  I felt burnt out. Especially because right after the first time I ran Curse of Strahd I immediately went onto Storm King’s Thunder, which is an entirely different campaign which you REALLY need to read the WHOLE thing and understand the working parts to get that story off the ground. 

There was an emotional investment and skill requirement that I just didn’t have and it turned what should be a fun and interactive hobby into simply a chore. I’m blessed to have had players who understood that I’m a player at the table too and my imput as DM is necessary to facilitate gameplay so without me the game shouldnt run. My heart wasn’t in it and I needed time away. Folks who have read my Blondie Talks tag would be familiar with the plight, it was around 6-8 months ago tho. I think.

I’m now coming back to being a Dungeonmaster and I love it so much. I have a fantastic team of players who seem as invested in the story and their characters as I am which honestly sounds too good to be true. But I see it in the way they play and interact with the game it warms my heart. I’m not running depressing Gothic Horror anymore and now I’m running a campaign set in my favourite setting: The Underdark! Undeground caves littered with danger and intrigue! Who knows whats around the next corner?! And DROW. I LOVE Drow. 

Drow are easily my favourite race found in D&D, and my main campaign theme is trying to show that evil is a choice and that no creature is inherently evil. Sort of thing. I dont know. I was mostly inspired by R.A Salvatore’s Drizzt DoUrden series, as “the only good drow” he goes through many moral conundrums as he considers the ideas that... well. Hes a Drow. Everything hes been told so far is that Drow are evil, and they do this and that. So much of what hes told hes like... I dont align with this... I dont agree. I will fight for my friends I wont leave them aside! Combo that with legendary skill with some swords and you got a killer character there dude, hes facing his own morality! Hes wondering whos evil and whos not!  One of my favourite conversations the book has  is when some Goblins are outside the Dwarven City of Mithrilfast, and the King waves his hand to say “Just kill them and be done with it”. Cattie Brie, his adopted daughter tries to appeal to his compassion by pleading him to only scare them off! With the poignant mention “what if they were drow?!” - knowing full well that Drizzt was RIGHT there in their court, and it was well established that Drizzt is a friend with noble intentions and a good heart. The fact that Drizzt was there made him think “What if there is a Drizzt among those goblins?” and to summarize the situation the King ends up not slaying the Goblins. Its hard to quite explain but the books go into much better detail about these concepts.

ANYWAY Sorry I prattled. I’m running a game set in the Underdark! My players are phenomenal and I’m seriously finding my passion for Dungeon Mastering once more. I cant wait to throw more challenges towards my players and I’m so excited to see what they do!

I lost the spark for Dungeons and Dragons for a little bit because of my DMing hiatus. I never lost the interest but everything in me questioned why I loved it still so much. I played as my main Wizard character named Hermes, my friend jake’s campaign was every Sunday afternoon and I loved it. We always made sure to do something on “D&D Day” even if we couldnt continue the main campaign. I’ve loved the game for the last 6 years and I cannot see myself ever dropping the game, its simply one of those infinite content sort of games! Its really helped me come out of my shell and improve my acting abilities and I love being a player and understanding plot hooks and trying to be a better player for new tables too. 

I couldnt think of a better way to spend my free time <3

[galaxa-13]

Time to write some end of campaign stories.

Sia didn’t know what she wanted to do with herself anymore. They were back on the surface, Master Orlerieni was dead, King Iirod Bilviera had been returned to his wife, she had basically come full circle and was back to her very original goal: find someone to teach her magic. Did she really even need to now, though? With the kingdom of Bilviera gone she didn’t know where to go next to find a teacher, and over the course of her adventure she had grown fairly adept at controlling her magic. She wasn’t a master yet though.

Erol had asked her, before that final encounter with Gregor (or Prince Dragomir, as some were calling him), where she planned to go, the surface or the Underdark? She had told him she wasn’t sure. She had thought she wanted to return to the surface, that where where she had grown up and where her father was. Yet the Underdark was where the Ds’Eers lived and honestly? Her time with them was the first time she felt like she belonged anywhere. Not to mention Erol clearly had no love for the surface.

He never said anything when they did come to the surface with all the refugees. He had remained by her side through everything. If she decided she was going to remain up here he would probably continue to stay with her, and that was a huge comfort, but even if he never said so she could see how uncomfortable he was. Could she do that to her most loyal ally? Could she turn her back on the sunshine and everything on the surface to make him happy?

Sia asked Erol to braid her hair. It felt nice to have him brush her hair and twist it into fancy designs. It was comforting. She would figure out what to do eventually. For now she just wanted to sit and enjoy a moment of peace.

The peaceful moment didn’t come as the when he began to brush her hair they both blinked into the now familiar realm. It was the same as ever, beautiful carvings and paintings lit by a rosy, early morning glow from the large windows. There was, however, one dramatic difference. A shining figure was in the room with them. Hanali Celanil, Lady Goldheart. Sia stood in the presence of a god and she found herself shocked silent.

The elven goddess of love and beauty smiled at them and asked Erol if he had named “it” yet. Sia turned to look at her butler. “It”? What was “it”? What was going on? Erol looked annoyed and asked what the point of any of this was. The goddess laughed, like beautiful chimes.

“If you name it and give ownership to me I will give you something you want.”

Her eyes fell on Sia at the second “you”. Sia blinked. Her? What did this god intend to give her in exchange for whatever she wanted from Erol? She turned once more to her butler and found his normally disdainful expression had softened into a more somber one as he looked back at her. What was going on in his head right now? He looked back at Lady Goldheart and said, “World’s Best Butler”.

This felt extremely significant, but Sia didn’t have time to think about it as the goddess laughed and lifted her hand. Everything went dark for Sia.

She felt someone shaking her and heard her name being called. She opened her eyes as she took a deep breath. Wait. She could feel it, she wasn’t just going through the motions for effect, she was breathing. Erol was kneeling by her and staring down at her panicked. In a rush Sia sat up and looked at her hands. If she was breathing then could it be?

Her hands showed no signs of the doll joints she had become accustomed to, but even more shocking than that was their color. Dark gray, similar to Erol’s own skin color. Her newly regained breath caught in her throat.

Erol wrapped her in a tight hug and after a shocked moment Sia wrapped her arms around him as well. It was wonderful. She squeezed him as tight as she could, afraid that if she didn’t she’d lose everything. He was there, he was real, she was alive.

“I need a mirror.” she said after a moment. Erol helped her to her feet and lead her over to the wash basin. Sia blinked at her reflection in the mirror.

The same purple eyes peered back at her, but they seemed to shine even more brightly against her darker skin. She looked the same, but so different. Her gray hair was now a glistening white and her ears stretched out longer. She leaned in close to her reflection, head slightly turned, and traced the outer rim of one ear with her finger. Then she faced the mirror fully again and pressed against the backside of both ears, bending them forward. A shaky laugh left her.

She pressed a palm against her cheek and relished at the press of flesh. Her smile grew wider as she squished her face between both hands and giggled. She was a real, living person again. She was a full-blooded drow. Whipping around she beamed at Erol, almost manic.

“Erol! I’m a drow!” she squealed. Then she grabbed his hands and began jumping up and down. “I’m alive and I’m a drow! A real drow!”

She dropped his hands and ran to the center of the room, throwing her arms out and spinning in place. She continued to laugh as she twirled around. Never before had she felt such pure joy. This was amazing! This was wonderful!

Suddenly she stopped spinning. A thought had struck her. She ran over to her bag of holding and shoved her arm inside. Quickly she ripped out an envelope. She stared at her father’s name written on the front and then grinned at Erol. The envelope caught fire in her fingers as she stared at him. Her eyes flicked back to her hand as the flames ate away at the letter she had painstakingly written. She turned her hand and dumped the few motes of ash she had caught as the letter finally disappeared.

What need did she have pining for the affection of her human father who had shunted her off? She wasn’t even partly human anymore! She was free. There were others she had in her life now. People who wanted to spend time with her.

She hugged Erol again.

“Let’s return to the Underdark.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Of course saying she wanted to go back to the Underdark and actually getting there was two different things. They got back to the surface thanks to Gregor using that awful demon door, but he only had ownership of it for a week. The week had now passed so now the only way back was to find some other magical means, or spend months getting there by foot.

Sia was feeling restless. She wanted to know how the Ds’Eers were doing. She wanted to get her life back on track. She was getting annoyed at the sunshine she used to adore. Becoming a full-blooded drow had its drawbacks. Luckily in a few weeks an answer arrived for her travel dilemma.

She was walking in town when suddenly a giant owl flew up to her. She was startled by the creature, but it was quickly evident that it was being affectionate and not hostile. Before she could wrap her head around this development she saw a familiar figure.

“FOB!” she cried out as she threw herself at her friend. Hugging him tightly she said, “You’re alright! You’re back to normal!” Then she suddenly pulled herself away at arms length and stared at him sternly. 

“You’re a stupid idiot! What were you thinking running up to that vampire?! You should have just stayed in the box with me!”

Having caused quite the scene there was now a small crowd gathered around her and Sia finally took them all in. There was the owl, a human girl, some fishy red girl, and a woman in a cloak. After introductions were given something tickled in the back of Sia’s mind. Something important. She asked the woman some questions and then she realized what it was.

She reached into her bag of holding and pulled out the huge spell tome. Offering it to the woman she felt her heart swell. There! Another task complete! Giving her old master’s gift to his long lost former apprentice! Who was apparently his daughter! Cool!

It was great to catch up with Fob and tell him all about how she came back to life as a drow. She was really excited that she would age at the same rate as him. She also liked showing off her new looks. Didn’t he think her eyes looked prettier now? She felt prettier!

Then Nerie, Master Orlerieni’s daughter, explained that she had taken on this group as her own apprentices in magic. She extended the offer to Sia. Sia was shocked for a moment before breaking out into an exuberant “YES!”. This was all she could have wanted! New friends, new master, why wouldn’t she agree?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sia stared down at the spider necklace in her hands, thumb slowly tracing the gem set eyes. She had had this necklace her whole life, the only thing she had of her mother’s. When she had been old enough to understand she began to wear it every day. When her powers manifested she used the necklace as a focus for her abilities. She had so many feelings tied to this piece of jewelry. Now, though, it made her uneasy.

She hadn’t been aware that it was a holy symbol for the evil goddess Lolth. That was why Erol had so readily attached himself to her, thinking she had the favor of his god. She hadn’t really cared even after she found out, but her experience with another goddess was making her rethink things.

She hadn’t ever been particularly religious in her life. The god existed, but their whims were of no concern to her. Now, though, now she knew she did have a god’s favor. Lady Goldheart had taken an interest in her. Sia had no idea why, but it was true. She was the one to have given her the construct body, she must have been the one to write that letter that had made her feel so safe and loved, and then she had fully resurrected her as a true drow.

How could she not feel indebted to her after all that? She literally owed her her life. Sia felt weird about wearing a different god’s holy symbol after all that.

When she had been younger she used to imagine all sorts of stories about who her mother was. Since she left this gift for her she must have loved her and hated leaving her behind! Her mother bust have been an astonishing beauty who immediately entranced her father. The two fell madly in love, but they knew they could never be together since she was a drow. When she found out she was pregnant she decided it would be better to leave their child on the surface instead of forcing her to live in the Underdark. It must have broken her heart to leave her behind, leaving only a necklace as proof of her love!

She had given up on the rosy outlook of her father. It was probably time to give up on her mother as well. As little time she had spent with her father she had at least spent some. Her mother was a complete non-entity, only existing in the stories she built herself. A small part of her had to admit that her excitement to explore the Underdark might have been the hope of learning anything about her mother. She was lucky enough to even find Master Orlerieni, it was ridiculous to have thought she’d find out anything about a woman she didn’t eve know the name of.

She didn’t need her anyway. Just like she didn’t need her father. Sia took a cloth and carefully wrapped up the spider necklace before storing it away. She’d go out today and get herself a new arcane focus. Then she’d eat some sweets.

[dreadlock-detective]

All of my 5th ed D&D characters together, by order of appearance: Adi the Paladin (Crimson Crow Campaign), Beatrice the Monk/Cleric, Cirilisa the Wizard, Dindelion the Sorceress, Elenor the Ranger/Wizard, and Adi the Cleric (Curse of Strahd Campaign) (yes that’s A B C D E, and then A again)

My characters tend to have rather large issues that would, if they were left on their own without their respective groups/getting caught up in the campaign, ensure they’d never actually succeed in their goals. As such I’ve really enjoyed distilling each of them down to a single word, an essence of what lays behind their entire psyches. And they’re all bad. Yes, even “Justice”, due to the circumstances~ Ramble about each of them after the cut~

Adi the Paladin (of the Crimson Crows) is a bit of a special case, the only one whose impediment to their success isn’t strictly speaking herself. The child of nobles who collected ancient artifacts, it is said one day they lost themselves to madness. Adi was taken in by her aunt and uncle who raised her the best she could, but as she grew they found she too was prone to bouts of madness and hysteria. One day, when the man they had hired to exercise whatever demons lay upon her mind was found upon the floor, the girl bloodying his face with her fists, she was deemed incurable and quietly shipped away to join a peace-keeping force of ex-criminals and other undesirables known as the Crimson Crows.

She always thought of herself as a hero - a warrior of good and bringer of justice. The problem lays in that she was, originally, a warlock/barbarian of a Great Old One (Nyarlathotep), which warped how she saw the world to fit how she saw herself. For example, if she killed someone, it’s because that person deserved to be killed - if not for the reasons she was attacking them, then for something else. A self proclaimed Hero of the People who’s powers came from something far more likely to destroy the world, manipulating her towards its goals.

She had a rather happy ending, though - some of the other PC’s betrayed her trust and managed to sever her connection to Nyarlathotep, afterward she became a Paladin and through the power of friendship (with a colony of Mind Flayers - its a weird story) she managed to become the hero she always thought she was, ending a war with minimal bloodshed and bringing down an ancient evil.

Beatrice the Monk/Cleric of Death The young Bea, in a desperate attempt to save her clan from a powerful and deceptive mage, ended up selling her soul to a litch, turning her into a pseudo-undead herself. As it turns out, her clan who hunted the undead as abominations and mislead by the mage didn’t take kindly to that story, and she joined the Crimson Crows instead of facing their wrath. Faced with the knowledge that she had become the thing she had sworn to destroy to save those that now cast her out, she lost hope that she could ever reclaim her soul and, even among her new family of misfits, feared they would abandon her as well.

Sadly, she never got an end to her story - she got switched out for Adi when the campaign Adi was originally in was abruptly abandoned. Later on her and her wizard friend (another PC who had left the game) who both were hunting that evil mage found themselves mind-controlled into helping him resurrect an ancient draco-litch. She was saved by Adi & co, but now was worse off than ever, having played a pivotal role in bringing back a terrible undead horror, no matter how unwillingly. If we ever play another campaign in that world, I’d love to give her a proper story.

Cirilisa the Wizard Oh precious Ciri, the littlest Drow~ When a rival house murdered her entire family she became a young murder hobo in the underdark, growing up sickly and frail. Eventually she attempted to get her revenge but only managed to steal and sell some artifact from the family, along with getting a massive scar across her midsection from a blast from the family’s matriarch. Somehow escaping to the surface, her unconscious body was found by scouts of the Crimson Crows, who brought her back to relative health and gave her a new home, where she eventually set herself on becoming a moderately accomplished wizard. Her loss in childhood had deadened her already drow heart, but living among the surface world she saw so many people with so many emotions. She didn’t understand them, but she secretly coveted what they had.

I had planned that she would start to fall in love with the first PC that went out of their way to protect or help her from a serious problem - a plan that was designed to end poorly. The three candidates were a loner dwarf who didn’t want anything to do with anyone else, a were-bear orc who was 100% gay, and a minotaur who was already in a committed relationship. But even though the feelings wouldn’t be returned, she would FEEL things and grow as a character... well...

I didn’t expect that character (the orc) to protect her from drow assassins who nearly managed to kill her... and then THE NEXT NIGHT sacrifice his soul to a revenant of a man he had killed to protect the party. Before Ciri even had a chance to start acknowledging or understanding what she was feeling the object of her affections was dead and buried along the roadside. Instead of love, she grew bitter and angry, desperate to find a way to save the orc’s soul, all without really knowing why. She died before she could - her heart ripped from her chest by a wraith of vampiric spirits in a climatic boss battle. But that group’s leader, a PC vampire named Walter, destroyed the wraith, took it’s title and powers as Blood Lord, and raised her as a vampire. She’s still a ball of piss and vinegar, but she’s in a way found herself in a new family, charging herself with constantly keeping the Blood Lord in check and making sure he never gets too full of himself.

Dindelion the Sorceress If you don’t know about Dindel you haven’t been following me long. A homeless vagabond who hides her natural born ability to heal others for fear it would be exploited, she’s internalized many negative things about herself and rarely trusts herself to make decisions that won’t end in disaster. Add in a mother that disappeared when she was young, a drunkard gambler of a father, and a city decades in decline full of poverty and abuse by those in power and she’s got more than a few trust issues for other folks as well. She also has absolutely no idea how a healthy relationship is supposed to work, and a head full of stories and romance that have absolutely not lined up with her experiences since the campaign started.

Her father, the only constant in her life and the other half of a fairly unhealthy co-dependent relationship, got taken away by essentially the mob for not paying debts and it’s up to her to find some way to pay it off. To her great luck, she ran in to the wandering soldier Vale who, apparently wanting to make up for past sins, agrees to take her along to join a new venture he heard about, leading to the campaign proper. She was actually specifically designed to have too many trust issues to actually get in a relationship with anyone, but between how Vale cares for her and how absolutely shitty she’s found the outside world to be, those issues have actually mutated into something new as their romance has grown. Its... not any healthier a mental state though. I’m excited to see where it goes!

Elenor the Ranger/Wizard Elena was once a promising apprentice wizard, learning the weave with 4 other students. Always feeling a step above the others and not content with how slowly their teacher was progressing them, she devised a plan to work with the others to impress their teacher - to show her they were ready for bigger things. They were going to summon a creature from the planes of hell! Specifically, a Lemure, a relatively harmless blob of a twisted soul. An impressive feat and without much risk from the creature being summoned. Definitely within the capability of someone as great as her.

As sharp chains lashed out from the summoning circle her left arm was torn away. A great beast emerged, tossing her across the room. As she looked up she saw her rival, a young man named Osvaldo, brandishing an axe, standing over her, and looking quite pleased with himself. And the axe came down.

She would come to in a crypt standing near a coffin bearing the family crest of Osvaldo. Her body stiff and her mind cloudy, she slowly realized she had not survived that night at all - she was now a reanimated corpse, but had somehow regained her sense of self. She also found the nearby townspeople did not care enough to distinguish between mindless undead and herself. Eventually she found the place she had once studied - destroyed, some time ago it seems, by that night’s events. Lost and adrift, the life she once knew was over, even her memories were fragmented, but she would forever remember the names of the four who had done this. Osvaldo had convinced them to change the ritual - to summon that creature, and to use it to kill her. She was certain of it. And that hatred kept her going as years of nothingness passed her by. One day she was hired by a tunnel elf, a professed seeker of knowledge, as a guide through the wilderness and though she could not stand him they soon encountered others, mostly strange folk - a tabaxi, a triton, and a snake-like dragonborn in particular - and she stuck around to entertain herself.

Little did she know they were about to be pulled into saving the world from consumption by a forgotten and terrible deity. She thinks their chances aren’t even worth mentioning, but still she cannot allow existence to end before she has wrought what vengeance she can on those that wronged her, and so she will fight with everything she has to keep the world going.

Adi the Cleric of Nyarlathotep As Adi of the Crimson Crows discovered as she worked with the mind flayers, she was not the only Adi. Not even close. Hers was a soul connected to a power outside of time and space and finds itself drawn into worlds over and over, each incarnation as much the same as they are different. Perhaps the Crawling Chaos did not want to repeat what had happened before, maybe it was just twisted curiosity, but this iteration of the girl was born through his direct influence, raised in a town he had visited and driven mad. She was his disciple, and she would spread his teachings across the land.

Through a series of misunderstandings she has found herself in the land of Ravenloft, under the watchful eyes of the vampire Strahd, and in this land she came upon a terrible, bewitched house. A house with paintings of the owners and of a woman bearing a striking resemblance to her. A house where the ghostly children said their littlest sister was named Adi. The child had died in infancy, sacrificed in some dark ritual by its father.

And down in the depths of that place Adi found it was the truth. And there, along the alter, sat a book bound in human skin that called to her. A book of rituals devoted to her god, the Faceless Father. And there, upon the alter, she left the corpse of one of those who had traveled with her, who had brought her there.

She isn’t certain why the Faceless Father has guided her to this land, but she will carry out his will or die trying, though all things considered, perhaps the world would be better off with her in the ground, the cult’s voice silenced