#if that were the case. half-orc would be the top. halfing. and drow. I think duegar is good too?

[forcedhesitation]

I'm actually rather surprised that not a single one of the boys made top three. but then again, I suppose the large number of straight men that play this game are not as visible in fan spaces as us lgbt. That is...a fortunate thing, though, I'd argue.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Help Wanted (chapter 3)

Huge thanks again to @minky-for-short and @spiky-lesbian who continue to be amazing beta readers!

Please consider leaving a comment on Ao3, it really helps

Chapters: 1, 2, 3

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Caduceus loved it when little kids would come into the Blooming Grove. It didn’t happen all that often, most of his customers were students from the academy or the nearby art school, coming in talking about their projects or dissertations, magic runes scrawled up their arms in biro and paint under their fingernails. But every so often, usually on sunny afternoons, parents would come in with strollers or tiny, pudgy hands held securely in their own, coming from the park or the fountain or the markets. The little ones would soon find themselves thoroughly spoiled, pressed with free cookies and cakes to go with their juice, the tall, nice man behind the counter always eager to listen to their nonsense and coo over whatever treasures they clutched. He kept a box of toys over in the corner for them to play with, picture books to read and there was always a napkin within reach when one was needed.

There were some skills you couldn’t shake, even if your siblings were miles away.

He was just helping a little drow toddler clean off some cookie crumbs before his mothers could notice when there was a yelp from behind the counter, accompanied by a loud hissing like some immense dragon.

“Caddy! Help! Emergency, Captain!”

“You don’t have to call me that!” Cad gave the little boy a pat on the head and went running over.

Fjord was being enveloped in bursts of steam that smelled like burnt coffee, belching from the ancient coffee brewer, coughing and waving his arms in an attempt to stave them off, “I told you, Caddy. Helga hates me.”

“She does not hate you,” Cad insisted, wading in and turning dials and pushing levers back up, slapping his palm against the sides in a particular rhythm.

Eventually it worked, the steam abating and the guttural hissing stuttering into silence. There was a final worrying rattle and a small tide of black, steaming, bitter sludge plopped from the dispenser into the waiting cup.

“Ew,” Cad’s ears flattened and his nose wrinkled, “Okay, maybe Helga does hate you. What did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Fjord sounded indignant but clearly, like Cad, he was barely holding in laughter, “I tried to follow your instructions but I couldn’t remember them and I couldn’t find her manual…”

“She doesn’t have a manual, I bought her at a flea market,” Cad shook his head, slapping the immense bronze machine a few more times before nodding in a satisfied manner, “That should do it. What was the order?”

“Cinnamon coffee,” Fjord scratched at his jaw, still giving Helga a scandalised look.

“Right,” Cad moved to grab the right jars from the small, mismatched army of them that cluttered the bench, “Did you put the cinnamon in with the beans or did you add them separately?”

Fjord paused, eyes widening and jaw slackening in realisation, “Ah. The wrong one.”

Cad chuckled, nudging him lightly with a bony elbow, “Don’t worry. You’ll get it next time.”

For some reason, that seemed to make Fjord shrink a little, like he’d been expecting another step but his foot had found thin air instead. But only for a moment, then he was smiling again.

“Well, it’s my mess so I’m definitely cleaning Helga tonight.”

Cad let him have that, waving him back to work his usual magic with the customers so he could finish the drink. It had been a few months since he’d started working here and Fjord was clearly strongest when he was interacting with people, a relief seeing as conversation had never been Caduceus’ strong suit which he supposed came of growing up in the middle of the forest with only six other family members, talking to plants more than people.

In fact, Cad had learned a lot about Fjord, seeing him nearly every day, working elbow to elbow with him. He hummed while he worked. He didn’t like huge bits of onion in his food but if it was cut up small, he’d never notice. He’d gone to high school with Beau and Jester and become friends with Molly and Caleb and Veth through them. He’d been a sailor since he left school, speaking about the waves the same way Caduceus spoke about the forest. He always had a battered paperback in his bag, bought from a thrift store, even if there’d be no time in the day to read it. He woke up early and stayed up late, living on an amount of sleep that would have Cad wilting like a tulip in the heat. And he really needed a haircut but seemed in no hurry to get one.

Cad found himself filing away every new thing he learned, despite telling himself his crush had been a brief thing, just something silly his brain had spat up in amongst all the stress and change. Fjord was handsome, of course, but he was also becoming his friend on top of his employee which was way more important. He wasn’t going to put him in an awkward position by blushing like a teenager every time he opened his mouth. It wouldn’t be fair to him.

And besides, there was Avantika.

She was rarely in the cafe itself, which Caduceus couldn’t help but be grateful for, as selfish as he felt over it. Even so, her presence was felt almost every day, in the way Fjord would come in muttering under his breath, agitated and red faced, still reliving an argument he’d left behind. Or in the way he’d get calls sometimes that he would get anxious about taking, dropping whatever he was doing in the cafe to answer them coming back apologetic and shamefaced, with a tension in him that hadn’t been there before. Or the way clear up would run late- usually because the two of them were talking and laughing or Fjord was showing him a new song on the radio- and he’d sigh resignedly and head out for the bus stop rather than getting a lift from her. He never said anything directly about it but the pieces weren’t hard to put together. Fjord knew Cad would offer to drive him home and he also knew he wouldn’t be able to say no. And there would be something unacceptable about that, some rule broken by that action that he didn’t understand.

There seemed to be a lot of rules in Fjord’s...whatever he had with Avantika. One of them seemed to not be speaking about her at all, Cad had to base everything on what Fjord said with his muscles. He’d always been able to read that language better than anything, realising what people were trying not to say more than what they were actually saying. And he had learned shortly after that that people didn’t like it when you would state what it was out loud. He’d been working on that since coming to the city.

But no matter how many times he told himself it was none of his business one way or the other, that he needed to keep his broad, flat nose out of his new friend’s affairs, Caduceus did care. He did.

Fortunately, the rest of the Nein also cared and seemed determined to talk to him about it.

Beau and Caleb were in the cafe at the moment, as Caduceus tried to soothe Helga and get her back in working order by thumping his fist very carefully around her casing. They tended not to sit down when it was just the two of them, usually just on a pit stop in between class and a library session. They took different classes, of course, but they studied together which Cad found very strange, as they seemed to constantly bicker whenever they were within five meters of each other. Maybe they really didn’t know anyone else even remotely studious. Their significant others certainly wouldn’t qualify.

Fjord was taking orders, efficiently and smoothly, putting them together with barely a pause. He’d really been getting good at this, even in such a short space of time. Cad could see why he’d been so good on ships. Any task he was given, he threw himself into it fully until he’d mastered it and could move through it confidently. Cad barely ever had to show him something twice.

Thinking that he had this in hand- it was still an hour away from lunchtime, they were still in the ebb rather than the rush- Cad slipped over to Caleb and Beau, where they were leaning against the tall stools up against the counter, probably already arguing about something complicated to do with magic. Cad didn’t understand what there was for them to learn about magic for so many years. You just thought about it, asked nicely and it happened?

“Morning,” he rumbled congenially, setting their cups down in front of them. They came so often, he’d just started taking their own travel cups and filling them. Beau’s was scuffed and scratched from being shoved deep into her backpack with all her stuff, the logo of the Cobalt Soul still just about visible, clearly a freebie from her orientation nearly three years ago. Caleb’s was covered in cartoon kitty paw prints. Both were filled with black, incredibly strong study session grade coffee brew. Cad refused to sell them more than three cups a day, five cups a day during finals week.

“Hey, Cad,” Beau was bouncing on the balls of her feet, like she was shaking out all of her energy before having to stay still for an extended period of time.

“Good morning Caduceus,” Caleb had eyes only for his coffee, making grabby hands towards it before Cad had even passed it over.

“Only three, remember,” the firbolg warned him, not liking the look on his face, “I am keeping track.”

“I know,” Caleb said meekly, trying to look restrained and a little less like an addict, just taking one small sip before lowering the cup, as if to prove he could.

“Saw Fjord nearly send your coffee machine up in smoke,” Beau leaned a bandaged elbow on the counter, tipping her cup in the direction of the half orc, now chatting companionably with an elderly dragonborn woman as he put her granola bowl together.

“Easy mistake to make and no harm done,” Cad smiled in the same direction, just to himself, “He’s actually doing brilliantly. Starting to forget how I managed without him.”

Cad’s gaze was elsewhere, being much less subtle than he thought, so he missed the glance exchanged between Beau and Caleb.

“So, uh…” Beau leaned forward, bringing Cad’s eyes back her way, “You and Fjord, you get on well, huh?”

Cad was frowning over that, confused as to why she’d ask that when it was obvious, when they were both interrupted by a chime from Fjord’s apron pocket. The apron Cad had made him, done exactly to match his height, with waves stitched along the hem. He’d been delighted with it.

It went just as it always did. Fjord seemed to shrink in on himself a little, jaw tensing, teeth closing on his lower lip. He gave the woman her change quickly, eyes darting to Cad, gesturing apologetically and pointing at his pocket questioningly. Cad gave him a wave, there was no one else at the counter anyway.

Now Beau’s face was dark as thunder and even Caleb had a disapproving set to his jaw, like he’d swallowed something bitter other than his coffee.

“How many times a day does he get calls like that?” he asked, watching Fjord’s back disappear around the corner to the back room.

Cad shrugged, “A few. More some days than others. I’m not counting.” It wasn’t strictly a lie. He was trying not to count.

Beau muttered something into her cup that sounded unkind. When Caleb gave her a look she threw her hands in the air, nearly sloshing coffee on the wooden floor, “What? You know I’m right! She’s checking up on him like he’s a naughty kid!”

“I am aware,” Caleb sniffed, “And I don’t like it any more than you do. But we said we weren’t going to say that kind of stuff when he’s around.”

“Oh come on, he can’t hear us,” Beau rolled her eyes exaggeratedly.

Cad looked between the two of them anxiously, already feeling guilty but too curious to go and do something else, “So...you guys know about his girlfriend? Avantika?”

“Girlfriend is a strong word,” Caleb allowed, while Beau snorted derisively in the background, “More like...force of mutual destruction. Part time nemesis. Live in life ruiner.”

Caduceus wrinkled his nose, “Oh…”

“They’ve been like this since high school,” Beau’s lip curled, “They both got deep into this really dodgy patron, you know, how most people do at that age? Neither of them had a great childhood and it kind of just happens that way. Fjord started to have second thoughts once he became friends with us but she kept dragging him down into it. We all thought they were done when Fjord signed up with the Tide’s Breath, the ship he worked on? But now he’s home and they’ve just fallen right back into making each other miserable and making our lives shitty into the bargain!”

“That doesn’t sound...healthy…” Cad said slowly, taking his tail in his hands and wringing it anxiously.

“It’s not!” Beau slapped Caleb’s arm, “See! Cad gets it!”

“Ow! I’m on your side!” Caleb protested, rubbing his arm, “We all are!”

“You’re ridiculous, I barely touched you.”

Cad sucked in a breath, “People sometimes do things that don’t make sense because they don’t see that it’s hurting them. Or because something else is hurting them more and listening to someone else is easier. Even if what they’re telling you is bad.”

That got him an eerily twin set of concerned looks. Cad realised that maybe that should have been something he kept to himself, one of those things that made conversations awkward.

“We sort of get why he’s doing it,” Beau eventually said, slowly, “I mean, we’re basically Team Gone Through Bad Shit. Doesn’t mean we like it.”

“No one does,” Cad said quietly, eyes casting down to his tail, still clutched tight in his long fingers, “But saving people from themselves is difficult.”

“Hence why they’re still together,” Caleb murmured, “We know we can’t just go telling Fjord all of this without upsetting him and making things worse.” At that, he gave Beau a very significant look. She gave him the finger in return.

When Caleb ignored it, she sighed and hopped down from the stool, “We need to head out. Just...help us keep an eye on him?”

Cad glanced over. Fjord was back behind the counter, tapping his fingers restlessly on the wood, looking red faced and anxious. Clearly the conversation hadn’t been a pleasant one. Cad thought of all the times Fjord would look uncomfortable when he reassured him or instantly forgave an error or mistake. The way he’d get awkward about compliments, like he didn’t know how to hold them or where to put them. The way he needed to hold his overgrown hair back with a band but every day his tusks were freshly filed down, right to where it had to be painful, just so they wouldn’t be visible past his lip.

He couldn’t have a crush on him, it wouldn’t be fair. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t care about him. Far too late for that.

“Of course I will,” he said softly.

Caduceus was starting to enjoy closing up more than any other part of the day. Everything slowed down, there seemed to be more space to breathe and the whole evening stretched out in front of them, feeling like forever. And it would suddenly be just him and Fjord in the quiet, able to choose their favourite songs on the speakers and talk across the freshly wiped down tables and sing and joke.

It had started off tentative, back in the first few days. Neither of them were hugely eager to talk about the usual ice breaking questions like family, home, where they both were before now. Instead they’d talked in the present, about their interests. Cad had talked for hours about his rooftop beehive before realising he was rambling, except Fjord had still been listening intently, almost as if he didn’t care how much time had gone by. Fjord talked about how he was getting back into the battered old acoustic guitar he played, whatever book he was reading, whatever podcast he was listening to.

But, as it often went, talk about small things became talk about big things without really meaning to.

Tonight, Fjord was wiping down the tables and Cad was moving from plant to plant, watering contentedly. As he worked, the half orc was explaining some interesting historical magic experiments he’d been reading about in a book Caleb had lent him.

“...I used to think that kind of stuff was so interesting when I was younger. How people know what they know now, how all these big ideas became fact, y’know? Used to have all these daydreams about being at the academy and seeing the places all this big thinking happened…”

Cad looked over his shoulder, interested, “You want to apply to the academy?”

And then suddenly Fjord was tense, awkward, ducking his eyes to focus on the already clean mosaic table top, acting like he’d said something he shouldn’t have.

“I mean, I used to. When I was younger. A lot younger.”

Cad felt the urge to back off, the sensation that they were suddenly standing on some kind of line. But he couldn’t help but feel letting it go would be breaking the promise he’d made to Beau.

“You still could,” he said quietly, “They take students of all ages.”

Fjord still didn’t look up, “I, uh...I don’t think that’s the path for me anymore. I mean, when would I fit it in now? Not gonna be long before I’m back out on the ocean.”

Cad frowned delicately. He had mentioned that a few times, the fact that this was temporary, a stop gap until he found hire on another ship. But there was always something so rehearsed about the way he said it. Like he was copying someone else’s words.

“Paths can change,” Cad allowed after a pause, “But sometimes you can think that way but old loves come back, ones you thought you’d outgrown. And they’re stronger than ever.”

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience?” The attempt to change the subject was obvious but Cad let him have it. He wasn’t looking to make him uncomfortable.

He smiled softly, fingers gently brushing the almost silky leaves of his yucca plant, “My whole family worships Melora, the Wildmother. Have you heard of her?”

“I don’t think so,” the bridge of his nose scrunched up adorably when he was thinking.

“Not many people have,” Cad reassured him, “She’s mostly for the quiet places, where nature’s grown over the scars in the earth. Places like where I grew up...she was practically another family member growing up, you could feel her everywhere. She’s soft and gentle and kind and there’s nothing she can’t heal.”

Fjord’s expression softened, “She sounds nice.”

“She is,” Cad chuckled wryly, “And I was raised to be her cleric from the moment I was born.”

“Really?” Fjord’s eyebrows shot up and Caduceus could understand why, even as he cringed internally. He’d never mentioned having any kind of magic, he never used it around the cafe except in ways too small to notice. It was quite deliberate. Every time he reached for the well of power inside himself, the quiet place where he could smell damp moss and fresh grass and feel it under his feet no matter where he was, he’d feel a tug of homesickness. Even with the long conversations he’d had with the Wildmother, one sided conversations where he was answered by breezes and bird calls, even with his certainty that he had her support, his magic had a bitter taste to it these days.

“Really,” Cad murmured, hoping Fjord wouldn’t press the matter, “And there was a good few years where I resented the hell out of it.”

“Oh,” Fjord’s eyes widened.

Cad smiled coyly, “I had a full teenage tantrum. Pouting, breaking things, yelling. No one in my family yells… I made a complete fool of myself. It was a week out from my cleric initiation and suddenly I was tired of having all of my decisions made for me and wanted the world to know it.”

“How old were you?” Fjord grinned.

“Thirty five. Just a kid.”

“Oh…so what happened?”

“One night, I got it in my head that I was going to run away,” Cad turned back to his plant, practically petting it, “I packed a bag, climbed out of my window in the middle of the night...I told myself I was never coming back, without so much as a goodbye.”

Fjord had abandoned his table entirely, looking at Caduceus with his full attention, “Really?”

“Yep,” the memory of his own stupidity still made the fur on his neck stand up, “And I would have done it, if I hadn’t taken a wrong turn. I’d lived in those woods all my life and somehow I took a wrong turn, tell me how that happens without divine intervention. But all of a sudden, I wasn’t on the path anymore. I was in this beautiful clearing, waterfall gently bubbling...the place I was meant to take my initiation in a few hours, the very thing I was supposed to be running away from. And it occured to me that I’d been feeling all of this anger and sadness and confusion, it had been tearing me up inside for longer than I’d even realised...and I’d never talked to anyone about it. I couldn’t tell my family, not when they’d had this image of me as their perfect, devoted son. So...maybe I could tell her.”

“And you did?” Fjord sounded a million miles away, Cad lost in his own memory.

“I did. I talked until my voice ran out, until the sun came up. I told her everything and afterwards I felt so...so clean. People had been telling me all my life to follow the Wildmother and I had, because they’d told me to. That night was the night I decided to follow her because I chose to. I took my oath then and there.”

“Wow,” Fjord murmured, “I can’t imagine feeling that way about...anything, really.”

Cad was about to ask how come Fjord had his own patron then, before realising he’d have to explain how he knew that. And then realising he probably wouldn’t like the answer.

Instead he smiled, “It’s always waiting for you, Fjord. For all of us.”

That brought a laugh, the kind he only did when he wasn’t thinking because it would show his filed tusks, “That’s a nice idea, Caddy.”

He grinned back, moving to the next plant, caring for each of them as devotedly as he could manage, each one a growing, green prayer, “It is. Even nicer for being true...the Wildmother helped me realise I wasn’t happy at home, years after that night, when I was actually ready to make that decision. She brought me here, to this cafe and to the life I have now. She helped me not feel so lost. And there’s something out there that will help you feel the same, Fjord. Maybe it’s the academy. Maybe it’s your next ship.”

Maybe it’s here.

The words were on his lips without thinking, desperate to be spoken, straining to tumble into the air between them.

Caduceus swallowed them back. It wouldn’t be fair. And there was no guarantee that saying it would make it true.

“Thanks, Caddy. For sharing that with me,” Fjord’s voice seemed different somehow, in a way he couldn’t put his finger on. Maybe he was just tired.

“You’re welcome… you know you can talk to me anytime, right? About whatever you want... doesn’t have to be work stuff or, um…I mean anything.” Cad winced at himself. How had he gone from being so articulate to tripping over his own feet when he wanted to ask a simple question?

Fjord seemed on the verge of his usual tension when help was offered but then he seemed to shake it off, like rainwater, “Thanks. That means a lot, Caddy.”

Cad resisted the urge to clap his hands. He’d done exactly as Beau asked and made Fjord smile into the bargain.

“Why don’t you clean out Helga? That might make her like you. I can finish up the plants and tables.”

Fjord seemed grateful for the chance to move, like just accepting help had filled him with restless energy, “Oh, I’ll do that! She’s going to end up loving me, I swear.”

“I’m sure,” Cad chuckled quietly as he jumped up and headed for the counter.

He’d make sure they were wrapped up in time for him to get a ride home. One personal leap a day was enough, he felt.

Cad moved to the next plant, a terrarium full of mushrooms he’d taken from the grove, already softly starting to glow as the light dimmed. Just for a moment, he placed his palms on the smooth curve of the glass, the green luminescence filtering through the gaps between his fingers like he held a heart in his hands.

And all he could smell was fresh grass, new fallen rain on green things. He felt his nerves alight with power he’d had inside himself since that promise he’d made. And it felt right.

Cad smiled, leaning close and whispering just in case, “I’m going to keep an eye on him...but maybe you could too?”

The mushrooms immediately grew brighter in his hands, far brighter than they should be for the time of day.

Caduceus took that as a yes.

[cyberkevvideo]

Throne of Night Theory Builds Part 20: The Ghostly Dwarven Guard

I was releasing these on a daily basis, but then realized that I only have a few of these left to do, and that’s stretching things. I’ve already got the skeleton for the next two done up, with the second one being something really far out.

So because of that, I’m slowing things down some. This is doubly important because I’ve got a doctor’s appointment coming up that will make or break my life this year. Most won’t know, but I haven’t been working for almost year because my body’s so messed up. It has been for even longer than that, but it got so bad three years ago that I was unable to do regular work. Last year, my body got so bad I could barely stand. Well, we think we might know what’s finally happening and I’m getting tested for it this week. I’m excited for what might potentially be the best news I’ve heard in almost seven years. On top of that, mom got her radiation appointment, so she can finally continue her battle with cancer. Just one good thing after the other. Considering how crazy 2020 has been, we could definitely use some.

I am hoping that everyone is staying healthy and safe.

Time to get into things.

For space reasons, I’ll be cropping the encounter build.

All images shared here were done by the forever fantastic and amazingly talented Michael D. Clarke, aka SpiralMagus

EDIT: Made the weapon and armor out of gunzarak.

While I’m not 100% sure if the exact picture would have been in Book 3, the story definitely is. Like the giant dwarves I did previously, the story about this NPC is brought up in the synopsis of Book 3. On May 5th, 2013, the update talked about two factions. The first faction were mutated and augmented dwarves, warped and twisted. The second faction were potential allies, and were the spirits of the High Kings of the dwarves (called the “dwarven ancenstor-ghosts” for the drow side of the AP).

Because Book 3 was supposed to be levels 10-13, and there’s the potential of more than one ghost, having them be CR 10 seemed reasonable. There’s also the possibilities of them being ectoplasm creatures from Occult Adventures, but the picture definitely screamed “ghost” to me. I didn’t figure on a dwarf becoming a wight, shadow, or other kind of standard undead. I mean, they’re supposed to be “spirits”, afterall. Also, unless you have ghost touch weapons, incorporeal undead are going to be difficult to deal with. And as allies? Yeah. Most encounters would get stomped by these guys, even with magic weapons, assuming the enemies have any.

For this guy, he’s obviously using armor and an axe. Ghosts can use them unless they’re ghost touch as well. Short of making the items actually ghost touch, because what are the chances, I took from a 3PP source and gave this guy the ability to have items he once wore be ghost touch. I made sure to leave the link at the bottom. Thankfully d20pfsrd was kind of enough to make it known to us all. It should be noted that ghosts don’t have a Strength score. Even if they use ghost touch weapons. Period. Instead, as per the incorporeal universal monster rules, they use their Dexterity to swing them around. However, unless the ghost originally was an unchained rogue of 3rd level or higher, the Slashing Grace feat with a longsword, or are using an agile weapon, they cannot add their Dex to damage. That said, there is nothing saying that feats and class abilities that boost damage, as well as the weapon’s enhancement bonus, don’t work. So if you’re curious about the damage, that’s how I’m getting away with it. As for the close weapons, when he was alive, this dwarf used his gauntlets to punch whenever he was in a grapple. Ghosts don’t have to worry about that kind of stuff.

Other than his gear, the first thing I noticed was the helmet and the runes. Likely dwarven over archaic. It makes me curious as to what it says though. That and the “Z” on the gauntlets. Might just be the stamp of creator.

When the PCs finally manage to complete Book 3 and start the coronation for the next dwarven king, the thought process was that this particular ghost might give up his weapon and armor. For PCs, having deathless armor would be fantastic.

THE LAST FAITHFUL GUARD    (CR 10; 9,600 XP) Male variant ghost dwarf fighter 9 LN Medium undead (incorporeal) Init +2; Senses darkvision 60 ft.; Perception +9 DEFENSE AC 24, touch 17, flat-footed 21 (+7 armor, +4 deflection, +2 Dex, +1 dodge) hp 108 (9d10+54) Fort +10, Ref +7, Will +6; +2 vs. fear, poison, spells, and spell-like abilities Defensive Abilities bravery +2, channel resistance +4, defensive training (+4 dodge bonus to AC vs. giants), incorporeal traits, rejuvenation; DR 3/—; Immune undead traits OFFENSE Speed fly 30 ft. (perfect) Melee +1 ghost touch guardian gunzarak dwarven waraxe +15/+10 (1d10+5/×3) or     corrupting touch +11 (10d6; F-DC 18 half) Special Attacks hatred (+1 on attack rolls against goblinoid and orc humanoids), telekinesis (CL 12th, every 1d4 rounds), weapon training (axes +2, close +1) STATISTICS Str —, Dex 14, Con —, Int 12, Wis 16, Cha 18 Base Atk +9; CMB +9; CMD 26 (30 vs. bull rush and vs. trip) Feats Blind-Fight, Combat ReflexesB, Dazzling Display, DodgeB, DisruptiveB, Lighting Reflexes, Step Up, Toughness, Weapon Focus (dwarven waraxe)B, Weapon Specialization (dwarven waraxe)B Skills Climb +12, Fly +10, Intimidate +17, Knowledge (dungeoneering) +8, Knowledge (engineering) +7, Knowledge (religion) +5, Perception +9 (+11 to notice unusual stonework), Sense Motive +9, Stealth +10, Survival +10; Racial Modifiers +8 Fly, +8 Perception, +8 Stealth Languages Common, Dwarven, Undercommon SQ armor training 2, eternal warrior, stonecunning Gear +1 ghost touch deathless gunzarak breastplate, +1 ghost touch guardian gunzarak dwarven waraxe SPECIAL ABILITIES Corrupting Touch (Su) By passing part of its incorporeal body through a foe’s body as a standard action, the ghost inflicts 9d6 damage. This damage is not negative energy—it manifests in the form of physical wounds and aches from supernatural aging. Creatures immune to magical aging are immune to this damage, but otherwise the damage bypasses all forms of damage reduction. A Fortitude save halves the damage inflicted. Eternal Warrior (Su) The ghost died in righteous battle. The ghost may choose to treat any weapon, armor, or shield with which it is proficient as though it had the ghost touch weapon quality. Rejuvenation (Su) In most cases, it’s difficult to destroy a ghost through simple combat: the “destroyed” spirit restores itself in 2d4 days. Even the most powerful spells are usually only temporary solutions. The only way to permanently destroy a ghost is to determine the reason for its existence and set right whatever prevents it from resting in peace. The exact means varies with each spirit and may require a good deal of research. Special Wealth CR The ghostly dwarf has a gunzarak weapon and set of armor, which puts him above the standard wealth for NPCs of his level. However, this does not grant him much in the way of a mechanical benefit, therefore it does not increase his CR.

Gunzarak (true mithral) special material.

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

Sources: Variant special attacks come from Spenser Isdahl http://rocksfalleveryonedies.blogspot.com/2010/10/ghostly-manifestations.html

[royal-writer]

cuteness in comedy?

The least-descriptive-random-thing ever. It’s so random. I don’t even know what I was thinking. I guess I wasn’t. I kinda want a nap.

Lacing his fingers in front of himself, Abernathy gave a small but considerate nod. His eyes swept over to the Illiad, causing him to tense slightly. It moved across the rest of the group after a while, settling back on the young Ravamora who seemed hardly to be listening as she tore open a wrapped candy bar to shove part of it in her mouth.

“I like the idea, but it really is up to Lord Amon…”

Rava choked, swallowing a mouthful of her chocolate.

“You do?” she muffled through her food.

“You do?” Amon gaped, flabbergasted. “That’s got to be the worst idea I’ve heard so far-”

“I don’t know, it might work,” Adela agreed.

“Infiltration tactics could prove useful,” Sulhadur slowly chipped in. “We’d have a better idea of the interior layout, to, to better coordinate our efforts and move swiftly through the castle.”

Giving a sound of indifference, Aylin shrugged and smiled pleasantly. He seemed more amused by the current discussion than anything.

“I could care less either way,” Penimra yawned, throwing an arm dramatically over where his eyes peered out from his mask. “None of you listened to my idea, anyway.”

“Penimra, we can’t buy out people with more wealth than us for information.”

“Not with that attitude, we can’t.”

Offering a slow, shake of his head, the orc-elf pitifully raised up his face with a ‘what can you do’ expression towards Amon.

“We’d need to keep your party small to get you inside without looking too suspicious,” he ventured. “Perhaps one, two other people? A significant other will do; now… Rava’s got stealth, but Aylin-”

“Essätha.”

The word blurted out of Amon’s mouth so suddenly, it shocked even himself. Snapping his mouth shut, he swallowed the horrified expression down rapidly as everyone eyed him. His pupil dilated by fractions that would hardly be noticeable as he glanced over to the one, silent figure with a pondering expression sitting a few seats down from Abernathy.

She looked up at the sound of her name, shocked.

After a pause, Adela spoke up, almost humored, “Why Essätha?”

“Why not Essätha?” Amon offered in as smooth of a tone of indifference he could offer. “She’s capable of high concealment and secrecy. She can be covert; and she has a strong knack for intuition and following a gut-feeling. Essie should be able to sneak around a bit while I cover distractions; and she’ll be able to make judgment calls without my counseling that sound convincing; not to be offense to young Rava, but…”

“You sound childish sometimes,” Penimra offered, laughing. It was shortly cut off with an elbow to the side from the younger elf, scowling.

“That’s true,” Abe agreed. There was something about his smile that was… hard to place as he looked between them.

“Wait- what am I agreeing to?” Essätha mumbled; her face reddened. “I was a bit lost in my own thoughts- I’m sorry-”

A softened smile awakened on Amon’s features. What an endearing quality; to have a head so full of ideas and thoughts that you got lost in them. She could come up with such clever little ideas and whimsical epic poems with a carefully scrutinized nose and moment’s pause, what wasn’t to adore about that? A woman with a crafty, sharp, cunning head on her shoulders.

“Posing as Lord Amon’s wife, under aliases of course, to get into the castle and snoop around a bit. You know, get some feedback and information on this discreet organization. See if you two can figure out anything more about these big-heads funding the plots or who the big shots are”

“Amon houses a good point,” Abernathy went on. “Aside from Ravamora, you have the most ability and luck when it comes to stealth, and you know how to bluff your way out of a situation and read people. I’m inclined to agree.”

“Me too,” Adela purred, leaning forward as though watching the most delicious soap opera.

“Works for me,” Rava agreed, nibbling her candy. “I offered the idea, but that didn’t mean I wanted to pose as his wife. Sorry Lord Amon, you’re kinda old and not my taste.”

“No offense taken,” he offered dryly, giving a deadpan look to the young, practically child-elf.

With a pause, Essätha looked to the crimson dragonborn, cursed warlock, and contemplating drow. None of them offered any other options or opinions; only staring back at her until she, finally, rested her gaze upon his.

The color of her face was lovely when she blushed as she did now.

Amon smiled reflexively to her. Recklessly. Naturally. Unable to stop himself if he tried.

She offered a nervous, half-placed one in response.

“Alright, I guess,” she agreed while staring into his eyes. “So, what’s my name and what made me fall in love with Lord…?”

Reaching out to her, Amon took hold of the alluring Yuan-ti’s hand as he offered a polite tip of his head.

“Lord Amos, my dear.”

Giggling, her fingers curled against his as she replied, “Yes of course, m’lord Amos. Your devoted Lady Esmeralda, happy to accompany you.”

A few of the others produced sly glances, or eye-rolls amongst each other that neither of them seemed to see.

Amon could only smile, stupidly and fondly, right back at that warm expression and glowing face.

Lady Esmeralda, hmm? Emerald… Emerald like the Emerald expanse. Emerald like the color she wore so well.

It didn’t ring as nicely as Essätha in his ears, but he could make it work on his tongue, for a short while.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The moment she slipped off to the side; unseen by the man speaking, Amon shifted his position to better cover the empty space beside him where Essätha had just been. His head nodding bluntly; hardly hearing a word the individual was saying as he kept his face turned partly away. Stiff, he tried not to show he was sweating bullets from the bold move.

After a moment, Essie slipped back against his side. Her arm wrapping around his; for second stealing his breath.

She shook her head. Tight-lipped, frowning a little so far as he could tell from the corner of his eye.

He patted her hand gently, pretending to nod to the man in front of him.

They’d keep looking.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Oh my word, it’s so nice to meet you Lady Esmeralda, Lord Amos.”

“The pleasure is all ours, right honeycake? We’re very honored to be here.”

Amon coughed vigorously on his drink. With a sideways glance stolen to his ‘wife’, he watched the glimmer of humor play in her Essätha’s eyes before she gazed back to the older woman before them.

“… Yes, tia caes (my heart),” he slipped, staring with wonder down at the illustrious beauty hanging to his arm.

“Oh my!” the stateswoman giggled loudly.

He could see the curious look enter Essätha’s eye as her face reddened further. She seemed to be trying to understand the words he spoke with little consequence, but judging by the reaction of the woman before them, or maybe the obvious look in his face as his heartbeat raced looking upon her, she looked away.

How he wished she hadn’t. He could do without air a while longer, if only her gaze would just remain there, against his.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Swirling the contents of his beverage, the Illiad Lord attempted to look as lax as possible while slipping in key words of interest to the couple before him. They were rattling off some nonesense however that made no sense to their progress on their current case. Still, he slipped away as much as he could in his thoughts just in case. Maybe he was missing a clue amongst their rambling, but there was no stand out information in their boisterous voices.

Gazing briefly around the room, he still didn’t see a sign of Essätha.

He wiped at his sweaty brow. No need to be edgy. She was probably still trying to get into that locked room they’d passed by earlier. Or she had found some useful stuff and was filing through it. Nothing to be alarmed about. She was probably fine.

“Lord Amos!”

It took him a moment to respond, and when he did, the individual slurring his false-name in a drunken stupor was already upon him. He could only cringe as they leaned into his shoulder. His arm reaching out, pushing the figure off of himself and holding him at arm’s length.

“Amos! Yee know initiates gotta pay the sum o’ the drinks tonight, if yee know what I mean?”

Amon stared blankly at the man as he winked. Stone-silent, and void of expression.

“Oh don’t listen to him Amos,” a middle-aged woman broke in. “You can contribute as much as you’d like tonight; there’s no requirement on donation size.”

The man who had been using him for a support stumbled as Amon released him and sidestepped to keep from being his post. He crashed into another drinking patron; starting up a spew of colorful language as he raised an eyebrow to the woman in a curious display.

She raised her glass with a smile of approval.

He raised his in answer, taking a steady drink. This was going quite well, but…

Where was Essätha?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Where were you? Did something happen? I-… I was…”

“Shhhh,” Essie hissed, pressing a hand to his chest and subsequently, pressing his back against the wall as she looked around.

He reached up, placing his hand atop of hers.

For a moment, she seemed distracted by the contact. After a moment’s hesitation, her hand dropped just as his did, in nearly the same moment.

Clearing his throat roughly, he spoke: “Did you find anything?”

Glimpsing around, Essätha reached into the top of her shirt. Amon looked instantly aside; adjusting his collar with an embarrassed swallow.

“Here,” she offered, holding out a pile of documents. “I copied some of the ledgers I found in a drawer. I didn’t get to all of them; I thought my absence might go noticed. Most of it is written in some sort of code, unfortunately, so I don’t know how much will be of use to us.”

Glancing down at the papers, Amon gave a silent ‘ah’ in response.

There was a prolonged silence, and then she sighed, pressing them against his chest. “Hide these on your person, would you? I don’t exactly have the assets to hide these things on myself discretely, and you’re wearing more layers.”

Grunting, he reached out for the records. Folding them over, he went to stuff them within his coat discretely.

Footsteps began to move down the hallway, in their direction.

They stared upon each other. Frozen.

Swiftly, Amon shut his coat and began to button it back up. Essie went to help him, cursing beneath her breath.

The footsteps came closer.

“Shit shit shit- fuck-”

He wasn’t paying attention. Fumbling fingers against his jacket, his head suddenly slammed back into the wall as Essätha gripped tighter to side side of his garment. Her mouth pressed to his; dizzying and soft.

The alarm bell was still ringing in his head as the thump of shoes seemed deafeningly close now.

Reaching around, he pulled her closer. Mirroring the softened brush of her lips; dipping his tongue against hers as she inhaled his air.

Heat burned into his body from hers.

Pelor…

“Oh-… Well…”

Pulling away from him; too soon as his teeth dragged against her lip, Essätha gasped with shock. Caught in a moment’s ‘intimate passion’, she slapped a hand over her mouth and looked away in a faked appearance of shock.

Amon cleared his throat roughly once more. His thoughts, miles upon miles away from here.

Laughing awkwardly, the nobleman that approached them turned around; his voice carrying as he remarked, “Don’t mind me; I didn’t see anything!”

Once he was out of sight, Essie sighed, releasing his coat and straightening her posture.

“That was close,” she murmured, her face flush as she nibbled on her lip.

Too speechless to formulate a reply, Amon quietly stared at her full mouth.

He could have handled that being a lot closer.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Well?” Abernathy pressed. “How did everything go?”

Amon pulled out the reports, holding them smugly in the air.

“Oh good!” Aylin stated with a flash of colors moving through his eyesockets. “You brought back information.”

“And you know, they’re not dead,” Penimra offered in a bored tone.

Adela elbowed him in the side this time, making the elf swear quietly.

“Well, we had better saddle up and get going. I’m sure there’s more than just those?” Abe indicated to the paperwork.

“Plenty more,” Essätha stated, to which Amon could only nod gently with agreement.

Sulhadur nodded with relief, and Ravamora offered a thumbsup and a grin in answer.

Amon moved to follow after the others, and paused to glance at the Yuan-ti woman. Her gaze switching from behind them, back to him with a quirky smile.

“What a shame,” he could hear Adela teasing. “They made a cute couple.”

“Adela,” Abernathy stated crossly, as the remainder of the group carried on in the direction of where the wagon and horses were hidden.

They stood quietly. A friction in the air between them as the group disappeared from sight.

“Well,” Essie began; her voice strained, “Lovely as it was meeting you, Lord Amos, I’m afraid we won’t be seeing each other anymore.”

Reaching up, Amon scratched the whiskers on the side of his face. “Perhaps… Unless- there’s ever another reason for a little… covert mission?”

She laughed. A beautiful sound; true and real.

“Well if that’s the case, Esmeralda and Amos sure have to learn how to kiss.”

Blundering, Amon looked over at her, red-faced and gawking.

“I- beg your pardon? Amos was clearly taken off guard. He can certainly kiss better, under the right conditions.”

“Uh-huh,” Essie sang with a short snicker. She stepped by him, shoving a hand against his chest.

“Bet you can’t even prove it.”

A light sparked in his eyes. The challenge was… all too enticing.

She moved to step away from him, eyes sliding away.

His hand reached out, taking hold of hers.

The glimmer of her toffee eyes slipped into his.

“Maybe they just need a little practice,” he offered; his voice faint as he pulled her closer and, somehow, she willingly came closer.

“Mm… maybe they do,” she agreed, the faint smell of rosewater rising up from her the closer she got.

This time, he ready for the softness of her lips. A last look into those wonderful eyes, and he was lost before hers slid shut and so did his, and the most perfect and holy of unions was met. No space between the molding of her mouth to his. Just softness; a delicate taste of the sweet wine she’d had from the manor still on her tongue.

It was perfect.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sighing loudly, Rava flicked some pieces of hay out from her hair while leaning over the side of the wagon.

“Shouldn’t someone go check on them?” the elf-child reported.

Frowning, Adela glanced to Abernathy. “Ordinarily, I’d want to leave Essie to her space and peace like she prefers it, but they are taking their time?”

Abernathy held up his hand.

“Just give them a moment longer,” he offered. “I’m sure they’ll be along shortly.”

“What do you think they’re doing?” Rava sighed with boredom. “How much of their little espionage do they need to discuss alone, anyway?”

“Oh, you poor naive child,” Aylin soothed.

Some of the faces in the wagon went suddenly red-faced. Adela shifted uncomfortably in place; exhaling loudly.

“Don’t make assumptions, Aylin,” Sulhadur stated with a frown.

“I’m not making-”

“Hush.”

From the brush, Amon and Essätha emerged. Amon’s hand wrapped around Essie’s, helping her delicately maneuver around the ungodly brambles.

“You people couldn’t have picked a less prickly location?” the Yuan-ti grumbled with frustration.

“Ha-ha, prick,” Penimra snorted, nudging the drow. “I think you were on to something, Aylin,”

“HUSH,” Abernathy repeated with disapproval, shooting the two a sharp glance before looking back to the pair moving closer.

“Everything… alright? Situated…?”

They both looked up, a bit flushed and pupils slightly dilated.

“Yeah,” Essätha breathed. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Abernathy nodded, a self-satisfied grin.

“Good,” he offered. “Hop on then, Essie, let us-”

“That’s okay,” she cut in, stepping over to Maestro as Amon guided the equine from behind the treeline, her hand reaching out to take hold of the reigns. “I’ll ride with Amon.”

There was a few glances around the cart to each other.

Aylin whistled innocently.

Sul looked away.

Penimra laughed to himself.

Rava still appeared dumbfounded.

Adela turned a deep scarlet from ears to neck as she glanced away.

Abe appeared partial to his enjoyment, at the moment.

“Alright then,” he ventured, clicking his tongue to the drafthorses that snorted and began to tug the wagon free from the bushes.

Offering out his palm, Amon helped boost Essätha up onto the horse before throwing his leg over himself. A quiet hitch in his breath as arms wound around him within seconds; a head pressed to his shoulder with a softened sound of joy.

He took her hand, bringing it to his lips for a quick kiss before taking hold of the reigns of and leading Maestro on to follow behind the cart.

Lord Amos and Lady Esmeralda would do just fine, if needed again.

How could they not, when rooted in the echoes of a fondness found in Lord Amon and Essätha Meduza?

[eydisian]

Motivation behind the setting

i hate the stock standard “medieval fantasy” british/west europe castles n forests garbage. it’s fine, and i can tolerate it i guess, but it just fails to excite my imagination as much as i’d like. maybe it’s a side effect of boring DMs and bad authors, but traditional medieval settings are just not interesting enough, to me. plus i know them like the back of my hand already, there’s nothing new about the setting that could jump out at me in a game.

so Eydís, and the surrounding countryside, are heavily based on turkish islamic and hindu architecture & culture. as a white person, much of my understanding is incredibly limited but by choosing a culture i’m unfamiliar with, i’m forced to research and learn! this has honestly been the most exciting part of it for me, looking up culturally and historically accurate fashions, learning more about monuments and historical buildings, figuring out what the core social values and etiquette are, and so on.

adapting that to a homebrew setting with particular adjustments to account for the really white-centric bullshit that D&D itself was built upon has been... interesting. because a lot of the adjustments i’ve made to eliminate racist and sexist allegories (back in 2e and again in 5e), such as removing drow as a “race” entirely and adapting them as a strange mythology, have been easy enough of a call to make, but others are not. a lot of the more “monstrous” races like hobgoblins and orcs have always carried a lot of physical traits that are undeniably there because of anti-black racism.

drow had the “black skin” and “violent feminist matriarchy” two-for-one whammy, hence removing them from my setting entirely, because there’s no easy way to adapt them to a more modern, less sexist, less racist interpretation. (if, in the future, i come up with a decent answer, i already have a plot that will allow for their future inclusion... just not right now). either they’re literally dark-skinned “black” elves and thus its a “the black people are evil” trope, or they’re black-colored white-people elves which is blackface, and in either case they’ve got that “kill all men” and “women are above all others” thing which, in a trans-inclusive setting, gets messy real quick even without the obvious anti-feminist bullshit going on.

orcs and hobgoblins, of course, have the broad-face, broad-nose, kinky hair texture thing which is clearly description of black americans and others of african descent. so what do you do with the “all hobgoblins are evil green/grey people” thing? i don’t know. make them more inhumanly monstrous, i suppose, to remove any traces of connection to a human race? i’m tentatively trying that out. but orcs, and specifically half-orcs, are a playable race with a negative intelligence stat adjustment. what that says is “black people are less intelligent than the other races, that is to say, white people.”

so i’m going to impress upon my players that intelligence is not IQ or education. a low-intelligence character is not stupid, but possibly had less access to certain kinds of education compared to more intelligent characters. by shifting intelligence from a raw, born-into-being ability, (and by extension all stats being earned rather than given), it says more about the character’s history and upbringing than about the entire race. so perhaps those of orcish descent are not simply less intelligent by nature, but have trouble being accommodated in primarily human-sized classrooms.

maybe they just really hate math and science but are still competent readers who enjoy a good piece of literature. maybe it’s the reverse. maybe they have poor memory skills, despite a wonderful and enriching education. maybe its a reflection of a cognitive difficulty not related to knowledge, but more like trouble focusing or studying. all of these things would absolutely explain why a “low-intelligence” character would have done poorly trying to be a wizard (which requires extensive study) or has a spell-casting penalty (you need to focus and remember proper order of steps).

i really, really enjoy the incorporation of ability statistics into character backstory, because people often take for granted the numbers as “my character was born naturally talented this way.” none of us were born with an intelligence score of 18. but the people who went on to grad school have an 18 (or higher!). body builders and the olympic strongmen (and women) weren’t born with an 18 in their strength score. they had to work hard for it, and keep training to maintain that strength. think about that.

and now we come to gender and sexuality and all that jazz.

so, clearly if i’m having everyone randomize their skin color (all races have the full spectrum of human skin tones... so a dark-skinned blonde elf might be colloquially called a drow elf), gender itself should be open to interpretation as well. in Eydís, gender and sex have a roughly three-way equal split. 33% of the population is cis male, 33% of the population is cis female, and 33% is everything else: intersex, transgender, nonbinary, etc. while yeah, that does mean there’s a 2/3rds majority to cis people, a 2/3rds majority seems to fit a lot better than the very vast (apparent) majority of the real world. that said, other countries may have varying amounts of gender diversity just like they may have varying amounts of racial diversity. Eydís itself is a cultural megahub, and it makes more sense to have a larger and more equally distributed mix of people (including those we consider minorities irl).

enough about the people of Eydís at large. let’s get into the technical crap.

Eydís is the capital city of the country of Adylae, an arid to semi-arid south-eastern country. Eydís itself resides on the eastern coast, settled on top of a cliffside peninsula. the city is the seat of the royal family, though most of the workings of the city itself are run by a parliament of council members elected by their respective guilds. these guilds in turn are run and populated by the tradesfolk of the city. the royal family and their advisory table take care of national and international concerns, entrusting the capital to the parliament. the division of rule in this way allows for ease of function for both parties, and it is only during times of great duress that either group involves themselves with the business of the other.

the largest monument in Eydís is the Hall of All Gods, a multi-theistic centre that predates the city by a good 100 years. it was built with the intent to end a centuries-long religious war that shook the continent by providing a place where all gods were represented equally. in truth, “evil” religions are not allowed a space of worship within the Hall because it contradicts the doctrines of all the others (those considered “good” or “neutral” by mechanical standards). anyone of faith who is not currently represented in the hall may approach and request an altar space to set up. many religions share rooms, as their significant natural symbols are the same (sunlight, trees, water, moonlight, fire, etc) and while it is meant to be a place of peace and equality, there is often tension and dissent, particularly where religion spills over into the realm of politics.

Eydís itself is surrounded by a thick wall with three western gates allowing entrance into the city. the wall itself is approximately 150m high and between 50 and 100 ft thick. the city proper is actually elevated above two previous levels of construction, as space within the walls is limited. most middle-class residents live in the central residential district, though there are also apartments and homes outside of that. the eastern district is where the estates of noble and notable families reside, along with the palace itself. the main entrance to this district is through the Hall square, and other entrances are gated and guarded.

below the main level is the undercity, where most of the poor live and work. very little sunlight reaches this level except through wells and skylights. some of this level, and the sublevel below it, are flooded to provide a sewer and waterway system to the city at large.