#int -> ember.

[bastardfae]

as ember spoke, all arnon could latch onto was the instant doubt that any kind of escape were impossible. there was such a certainty there that it almost felt staggering. it was partially understandable; ember had endured time within the castle for far longer than arnon had and given the general atmosphere and culture present within it, a lack of hope came as no surprise. “just ‘cause he wouldn’t allow it doesn’t mean it’s not at least a little feasible.” he was well aware of the fact that he likely appeared far too optimistic, never mind naive, but that hardly mattered when it came to trying to reinstil a little belief. “it’s certainly worth a shot. if you ever change your mind, break into tiernan’s suite and lemme know, yeah?” despite repeated warnings to keep his voice down and certain opinions and beliefs firmly to himself, arnon knew this was his rock bottom; if death was a perpetual blessing conceptually, things couldn’t get any worse and so the consequences barely mattered. arnon’s expression softened into one of sympathy as ember continued. if it wasn’t already obvious to the halfling, it was unavoidably evident that there really were no plus sides to being locked away in the bowels of this place. “how long have you had to deal with that? being here, i mean? if it’s any longer than a couple of months, i don’t know how you haven’t lost your mind.”

arnon tried for a small smile as the topic of forming any kind of lasting bonds reared its head. the mere thought of doing so only seemed to reaffirm that he’d have to adapt to the new environment. he couldn’t stomach the idea. there was nothing remotely reassuring about it. everything and everyone he knew and loved resided back in the town or further afield in the outside world. “‘s good that you’ve got that, at least. i only really know kaj so far. we met a little while back when i was still working in town.” the memory encouraged arnon’s smile to widen for a moment, the reverie granting a brief reprieve from the horrors of the present before realisation quickly dawned again. “tiernan’s working on a little something to ensure i’m practically surgically attached to his suite, so i don’t think i’ll have much time for socialising,” shifting his chin to rest it in the palm of his free hand, arnon moved the other to mime shaking ember’s hand with a surprisingly lighthearted laugh. “if this is the last time we meet, it was nice getting to know you.” the trial and its devastating conclusion was all too fresh in his mind. he couldn’t fully comprehend what had happened or how it had happened, even with the time that had passed. “i appreciate it,” he replied softly, genuinely taken aback by the kind words. “but it’s not gonna be forever. not for me, anyway,” arnon’s expression darkened as he shuffled a little closer to the pool, dropping his voice to barely a whisper. “i meant what i said earlier. i’m getting out of here one way or another. if you don’t want to take your final breath in this place, let’s put something in place.”

If you ever get out of here, the thought was a nice one but he knew that in reality, the only way he was getting out of there was in a body bag. Not with his master, not with how he handled his other claim, someone Ember had seen as a good friend. He tried not to think about it too much, it wasn't such a great thing to have on the mind when talking to someone. "I'm not leavig here, not in the way you would think, anyways. I don't think my master would ever allow it." He said, Raiden had a way of handling things and that mostly involved shredding one to bits and eating them. Not a shock to the phoenix, the tribrid had been trying to eat him from the start. "I don't usually stick around when it's really cold out, don't really handle it very well. Being here has proven to be a bit of a challenge, doesn't get super hot and when it gets cold I'm stuck inside." Which he hated, being stuffed up in a giant cage wasn't good for a bird like him, he needed to be outside more often than not.

The lowest of low was such an accurate description of the castle, for them anyways, if he had known what he knew now back before his capture he would have done things differently. Or so he would have liked to think, knowing that he wasn't the brightest of the bunch and too impulsive to contain. "I make the best of it, made some good friends here both slave and master alike. It isn't all bad if you can find others to stick to." He said with a light shrug, the water around him rippling at the movement. He was naturally outgoing, making friends with anyone wasn't hard for him, but he understood it wasn't always the case for other people. He wouldn't have been as comfortable as he was now if it weren't for the few friends he did have. "I heard about the trials, sorry you had to get dragged into all of that and become a slave as a result. It isn't easy, but you get used to it after a while." He nodded, he could empathize with his issues with his new master, having his own as brutal as he was. "I don't really know him, but I get it. Raiden isn't a walk in the park by any stretch, I hope he doesn't give you too much of a hard time."

[blcssom]

closed starter for @lvciddreamt based on this ! ( open to m/f/nb )

"and here i thought your mom was pulling one over on me when she said you'd come home for the holidays." which, to be fair, their mother always thinks they're coming home for the holidays and, in reality, their visits have been few and far between. "thought you'd outgrown us."

[itsoutrageouss]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley being ready to go on his knees for his favorite nurse… but he has no idea how to show it.

Then he sees you at the pub.

It settled inside of him as a feeling of uselessness because he’s so used to knowing what to do. He takes action. He fixes things. And now he gets all flustered when you tend to his wounds, absentmindedly stroking his thigh and talking to him so so sweetly. Calling him a good boy when you finish the stitches, biting your lip as you focused on making them as neat as you could for him. He would stare at you the whole time, his cheeks heating because no one ever showed him this much care and you didn’t even seem to struggle with it- it was all natural.

You had labelled him ‘favorite patient’ in your phone but he didn’t know that. He figured you behaved like that with all the soldiers who came in- the reason you were such a good nurse.

After a well succeeded mission, the task force and the bases Staff all crowd down to the nearest pub. It was an excuse for you to finally be out of your work attire, adorning a black lacy top that made you feel sexy along with your glossy lips. He was already there, leaned back in a booth with Soap and Price as you walk in, looking around nervously.

He has to grit his teeth as he sees you. Fuck fuck fuck. This was gonna be a long night. He fisted his hands beneath the table.

This feeling of hopelessness, of not knowing what to do was so foreign that it bubbled into anger. Price frowned, noticing the rigid way his Lieutenant suddenly sat. Soap was too busy telling some story to notice anything, slamming down a hand, the beers rattling. Your colleagues crowded you into a booth that so conveniently faced him.

Why did he look at you like that? He was positively fuming, glowering, brows lowered and face set. You cowered under his gaze, eyes flickering away nervously.

His lips parted in soft surprise. Why did you look so nervous? Had he done something?

Because of course he was no clue how damn intimidating his so called love stare stare is. He follows you as you walk to the bar, leaning over, your skirt riding up. He has to blink up at the ceiling because it felt simultaneously like a gift from above, being allowed to see you like this, and like a curse from hell.

“Oh he’s down bad for her ain’t he, that fucker?” Soap exclaims, finally catching on as he lets out a hearty laugh. Simon glares.

“I think LT needs another pint” Price muses. Soap, ever the sergent he is, groans and gets up, patting Simon heavily on the shoulder before walking up to the bar next to you.

“You got him weak in the knees, Bunny” Soap grins casually, ordering the pints. It takes you a few seconds to comprehend before you lean backwards slightly, catching Simon’s gaze. This time he averts his eyes immediately. He was fucking fuming inside, not knowing how to get these feelings to go away. The only solutions he could think of were violence or sex. And violence he’s had enough of- and he’s sure the training dummies had too. Every damn night these past days he’s been punching his knuckles bloody, hoping it would satiate his restlessness. It didn’t.

And as for sex… he didn’t- well he didn’t not want that but that’s not where he wanted to start. He always threw himself into hookups or fiery flings that burned out too quickly, leaving embers he didn’t care for. He didn’t want that with you. He wanted to be genuine, slow, proper. And he had no idea how. He didn’t like not being good at things.

Your eyes stay on him, forcing his head to turn back to you. Your expression is unreadable, his fingers curling beneath the table before he rapidly stands up. You almost jolt at the action, the floor creaking from his weight as he stalks over to you and Soap, grumbling something.

Soap leaves, Simon trying to casually lean his elbows on the bar. “Just gonna wait for the pints” he tells you, then his jaw ticks because why did he say that? You probably don’t give a fuck what he’s doing there.

You smile softly, intrigued. “How’s your shoulder?”

It startled him, his head whipping to yours like you said something totally out of sorts. His shoulder? Right— It takes him way too long to answer.

“Fine. You did a good job. As always,” he said gruffly, looking down at the chipped wood of the bar, drumming his fingers impatiently.

“You look good.” The words slip past his lips, eyes quickly giving you a once over.

“I know.” He looks at you, sees a small glint in your eyes and the smile you smother. He wants to groan out loud at the sight.

A dry, almost laugh escapes him, shaking his head softly. “F’course you do.”

There’s a long, awkward silence where you both look anywhere but at each other, spines straightening, then slumping, then you both look at the bartender to keep busy.

He places your drink in front of you, three pints clattering in front of Simon. Neither of you move to take them.

“So I’m gonna go” Simon rumbles and turns, the pints clutched in his hands. He was overheating, fumbling in ever possible way he could and he couldn’t take it. You opened your mouth but he was already halfway across the room.

The pints rattle as he sits down. “So?” Soap asks as he leans forward. Simon grumbled that this isn fucking high school. But it’s not Soap he’s mad at. It’s himself. He had you right there.

You can’t focus the rest of the evening, laughing hollowly and sipping your drink with disinterest. Did he not find you interesting? It was so hard to read him that you started to doubt if he was playing with you. Maybe this was just the way he… was.

You hadn’t noticed everyone going out for a smoke. You hadn’t noticed the way he looked at you through the window like some kind of fucking stalker, only the glow from his cigarette giving colour to his shadow.

You down the rest of your drink, pulling your coat around you. The night is crispy, air poking your cheeks like needles.

“Are you ever going to ask me out? Because if not then I’d like to know- I don’t really know if you don’t like me or if I scare you or if there’s something entirely different at play but you cannot just stare at me and expe-“ a cold, chapped pair of lips silence you. They’re gone as quickly as they came you Simon’s eyes are wide, dropping his cigarette to the ground.

“I’m sorry- do you wanna- can I ask you out? I didn’t mean to do that but you talk a lot” he said bluntly, stuttering his way through his own mortifying actions.

He kissed you. To shut up your mindless yapping he… you shake your head in disbelief.

“You are unbelievable” you say, but there’s absolutely no malice in your tone- only wonder.

“Is that a yes?” He asks, his throat feeling tight.

“Yes. It’s a good technique you have there- do you do that on everyone? Kiss them when they talk too much? I can just imagine how Soap would rea-“

He did it again, eyes closing and inhaling sharply as he covered your cold cheeks with his hands. Christ you were a talker but he didn’t mind so much, if he was allowed to quiet you like this from now on.

[moonselune]

Hi! Could I request something? I just saw you accept new request again! I was thinking of yearning. Them yearning for oblivious tav.

I just love a good old yearning prompt

yesssssss the yearning the pining the dramaaa

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

Karlach was trying her best to keep it together. As she sat by the campfire, her eyes kept drifting toward you, her massive frame leaning slightly forward as if she could somehow close the gap between you just by willing it. You were tending to a few weapons you’d scavenged earlier in the day, completely oblivious to the way her molten eyes lingered on you, the way her hands fidgeted with a piece of stray leather to distract herself from the ache in her chest.

Wyll, sitting nearby with a mischievous grin, had noticed. Of course, he had noticed. The Blade of Frontiers had a knack for picking up on unspoken emotions, and Karlach was as subtle as a roaring forge.

“You know,” Wyll began, his voice low and teasing as he leaned toward Karlach, “if you keep staring at them like that, you’re liable to set the poor one on fire.”

Karlach froze, her cheeks flushing as embers flickered to life along her horns.

“What?” she whispered sharply, her voice cracking. “I wasn’t staring! I was just—”

“Yearning?” Wyll supplied with a grin, leaning back casually.

“I don’t yearn,” Karlach snapped, though her voice lacked conviction.

“Oh, come now,” Wyll said, his tone smug. “The sighing, the pining, the tragic glances when he’s not looking—it’s downright poetic.” He tapped his chin theatrically. “It’s almost enough to compose a ballad.”

Karlach shot him a glare, her flames flaring slightly around her shoulders. “Wyll, I swear, if you don’t shut it—”

But it was too late. Her embarrassment sent her infernal engine into overdrive, and the flames on her body surged. The sudden flare caught your attention, and you glanced up from your work.

“Karlach?” you called out, your voice filled with concern as you stood and crossed the campfire toward her. “Are you okay?”

The sheer earnestness in your tone made her heart lurch painfully in her chest. She quickly tried to wave you off, her hands fanning at her shoulders as if she could dampen the flames.

“It’s nothing! Just—hot, you know?” she stammered.

“Well, yeah, you’re always hot,” you said, grabbing a nearby waterskin. “But this seems worse than usual.”

Karlach froze, her eyes going wide at your words. Did you—did you just call her hot? Surely, you didn’t mean it like that, right?

“Here, let me help,” you said, uncapping the waterskin.

“No, no, really, I’m fine—”

Too late. You doused her with a splash of water, and instead of calming her flames, it only made things worse. The steam hissed around her, mingling with her rising panic, and her flames flared even brighter.

“Gods, I’m sorry!” you exclaimed, looking horrified. “Did that make it worse?”

Karlach buried her face in her hands, groaning loudly. “No, no, it’s fine, just—don’t worry about it.”

Wyll, watching the scene unfold, laughed openly now. “You’re really outdoing yourself, Karlach. I think the entire camp will see those flames soon.”

You shot Wyll a confused look. “What’s he talking about?”

Karlach peeked through her fingers, her flames dimming slightly as her mortification reached its peak.

“Nothing! He’s just… being a prat,” she said quickly, glaring at Wyll, who only grinned wider.

“I’d call it encouragement,” Wyll said lightly. “After all, someone here needs to take a hint.”

You blinked at him, clearly puzzled, but before you could ask what he meant, Karlach stood abruptly, the ground under her feet crunching as her weight shifted.

“I’m gonna, uh, go check on—anything else,” she muttered, stomping off toward the edge of camp.

You watched her go, bewildered, before turning back to Wyll. “Did I do something wrong?”

Wyll chuckled, shaking his head. “Not wrong, no. Just oblivious. Don’t worry—you’ll figure it out eventually. Maybe.”

You frowned, glancing back toward where Karlach had disappeared into the shadows, her flames still faintly flickering in the distance. You didn’t know what you’d missed, but something about the way she’d looked at you before she left lingered in your mind, warm and unexplained.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

The campfire crackled gently, casting a warm glow across the assembled group. You sat on a log, sharpening your blade, blissfully unaware of the undercurrents running through the evening.

Minthara, sitting a few paces away, had her sharp red eyes trained on you, a faint furrow in her brow. Her usual composed demeanor was slightly off tonight—her movements a touch too deliberate, her glances toward you lingering just a second too long.

Shadowheart, one of the resident camp gossips, noticed. She always did.

“Why don’t you just say something, Minthara?” Shadowheart drawled lazily, her lips curling into a smirk as she toyed with a loose strand of her hair. “It’s not as though subtlety is your strong suit. Or theirs, for that matter.”

Minthara’s sharp gaze snapped toward her, irritation flashing across her face.

“I do not need your advice, cleric,” she said coolly.

“Oh, I think you do,” Shadowheart said, undeterred. “Because whatever it is you’ve been doing clearly isn’t working. They haven’t even noticed.” She tilted her head toward you, who were now carefully oiling your weapon, oblivious to the tension building around you.

Minthara’s grip on her dagger tightened, her knuckles turning white. “They have other matters to attend to. The fault lies not with my approach but their… distraction.”

Shadowheart chuckled. “Distraction? They’re so dense they probably think the moonrise is flirting with them. You’ll have to carve it into the side of their tent before they catch on.”

That was the last straw. Minthara stood abruptly, her dark cloak billowing behind her as she marched across the campsite toward you.

“Minthara?” you said, startled as her shadow fell over you.

Before you could say another word, she grabbed you by the front of your tunic and pulled you to your feet with a surprising amount of force. Her crimson eyes burned with frustration and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“You,” she snapped, her voice ringing out across the camp, “are impossibly blind.”

“W-what?” you stammered, your mind racing to figure out what you’d done wrong this time.

“I have fought by your side,” she began, her voice rising. “I have trusted you, protected you, respected you. I have given you every sign imaginable, and yet you remain oblivious to the fact that I—” She stopped abruptly, taking a deep breath, as if even saying the words aloud were a battle she needed to win. “That I desire you, you fool!”

The camp went silent. Even the fire seemed to crackle a little softer as everyone turned to stare.

You blinked, utterly dumbfounded. “You… you desire me?”

Minthara groaned, her head tipping back in exasperation before she fixed you with an incredulous look. “Yes! Must I spell it out further? Or perhaps I should inscribe it on your blade since that seems to be where your attention is always focused!”

Shadowheart, who had been watching the entire exchange with barely suppressed laughter, finally burst out into an uncontrollable giggle.

“Oh, gods, this is better than I could’ve hoped,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye.

Minthara turned her glare on her, her lips curling in irritation. “If you say one more word, Shadowheart, I will—”

“Okay, okay,” you interrupted, holding up your hands. “Everyone calm down.” You turned back to Minthara, your voice softening. “I’m sorry if I missed the signs, Minthara. I honestly didn’t realize.”

Her anger seemed to waver, replaced by a flicker of vulnerability.

“How could you not?” she asked, almost to herself. You hesitated, then placed a tentative hand on hers, still gripping your tunic.

“Because I’m an idiot,” you admitted, a small smile tugging at your lips. “But I’m an idiot who’s honored and… maybe a little thrilled by what you just said.”

For the first time that evening, Minthara seemed at a loss for words. Her lips parted slightly, her sharp demeanor softening as she searched your face.

“Thrilled, you say?” she murmured, the barest hint of a smirk returning.

“Thrilled,” you confirmed, your cheeks warming under her intense gaze.

The tension in the air shifted, no longer charged with frustration but with something warmer, something promising. Minthara released your tunic, smoothing it out almost absently. “Then perhaps next time, you won’t require such… dramatic measures to understand me.”

Shadowheart made a kissy noise behind you, and you shot her a glare over your shoulder. Minthara, however, ignored her entirely, her focus solely on you.

“Now,” she said, her voice back to its usual measured tone. “Shall we continue this conversation somewhere with fewer interruptions?”

You nodded, feeling a grin spread across your face. “Lead the way.”

As you walked off together, Shadowheart’s laughter echoed behind you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. For once, the fog of obliviousness had lifted, and you were exactly where you wanted to be—at Minthara’s side.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

Lae’zel had always been a force of nature—her sharp tongue, battle-hardened demeanor, and unyielding confidence left no room for doubt. And that’s exactly how she preferred it. To anyone observing her, she was the epitome of githyanki discipline and control. But deep down, behind the steel exterior and fiery eyes, she was at war with herself.

She had a massive, undeniable crush on you.

It was maddening. Every time you smiled at her or even so much as glanced her way, her heart would race—a sensation she would have sworn was impossible for her kind. She had tried everything to make her interest known: sparring sessions where she pushed you to your limits (and a bit beyond), blunt declarations of your 'adequacy' in her eyes, and even offers to 'crush your enemies together in glorious combat'. But somehow, none of it seemed to land.

Instead, you remained oblivious, flashing her that infuriatingly kind smile and treating her like a valued ally rather than someone she desperately wanted to claim as her partner.

One day, during a training session, Lae’zel’s frustration reached its peak. She had you pinned beneath her, her blade at your throat, and instead of fear or admiration, you chuckled.

“Nice move,” you said, your grin wide. “I’ll have to remember that one.”

She grit her teeth and growled, pressing the blade a little closer—not enough to hurt, but enough to make her point.

“You do not take me seriously!” she snapped.

You raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about? You’re one of the most serious people I know.”

“Not in battle, fool!” she snarled, pulling back and stalking away, her blade sheathed with a sharp clang, as you walked bewilderdly back to your tent.

From a short distance, Halsin, who had been watching the training with an amused glint in his eye, stepped forward to intercept Lae’zel. She stopped abruptly, glaring at the druid as if daring him to speak.

“Lae’zel,” Halsin said in his calm, measured tone, “may I offer you some advice?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You may offer. I will decide whether it is worth hearing.”

He chuckled, unfazed. “I’ve noticed your… interest in our leader.”

Her nostrils flared, and she crossed her arms. “And what of it?”

“You are a warrior, and I admire your strength,” Halsin began, “but perhaps your methods of courtship are… misplaced.”

“What nonsense is this?” she scoffed. “I have made my intentions clear. I have praised their competence. I have challenged them in combat. What more is required?”

Halsin smiled gently. “Perhaps a softer touch. Words that reveal your feelings without the shield of aggression. A gesture that shows your care rather than your strength.”

Lae’zel looked utterly baffled, as if he had just suggested she surrender to a mind flayer.

“Softness is weakness,” she spat.

“Not always,” Halsin countered. “Sometimes, it takes more strength to be vulnerable than to wield a sword.”

She opened her mouth to retort but found herself at a loss. Instead, she grumbled something unintelligible and stalked off, leaving Halsin shaking his head with a knowing smile.

The next morning, Lae’zel approached you at camp. There was an uncharacteristic stiffness to her posture, as if she were preparing for battle, yet her hands were empty.

“Leader,” she began, her voice clipped but quieter than usual.

You looked up from your map, offering her that same smile that never failed to undo her. “What’s up, Lae’zel?”

She hesitated, the words catching in her throat. For a moment, she considered abandoning this foolishness and returning to her usual methods. But Halsin’s advice echoed in her mind, and she forced herself to continue.

“I… value your presence,” she said, the words sounding foreign and awkward.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Uh, thanks? I value yours too.”

“No, you do not understand,” she snapped, then took a deep breath to steady herself. “I… value you. Your strength. Your wit. Your… idiotic charm.”

Your confusion deepened. “Lae’zel, are you feeling okay?”

She growled in frustration, her hand twitching toward her sword out of habit before she forced it to her side. “Do I need to spell it out for you, fool?”

“Apparently,” you said, still clueless but clearly trying to follow.

She stepped closer, her amber eyes burning into yours. “I desire you, leader. As my equal. My partner. My… lover.”

The words hung in the air, and for the first time, you saw Lae’zel in a new light—not just as a fierce warrior, but as someone deeply passionate and utterly vulnerable in this moment.

“Oh,” you said, the realization dawning on you. “Oh.”

Her jaw tightened, and she crossed her arms defensively. “If you find this amusing, I will—”

“I don’t,” you interrupted, a small smile playing at your lips. “I just didn’t think—well, I didn’t know.”

“Because you are blind,” she muttered, though there was no real venom in her tone.

You stepped closer, reaching out tentatively. “Lae’zel, I’m flattered. Truly. And… I’d like to see where this goes.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, she looked as though she didn’t quite believe you. Then, with a sharp nod, she straightened her back and let a rare, genuine smile grace her lips.

“Good,” she said simply. “Now, let us prepare for the day. We have enemies to slay, and I will not let them distract you from what is ours.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, warmth blooming in your chest. Lae’zel might not have mastered the art of softness, but in her own way, she was perfect.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

Shadowheart had always been composed, her expression a careful mask of neutrality, but recently, every time she caught sight of you, her calm façade wavered. Her chest tightened, her thoughts scattered, and her usually sharp words became softer, laced with an uncharacteristic warmth. She knew the truth of it: she had fallen for you. Hard.

And yet, despite her every effort to show you her feelings, you remained utterly oblivious.

At breakfast that morning, Shadowheart decided to take another approach. She brushed past you as you prepared the fire, the faint scent of lavender trailing in her wake.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice soft but laced with what she thought was a hint of allure.

You looked up, smiling warmly. “Morning, Shadowheart. Did you sleep well?”

She nodded, sitting beside you with deliberate closeness. “As well as I could, knowing what awaits us each day. And you?”

“Fine, thanks. Just trying to get this fire going,” you replied, your focus returning to the task at hand.

She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a murmur. “You’re very skilled with your hands. It’s… admirable.”

You blinked at her, utterly missing the meaning behind her words. “Thanks! I guess all those years of camping have paid off.”

Her shoulders slumped ever so slightly, but she refused to give up. Throughout the morning, she found small ways to stay near you, brushing her fingers against yours when you handed her something, complimenting you with what she thought was a sultry tone, and even laughing at your jokes—some of which, she had to admit, were terrible.

Still, you seemed completely unaware.

By midday, Shadowheart was frustrated beyond measure. She found Karlach near the edge of camp, inspecting her weapons, and stormed over.

“Karlach,” she said, her tone clipped but tinged with exasperation.

Karlach looked up, her fiery heart pulsing warmly. “What’s up, Shads?”

"Please don't call me that," Shadowheart crossed her arms, her frustration bubbling over. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve been dropping hints—no, practically throwing myself at them, and they just… don’t notice!”

Karlach blinked, then grinned, clearly enjoying the situation more than she should. “Wait, you’re talking about—?”

“Yes,” Shadowheart snapped, her cheeks tinged with pink.

Karlach let out a hearty laugh, her flames flickering slightly brighter. “Oh, this is rich. You? Pining? I never thought I’d see the day.”

Shadowheart glared at her. “This is not amusing. I need advice, not mockery.”

Karlach wiped a tear from her eye, still chuckling. “Alright, alright. Let me think. So, you’ve been… what, flirting?”

“I’ve tried everything,” Shadowheart admitted, throwing her hands in the air. “Compliments, proximity, even subtle touches. And nothing! They treat me the same as everyone else.”

Karlach hummed, tapping a clawed finger against her chin. “Maybe they’re just really dense. Or, y’know, not used to someone as… uh, mysterious as you.”

Shadowheart raised an eyebrow. “And what do you suggest I do? Write it out in blood on their tent?”

Karlach snorted. “Hey, that might actually work. But no, maybe you need to be more direct. Like, ‘Hey, I think you’re cute, let’s share a bedroll tonight.’”

Shadowheart stared at her, aghast. “I am not saying that.”

“Your loss,” Karlach said with a shrug. “But seriously, just talk to them. Be honest. I bet they’d love it.”

Shadowheart sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Honesty. Of course. The one thing I’ve been avoiding.”

“Hey, they like you for you,” Karlach said, clapping her on the shoulder. “Well, they would if they had half a brain and knew what was good for them. Go get ’em, tiger.”

Later that evening, as you sat by the campfire, Shadowheart approached you with purposeful strides. She was determined to take Karlach’s advice, even if it made her heart pound and her palms sweat.

“Can I join you?” she asked, her voice steady despite the storm inside her.

“Of course,” you said, shifting to make room for her.

She hesitated for a moment, then sat beside you, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

You turned to her, your expression curious but kind. “What is it?”

Shadowheart opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she let out a shaky breath and looked into the fire.

“I… I care about you,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, completely misunderstanding. “I care about you too, Shadowheart. You’re a great friend.”

She groaned inwardly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “No, I mean I care about you in a… different way.”

Realization dawned on your face, your eyes widening. “Oh.”

“Oh?” she echoed, feeling both vulnerable and absurdly exposed.

“I didn’t—Shadowheart, I had no idea,” you said, your voice filled with genuine surprise and warmth.

“I noticed,” she muttered, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips despite herself.

You reached out, gently placing a hand on hers. “I’m sorry if I’ve been clueless. I guess I just… never thought someone like you would feel that way about someone like me.”

She looked at you, her expression softening. “And why wouldn’t I? You’re… remarkable.”

The sincerity in her voice made your heart skip a beat, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Well, I guess that makes two of us, then.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “You… feel the same?”

“Yeah,” you said, your cheeks flushing. “I guess I was just waiting for a sign.”

Shadowheart laughed softly, the sound lighter than you’d ever heard from her. “Apparently, I need to be less subtle.”

As the fire crackled between you, the tension that had been simmering for so long finally gave way to something warmer, something real. And for the first time in weeks, Shadowheart felt at peace.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

Jaheira was not a woman who pined. Or so she told herself. A High Harper, disciplined and pragmatic, she had weathered countless battles and heartbreaks. Yet, here she was, sneaking glances at you across camp, her chest tightening whenever you smiled or laughed. It was maddening. How had you managed to worm your way so deeply into her thoughts?

Despite her years of wisdom, Jaheira found herself at a loss. She didn’t know how to bridge the gap between the two of you, not without risking her pride or the delicate balance of your group.

The worst part was your complete and utter obliviousness. She’d tried subtlety—lingering conversations, offering you extra help with tactics, even sharing stories of her youth that she told no one else. You simply smiled warmly, thanked her, and went about your day as though her heart hadn’t been laid bare in every word.

One evening, after another frustrating day of yearning and getting nowhere, Astarion finally had enough.

“Jaheira, darling, may I have a word?” Astarion said, sidling up to her as she sharpened her blade near the fire.

“What do you want, Astarion?” she asked, her tone brusque.

He smirked, clearly unbothered by her irritation. “Oh, nothing much. Just to offer my… expert services in matters of the heart.”

Jaheira blinked, her sharpening stone pausing mid-stroke. “What are you talking about?”

Astarion gestured dramatically toward you, where you sat chatting animatedly with Karlach. “I’m talking about your obvious pining for our dear leader. It’s positively tragic to watch.”

Jaheira’s cheeks flushed, and she quickly turned back to her blade. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, please,” Astarion said, rolling his eyes. “You practically glow whenever they’re around. It’s adorable, really. But I must say, your approach could use some… finesse.”

Jaheira scowled at him. “I am not some lovesick fool, and I certainly don’t need advice from a vampire with more charm than sense.”

“Perhaps not,” Astarion said, unfazed. “But consider this: have your current tactics worked? Have they so much as noticed your affection?”

Jaheira’s silence was answer enough.

“I thought so,” Astarion said smugly. “Now, listen closely. You need to be bold. Direct. Use your natural charisma and authority to your advantage. And if all else fails, a little flirtation never hurt anyone.”

Jaheira narrowed her eyes. “I am not a charlatan like you, Astarion. I won’t lower myself to cheap tricks.”

“Who said anything about cheap tricks?” Astarion replied, feigning offense. “Think of it as… a strategic maneuver. After all, you wouldn’t hesitate to outwit an enemy in battle, would you?”

Jaheira sighed, considering his words. As much as she hated to admit it, he wasn’t entirely wrong. “Fine. I’ll listen. But if this backfires, I’ll hold you personally responsible.”

“Splendid,” Astarion said, clapping his hands together. “Now, let’s start with a little more confidence in your approach…”

The next morning, you noticed something strange about Jaheira. She was… different.

She approached you with a faint smile that seemed just a touch too practiced, her movements deliberate and graceful in a way that reminded you of someone else.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice smooth and measured. “Did you sleep well?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, yeah. I did. And you?”

“Perfectly,” she replied, her eyes lingering on you in a way that felt… odd. “Though I couldn’t help but think of our conversation from yesterday. You truly have a fascinating mind.”

You tilted your head, trying to piece together what was happening. Something about her tone, her body language—it was familiar. And then it hit you.

“Wait a minute,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “Why are you acting like Astarion?”

Jaheira froze, her carefully crafted façade slipping for just a moment. “I… what?”

“You’re doing the thing he does,” you said, mimicking a dramatic hand gesture. “The suave, overly charming thing. It’s not like you.”

Jaheira’s cheeks flushed, and she quickly turned away, muttering something under her breath.

From across camp, Astarion burst into laughter, doubling over as he clutched his stomach. “Oh, this is too good!”

Jaheira shot him a withering glare before turning back to you, her expression softening. “Perhaps I’ve been… trying too hard. Forgive me if I seemed unlike myself.”

You smiled, your warmth cutting through her frustration. “You don’t need to try so hard, Jaheira. I like you just as you are.”

Her breath caught, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. Then, with a small, genuine smile, she nodded. “Thank you. That means… more than you know.”

As she walked away, Astarion approached, still grinning. “Well, that could have gone better, but at least they noticed you.”

Jaheira shook her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “Never again, Astarion. Never again.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

The late afternoon sun hung low, painting the riverside in warm golds and soft shadows. Gale, waist-deep in the cool water, had his arms crossed in front of him as if the sheer act of holding himself together could quell the maelstrom of feelings raging inside. His crush on you was a storm that refused to abate, leaving him with sleepless nights and days filled with longing glances.

From the riverbank, Minthara watched him with a look of abject irritation. Minthara had ordered him to take a dip in the cold water after he had decided to unleash his love-filled ranting unto her ears as they collected water. She assured him she would be fine to take the water back by herself, and when he thought she had left he keenly stripped and waded into the water. But Minthara had not left, no, Gale's lovesick demeanor had created a vendetta against her and she decided to take action.

"Pathetic," she muttered under her breath. She didn’t think it was possible for wizards to get worse, but Gale was proving her wrong. With a smirk, she moved silently to where Gale had left his clothes folded neatly on a nearby rock. With the swift efficiency of a seasoned tactician, she gathered them up and strode back toward camp.

You were enjoying a moment of quiet when Minthara approached, holding a bundle of robes in her arms.

"The wizard is by the river," she said bluntly. "It seems he’s in need of assistance."

You frowned, glancing at the clothing. "Assistance? With what?"

Minthara’s lips quirked into a thin smile. "He appears… indisposed. Perhaps you should go and see for yourself."

Before you could ask more, she tossed the robes into the fire and strode away, leaving you thoroughly puzzled but intrigued. You could have sworn those were Gale's. With haste, you made your way towards the river and when you arrived at the riverbank, you called out, "Gale? Everything alright?"

Gale startled, his head whipping around to face you, his hair slicked back and glistening in the sunlight. Clearly he had been searching for his robes. "Ah, no! I mean, yes—yes, everything’s fine!"

You raised a brow, stepping closer to the water’s edge. "Are you sure? Minthara said you needed help."

At the mention of her name, Gale groaned. "Of course, she did. And I suppose she also absconded with my robes?" He shot a wary glance toward the shore, clearly trying to maintain some distance.

"Unfortunately so. What’s going on?" you asked, scanning the area. Then you noticed the way his face burned red, his expression a mix of embarrassment and frustration. "Why are you still in the water? It’s getting late. and the river's current is about to pick up, you need to get out, now."

He hesitated, his fingers flexing nervously beneath the water’s surface. "It’s… complicated."

"Complicated how?" You looked around, spotting no immediate danger apart from the increasing current. "Do you need a hand getting out? I can lend you my cloak."

"You don’t understand!" Gale blurted, his voice cracking slightly. "This isn’t about the cold—or the current. It’s…" He trailed off, visibly warring with himself.

You tilted your head, curious and slightly amused. "Then what is it about? You’re not exactly making it easy to help you."

Gale sighed deeply, sinking a little lower into the water until only his nose and eyes peeked out. Then, in a low, hurried tone, he confessed, "I’m afraid my feelings for you have… manifested in a rather inconvenient manner."

Your brow furrowed. "Feelings for me?"

"Yes!" Gale said, his voice growing more desperate. "Feelings. Strong feelings—romantic, longing, entirely improper feelings for someone as… exceptional as you."

You blinked, the weight of his words settling over you like the warmth of the setting sun. "You—wait. You like me?"

"Yes," he muttered, his face practically steaming despite the cool water. "Which is precisely why I can’t leave this river at the moment."

The realization dawned slowly, but when it clicked, a grin spread across your face. "Oh," you said, fighting back laughter. "Oh."

"Yes," Gale grumbled, his mortification complete. "You see now why this is problematic."

You couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped. "So, let me get this straight. You’re saying your feelings are… visible at the moment?"

Gale pinched the bridge of his nose. "If you insist on phrasing it that way, then yes."

You laughed harder, the sound bright and unrestrained. "Gale, that’s not the end of the world."

"Easy for you to say," he muttered. "You’re not the one at risk of a compromising exit."

Still laughing, you crouched by the water’s edge, your cloak in hand. "Come on. I promise I’ll look the other way. Just wrap this around your waist - tightly, and let’s get you back to camp."

Gale hesitated, clearly torn between his pride and the practicality of your offer. The river was rising, and the current becoming less forgiving. He didn't know what would be worse, coming out in this state or having to have you rescue him whilst he was in this condition. Finally, he sighed. "You’re infuriatingly kind, you know that?"

"Only to people I like," you teased, winking at him.

That earned you a small, genuine smile, despite his predicament. Slowly, cautiously, he edged closer to the shore, his blush never fading. You diligently kept your eyes closed, but there was that little devil inside you willing you to take a peak. He wrapped the cloak around his waist, only for you to hear a small, defeated sigh.

"You cannot laugh at me, but please may I request that I carry your shoes back to camp?" He asked, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"Wow you must really like me-"

"-The shoes please!"

Still giggling to yourself, you took off your shoes and passed them to him, allowing him to use them as a shield to his nether region.

You were finally able to look at him, his cheeks flushed beet red as he murmured, "I am going to kill Minthara, or at least try to."

"You know, Gale, I think Minthara might have done us both a favor."

Gale groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Never speak of this again. And especially do not encourage her behaviour."

"No promises," you said with a grin, walking beside him as you both headed back to camp. "Perhaps, I might want to get caught short with you."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

Astarion was not accustomed to being ignored, least of all by someone who had managed to captivate him so thoroughly. Yet here you were, brushing off his every flirtation, every lingering glance, every word dripping with a charm that could make others fall at his feet.

You were different, infuriatingly so. Every smirk, every sly compliment, every touch of his hand to your arm was met with a polite laugh, a nod, or—worse—a casual thanks before you moved on as though he hadn’t just thrown his best seductive lines at you.

For someone like Astarion, whose every move had been meticulously calculated for centuries, this was unbearable. He was practically seething with frustration as he watched you across the camp, laughing at something Karlach had said. He sighed dramatically, slumping onto a nearby log, the perfect picture of a man whose heart was in shambles.

It wasn’t that he didn’t understand why you might be cautious around him. He wasn’t blind to his own past or the scars it had left on his soul. But this? This obliviousness wasn’t caution—it was sheer ignorance of his very obvious yearning.

And so, out of options and desperately needing help, he did something he never thought he would: he sought out Gale.

Gale was sitting by the fire, absently flipping through his spellbook, when Astarion approached him. The vampire’s usual smirk was replaced with something that looked suspiciously like a grimace.

“Gale,” Astarion began, his voice unusually subdued.

Gale looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Astarion? To what do I owe this… peculiar honor?”

Astarion waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, spare me the preamble. I need your help.”

“My help?” Gale blinked. “What kind of apocalyptic disaster requires my assistance? Surely not something involving a certain someone we both know?”

Astarion’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Yes. Them.”

Gale set his book down, his interest piqued. “Ah, I see. You’re pining.”

“I am not pining,” Astarion snapped, though the blush creeping up his pale cheeks betrayed him. “I am… strategically pursuing. Subtly, I might add.”

Gale snorted. “If by subtle, you mean utterly transparent, then yes. You’ve been as subtle as a fireball in a wheat field.”

Astarion scowled. “They don’t see it that way. They think I’m just… charming. Which, of course, I am, but there’s more to it than that.”

“And you want my advice?” Gale leaned back, crossing his arms. “Me, the man you’ve spent weeks mocking for my ‘tragic romanticism’?”

“Yes, yes, revel in the irony if you must,” Astarion said impatiently. “But you’re annoyingly good- most of the time, at all this grand gesture nonsense, and clearly, I need a new approach.”

Gale chuckled, a little too pleased with himself. “All right. Let’s see. The key here is sincerity. You can’t just charm your way through this one. You have to show them how you feel.”

Astarion frowned. “And how exactly do I do that?”

“Think of something meaningful to them,” Gale suggested. “An act that demonstrates you understand them, that you care about them deeply. And,” he added with a smirk, “maybe tone down the smirking and innuendo for five minutes.”

The next day, Astarion put Gale’s advice into action—or at least, his version of it. You were sitting by the riverbank, enjoying a rare moment of peace, when Astarion approached you, holding something behind his back.

“Ah, there you are,” he said, his tone softer than usual.

You smiled up at him. “What’s up, Astarion?”

“I, uh… I noticed something the other day.” He cleared his throat, looking uncharacteristically awkward. “You mentioned how much you missed those silly little biscuits from Baldur’s Gate, the ones with the sugar glaze.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “I did?”

“Yes, you did,” he said quickly. “And, well… here.” He produced a carefully wrapped package and handed it to you. Inside were a handful of the biscuits, slightly crumbled but still intact.

Your eyes widened. “How did you…?”

“Don’t ask questions,” he said, his smirk creeping back despite his best efforts. “Just enjoy them.”

You looked up at him, touched by the gesture but still utterly oblivious to the deeper meaning. “Thanks, Astarion. That’s really sweet of you.”

He stared at you for a moment, waiting for something—anything—to click. When it didn’t, he sighed dramatically and flopped onto the grass beside you.

“Are you truly this dense, my beautiful fool?” he muttered under his breath.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” he said, flashing you a too-bright smile. “Enjoy your biscuits, darling.”

From a distance, Gale watched the exchange with a shake of his head, muttering, “Some people are beyond help.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

Wyll was not used to being ignored, especially when it came to matters of the heart. He prided himself on his charm, his courtly manners, and his ability to woo with a single smile. Yet, when it came to you, all his gentlemanly gestures seemed to bounce right off you like a deflected blade.

He would offer you his hand to help you over rough terrain, only to receive a simple "Thanks, Wyll!" and a cheerful pat on his shoulder. He’d bring you breakfast, perfectly arranged, and you’d compliment him on his “team spirit.” He’d even tried a few subtler lines, but you always brushed them off as his natural charisma, as if his feelings weren’t entirely focused on you.

So, after one particularly frustrating evening where you didn’t even notice how his gaze lingered on you by the firelight, Wyll decided he needed help.

And who better to consult than the camp’s most direct and fearless member, Lae’zel?

Lae’zel was sharpening her sword when Wyll approached, his usual confident demeanor slightly crumpled under the weight of his unspoken affection. She glanced up, her sharp eyes narrowing.

“Wyll,” she said bluntly, “you look as though you’ve swallowed a blade sideways. Spit it out.”

He cleared his throat, glancing around to make sure no one else was in earshot. “It’s about… them,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lae’zel’s expression didn’t change. “Ah, the object of your obsession.”

Wyll winced. “It’s not an obsession.”

“Call it what you will,” she said, shrugging. “You pine for them like a fledgling seeking a mate. What of it?”

“I don’t know how to… tell them,” Wyll confessed, his usual eloquence failing him. “They seem entirely immune to my advances.”

Lae’zel snorted. “Perhaps because your ‘advances’ are weak. Soft. You dote on them like a mother hen, not a warrior. If you want their attention, you must assert dominance.”

“Assert dominance?” Wyll repeated, looking increasingly alarmed.

“Yes,” Lae’zel said firmly. “Challenge them. Best them in combat. Show them your strength. Then, when they are weak and trembling, you proclaim your intent to claim them as yours.”

Wyll’s face turned scarlet. “That’s—That’s not how courtship works!”

“Of course it is,” Lae’zel said, waving a dismissive hand. “You prove your physical and sexual prowess through battle. What better way to ensure compatibility?”

Wyll sputtered, his composure unraveling. “I—I don’t think they’d appreciate being ‘claimed’ like a prize after a fight.”

“They would respect it,” Lae’zel insisted. “And likely find it arousing.”

“Lae’zel!” Wyll’s voice cracked, and he buried his face in his hands, his flames of embarrassment rivaling Karlach’s.

From across the camp, you noticed the commotion and Wyll’s obvious distress. Concerned, you got up and made your way over. “Wyll? Are you okay?”

Lae’zel’s smirk widened as Wyll’s blush deepened. He scrambled to his feet, fumbling for words. “Ah—Yes! Fine! Everything is fine!”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of them. “Are you sure? You look like you’ve just lost a sparring match.”

Before Lae’zel could open her mouth to make things infinitely worse, Wyll quickly grabbed your hand and pulled you aside.

“Just a minor… disagreement,” he said quickly, his voice cracking again. “Nothing to worry about.”

You gave him a curious look, but his obvious flustered state distracted you from pressing further. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

Lae’zel watched you go with Wyll, shaking her head and muttering, “Coward. They would have respected a proper duel.”

Meanwhile, Wyll was doing his best to calm his racing heart and come up with a less mortifying way to tell you how he felt—ideally without Lae’zel’s "help."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

Halsin prided himself on his control, his connection to nature, and his ability to remain grounded in even the most chaotic of circumstances. But when it came to you, all of that composure seemed to dissolve like frost under the morning sun.

You were utterly magnetic to him—your presence so compelling that his heart would stutter every time you entered the same space. He found himself enchanted by the curve of your smile, the warmth in your voice, the kindness in your touch. And it was unbearable. Literally, because every time you touched his arm or leaned in to speak to him, his instincts would flare wildly out of control.

The first time it happened, you’d brushed some stray leaves off his shoulder after he returned from foraging. “Halsin, you’ve brought back half the forest,” you joked, smiling up at him.

Halsin opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, a rush of heat overtook him, and— bam—he was suddenly a large, startled elk.

You jumped back with a yelp of surprise, staring wide-eyed at the animal in front of you. “Halsin?”

The elk gave a deep snort, its head hanging low as if mortified.

It happened again not long after, when you touched his hand while passing him a flask of water. This time, he transformed into a wolf, looking up at you with ears pinned back, practically radiating sheepishness.

“Halsin,” you laughed, kneeling down to scratch behind his ears, “you’ve got to warn me if you’re going to do that.”

By the time the third accidental wildshape happened—this time as a squirrel after you had simply smiled at him—Jaheira had had enough.

The older druid cornered Halsin after dinner, arms crossed and an unimpressed look on her face. “You’re a leader, Halsin. A figure of strength and wisdom. Yet here you are, hiding in fur and feathers because of a crush.”

“It’s not just a crush,” Halsin muttered, his deep voice unusually uncertain. “It’s… consuming. Every time I try to speak to them, I lose myself. They are radiant, Jaheira. I can hardly stand near them without—”

“—turning into livestock, yes,” Jaheira interrupted, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re a druid, not a child. Get a grip, Halsin. They won’t notice your feelings unless you make them clear. And for the love of Silvanus, do it without shifting.”

Halsin sighed heavily but nodded. “You’re right. I must face this head-on.”

Jaheira clapped him on the shoulder. “Good. Now go before you sprout wings or something ridiculous.”

Halsin found you sitting by the campfire, a jar of honey and a piece of bread in your hands. The firelight danced across your features, and Halsin felt his heart thrum painfully in his chest.

“Is everything okay, Halsin?” you asked, looking up at him with a concerned smile.

Halsin cleared his throat, forcing himself to remain steady. “Yes, I… there is something I need to tell you.”

You tilted your head, some honey glistening on your lips. “Of course. What is it?”

And that was it. The sight of your lips, the gentle curve of your expression—it was too much. Despite every ounce of willpower he had summoned, Halsin’s body betrayed him. With a flash of light and a muffled groan, he was suddenly a massive brown bear, sitting heavily on the ground.

You blinked, staring at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Halsin! You did it again!”

From across the camp, Jaheira let out a long, exasperated groan, throwing her hands up. “I give up!” she muttered, stalking off.

The bear lowered its massive head, letting out a low huff of frustration. You reached over and gently placed a hand on his fur.

“It’s okay, big guy,” you said, grinning. “You’ll figure it out eventually.”

If Halsin could have blushed, he would have. Instead, he let you pet him, resigning himself to the fact that his feelings were much harder to control than he’d ever anticipated.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This was so so so so so much fun to write !! Especially Gale's icl hehehe. Hope you guys enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[bodexjames]

"We're still figuring out Mr. Cho's situation and reason behind his being taken, but I can't exactly share them Ms. Leon." Bode explained with a shake of his head. He had multiple theories, one or two of them involved that Benji was simply at the wrong place, at the wrong time. "Multiple administrations, okay. Have you felt safe recently or is there anything that we can do to make it better?"

ember inhaled a deep breath. she couldn't help but wonder if this whole thing was ever going to be solved or if her kidnapper was just going to continue roaming around wilmington as though they'd done nothing wrong. "what connections? i mean, kimberly makes sense because she works with irza but benji?" she had no idea why they'd snatched him up but she was curious to know what they were thinking. "i mean, i've been working for the parks department since i got out of college so, i've worked with other mayors. none as close as irza but i've still worked with them."

[acrowamongsparrows]

Daily Writing Challenge: Day 1 - Hypnotic/Star

Hammer blow after hammer blow resounded throughout the smithy ringing in the new work day as the cock coaxed the sun from it's sleep. Night had yet to fully depart as the sky was quickly winking out the tapestry of stars from it's blanket of lightening purple. Yet even as the night had come to a close the forge had already been brought back to life despite what slow burning embers had been left to keep it from cooling, it's raging flames billowing and burning to heat the crucible. The acrid stench of coal and wood burning would mix with the ozone of melting iron followed by the heavy pounding of the blacksmith's weapon of choice for shaping his works. Was it swords for a king? A helmet for the local knight? Or was it just one of the many horseshoes for a cart horse to make it to market?

In the hamlet of Markhor, one could be so lucky as to even own a horse and that was how Eld liked it.

Eld of Kovir or as he was known these days Candell, was not one to be considered a powerful looking man. Most smiths looked barrel chested, bald, and with arms like tree trunks to match the shoulders that bore the metals of their trade. Candell was not of the usual type. Surely he had the strength in his shoulders and back, but despite his heavy work over the last 11 years in the hamlet he appeared to only have gotten leaner and more wiry. Tight of shoulder and hard of back, the man worked like the devil for his craft despite it's mundane purpose of shoeing beats, repairing tools, and occasionally the odd or end needed by one of the villagers. His hands though were another story.

Powerful, thick, and uncannily dexterous for a man who swung a hammer for most of the day and played in fire. Strong enough to bend metal with a natural way speed and skill in near always striking true as he bent iron as necessary. Bent was a lame way to describe it, Candell guided the metal to it's true forms. A horse shoe, A scythe blade. Once there had been call for a new gate that by the end looked fit for a manor more than a field guard. Markhor was lucky to have him as much as he would beg to differ.

He was lucky to have it.

There had been rumors of trouble following the middle aged blacksmith despite the mediocre life he appeared to lead. But people noticed. As simple as they lived, they were not stupid. The supposed higher echelon of folk or better as they liked to think of themselves always perceived those who lived small as dumb or backwards. Really they should remember them as practical, hardy, and stubborn. Who else would be brave enough to live int he frontier and raise a family or crop. One could easily find as much fortune among the social hierarchy as they could in lining their pockets with flax, tubers, or coal. Someone could start over in the northlands near the Targo.

Someone could disappear.

Disappear was what Eld of Kovir had planned for and had nearly succeeded in. But things never always went as planned or wanted. Trouble seemed to always follow those that want to be left alone and then they had to redouble their efforts to remain in plain sight. A blind eye and slumped shoulders could be as much a shield as it could be a mark of shame.

A heavy sigh would issue forth as the a finale of to the hypnotic blows rebounded against the walls of the humble workplace. Hammer tossed aside with a clank to the ground as Candell gingerly took a step back before collapsing down onto the stool he kept near the anvil. Matching breaths to his sigh would follow as he sat giving his body the well deserved rest it needed after the series of blows, his hands resting on his knees before reaching over to massage his aching leg. It wasn't a new pain but it was a constant that he'd lived with forever and half. He hated it as much as it reminded him of his mortality and the hubris of remembering he was human. Sort of.

The yellow pupils were a dead give away of his other-worldliness. It wasn't the wasn't from the Continent or this world, it was just that he wasn't mean to really be alive. Not after the rigors he had been subjected too. That child should have died in those days. Poetically though he had died a hundred times over during his time among the 'grasses'. Eld had been a man who created nightmares as much as he faced them in the dark, but some dark memories can never be shaken by time or trial. He would always hear those moans. They were as much his as they were his fellows, only he was still here.

Sitting back again on his stool, the blacksmith would lean his head back to breath gently through his nose to calm his heart and breath. Old techniques for ordinary tasks. 11 years of exile and it still did not feel like enough.

It might never be enough.

A heavy series of thumps to his door brought the smith back to reality. His eyes lifting to the door and noticeable lack of sunlight that should be breaking through the cracks of the old wooden door. Suspicion sobered him quickly as he grimaced and got to his feet with as least amount of grunting he could muster. Standing shakily a moment would remind him to reach over to his crude cane that he'd made a few years back. There were other options to help with his motion but the true mission was always to keep questions at a minimum.

Clearing his throat with a cough, Candell would grip his cane tight and call out to the door. "We're closed. Come back after the eight bell."

A repeat of the initial heavy thumps was his only reply, causing the grimace to grow deeper as the smith planned his next move. Clearing his throat again, Candell's voice would raise as he yelled at the door again. "I said I'm closed till later int he morning. You'll have to wait."

The door quaked and shook from it's hinges as the thumps came again. Suspicion had now fled int he face of peril which meant was the time of action as he checked the cane, noting the heavy iron ball that worked as it's handle. Multi-function for everyday tools was a must in being a skilled smith and seller. The smith began the march to the door, each step painful but pushed aside as previous lessons kicked in on instinct more than need.

"I'm coming," Candell called again as approached the portal to the outside of his shop. Eventually reaching within the cane's distance to the door, he would come to a halt and reach forward with the end of his cane to swipe up the heavy latch that held his door locked. It was all done as practiced as ever as he let the cane slide back through his loose palm before gripping it tightly by the shaft. Eyes locked to the door as his free hand began to gently twist the fingers into an odd position to the common man but well known to those of his past.

"It's open," the smith did not call out this time, his voice even and flat as he spoke the simple phrase. It was all that was needed as the door handle clinked and pulled to push in.

The free hand went limp as Candell both relaxed and grimaced at the same time. "The hour is early and Duncan Waycrest comes to my door."

Filling the door with broad shoulders and face thick with a well groomed beard stood the the least seen man in all of Kovir. Perhaps even all of the Continent. But how he was seen here was a very curious sight for the smith as Waycrest was not one to wear his emotions like a lovelorn farm-girl. There was fear. An unsettling drop in Candell's stomach happened seeing his friend's stricken face. Vampires should not be afraid.

"Duncan?"

The door was closed quickly behind Waycrest pulling he hook again to lock the door once more. With his back to Candell and Duncan leaned his head into the old planks of the door, knocking softly with his forehead. "Eld I'm sorry. Truly I am."

Duncan shift about to face his friend, his hazel eyes shifting to the cane and then back to Candell's yellow. "Were you going to hit me?"

Candell dropped the cane to his side as he leaned his weight on the stick, forgoing it's previous planned life as a weapon. "Duncan, what are you doing here? What is wrong?"

Teeth would pull back to chew on his upper lips softly as Duncan spoke again. "Maybe we should sit down."

"Maybe you should spit it out already. You've already broken your vow by coming here."

"I know," a wince clear on the man's face as he rubbed his hands together. "But I had to. I had to find you before."

"Before what?"

Duncan Waycrest sighed softly and reached into the folds of his robes, drawing out a parchment. "The boys brought it to me. They said they were going to go after and see what was going on."

Eld hobbled closer to the vampire, his dragging his right leg along with a soft wince each step that made the other do the same as he watched. Taking the parchment with a suspicion plastered to his face, Candell would look to the paper and find the original drop in his stomach going further.

"Eld it's back."

Eld of Kovir locked eyes with the vampire as Duncan spoke softly again. "And it's worse."

@daily-writing-challenge

[the-whatcherof-89]

Xisumavoid Aka Ih-Soo-Mah Shaahwambam

CR 20 C XP 307,200 (if used as npc for encounter)Aasimar(Angelkin) Bloodrager12(Celestial Bloodline) Draconic Disciple(Void)8 NG Medium humanoid (Aasimar) Init +3; Senses darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, Perception +36 AC 40 (+3 Dex, +5 deflection, +10 natural, +11 armor, +1 Intuition) Touch 19 Flat-footed 37 HP 210 (20d12+120) Fort +24, Ref +15, Will +24 Speed 30 ft

Melee Adamantine keen brilliant energy falchion+34 2D4+16 Critical 17-20x2, Spells. Ranged Returning javelins+22 1D6+12, Spells

Racial Celestial resistances 5(Acid, Cold, Electric), Darkvision 60ft, +2 on Knowledge Planes and Heal. Traits: Ear for music, Foul brand.

Class features Greater blood rage (+4 Str Con +2 Will saves), Blood sanctuary, Bloodcasting, Improved uncanny dodge, Damage reduction 2/-, Fast movement, Eschew materials, Dragon bite 1D6 Piercing+1D6 cold, Blood of dragons, Natural armor increase +5, Ability boot(STR+4 CON+2 INT+2), Breath weapon 3/day(Con of cold 30ft 8D6 DC23), Blindsense 30ft, Dragon form 1/day.

Bloodline powers Bonus feats (Dodge, Improved initiative, Iron will, Cleave, Blind fight, Power attack) Bonus spells: Bless, Resist energy.

Spellcasting CL 18th, DC19

4th (4/day)-dragon’s breath, telekinetic charge, stoneskin, monstrous physique II, Ghost wolf.

3rd (4/day)-haste, heroism, draconic reservoir, Force punch, chain of perdition, resinous skin.

2nd (5/day)-mirror image, molten orb, see invisibility, glitterdust, blood armor, ablative barrier. 1st (7/day)-jump, mount, shield, thunder stomp, magic missile, burning hands.

Str 32, Dex 16, Con 24, Int 12, Wis 16, Cha 28

Base Atk +18; CMB +28; CMD 32

Feats Strong personality, Craft wondrous magic items, Improved sunder, Spell penetration, Greater spell penetration, Improved critical, Weapon focus(Falchion), Raging vitality, Angelic blood, Quicken spell-like ability(Dragon form).

Skills Acrobatics+12, Climb+15, Craft(Stone and metal)+24, Escape artist+13, Diplomacy+13, Fly+11, Intimidate +13, Knowledge (Arcana)+10, (Geography)+24 (The planes)+10 (Nature)+5, Perception +26, Perform(Cord)+13, Profession(Composer)+11, Spellcraft +20, Survival +11, Swim +15.

Languages Common, Celestial, Draconic.

Combat gear Mithral spell storing banded mail of greater cold resistance+4, Ring of protection+5, Amulet of natural armor+5, Ioun stones(Deep red sphere, Dusty rose prism), Adamantine keen brilliant energy falchion+5, 2 Returning javelins+1, Belt of physical might+6(STR, CON), Cloak of resistance+5, Headband of mental Prowess+6(WIS CHA Geography), Sandals of quick reaction, Bag of holding type I, Potions:(4) Cure serious wounds (4)Haste, Wands(Blink, Enlarge person), Tome of leadership and influence+2(Used), Manual of bodily health+2, Manual of gainful exercise+5(used), Masterwork guitar, Bloodrager kit, 508GP.

Xisumaviod Aka Ik-soo-mah the Ender caller.

CR 20 XP 307,200 (if used as npc for encounter)Aasimar(Ember-kin, Fallen one) Oracle(Void)20

CE Medium humanoid Init +5; Senses Perception +38

AC 33, touch 17, flat-footed 32 (+1Dex, +5Deflection, +5 natural, +11armor, +1intuition) HP 141 (20d8+48)

Fort +17, Ref +12, Will +28

Speed 30 ft. Melee Adamantine keen brilliant energy scythe+26 1D10+11. Ranged Distance light crossbow+18 1d8+2 +1D8 Cold.

Racial Celestial resistances 5(Acid, Cold, Fire), Darkvision 60ft, +2 on Knowledge Planes and Spellcraft, Lost promise. Traits: Ear for music, Foul brand.

Class features Curse: Tongues, Mystery: Void, Revelations: Absence of body, DR15/force, Armor fo the void 20 hours/day, Body of the void 20 minutes/day, Commune with the void, Creature of the void, Summon the void, Stare into the abyss,Touch of the void, Visions of the void, Wisdom of the void), Final revelation, Bonus spells: Chill heart, Darkness, Ray of exhaustion, Curse of magic negation, Passwall, Gateway, Banishment, Maze, Overwhelming presence.

Spellcasting CL20 DC21 Spells per day 9/9/9/8/8/8/8/7/7 Spells known: 9-Miracle, Portal, Implosion. 8-Earthquake, Cloak of chaos, Greater planar ally. 7-Scrying(greater), Resurrection, Blasphemy.

6-Word of recall, Heal, Blade barrier. 5-Planar shift, Break enchantment, Flame strike, True seeing. 4-Summon master IV, Freedom of movement, Divine power, Inflict critical wounds. 3-Water breathing, Cure serious wounds, Protection from energy, Dispel magic. 2-Restoration(lesser), Cure moderate wounds, Find traps, Sonic blast, Hold person.

1-Cure light wounds, Shield of faith, Bless water, Sanctuary, Divine favor. 0-Detect magic, Create water, Read magic, Purify food and drink, Mending, Light, Detect poison, Virtue, Guidance.

Str 22, Dex 12, Con 22, Int 12, Wis 20, Cha 32

Base Atk +15; CMB +21; CMD +22

Feats Craft wondrous items, Improved initiative, Divine interference, Extra revelations(4), Weapon proficiency(Scythe), Strong personality, Quicken metamagic.

Skills Craft(Stone and metal)+24, Intimidate +13, Heal+10, Knowledge (Arcana)+24, (History)+5 (The planes)+24 (Religion)+5, Disable device+24, Perception +28, Perform(Cord)+15, Profession(Composer)+10, Sense motive+10, Spellcraft +20, Survival +11, Swim +15, Use magic device +24.

Languages Common, Celestial, Abyssal, Draconic, Aklo.

Combat gear Mithral spell storing banded mail of greater electric resistance+4, Ring of protection+5, Amulet of natural armor+5, Ioun stones(Deep red sphere, Dusty rose prism), Adamantine keen brilliant energy scythe+5, Distance light crossbow+1, 50+1 Frost bolts, Belt of physical might+6(STR, CON), Cloak of resistance+5, Headband of mental Prowess+6(WIS CHA Planes), Slippers of cloudwalking, Glyphbane gloves, Bag of holding type I, Potions:(4) Cure serious wounds (4)Gaseous form, Tome of leadership and influence+2(Used), Manual of bodily health+2, Manual of gainful exercise+5(used), Scrolls(Cloak of chaos, Reverse gravity, Orb of  the void, Blood mist), Masterwork guitar, Oracle kit, 87GP. 

Background: Xisuma lives in a faraway land famous for the various buildings that defies possibility and his hermits that build them. While it is true that he is one of them, Xisuma is not only a music composer but also an admin/steward figure of the place, ensuring both the stability and functioning logistics of the land between the various hermits. Xisuma however, has a secret: for some reason he has a connection with the Void hence, his full name Xisumavoid. Although people do not bring up his full name often, Xisuma always feels the strange call and stares at the vast sky of the Overworld or the endless depth of the End. While there was no exchange of words, he always felt something or someone calling for him, pulling, inching forward from the dark depths but he could never reply or understand, until one day he was overseeing the land from a vantage point and saw some kind of light on the horizon engulfing the world. The land was disappearing. Xisuma panicked for a moment, but then he heard a call: “My chosen. To stop this advent embrace me. I shall give you the power to save the land. Look upon me.” Xisuma looked around but saw no one, until he looked up and saw IT. His two eyes reflected his being into two and cast the now divided Xisuma in two beings in another land. Separated, the two heard again the voice: “Upon you i now bestow my powers and a prophecy:”

Swift as the wind the ground rumbles

Burn the bubble when they stumbles

With blazing storms forward they dash

Cold hearts engraved in ash

One light and secrets will be hushed

Four shadows always clashed

Ring the bell falls the hammer

Sparks dance under the burnt banner

Clad in white we slowly fade

For in twilight’s hour we were remade

“When the prophecy is resolved, come find me. And you will return to your land untainted.” The two Xisuma were separated, one in the Overworld, the other in the End but they both knew what had to be done and no one would stand in their way.

(Image made with Heroforge.)

[ashton-ryder]

// int. apt 608 goods store - afternoon. 4th april. @emberwexley

Since the last time he really spoke with Ember on the roof oddly talking about relationship stuff, Ashton hadn't have much chances to catch Ember again, what with his own bountiful bag of fuck-upperies from the beach, to the injury, to the party, to stairwell accusations, to his own.. relationship happenings and drama - love, kin or otherwise. The next closest time was him helping out during the party and her traumatizing him with bambi and even then he felt bad for causing a scene during a party Ember planned.

Ashton heard from Charlie about the little project Ember had started out and when she reached out to him regarding donations, guess it was no better time to check out what she's been up to. "Where do you want me to put these?" Ashton asked with his armful of cushions and spare blankets, a little lamp even hung over his arm, letting her lead him into the apartment turned store. Ash generally didn't have a lot of things to live with, Ruth literally had to convince him to get a couch on day one. But he had enough spares of creatures comforts, that had always been spares for in case his mom stayed over and he could crash on the couch. He looked around the space that no longer looked like an apartment, "wow, you did this all in like, a few days?'

[thirdtofifth]

Ember Guard Huge elemental, lawful evil Armor Class 20 (natural armor) Hit Points 188 (13d12 + 104) Speed 30 ft. Str 25, Dex 15, Con 26, Int 3, Wis 18, Cha 9 Damage Immunities fire, poison Damage Resistances acid, cold; bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing from nonmagical attacks Damage Vulnerabilities cold Condition Immunities exhaustion, paralyzed, petrified, poisoned, unconscious Senses darkvision 60 ft. passive Perception 14 Languages Infernal, Ignan Challenge 13 (10000 XP) Aura Of Fire Bleeding. At the start of each of the ember guard's turns, if it has fewer hit points than half its hit point maximum, each creature within 30 feet of it takes 3 (1d6) fire damage. Death Throes. When the ember guard dies, it explodes, and each creature within 60 feet of it must make a DC 21 Dexterity saving throw, taking 10 (3d6) bludgeoning damage and 10 (3d6) fire damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one. The explosion ignites flammable objects in that area that aren't being worn or carried. Magic Resistance. The ember guard has advantage on saving throws against spells and other magical effects. Actions Multiattack. The ember guard can use its Fire Breath. It then makes two slam attacks. Slam. Melee Weapon Attack: +12 to hit, reach 10 ft., one target. Hit: 20 (3d8+7) bludgeoning damage plus 7 (2d6) fire damage. Fire Breath (Recharge 6). The ember guard breathes fire in a 30-foot cone. Each creature in that area must make a DC 21 Dexterity save, taking 21 (6d6) fire damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a success. A creature that fails its save also has its speed halved and has disadvantage on attack rolls and ability checks until the end of its next turn.

These cruel creatures are gifts from Imix, the fire Prince of Elemental Evil. They often serve efreets and other fire-associated evil creatures. They are slow and dim-witted, and in combat they mostly breathe fire on their foes to hamper them before wading in with their rocky flaming fists. They are thoroughly loyal to whoever Imix created them to serve, raised from a lake of fire by the evil Prince himself, serving as bodyguards or soldiers in elemental armies. Sometimes, efreet or salamanders hire out these creatures as mercenaries, and some spellcasters on the material plane have learned to bind these as well, sometimes reclaiming ember guards whose original masters had died long ago.

Originally from the Monster Manual V.

[soullessbullshit]

Tabletop Vestiges 1: How to Play Khoshekh in DnD 5e

After much deliberation of how to present this little mini-project, the previously focus-grouped Tabletop Vestige Builds are finally underway!

Masterlist

Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition builds

Khoshekh 5e | Tavi 5e | Speaks-in-Embers 5e | Cassian 5e | Malek 5e

Goals

Master of Shadow: As a nightblade, Khoshekh's magic allows them to manipulate and traverse shadows and darkness, using it to teleport short distances, form shadowy blades and projectiles, siphon creatures' vitality, and manifest spectral duplicates of themselves.

Ambush Predator: Khoshekh specializes in attacking with relentless precision, dealing obscene amounts of damage to their opponents before they can strike back.

Where'd they go?: Khoshekh's affinity for the shadows didn't start with their magic - they've been sneaking beneath people's noses since they learned to walk. And dear lord, are they disturbingly good at it.

Street Smarts: Their childhood in outer Wayrest and later assassin training has lead Khoshekh to develop a sharp sense of vigilance and pick up a lot of tips and tricks to survive before losing their soul.

Ultimate Zoomies: Khoshekh is able to maneuver in incredible bursts of speed and mobility, darting across rooftops, fleeing collapsing structures, catching up to marks and people of interest, you name it.

Level 1

Ability Scores

For ability scores, I advise going Standard Array. Roll for stats if you prefer, but make sure their Dex and Wisdom hit at least 13.

STR: 14 (Khoshekh is incredibly athletic, able to leap, grip, strike, and stride with impressive power).

DEX: 15 (Easily Khoshekh's strongest suit. They're nimble, precise, and slippery as can be).

CON: 12 (Khoshekh can certainly take a hit, though they usually avoid getting hit in the first place and tend to go for power over endurance).

INT: 10 (They're a quick thinker, but they're not exactly book smart).

WIS: 13 (They're perpetually vigilant, they're cool under pressure, and they're hard to manipulate magically).

CHA: 8 (Most of their social skills come from reading people and keeping a poker face. They're like a woodchip on the playground in the early 2000's: beat-up, beige, and easy to overlook in the masses).

Race/Species

Khoshekh is Khajiiti, specifically a Cathay-raht furstock. There are a couple felid ancestries, but the tried and true Tabaxi is easily most fitting for their character, particularly the version from Monsters of the Multiverse.

Take +2 to their Dexterity and +1 to Wisdom as their Ability Score Improvement. They have a 30-foot base walk and climb speed for scaling buildings and obstacles with ease. Cat's Talent grants them proficiency in both Perception and Stealth, handing out their two strongest skills for free. They also have Cat's Claws, dealing 1d6 base Slashing damage on unarmed strikes, along with 60 feet of Darkvision and they can double their movement speeds for a turn using Feline Agility for their signature burst mobility. They can also learn Common (Tamrielic) and a language of their choice: I recommend Goblin or Orc.

Background

The 5e background system's getting a massive overhaul in the near future, but the one we want hasn't been shown yet, so we're going for the 2014 version.

Growing up in a rundown Wayrest orphanage, Khoshekh's skills and worldview were shaped by their time as an Urchin. Modify the background for Sleight of Hand and Intimidation proficiency to avoid doubling up with Cat's Talent, along with Thieves' Tools and Cook's Utensils (or Thieves' Cant, if your GM is cool like that).

They have a keen sense of City Secrets, able to navigate urban terrain like the back of their hand. Since backgrounds grant feats now and I usually let my players pick Lv. 1 feats anyway, Mobile gives them a 10-foot boost to their walk (and, by extension, climb) speed, prevents opportunity attacks from creatures they've attacked in melee, and removes speed penalties from difficult terrain while dashing.

Class

Ah, the good ol' fashioned Assassin Rogue.

...Is not what we're doing. Mechanically, there are far better ways to get what we're going for with Khoshekh's modus operandi, and after several variants over the years, the following build is a far better reflection of Khoshekh's abilities.

They're actually going to start as a Ranger, gaining proficiency in Strength and Dex saves, non-heavy armor, and all simple and martial weapons. They gain three skills from the Ranger list, with the most appropriate being Athletics, Investigation, and Survival.

Favored Enemy is admittedly an underwhelming feature, but it is still objectively better than Foe Slayer. Especially since we can pick two types of Humanoids to start, such as Humans and Elves for their typical targets in the Covenant (and learning a language spoken by such creatures, which could arguably be any).

Deft Explorer, on the other hand, is incredibly handy, making them Canny for two extra languages and Expertise in an existing skill, which we're absolutely taking in Stealth for a +7 modifier right off the bat.

Level 2

At Ranger lv. 2, Khoshekh gains a Fighting Style, picking up Blind Fighting to gain 10 feet of Blindsight for even further vigilance.

They also gain Ranger Spellcasting, learning two spells from the Ranger list to cast with Wisdom, learning more spells at later levels.

Hunter's Mark allows them to gain advantage on checks to track a visible creature within 90 feet and deal an extra 1d6 damage on each hit while they concentrate for up to an hour. With the number of attacks Khoshekh gets on certain turns down the line, this spell winds up doing mid-level Sneak Attack numbers on its own.

Longstrider grants a willing creature a 10-foot bonus to their walk speed for an hour. This can, and often will, be cast on themselves, and can target extra creatures when upcast above 1st-level. They schmoovin', they movin', they goin' so fast.

Level 3

Ranger lv. 3 grants Khoshekh another Ranger spell, taking Zephyr Strike to prevent opportunity attacks against them for a minute of concentration. Once before the spell ends, they can deal an additional 1d8 force damage on an attack and increase their walk speed by 30 feet for the remainder of the turn.

They also gain Primeval Awareness from their awakening magic and exposure to the planes of Oblivion, allowing them to expend a spell slot to detect the presence of supernatural entities within a mile. Turns out it doesn't take long to start recognizing the scent of the things that keep punching you in the nose.

Most significantly, they unlock their Ranger subclass, obtaining newfound shadow magic as a Gloom Stalker.

Khoshekh becomes a Dread Ambusher, adding their Wisdom modifier to initiative rolls and granting them an extra attack and another 10 feet of movement during the first round of combat. The extra attack deals an extra 1d8 damage on a hit to maximize their lethality as an ambush predator.

They also gain Umbral Sight, increasing their Darkvision to a 90-foot range, and allowing them to blend into the shadows, preventing them from being seen by other creatures' Darkvision.

They also get a free Conclave Spell each time a new Ranger spell level is unlocked, kicking things off with Disguise Self. This allows them to adopt an illusory humanoid appearance of their choice for an hour.

Level 4

At Ranger lv. 4, Khoshekh gains their choice of an Ability Score Improvement or Feat, taking Skill Expert for a +1 bonus to their Dex score, proficiency in Acrobatics, and expertise in Perception.

Level 5

Ranger lv. 5 grants Khoshekh an Extra Attack whenever they take the attack action. They also gain 2nd-level spell slots, which they can use to cast Pass Without Trace, granting chosen creatures within 30 feet a +10 bonus to Stealth checks and protection from non-magical tracking for an hour.

They also gain Rope Trick as a Conclave Spell, creating an extradimensional space at the end of a rope for an hour. The entrance to the space can only be seen through from the inside and the rope can be pulled inside with anything or anyone else inside.

Level 6

At Ranger lv. 6, Khoshekh gains a new Favored Enemy, learning the ins and outs of the Daedra working to enact the Planemeld and gaining a newfound understanding of Fiends.

Deft Explorer also improves, making Khoshekh even more adept at Roving, increasing their walk speed by another 5 feet and granting them a climb and swim speed equal to their walk speed (one of which they already had).

Level 7

As a Lv. 7 Gloom Stalker, Khoshekh hones their Iron Will against the horrors faced across Nirn and Oblivion alike, gaining proficiency in Wisdom saving throws. If your GM allows it, the Baldur's Gate version of this ability also grants proficiency in Intelligence saves, learning to pick apart illusions and hallucinations from gaining Sheogorath's attention.

They also gain another Ranger spell, picking up Jump to triple their jump distance for a minute, allowing them to free-run across floating ruins collapsing in the Coldharbour sky.

Level 8

At Ranger lv. 8, Khoshekh gets another ASI, increasing their Dexterity score by 2 to cap it at 20.

They also gain Land's Stride, allowing them to move through non-magical difficult terrain without expending extra movement and more effectively navigate obstructive plants and evade spells like Entangle.

Level 9

Ranger lv. 9 grants Khoshekh 3rd-level spell slots, picking up Nondetection from the Ranger list to ward a creature, place, or object against divination for eight hours.

They also gain Fear as a Conclave Spell, allowing them to target creatures in a 30-foot cone, Frightening those who fail a Wisdom save for a minute of concentration. This effect forces Frightened targets to book it as far away from Khoshekh as possible until it ends.

Level 10

At Ranger lv. 10, Khoshekh gains another Favored Enemy, learning from experience what it means to be Undead and how to track those of a similar persuasion.

They also gain their final Deft Explorer feature, heightening their resilience with shadow magic to become Tireless. Their exhaustion level decreases by 1 on a short or long rest, and they can use an action to gain temp HP equal to 1d8 + their Wisdom modifier a number of times per long rest equal to their proficiency bonus.

Level 11

At Gloom Stalker lv. 11, Khoshekh can unleash a Stalker's Flurry, making an extra weapon attack once on their turn upon missing a weapon attack.

They also get another Ranger spell, picking up Globe of Twilight from the Humblewood Campaign Setting, allowing them to create a sphere of umbral energy to conceal their allies and discombobulate their enemies.

Level 12

At Ranger lv. 12, Khoshekh picks up the Observant feat, increasing their Wisdom score by 1, learning to read lips, and hyping their vigilance with a +5 bonus to their passive Investigation and Perception.

Level 13

Ranger lv. 13 grants 4th-level spell slots. Freedom of Movement turns Khoshekh or a willing creature they touch semi-incorporeal, their form fluctuating between material and shadow. Creatures under this effect are immune to the effects of difficult terrain, speed reductions, and the paralyzed and restrained conditions from magical sources.

They also gain Greater Invisibility as a Conclave Spell, turning themselves or a willing creature invisible for a minute of concentration. This effect lasts even if the invisible creature attacks or casts a spell.

Level 14

At Ranger lv. 14, Khoshekh gains their final Favored Enemy, learning to combat Dragons from Sai and the Elsweyr Defense Force.

They also master the ability to Vanish, allowing them to hide as a bonus action and preventing them from being tracked unwillingly by non-magical means.

Level 15

15th lv. Gloom Stalker grants the conclave's final feature, as Khoshekh learns to take a Shadowy Dodge as a reaction to impose disadvantage on an incoming attack.

They also learn to cast Locate Creature, allowing them to sense the direction of a familiar creature within 1000 feet.

Level 16

At 16th lv. Ranger, Khoshekh takes the Fey Touched feat, increasing their Wisdom score by 1 and learning two spells to cast once without expending a spell slot per long rest.

Misty Step, a Fey Touched guarantee, allows them to teleport 30 feet as a bonus action.

Heroism grants a willing creature temp HP equal to Khoshekh's casting modifier at the start of their turns and prevents them from being Frightened for a minute of concentration.

Level 17

17th lv. Ranger grants 5th-level spell slots, which Khoshekh can use to cast Steel Wind Strike. Stepping through the shadows, they unleash a barrage of slashes upon up to 5 creatures within 30 feet of themselves, dealing 6d10 force damage to each on a successful melee spell attack and teleporting within 5 feet of one of the targets.

They also gain their final Conclave Spell. Seeming allows them to project an illusory glamour onto any creatures within 30 feet of themselves, imposing a Charisma save on unwilling creatures.

Level 18

We're finally multiclassing at level 18, dipping into Fighter lv. 1.

They gain a second Fighting Style, picking up Dual Wielding from LaserLlama's Expanded Fighting Styles (can't recommend their homebrew enough). Whenever they take the attack action while wielding two weapons, they can make an additional attack as part of the attack instead of a bonus action and add their ability modifier to damage. They can't make an offhand attack with their bonus action when they do so.

They can also take their Second Wind as a bonus action, drawing vitality from their environment with shadow magic to regain HP equal to 1d10 + their Fighter level once per short rest.

Level 19

At Fighter lv. 2, Khoshekh gains the ability to Action Surge, taking an extra action on a turn once per short rest for extended movement bursts and flurrying strikes.

Level 20

Khoshekh's capstone is Fighter lv. 3, picking up a second subclass. As an Echo Knight, they can Manifest Echo to summon a shade of themselves. They can attack from their or the Echo's position, and instantly swap places with the Echo by spending 15 feet of movement to teleport. Unlike most other teleportation options, this is only limited by their movement speed, which is outright absurd by now.

They can also Unleash Incarnation as a bonus action, taking an additional attack from their Echo's position a number of times per long rest equal to their Constitution mod (which is only once, but backup is backup).

[blcssom]

open to: f/nb ft. ember - she/her - closeted bisexual - magazine intern based on: plot in source !

her palms are sweating before the elevator doors have even opened and she has to fight the urge to run and triple check that she'd given them the right coffee order. ember's cheeks flush as the doors open and they step into the penthouse office, shoulders straightening as though she can compose herself if only she looks the part. "good morning! you look.... incredible. er, as always, of course!" killing it. "you've got a dinner invitation from the marc jacobs team waiting on your desk, but i already called marcia at their office and let them know you don't typically accept brand dinners." a lie; they always accept brand dinners, but em's taken to skewing this fact to make their appearance in the end feel exclusive. "should i call and see if your dry-cleaning can be rushed? i know that three-piece set you like is in."

[blcssom]

she tables her own insecurities in favor of grace for bobbie's lack of experience ( after all... she said it wasn't bad... that should be enough, right? ), but still ember's hesitant as she presses kisses along the inside of her thighs. "should i.... stop?"

"um... just in a... ticklish way." in her inexperienced state, bobbie didn't even have the words to describe how it felt; all she knew to compare it to was a wet feather lapping against her, and the feeling was unfamiliar enough to prompt her surprised reaction. "no, it's not bad! i just didn't know it would feel like that..."

[ask-healthy-light]

With a solemn nod in return, Light promised the two Dragonesses that they would keep a close eye on everyone in the group, too, for while they knew that they were all capable of defending themselves, there had been times they were caught off-guard; so to make sure this could not happen, Light would take the first watch tonight, and they would simply work out who would take over their shift later.

In turn, after they grabbed their sword, and another bowl of stew, along with some bread, Light set their eyes on a big rock some distance away, on higher ground, which would give them a greater view over the entire area; but just as they left the light of the campfire, Nox quickly flew after them, and asked them if they were rested enough to take the watch, as she could take it for them instead.

But Light just quietly sighed, and shook their head, before they told Nox that they were all right, and that there was little to be worried about, especially since they were in unclaimed territories; but if she did not mind, Light continued, they asked her if she could join them, and stay with them for at least a little while, as they figured they would swiftly feel lonely, so far from the group.

To their immense relief, Nox warmly smiled to them in response, and together, the two walked across the plateau, carefully climbed part of the way up the hill, and took a seat on the rock next to one another, where they both let out deep sighs; and here, Light let Nox know that they had spoken with Ember, and they were confident that neither she nor Inferno would start any hostility towards Boom.

That being said, however, if they were to believe Ember, she told them about some grave crimes that Boom had committed upon her Family, and even though she did not give them any details, it was clear that it deeply distressed her still; for even when she just vaguely mentioned what he had done, she quickly teared up, and she had to take time to calm down, but also look at Inferno for reassurance.

Though they had only met her earlier that day, and they knew close to nothing about her, they could easily tell how stoic and focused Ember was, so they were shocked to see how quickly she started to cry over the mere thought of what Boom had done; and while he had often proved that he wanted to do better, the fact that it took until they showed up for him to start doing anything upset them, too.

All that they could hope for was that they did not have to take many lives in the Marauder Outpost, for while it was clear that their presence was a threat to every corner of the West, and the Empire in particular for some reason, they were less certain over what Boom's goal was; and they concerned for the safety of the group, and all their friends, and they feared they could not defend them all.

As Nox gently placed a paw on Light's shoulder, she softly said that she understood their fears all too well, and she promised to be by their side to protect everyone, which she hoped would put their mind at ease somewhat; but what she wanted them to know was that they should not allow their doubts and worries to distract them, for if they did not stay safe themselves, they could not help anyone.

At that moment, she realised that Light's ear twitched slightly, before they sweetly smiled to her, and solemnly thanked her for staying by their side, promising her in return that they would be sure to look after themselves, as long as she would do the same for herself, too; but they did not utter a word about what Luna had asked of them, to make sure Nox that was safe most of all, just in case.

But Nox just briefly shook her head, before she let out a deep sigh, and just quietly enjoyed being in Light's company, even if neither the circumstances nor environment they found themselves in were very pleasant, or at all so; but being in a neutral area in such pure darkness enabled them to look far into the dark sky, when Light let out a deep sigh, and said they missed seeing countless stars.

Then, Nox sweetly laid her head on their shoulder, just as her horn faintly started to glow…

(Thanks for reading! And if you enjoyed, please reblog! Thanks in advance!)

Send an ask or request! | Start at the beginning! | Next part!

Featuring: Nox Lunarwing from @nox-lunarwing Boomlord from @thedumbguywithaheart43

[emberstoashesandashestoidunno]

Intro

// OOC, this is an oc roleplay accout. Shes basically a class of '09 character but not a class of '09 oc,, i love her even if she'd jump me irl,,

Hey ig im ember. i dont rlly know what im doing but idc, i can answer questions maybe if i feel like it i have a job, and maybe a girlfriend but it complicated so i think im single?? i also have a kid i found in a storage unit, so thats cool, her names minnie. dni if your like a pedo creep and proshipper, any other normal dni critera, your all freaks, also helluva boss and hazbin hotel freakazoids i do NOT want you on my page fr int if your cool or somthing maybe

[vorpalbun]

Witch Machines part 1

What if you discovered you were part of an unsolved mystery? And you could do fire magic?

Since I've been rewriting Witch Machines I'm going to start posting it, probably about 1000-2000 words at a time (I dunno how often I'll post so it may take a while to get through it all)

In part 1, Deryn does something stupid in a tree, changing his life forever!

Deryn needed to be secretive, but that did not mean it could not be fun. Skirting around the edge of the village square, he disappeared between two wooden houses and climbed up the tree behind Elder Morlan’s house. While the tree was in the middle of the village, no one had yet discovered the platform Deryn had built high up in the canopy. This was where he could practise in private. He had recently begun exploring the creation of fire and the cool canopy seemed like a more appropriate place than the ground covered with leaves that had begun to dry out in the spring sunshine.

Settling on the platform, no more than a few planks, he first looked through the branches of the nearby trees, then down to the ground. Small houses made level with stilts tumbled down the valley. He could see the one he currently shared with his parents and the one he had recently left, which he had shared with three friends before they decided that four was too many for the little space they had. The houses all looked the same, made of light plain wood and decorated here and there with wreaths, flags made from fabric scraps, and paper sculptures that had been left out by the children who made them due to the recent lack of rain.

A door closed somewhere but there were no other signs of anyone nearby, either because everyone was elsewhere or because the height and sound of the leaves in the trees hid them. He assumed this meant he was also hidden.

He lifted his hand, palm upturned, and felt heat prickling his fingertips. Tiny tongues of flame seemed to ooze from his pores until his entire hand was burning. He had learned to relax, without concentrating too hard, allowing the fire to grow and fluctuate until gently letting it go out. Today it was time to push it a little further. Closing his eyes and relaxing more deeply, he felt the flames grow taller and hotter.

He inhaled, listen to the fire crackle, and exhaled. The pop of the fire startled a crow on a branch nearby and it loudly flapped away with a croak. Deryn’s eyes snapped open as he instinctively slapped his hand down on the edge of the platform. The fire was even hotter than he had imagined, as the wood instantly began to blacken and smoke. His panic at scorching the plank made the fire burn hotter still, the heat searing through his fingernails. Before he could lift his hand from the already crumbling wood, a clump broke away to fall distressingly quickly towards the roof below, trailing embers behind. He could only peer down over the edge as the magical fire immediately took hold and began to spread across Elder Morlan’s home.

“Oh, fuck me.”

Deryn stumbled down from the tree and slammed into Adair, who had just returned home from the village workshop and had seen the smoke as they came up the valley. By now, the fire had consumed the entire roof and was threatening to spread to Adair’s house. Together they raised the alarm and the fire was put out by dozens of villagers who rushed to help, hoisting buckets of water from the river while children collected rain-filled ones from wherever they had been left outside.

Once the fire was out, Deryn tried to slink off home, but not before he was summoned to a meeting with Elder Neela the next day and warned not to do any more magic. Not that he needed to be told.

-----

Deryn sat on a reed-stuffed cushion opposite Neela in the single, large downstairs room of her house. Various handicrafts covered the walls, but the light, unfinished wood and large open window meant the room did not fell crowded.

“It’s not that we want this to happen,” she said after a pause to let them both fall into the role of community members rather than aunt and nephew. “In fact, it’s unprecedented. We’ve never wanted—or needed—to do this.”

She sat on the other side of a low table, without a single hair out of place and wearing her usual neat, simple dress which she was now smoothing across her knees anxiously.

She was right, he had never been in a situation like this despite getting in trouble with his aunt on a weekly basis for most of his life, such as the time he enchanted a frog to scream a song of his own composition, lost it under the village hall, and could not get it to stop.

He had been warned not to use magic before, which was a rule everyone in Sign was expected to follow, and, while the adventure with the frog was innocuous enough to forgive the village elders had been keeping a closer eye on him ever since. Of course, this did not stop him from trying to practise magic and now it seemed that he had finally pushed it too far. His eyes were still fixed on the floor when Neela sighed.

“Deryn, you need to leave Sign for a while.”

His eyes darted up to her face. He had never heard of anyone leaving Sign before.

“Where would—“

“There’s a witch a few miles from here, still in the woods. We think you should go find them to learn more about magic. To control it,” she responded in a clipped tone. She did not want to have to discuss Deryn’s illicit use of magic after a lifetime of avoiding the topic wherever possible. But, more so, she did not want to tell him that he was no longer welcome in Sign.

That there was a witch nearby and he was being given permission to do magic, albeit not in Sign, was a relief to Deryn, who had already begun imagining something much worse; banishment to the woods to fend for himself for the rest of his life, or being forced to live among the sinister magic users who lived beyond the woods, according to the stories every child in Sign was told.

“That…Why didn’t anyone tell me about this witch before?” Deryn had already visibly brightened and now felt a twinge of annoyance.

Neela’s mind shot back to the discussion she had had with some of the other elders about what to do about Deryn the night before. One had wanted to pretend nothing happened at all, another wanted to force him to stop using magic by any means necessary. Neela was at a loss for how to solve the problem that was neither useless nor cruel. Magic was forbidden in Sign, but if Deryn was no longer in Sign…Nothing like this had been considered before, but if she could convince the other elders that it was only temporary, that he would soon come back and everything would go back to normal…

“To be completely honest, we forgot. But Liriss was in the archives the other day and happened to come across some old correspondence with the witch—I think their name is Cambel or something like that—and when she mentioned it last night, it just seemed like the perfect solution. Obviously, we haven’t had contact with this Cambel for a long time, but from the letters they seem like one of the good ones.”

Deryn raised his eyebrows at this unusually generous assessment. A thought wondering how Neela knew the witch was a good one, with witches never being allowed in Sign, flitted past.

“And when I’ve learned more about magic, then what?”

“I suppose you’ll be quite welcome back,” she said with a quick, eye-creasing smile. “After all, no one really leaves Sign.”

“Alright,” he said with a sigh. “When do I leave?”

“As soon as possible?”

[mistress-ofmagic]

I’m literally dying with laugher you guys - I have chat gpt some brief info about Latte and Loki and asked it to write a scene where they fight fire demons to get the old brain turning to write the next chapter and this is what it wrote 💀💀💀 why can I low key see it 💀💀

“INT. ANCIENT RUINS - NIGHT

Amidst the crumbling ancient ruins, Loki and LATTE, a sarcastic and witty human, stand back-to-back, surrounded by a circle of menacing FIRE DEMONS. The demons hiss and crackle, their fiery bodies pulsating with destructive energy.

LOKI

(raising an eyebrow)

Well, Latte, it seems we've stumbled upon quite the infernal predicament.

LATTE

(dryly)

No kidding, Loki. Just another day in my life, fighting fire demons in ancient ruins. What a blast.

Loki smirks, appreciating Latte's quick wit amidst the chaos. They draw their respective weapons, Loki wielding his enchanted scepter and Latte gripping a dual-bladed staff.

LOKI

(to Latte)

You know, Latte, I must say, your sarcasm is almost as scorching as the flames around us.

LATTE

(grinning)

Well, if we're gonna get burned to a crisp, might as well do it with style and a few sassy remarks.

The fire demons unleash a torrent of flames, forcing Loki and Latte to dodge and weave through the inferno. Their movements are coordinated, a dance of agile steps and calculated strikes.

LOKI

(mock surprise)

Oh, look, Latte! Another flaming obstacle for us to overcome. How original.

LATTE

(rolling her eyes)

Yeah, it's like they don't even try anymore. Same old fire, different day.

With a twirl of her staff, Latte creates a protective shield of energy, deflecting the incoming fireballs. Loki, taking advantage of the distraction, launches an array of magical energy blasts at the demons, causing them to stagger back.

LOKI

(smirking)

Impressive shield work, Latte. I suppose you've had ample experience dealing with fiery nuisances.

LATTE

(narrowing her eyes)

You have no idea, Loki. My life is basically a never-ending bonfire.

Together, they continue their battle, each displaying their own unique skills and bantering back and forth, turning the dire situation into a sarcastic spectacle.

LOKI

(with a flourish)

Latte, my dear companion, your quick wit and fiery spirit are almost as impressive as my powers.

LATTE

(raising an eyebrow)

Almost, huh? I'll take that as a compliment from the God of Ego himself.

With a final surge of combined strength, Loki and Latte overpower the remaining fire demons, causing them to dissipate into smoke and embers. The ruins fall into an eerie silence as the battle ends.

LOKI

(smiling)

Well done, Latte. Together, we extinguished those flames of chaos with our unique blend of sarcasm and skill.

LATTE

(grinning)

Who knew being sarcastic and having a caffeine addiction would come in handy? Not bad for a human, huh?

Loki chuckles, an unexpected fondness gleaming in his eyes as he regards his newfound human companion.

LOKI

(sincerely)

No, not bad at all, Latte. Perhaps this partnership will prove to be more amusing than I initially anticipated.

They share a knowing glance, ready to face whatever mischief and mayhem awaits them beyond the ancient ruins, their banter and camaraderie lighting the way in the darkness.”

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