#just a lil tiefling in the woods

[its-an-art]

Drew a tiefling~!

[vaelastormreaver]

Wild Hearts

Pairing: Halsin x Femme tiefling

Summary: Halsin and his lover play a little “game” in the woods

CW: NSFW, light BDSM, primal play, p/v, lil bit of a breeding kink, a sprinkle of praise kink, cockwarming

Author's note: first time posting a fic 🫣 please be gentle 😅

The moonlight filtered through the dense canopy of the ancient forest, casting silvered shadows that danced along the forest floor. A nude figure darted between the trees, her pale, infernal skin a stark contrast against the verdant backdrop. Her breath came in controlled, even puffs, a testament to her endurance. This was no flight of fear; this was a game. A test. The tiefling barbarian, her horns sweeping back like a crown of dark ivory, reveled in the thrill of the chase. Suddenly, a vine, as if possessed by some unseen force, snaked around her ankle, sending her sprawling to the ground. With a snarl, she tore the offending plant from its roots, the muscles in her arms bulging with the effort. She could hear the beast's approach, its heavy footfalls growing louder. A grin spread across her lips as she leapt to her feet and resumed her flight, her laughter echoing through the trees. She danced around the obstacles the beast conjured, her confidence swelling with each successful evasion. Just as she thought she had outmaneuvered her pursuer, a tangle of vines erupted from the earth, ensnaring her arms and legs. She struggled against the bonds, but they held fast.  From the shadows emerged the beast, a massive bear that then transformed in a burst of gold light before her eyes into a towering man.

Where the bear had stood moments before, now loomed the Druid, Halsin — her lover. His chestnut brown hair, half-tied back and intricately braided, framed his rugged face, the four long scars across his brow and lower lip giving him an air of raw, untamed beauty. He stepped closer, his eyes warm and affectionate. "The predator has caught his prey," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine.

Before she could respond, Halsin's lips captured hers in a deep, passionate kiss. She returned the kiss with equal fervor, her body straining against the vines that held her. When he finally pulled back, she flashed him a playful grin. "It was luck," she teased, her voice light but breathless.

"Was it luck?" Halsin countered, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Or were you simply eager to be caught?"

She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry at the implication of his words. His question hung in the air, charged with possibility. She met his gaze, her heart pounding in her chest. Halsin took her silence as an answer, a knowing smile spreading across his face.

"Do you wish for our game to continue?" he asked softly, his hand gently brushing her cheek, his touch a stark contrast to the firm vines restraining her.

Her breath hitched, and she nodded, her eyes never leaving his. "Yes," she whispered, her voice filled with anticipation.

He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke, his voice a seductive whisper. "Then I shall claim my prize…”

With her confirmation of consent, the vines seemed to tighten their grip, gently pulling her down to the soft forest floor. Her arms were held above her head, her legs spread, rendering her completely vulnerable yet exhilarated. Halsin knelt beside her, his presence a comforting weight. 

His hands, calloused from years in the wild, moved with surprising gentleness as he caressed her body. His touch was reverent, as though he were worshiping a deity. He traced the contours of her muscles, the curve of her waist, the lines of her hips, each touch sending a ripple of desire through her. 

"You look so beautiful like this, my heart,” he murmured, his voice a hushed reverence that matched his tender exploration. His hands roamed over her, eliciting shivers and gasps, drawing her deeper into a haze of longing and need. 

The tiefling closed her eyes, surrendering to the sensations, her trust in Halsin absolute. Every brush of his fingers was a promise, every caress a testament to the bond they shared. She felt cherished, adored, and as his touch continued to weave a tapestry of pleasure across her skin, she knew that in this moment, she was his willing prey, and he her devoted predator.

“I shall enjoy devouring you,” Halsin said, his deep voice rich with lustful longing. 

A soft sigh escaped her lips as Halsin’s hand began its slow, deliberate journey down her stomach, over her hip, and to the inside of her thigh, finally reaching her dampness. His fingers, calloused yet gentle, began to explore between her legs, caressing her folds and spreading her wetness as natural lubricant. With a tender but firm touch, he inserted one finger inside her. She gasped, her back arching in eager response. His eyes flickered gold before returning to their warm hazel hue. He was determined to maintain control, not when he had the love of his life beneath him, desperate for his touch.

He added a second finger, drawing a louder moan from her as she bucked against him, craving more. "Good lass," he murmured, praising her eagerness. The vines that held her in place made it difficult for her to move, so Halsin began to pump his fingers inside her, slowly at first, then quickening his pace. His fingers curled within her, searching for that sensitive spot that would send her into ecstasy. Soon enough, his expert ministrations had her crying out into the dark. He placed his free hand over her mouth, muffling her cries. "Hush, my love, or you might wake the camp," he whispered tenderly.

His hand remained over her mouth as he continued his rhythmic motion, her legs beginning to tremble violently as she reached her peak. Her orgasm washed over her, his fingers feeling every contraction. He removed his hand and kissed her tenderly, whispering "good lass" once again. His voice darkened as he asked, "More?" Panting, she nodded vehemently, "Yes."

He kissed her temple and moved between her legs, positioning himself for entry. The vines loosened slightly, granting more room for movement. Taking her roughly by the hips, Halsin slid himself inside her to the hilt in one slow, deliberate motion. She sighed contentedly at the welcomed intrusion. She had longed for this; at first, too timid to voice her desires—the desire to be hunted, caught, and devoured by her loving druid. She trusted him completely for such an endeavor. He knew how to balance gentleness with the rough touch she so often daydreamed about, always putting her pleasure first and readily acquiescing to their little game of predator and prey.

Halsin was eager now as he began to thrust in and out of his beloved tiefling barbarian. She tried to muffle her moans against her shoulder but was failing spectacularly as she felt herself being stretched to the brink. Leaning forward, he kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring the depths of her mouth, absorbing her cries. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the surrounding trees as their lovemaking continued, harder and more desperate with each thrust. Soon enough, he felt the telltale signs of her impending release and could feel his own approaching, but he held back, wishing to synchronize with his lover. A few more rough thrusts and her toes curled as she cried out into the night. Halsin followed suit, allowing his release to pour into her.

As her trembling subsided, Halsin collapsed above her, his cock still inside her used cunt as his seed slowly dripped out of her, onto the forest floor. The vines relinquished their hold, at last setting her free. She chuckled, pulling her druid lover closer into a warm embrace, which he willingly returned. It was only then that Halsin withdrew himself from inside her and rolled onto his back to lay beside his lover. "Come here to me," he purred, bringing her back into his muscled arms so their bodies were flush against each other. He kissed her damp brow and gently began caressing her shoulder to lull her into a peaceful stupor.

Time seemed to stand still as they further melted into each other's embrace, their bodies entwined in a dance as old as time itself. In that moment, there was no predator or prey, only two souls bound together by a love that defied all odds.

“I love you, Halsin,” she murmured, her eyes heavy with sleep.

"I adore you, my heart," he responded, his heart fluttering at the sound of her voice expressing her love. And as they held each other beneath the moonlit sky, they knew that no game could ever compare to the sweet ecstasy of their love.

[severevoiddragon]

I didn't know you were a dm, can I ask about your campaign? :00 /np

Yesyesyesyesyes you can!!!! I can't share too much behind the scenes (as much as I'd love to) BC Alien will most likely see this n Munts may see it too- Putting this under a cut purely BC this is so long bc ive ended up infodump sm-

So, it started w each character getting a letter from someone they know, an old friend for Hecate and Nivaira, and Izumi's half sibling, called Ammon. (All 3 letters were from Ammon just to be clear-) Ammon invited them to his house, as well as 3 others. Eventually, Ammon made it clear that she wanted the group (all 6) to locate an amulet, but that they couldnt SAY where it was bc. Evil can hear. BC you see, Ammon, who is a divination wizard/wild magic sorcerer had been studying the amulet, and got a dream that a great evil was looking for her and got scared. So ran away. The other 2 NPCs also left. There's a lot of plot holes but shhhh-

Anyway the party found the amulet, and the party discovered that Relania, one of the others summoned by Ammon, decided to try and take the amulet, resulting in a big battle which ended with Relania tied up and. Somehow escaping. She's still loose to this day.

The second adventure had the party meet a little girl called Ruby, and her mum. Ruby's mum was exhausted from lack of sleep so told Ruby to go to her granny's house in the woods (no this isn't a werewolf adventure). The party were asked to accompany Ruby, to ensure she got to her granny's safely. The party decided that because this nice little old lady lived in a SCARY part of the woods, she was evil. So stalked Ruby's granny, Winnie. They went down a whole rabbit hole of nettle/false nettle like plants n then decided Winnie was a night hag. And then Ruby's mum died. And so Hecate (the group's researcher), decided to see if there's any way of discovering if someone was killed by a night hag post death. There is! They just needed truesight. Noone had truesight. So, they put up a notice on the community board and hoped someone followed it.

Meanwhile, the Banducci Carnival was coming to town, and the group went to the carnival that night while waiting for the post to be found. While visiting Madame Banducci, the fortune teller (and owner of the carnival), Izumi got a lil. Hypnotised. Although he acted as normal until later :)

The next day, a cloaked figure with a kitsune mask appeared to use truesight as per the notice. They called themselves "Bob" and had an awful deep southern American Etomian (the name of the country "Bob" is from) accent. "Bob" did cast truesight on the body of Ruby's mum, and yeah, it was from a hag. And then "Bob" revealed herself to be Bella Banducci, daughter of Madame Banducci. Who then got Hypnotised!Izumi to steal the amulet for her, and give it to her. The rest of the party didn't notice.

The party went back to Winnie's house, to confront her, but. Ruby and Winnie were gone. They party then discovered how hags reproduce and then went "oh shi-" as they realised exactly what had happened.

Eventually, Hecate, who was in charge of the amulet, realised it was gone, and something happened that I don't remember and eventually Bella appeared like "heyyy I've got the amulet you idiots and I'm gonna sell it BC my mom wants me to but idc who to, so you guys give me 500gp and you can have it <3" the party managed to persuade Bella to join them (she hates the carnival), as they do a 500gp bounty (to retrieve an object)

THE CURRENT ADVENTURE!

The party follow the bounty to Sirraux', an expensive artifacts shop, ran by Monsieur Sirraux, a tiefling. It had the object the party needed to retrieve - a dwarf's magic pickaxe - buutt Sirraux didn't wanna give it up. In exchange, it asked the party to collect a sample of an interesting flora on an island far away. It got it's dwarf assistant to bring the party to the island. It was an island that Nivaira knew very well :). It was also infested with mushrooms. Currently they just got to Nivairas hometown, where all the people have been turned into evil myconids (evil mushroom ppl). Fun times!

There's also Eiwin Tamiel, an important NPC who hasn't been adventure relevant yet but will be! Just you wait for the Christmas special!!! He's a human cleric (???) and works in a small artifact / trinket shop. They're also definitely crushing on Ammon <3 Who is definitely not crushing on him back <3 I ship them sm- they write notes to each other in celestial and arghkejrjfkwf i cant share all the cute info bout them bc. Spoilers.

ANYWAY if you read all that well done, I'm impressed-

Now tell me bout your campaign :DDD

[wellthebardsdead]

Falûne: *sighs pulling off his boots revealing two blocks of wood and wadded up bandages wrapped around his ankles* ughh finally we can rest. *unties the bandages and blocks revealing two very cute goat like hooves*

Karlach: aww! What cute lil cloppers! But- why are you?… wearing boots instead of having fitted shoes?

Falûne: oh! The father superior always told me to hide them. He said people would mistake me for a devil.

Karlach: moonpie I’ve met plenty of other tieflings with hooves, they’re not just exclusive to devils.

Falûne: I?… really? *looks down at his hooves as his eyes and horns flash purple* ngh- h-hurts. What?.. were we talking about again?

Karlach: I?… your hooves. Let’s go see dammon yeah? I’m sure he can fit something on them to save your ankles the strain of walking in boots.

Falûne: o-okay?

*several hours later*

Falûne: *hugging a post for support as dammon inspects his hooves to fit new shoes* w-will this hurt?

Dammon: oh no, they’re healthy just a little overgrown. *pulls out what looks like a meat hook from hell* let’s trim back the hoof horn first-

Falûne: WHAT THE FUC-

*the next day*

*Clip! Clop! Clip! Clop!*

Astarion: they’re loud but at least he’s enjoying himself.

Shadowheart: well, we’ll have no fears of him wandering off unnoticed then.

Falûne: *running ahead unhindered and gleefully enjoying his new shoes*

[honeybummer]

NEW Chapter is up for Bloodstained! Chapter 31 "Urges Return". I'm sorry if it depresses u <3

Come check it out on A03!

Lil Snippet Below:

The library was bathed in the warm glow of late afternoon sunlight, golden streaks filtering through the high arched windows. 

Books lined the shelves, worn with age, but today the space held something more precious than stories. 

Luna's giggles echoed as her tiny hands reached for Karlach, who bounced her on her knee.

"Look at you, little firecracker!" Karlach cooed, her deep laugh matching Luna's high-pitched squeals. 

The tiefling’s broad smile was infectious, her fiery red skin contrasting against the light wood of the library. “I swear, she’s going to grow up to be a fighter. I can feel it in my bones.”

Across from them, Shadowheart sat in a cozy leather armchair, her usual guarded expression softened. She held a small stuffed griffon, playfully dangling it just out of reach as Luna stretched her eager hands toward it, her face lit with excitement.

“She certainly has your energy,” Shadowheart remarked, her voice calm and warm. “But I wouldn’t be so quick to hand her a sword just yet, Karlach. Let’s give her a few more years.”

Lyra sat nearby, curled into the corner of a plush velvet settee, her legs tucked beneath her as she watched them, a soft smile playing on her lips. 

The crackling fireplace across the room created a peaceful atmosphere.

Karlach looked up from Luna, her eyes bright with nostalgia. “Remember the old days? Charging into battle, just trying to stay alive? Now it’s baby giggles instead of battle cries.”

Shadowheart snorted, amusement dancing in her gaze. "It’s definitely a change of pace. But honestly? I wouldn’t trade it for anything."

Lyra’s heart warmed at their words. It was strange to think about how far they had all come. 

She leaned back, resting her head against the arm of the settee, the weight of those days distant, yet still a part of them all.

“Do you ever miss it?” Lyra asked, her voice soft as she traced the rim of her teacup with her finger. “The fighting, I mean.”

Karlach glanced at Lyra, her expression thoughtful as she let Luna play with her hands. “Sometimes I miss the adrenaline. But I like this more—being here with you all, with this little one.” She gently brushed a tuft of Luna’s hair from her face.

Shadowheart nodded. “We had our time in battle, but we’ve earned this.” She gestured to the room. “We’ve earned this peace.”

Lyra smiled softly, watching as Luna’s tiny fingers wrapped around the griffon’s wing that Shadowheart was holding. "I suppose you're right," she said, though there was still a small part of her that worried. 

Karlach leaned back, looking at Luna with admiration. "She's gonna grow up with all these stories, you know. Daughter of the heroes who saved the world. No pressure, huh, kiddo?" She winked at Luna, who babbled happily in response.

Shadowheart smirked, her usual stoic demeanor melting in the presence of the baby. “Let’s hope she grows up with fewer near-death experiences.”

Lyra picked at her nails. Part of her didn’t want Luna to know all the blood that had been shed. 

That Lyra had—

Her breath hitched as she stared down at her hands, her heart racing. Crimson stained her pale skin, thick rivulets of blood trailing down her fingers, pooling in her palms. 

She blinked, panic rising, as the blood began to drip onto the pristine sofa beneath her, each drop a stark reminder of the lives she had taken.

“Are you alright, Lyra?” Shadowheart’s voice, soft but curious, broke through the fog. She leaned back in one of the library’s armchairs, lazily twirling a glass of wine between her fingers, watching.

Lyra blinked, glancing down again. Her hands were clean. No blood. Just smooth, unmarked skin. 

She exhaled shakily. “I’m fine,” she whispered, barely trusting her own voice. 

It was just a hall𝓾cination. 

Nothin𝓰 more. 

The crackling fire filled the silence, its warmth chasing away the last traces of her unease. 

Across the room, Karlach watched over Luna, making sure the baby didn’t knock any books from the shelves. 

The soft laughter from earlier had quieted into a peaceful lull, the evening settling into a comforting rhythm. 

Karlach rose, murmuring something about grabbing another bottle of wine, leaving the room for a moment.

As Luna finally grew tired, her eyes drooping in the warmth of the firelight, Lyra scooped her up, cradling her gently. She laid down onto the sofa with her daughter.  

It was then that Shadowheart’s sharp eyes caught a glimpse of something—the faint purplish marks that peeked out from under Lyra’s collar.

Shadowheart raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk curling at the corners of her lips. “Well, well… what have we here?”

Lyra looked up, her eyes wide in confusion. “What?”

Shadowheart chuckled softly and nodded toward her neck. “Those little marks you’re trying to hide. Astarion’s been busy, hasn’t he?”

Lyra’s cheeks flushed instantly as she reflexively reached up to adjust her collar, but there was no hiding it now. “Oh,” she stammered, trying to come up with something, but Shadowheart’s smirk only deepened.

“Come on,” Shadowheart said with a teasing gleam in her eye. “You can’t leave me in the dark here. How is he?” She leaned forward, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Is he as... intense in bed as he is in everything else?”

Lyra laughed softly, feeling her face burn even hotter. She gently rocked Luna, who was now dozing off in her arms, and shrugged with an embarrassed grin. “He’s... well, yes. Intense is one word for it.”

Shadowheart’s eyebrow arched higher, her expression half-amused, half-intrigued. “I imagine he’s not the gentle type,” she mused, eyes glinting with curiosity. “Especially given his past. I always thought he might be... demanding.”

Lyra’s heart skipped a beat, thinking about the previous night. The way Astarion had taken control, the way he had anticipated her every need, every desire, without a word passing between them. 

“He knows what he’s doing,” she admitted, her voice low, almost shy. “But it’s more than that. It’s like he can sense what I want, even when I don’t say it.”

Before Shadowheart could press further, Karlach burst back into the room, holding two fresh bottles of wine, her broad grin infectious. “Did I hear something juicy?” she teased, practically bouncing as she plopped down beside them. “Come on, I need to hear all the details!” She poured herself a generous glass, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You know, I always had a bit of a crush on him,” she added. “Not my type, of course, but still—those cheekbones? And that swagger? Hard not to notice.”

Lyra blinked in surprise, then laughed, her blush deepening. “You? A crush on Astarion?”

Karlach shrugged, grinning unapologetically. “I mean, who wouldn’t, right? All that dark, brooding charm.” She sighed dramatically, raising her glass in a mock toast. “But you’ve got him now, and I’m dying to know—how is he in bed?”

Shadowheart leaned forward, grinning. “We were just getting to that.”

Lyra rolled her eyes playfully at Karlach's enthusiasm, grateful for the distraction. 

She took a sip of wine to buy herself some time, trying to find the right words to describe her experiences with Astarion without revealing too much. As she contemplated her response, Luna shifted in her arms, nuzzling closer to her mother as she slept soundly.

"He's... attentive," Lyra finally replied, choosing her words carefully. Her voice softened as her thoughts drifted back to the nights they’d spent together. "And passionate. It’s like he loses himself in the moment, completely focused on... pleasing." 

A warmth spread through her, memories stirring of how Astarion had made her feel—cherished, wanted, as if she were the only thing that mattered. The intensity in his eyes when he touched her, the way his hands moved over her skin, left her feeling desired in a way she hadn’t known before.

Shadowheart watched her closely, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “That sounds a little too... tame for the Astarion we know,” she teased.

Karlach huffed, lowering her voice dramatically. "Romantic, huh? You can’t fool us, Lyra. We all heard those nights in the woods all those years ago." She grinned wickedly, waving her hand as if to dismiss the more tender details. "It always sounded like a wild, rough romp—the kind where two beasts collide."

“Do you remember those nights?” Shadowheart asked curiously.

Lyra’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of crimson, the memories of those nights broken and missing pieces, but still flashing vividly in her mind. 

The untamed passion, the raw intensity of it all. 

There were few words, little gentleness. Just a deep, primal connection that left them breathless and tangled in each other beneath the moonlit canopy. 

Lyra hesitated. “Well, there were... moments,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Moments where things got... wild.”

Karlach burst into laughter, slapping her thigh in triumph. “I knew it!” she crowed, raising her glass in victory. “Two beasts, I told you!”

Lyra shook her head, laughing along with her, though the heat in her cheeks never quite faded. “But,” she added, her voice softening again, “it’s not always like that. There’s something... deeper now. He’s still intense, but it’s different. He’s careful, thoughtful. As if he’s trying to prove that he’s more than just... the talent you imagine.”

Karlach groaned dramatically, her voice full of mock disappointment. “Lucky you. A beast and a romantic.” She refilled her glass. “If you ever need a stand-in for one of those wild nights, you know where to find me.”

The room burst into laughter, the teasing and light-hearted banter blending perfectly with the crackling warmth of the fire, while Luna stirred sleepily in Lyra’s arms.

A few hours later the girls were still resting in the library.

It was getting late, and Astarion was still not home. 

Karlach and Shadowheart were fairly drunk by now, slurring their words and passing stories back and forth. The fire had dimmed, casting flickering shadows along the walls.

Karlach was in the middle of explaining the passion and tenderness of Wyll when Shadowheart let out an exaggerated groan, waving her half-empty glass. “That sounds...incredible,” she slurred, her words dragging. She leaned back in her chair, her eyes half-lidded, staring at nothing in particular. “Wyll... what a sweetie... a real gentleman...”

Lyra raised an eyebrow, glancing over. “Shadowheart, are you okay?”

Shadowheart’s lips quirked into a tipsy grin, her eyes glazed with drink. “I’m fine... just... thinking...” Her voice softened, trailing off as she swirled her glass lazily. “I’ve never had that, you know. Someone like him... someone tender.” She hiccupped lightly.

Lyra, still holding Luna, tilted her head curiously. “Never?”

Shadowheart shook her head slowly, letting out a slow, almost dreamy sigh. “Lae'zel... gods, you know how she is. Fierce, strong, all that good stuff..." She squinted, trying to focus. "But tender? Ha!" She let out a short, humorless laugh, her voice taking on a bitter edge. “Not in the way you're talking about. It was always... raw with her. Intense. It was all about power. Control.” She waved her hand dismissively before taking another gulp of wine. “Not really the... cuddle type.”

Shadowheart had explained their relationship was on-and-off, due to Lae’zel being on the astral plane all the time.

“Do you... miss her?” Lyra asked gently, keeping her voice low so as not to wake Luna.

Shadowheart’s eyes glazed over again, her fingers playing absentmindedly with the rim of her glass. 

“More than I thought I would,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze drifted to the flickering fire, her expression distant. “I miss her strength. Her... her confidence. She never doubted anything. Always so sure of herself. Of us. I thought I hated that...” She shook her head, blinking a few times as if to clear her thoughts. “But now... gods, I relied on it. On her.”

A long silence followed, filled only by the soft crackling of the fire and Luna’s gentle breathing. Shadowheart stared into the flames, her face softened by both drink and longing.

After a moment, Shadowheart glanced back at Lyra, her gaze unsteady but sincere. “You’re lucky, you know,” she mumbled, her words slightly slurred. “Astarion... he makes you feel... seen. I can tell. And cherished... lucky ,” she repeated, her tone heavy.

Lyra smiled, though there was a bittersweet note to it now. “I am lucky,” she agreed softly. “But you deserve that too, Shadowheart. You’ll find it again.”

After a moment, Shadowheart raised her glass in a half-hearted toast. “To the good old days, then. And to... whatever comes next.”

Lyra smiled and raised her glass, despite having her hands full with Luna, and the two of them shared the quiet, comforting presence of friendship.

But as Lyra shifted, trying to adjust her hold on both Luna and the glass, her grip faltered. 

The glass slipped from her fingers, crashing against the marble floor with a sharp, echoing sound. Red wine splattered across the floor, dark stains spreading like spilled blood against the pristine surface.

Lyra’s grip tightened ever so slightly around Luna as the faint scent of blood began to fill her nostrils, sudden and sharp, like a metallic tinge in the air. 

She blinked hard, trying to shake off the sensation, but behind her eyes, she saw a flash of red—dark, violent. Her stomach twisted, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe.

No𝔱 again.

Shadowheart was still talking, her voice a babbling hum in the background, but Lyra could barely focus. 

Her heart pounded against her ribs, each beat sounding louder, more insistent, as if something was trying to claw its way out of her chest. She swallowed hard, willing herself to stay calm, to keep the darkness at bay. 

Not here. 

Not no⍵.

The scent of blood grew stronger, almost overwhelming now, and Lyra’s vision blurred. For a moment, she thought she saw movement out of the corner of her eye—something dark and shifting, lurking just beyond the edges of the firelight. Her pulse raced, panic creeping up her spine.

It's not real. It's not real. It’s not 𝑟𝓮⍺𝒍 .

She repeated the words in her mind, trying to anchor herself. But Bhaal’s presence—faint, but unmistakable—lingered in the recesses of her consciousness, like a shadow she couldn’t fully escape. 

Lyra blinked rapidly, her breath coming in shallow gasps. 

She needed to stay grounded, needed to focus on something real, something tangible. Her fingers brushed through Luna’s soft curls, clinging to the feel of her daughter’s warmth, her innocence. 

She couldn't let herself slip, not when she had so much to protect.

“Lyra? You okay?” Karlach’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts.

Lyra stiffened, forcing another smile, but it felt weak, hollow. “I’m fine,” she said quickly, her voice too light, too hurried. “Just... tired, I think.”

The room felt too small, too warm. 

She could still smell the blood, feel the cold fingers of Bhaal’s influence tugging at the edges of her mind. It was as if the room around her was fading, blurring into that red haze again, and she fought to stay present.

Luna stirred in her arms, her tiny face peaceful and unaware of the storm brewing inside her mother. Lyra kissed the top of her head, breathing in the sweet, calming scent of her child. 

Hold on for her. You have to hold on.

But beneath the surface, the darkness was there, waiting for a moment of weakness.

Just one slip.

廾𝓮𝒍𝒍𝚘, 𝓛𝔂𝑟⍺

No , it’s just my imagination. I control him. 

He can’t hurt me. 

The scent of blood surged through Lyra’s senses, overpowering everything. 

Her vision blurred, and a wave of darkness crept up from the depths of her mind, dragging her under. 

I control him. I control him. I control him . 

But—

𝛪 𝒄𝚘𝓷𝔱𝑟𝚘𝒍 𝓾𝐬. 

Her heart raced, her body no longer hers to control.

Without thinking—without hesitation—her hand shot out, fingers trembling as they found the hilt of the dagger strapped to Karlach’s thigh. 

The cool metal slid into her palm, heavy and sharp, as if it had been waiting for her all along.

No—

The thought flitted away, drowned beneath the pounding in her skull and the insistent pull of Bhaal’s influence. Her fingers closed around the hilt with a terrifying certainty, the dark craving consuming her.

She needed blood. 

To kill. 

To make someone suffer .

In a heartbeat, she raised the dagger, the blade glimmering in the dim light. 

It reflected the image of the small, delicate baby cradled in her arms, her heart plummeting as the world fell into a chilling silence.

A scream echoed in her mind, yet no sound escaped her lips.

“Lyra, no!” Karlach’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and filled with panic.

Shadowheart, slightly disoriented from the wine, struggled to grasp the unfolding danger, her reactions dulled by the haze of intoxication.

Before Lyra could blink, Karlach lunged at her, their bodies colliding in a blur of movement.

The blade hovered just above Luna, trembling in her grasp—

Blood spilled.

[judasiskariot]

hi!! let's make a lil salad for the oc ask thingy!

🍅🥒🥬

😂😂😂

Hahahaha the salad thing killed me xDD Very good! Well done!😂😂😂

For who should I do it? 🤔 Hmm...I'll take one of my Tavs: Saulus, because she is my main Tav :D

Here my answers for Saulus for the OC Interview Questions Fruits&Veggie Edition

🍅 [TOMATO] How misunderstood is your OC? In-universe or IRL.

Well, because most NPCs and above all companions loved her (except when she "had" to do wrong things durge style), I think she is not misunderstood :D The only misunderstanding can be that she takes one second of too long eye contact as flirting and still reacts with the most sheepish laugh.

🥒 [CUCUMBER] How innocent are they (unaware to the bad happenings around them)?

Oh as Durge absolutely not innocent. She has no problem with spilling blood, especially when you criticize her music. Maybe she is often to trustworthy and believes til the last second what her friends tell her (like go in the dark woods or to the grave with Astarion believing she is not going to get seduced despite knowing better xD). As a bard, she has perfect social and communication skills and sees through everything. It's just that she sometimes has blinders on when it comes to her friends. (and of course her perception roll always lands on "Wait a moment...what do you say? They totally flirted with me, right?!")

🥬 [LEAFY GREEN] How mundane are they? Do they like it that way?

I think she is not very mundane. She is a Tiefling Dark Urge (Vampire) Bhaal Battle Beer Bard. So there is fun, mischief and chaos all along...and she would not have it any other way :D

Thank you very much for asking, this stuff is fun!😊🤗

[major-fukkup]

@hyperobsession here goes!

So, I've created several different DnD pcs, as one does, so I can use them for different things BUT in my mind they all also exist in a separate AU where they're all in the same party and the problem with this is three of them are rogues.

Two of them, Ezian (catfolk) and Vargas (tiefling), become best friends almost immediately (just kidding it takes at least a week or two) bc it turns out they share a braincell and work reeeaaally well together. And they basically force the third, Sivain (half elf), to join their lil mini group within the party just bc ya know, they gotta, but he's traumatized (to be fair they all are lol but his trauma was the most recent) and doesn't wanna get close to anyone. Eventually he learns to trust them, and they never let him down. At least, not intentionally.

They are, for all practical purposes, being babysat by Storm, the chillest bard ever (you may remember him - he's a dragonborn), and Ash, a wood elf druid with a moral compass that won't quit. They basically become co- party leaders on account of being the smartest, and also the biggest and strongest (in a "the strong protect the weak" kind of way, not a "might makes right" way lol).

Storm doesn't really care what the rogues do as long as they aren't actually hurting anybody, but Ash tries to talk morals into them - to be fair they do have standards of their own but they struggle quite a bit with reason and logic, and Sivain believes quite heavily in destiny and luck. For example if someone drops their wallet or whatever and doesn't notice then it's fair game - bad luck for them, good luck for him.

Ash eventually learns to look the other way sometimes, but not if there is an objectively morally correct course of action that can be taken. She chooses not to partake of any goods that she knows are stolen but she isn't going to deprive her companions of stuff they actually kind of need, either.

Also Volstar, the edgy halfling sorcerer, is there but he mostly keeps to himself. He spent the first few months with the party constantly assuring them (himself actually) that he was ONLY in the same place at the same time as them because they happened to be investigating the same thing (they asked for his help one time with one thing and he was already looking into it so he figured why the hell not but he expected them to leave him alone afterward and they very much did not).

He talks to his mage hand and minor illusion more than any of them. ...Until one day he finds himself calling the party his friends. He never regrets it, either.

And of course we can't forget about Mark, a high elf ranger who doesn't give any fucks about anyone or anything except himself and smoking weed (I originally made him a high elf just for that joke even though wood elf would make more sense). He's literally just a hunter but he always wondered what was beyond the forest so he agrees to accompany the party into the city they're heading toward.

While there, they find a raccoon and he tries to kill it but it starts talking and the other party members decide to adopt it. Its (his) name is Roadkill but it's unclear if he already had that name or if they gave it to him.

Roadkill immediately decides Mark is his favorite person, you know, the guy who tried to kill him at first sight, and spends the majority of his time sitting on his shoulder. He refuses to get within five feet of Ash despite the fact that she's objectively the most adept at animal handling.

He is also a thief (I'm not giving him a class simply bc he'd be a rogue and that would make four, and also bc he's a raccoon and doesn't deserve a class [affectionate]) and frequently attempts to steal from Mark, who in turn chases him around trying to stab him. This continues nearly every night until Mark is given a reason to care about someone other than himself and has a change of heart (it is unclear how much time that takes, and also unclear exactly what happens to incite this reaction - I have some ideas but nothing set in stone yet).

Roadkill also fights with the rogues over shiny things. They don't try to kill him like Mark did but he does find a dagger somewhere and they quickly give up on trying to take it away from him.

That's about it for these guys, for right now anyway. I have so much more to say about each one but that can be done another time, in another post.

I'm also working on a couple more pcs including a half orc paladin and a drow cleric but since I'm not overly familiar with either of those classes I'm waiting 'til I have time to consult the Player's Handbook before continuing their development. I also want to add a barbarian to the mix but I don't have any exceptionally good ideas for one so I'm not sure yet. Maybe a gnome bc I love the idea of a really strong tiny dude. I was considering a gnome fighter instead but again, not sure.

I have a number of npcs as well that I'd love to talk about, but that's DEFINITELY going in a different post.

Anyway feel free to ask for more info about any of these guys! Like I said I have a lot more to say XD

[loverboypercy]

im def gonna have to wait till it goes on sale but,,

[theaviskullguy]

this game has my brain hostage. so here's how i think the s4 +rider and avi would play bg3. spoilers for bg3

Army:

-Explorer difficulty. He is FULLY into it.

-In normal dnd he is your minmaxer who somehow makes it work with the roleplay. In bg he is ALL in for his character and plays them as accurately as he can.

-Valor Bard, High Elf. The backstory he gave himself was he grew up on the streets of Waterdeep and learned magic and tricks of the tongue to cast it from bards he watched. He was gifted a lute by a traveling paladin who had no need for it.

-Romancing Gale. he's too nice to go for the twink vampire and too gay for anyone else (other than maybe wyll but he got set on gale's romance first)

Aloha:

-Balanced, multiplayer with Mask.

-He went with a tiefling ("the gayest race!!") rogue, arcane trickster, with the Charlatan background without knowing Astarion was essentially the same in a different font

-He's a (reforming!) conman from Baldur's Gate who once conned Cazador. He now only goes for the more wicked people for his cons which. still includes Cazador i guess

-Also romancing Gale because "he reminds me of army and that's Hot"

Mask:

-Balanced, multiplayer with Aloha but has her own save on tactician. Same character for both

-Dark urge wood elf (for the speed), draconic sorceress with blue dragon bloodline. She's not evil but she is An Asshole.

-She wrote her own backstory where even before loosing her memory she was resisting her urge to murder and so she moved into the woods and became known as "The Witch of the Wicked" due to her spells having deep prices

-Very neutral on savescumming. She makes fun of Army for it and Rider for not

-Though somehow romancing Karlach cause even she has standards and cant resist buff women

Rider:

-Explorer. He's a giant nerd and wants to take it easy to pick up on all the references without stress

-High elf War Cleric of Ilmater. Portrays him as a protector of those in need, as most Ilmater clerics are, but he's more aggressive in his protection. Hence, war domain. He's like a scary older brother that protects people

-Jokes to Goggles and Hachi (who watch over his shoulder) that "he's just a long suffering mom friend who needs a coffee, and a nap"

-Romancing Wyll because Goggles n Hachi both liked him

Skull:

-Explorer because he's new to dnd and related stuff. He played a bit of Pathfinder and that's it. He's enjoying himself though

-Wood Elf ranger as "i feel like i couldnt be anything else in dnd". Outlander background and beastmaster subclass. Has a giant wolf with him at all times he named Ulfric who is the soul of Avi reincarnated after his death. Avi came up with that one

-Karlach reminds him too much of Avi so of course he's going to give the tiefling woman a Smooch. As He Should

Avi:

-Tactician. He's not a stranger to gaming nor is he one to dnd.

-Minmaxes but makes it work.

-Tiefling Paladin of Vengence, somehow with wolflike traits. Folk hero background. He and Skull had the idea that their bg3 characters were married but their different playthroughs are where the other died respectively if that makes sense

-Hates Being Mean. Chaotic Good playthrough but hates being a dick

-Romancing Wyll because Wyll reminds him a lil of Skull and Paladin/Warlock is an underrated ship dynamic. its the same thing in Reverse

[flowersdaggersviolasandblood]

Flower Girl

Name: Pero Ophiin (She/Her)

Race: Wood Half-Elf

Class: Druid (Circle of the Land)

Background: Outlander

WARNING SPOILERS AHEAD!

Moving away from Admaer for a moment, let's look at my pretty lil Druid girl, Pero Ophiin. To recap on what her whole deal is, she is a sheltered and shy wood Half-Elf who left home at an early age to see new horizons. She was near Baldur's Gate when the Mindflayers attacked and could've avoided this whole journey, but she chose to try and help people escape. After escaping the nautiloid ship, recruiting Shadowheart, Gale, Wyll, Astarion, and Lae'zel into her camp & party; and finding Emerald Grove, she's determined to help the Tieflings to Baldur's Gate and find Master Halsin.

Pero was able to save the Tiefling child by reciting the teachings of Silvanus, the God of Wild Nature. Pero was getting sneaking suspicions about Kagha as she immediately noticed the Elfs' constant twisting of the tenets and words of the Oakfather. The moment Pero heard that she's conducting the Rite of Thorns, this made her exceptionally concerned.

The Rite of Thorns covers a designated Druidic Grove in vines, branches, and sharp thorns. It keeps those within the designated space trapped inside, while those outside are kept out. However, what makes this ritual dangerous is that those within can potentially break out into violence due to the isolation and very few Druidic spaces survive such an extreme act. Pero safely assumes that there could be more to Kagha's reasons to kick the Tieflings out. When she tried to confront her about the risky magic, Kagha stood her ground with her reasoning.

While here, Pero talked with Nettie & Rath. Due to Pero's honestly, unlike Torment & Admaer who got poisoned because the Dwarf couldn't trust them; Pero was let off the hook. Though Pero did swore oath to drink the Wyvern poison, should she actually turn. Pero also offered, with absolute certainty, that she will look for Halsin and bring him home. However, I first want to send little miss ma'am to the swamps so that she may discover Kagha's secret.

Before we left, we learned a few things about our companions! Starting with Gale, Pero discovered rather quickly that Gale has a condition where he needs to consume magic from exceptionally powerful artifacts. He didn't explain the whole story, relating it to having to pay a tribute to a powerful neighbor to keep them happy. Pero agrees to look out for such items and bring them to him.

Of course, we do learn of Shadowhearts glowing wound, but one thing that surprised me is that she's apparently scared of wolves! As I was speaking with Silver (as a Druid or if you have the Speak with Animals potion, you can talk with many critters in the game. Very Larian Studios :D) Shadowheart failed her save and became frightened of Silver. Pero promised to limit their encounters with wolves, and RP-wise, Pero will most likely not wildshape into a wolf if Shadowheart is in the active party.

I, of course, snuck into the servants quarters and discovered the secret letter about the swamp, so that's on Pero's to-do list.

While at the Grove, we saved the Tiefling kid from the harpies and this time around, we heard Alfira sing the Weeping Dwan song! Even more exciting, Raphael appeared IN THE DRUID GROVE. So at any point in time, he could just show up earlier than expected or later!

I still smile look a goofball during this interaction with Astarion because he's just so soft. Unfortunately, I won't be aiming for Astarion with this character as far better options are available (Halsin, Gale, Halsin, Wyll, Halsin, Shadowheart maybe, and did I say Halsin?), but it was still a sweet moment. Roleplay wise, I see this as Pero being clueless to his possible advances and just happy that he's softening up to her as she feared that she was doing something to upset Astarion. As for Lae'zel, Pero is still very much scared of her.

When they confronted Zorru about the Githyanki Creche, Pero tried to stand up for him, but when Lae'zel barked back, Pero got timid and let Lae'zel do her thing. She was able to see a "softer" side to Lae'zel when she explained what the Tears were, but it's probably gonna take some time for Pero to get use to Lae'zel.

Also, I'm going to aim to recruite Karlach a bit sooner with this character than usual. Typically, at least with Admaer & Torment, Karlach is at the back of their mind. Not that Pero is too eager to see this supposed "devil" but I just think Karlach would be a better fit in this party sooner than going through the motions of doing the Blighted Village before meeting Karlach.

[ruinouss]

Karlach's laugh sounded genuine and encouraged her to laugh even more. It felt good to lower her guard and enjoy sharing a somewhat embarrassing moment of her life with someone else. As a ranger, she spent a good bit of her time on her own — well she had Bayn but a Direwolf didn't always have the same humor. And he was the more cautious and stern one of the pair. The fiery Tiefling was a welcomed change. But Karlach also had an enchanting air around her that initially drew Faye in. It was difficult for her to imagine anyone wanting to kill her but she couldn't blame Wyll after learning he'd been lied to. It was just a relief everyone kept a level head long enough to reveal the truth.

"I have no doubt your intimidation techniques are superior but I think people would still look down and see me no scarier than a puffed up hissin' kitten," she giggled. Faye saw the way Karlach went to reach out but pulled back. She had forgotten about her dangerous condition and felt a bit of the glee ebb away. Most never thought about how often friends made physical contact with simple nudges or touches until it became impossible.

How long had Karlach been denied of something so simple? The thought sent a pang of pain through her heart but she chose not to acknowledge it. Both were aware and there was no need to damper the mood further.

"You're tellin' me. Bayn never found that story amusin'. He always claimed it was foolish to taunt the enemy without bein' prepared for retaliation. But I don't think wolves really have the same sense of humor," she shrugged, eyes looking at the piece of wood Karlach was whittling, curious as to what it would transform into. Her lips puckered out as she went through her catalog of scars. Most came from serious fights or betrayals. Was that her only one.

"Hmm...it might be...at least with a good story. I have this really small one on my left hand," she showed a very thin lined scar on the outside part of her hand, "where I jokingly told a squirrel I'd fight it for my sweet roll and it attacked me for it. Shook my hand like crazy and after it hung on for ten minutes I just gave it the win." she shrugged. "What about you? Any scars that bring a lil' smile to your face?"

Karlach didn't think before she spoke. One of the scars had caught her interest and she immediately pointed at the scar in comment. It didn't occur to her that perhaps not all scars are meant to be explained, but Karlach had lived with scars her whole life. They explain a part of someone's life, opening up a view into what they have survived or lived. Course she would not press if it was a sensitive topic, but Karlach liked to get to know her companions more, including Faye. "Oh? Well, now you HAVE to tell me," Karlach grinned, as she sat on the ground, a knife in one hand as she was slowly chipping away at a piece of wood, shaping it into something that was not yet recognizable.

"Ah, Goblins. Ever the 'grrr' type. It's the short ones you have to look out for," Karlach playfully teased as she listened to the rest of the story. "Awww, who could be afraid of you, Red? You're adorable," Karlach found herself completely enamored by the story, her laughter being a little contagious as Karlach grinned, her fangs glimmering just beneath her red lips. "No... you didn't!" Karlach said and then laughed out loud, her tail slapping the ground from her amusement at the situation. "My gods, Faye, why!? I should give you some intimidation tactics! But I'm just picturing you two staring at each other and just, what do we do now!?" Karlach laughed out loud as she shook her head.

"Okay, that's a great scar story, I'm logging that one away. Damn, that's a good laugh," Karlach grinned as she flicked the blade over the wood some more, lifting it to look at it and tilting her head. "This is nice, getting to laugh and have time with friends," Karlach admitted and looked over to Faye. "I haven't laughed like that in a long time. I almost forgot what it was like to enjoy stories and laugh with people who aren't looking to manipulate you in some way," Karlach nearly nudged Faye but immediately stopped herself, realizing she could easily burn her with just a touch. Gods, she was so desperate for a simple touch but she purposely shifted a step away, so as not to be tempted into it. "Do you have other funny stories like that with your scars or is that the only one?"

[alittlepatchofmoss]

morel! theyre dead skkdhddjdj rip ig

[nagdabbit]

🥺👉👈 pwease? 🥺🥺

okay okay, but like, be gentle? it's just bones right now, and a really good ending, if i say so myself, but, like... bones. it's bones with rules, because i like them. and it's about four dumbasses playing dnd, so obviously i gotta.

anyway, here's a lil bit. not quite the beginning, i guess? i dunno, i've forgotten how to do writing on the internet. be gentle.

~~~

D&D was weird.

It involved a lot of sitting around, trying to stay focused as Heather narrated at them. A lot of trying to be clever, trying to be smart. A lot of trying not to fuck up entirely.

The biggest problem with it all was that, sitting directly next to his highschool--and current--bully, it was damn hard not to feel like he was breathing wrong. Hell, Billy had shown up and rolled his eyes at Steve's presence, so he was clearly existing incorrectly, too.

"Alright, you've made your way from the college library to the very outskirts of the city," Heather said, eyes scanning her notes, while her arms made wide, sweeping gestures. "Almost an hour on horseback through the busy, winding streets. There are no street signs directing, but you see a path breaking away from the main road, and disappearing into the trees. The path is dense and quiet and dark."

"Is it weirdly quiet?" Steve asked, then shrank a little as Billy whipped his head around to glare at him.

But Heather just looked a little proud. "Yes! The sounds of the city have disappeared, but it's that same oppressive quiet that you rode through on your way to the city. Musty and still and quiet."

"Do I notice the same thing?" Robin asked.

"Go ahead and roll…" Heather tilted her head back and forth as she thought about it, "Gimme a nature check real quick."

Robin eagerly rolled her die, and then groaned. "That's a seven."

Heather chuckled. "You don't notice shit," she joked, but her smile was teasing. He liked that about her, the way she could ease tension and soften failure. She was easygoing and kind, just about the only person he'd trust his best friend to. "No, you don't notice anything out of the ordinary. The wood has grown so dead, and quiet so steadily that you haven't even noticed it happening."

Robin made a face, and scribbled that down. "I don't like that one bit," she muttered.

"As you make your way through, you come to a small clearing, and in the middle of it stands an ancient temple," Heather said, hands still weaving the story out in front of her laptop screen. "It's small and crumbling, but the thick vines and moss-covered roots that cover the intricately carved stonework looks like the only thing holding it upright. This is the home of Ash, the cleric. And, Billy, why don't you introduce yourself."

At his shoulder, Billy straightened up a little. "A tall tiefling steps out of the door as you ride up." Steve very carefully didn't laugh at Billy making his character tall. "He is a mottled grey-brown color, almost like tree bark, and his dark hair is pushed back away from his face. He has horns pushing out of his forehead that curl back over his head. He's wearing old, but sturdy leather armor, decorated with oak leaves, the symbol of Silvanus. He's carrying his wooden maul, and he looks very angry."

"Great, who does he see riding up?" Heather asked, turning her attention back to him and Robin. "Althea?"

She nodded, eagerly. "On the first horse, you see the elf that you've been dealing with. She's got her hair braided back, and she's wearing the dark robes of the college, with the crest on the front. You don't see any weapons on her, but she has several books strapped behind her."

Heather smiled, sweetly, and Steve had to wonder just how often they'd get distracted flirting in the middle of a game. But then Heather looked at him, expectantly, "Ront?"

Right, fuck. He shoulda probably thought ahead while he had the chance. "Uh, following behind her, you see a large half-orc, about seven feet tall. He's wearing just simple clothes, no armor of any kind. He has a carved, wooden amulet of a hawk, hanging around his neck, and a battleaxe strapped to his back."

"Perfect!" Heather clapped her hands together, excitedly. "And our party has gathered! Althea and Ront, you arrive in the clearing surrounding the temple of Silvanus. It is late afternoon, the forest around you beginning to cool as evening draws closer. Ash steps out to greet you, and--"

"And walks forward toward them, very annoyed, like he's been waiting. And he says, ah, she finally leaves her tower to visit the peasants," Billy greeted in a gentle accent, almost Irish, maybe. He gave Robin a mean grin.

"Shut up, I finally have something helpful," she snapped, going for haughty and posh. "The village of Oakville--"

"Oak Pointe," Steve corrected.

"--was wiped out," she finished, unperturbed. "Only one villager survived."

"And how is he useful?" Billy asked, and Steve got the feeling he wasn't exactly in character.

"First, he's the only living person who has seen how these monsters operate," she reasoned, just as annoyed.

Billy turned his sharp gaze toward Steve, and it cut just as deep as his words. "And why are you so important to all this?" he asked, in a mocking tone. "Why not run for the lawmen in their castle? Why go to the librarian?"

"My entire village is gone," he said, slowly. "Everyone I have ever known, just gone. My family, my friends, everyone. If I can stop this from happening to others, I'm going to. Guards with swords didn't do a damn thing to help when this all started, they won't help now."

Billy--Ash, whatever--gave him a long look. Not impressed, definitely not, but maybe surprised. "Then why didn't you come sooner?"

"I had to be sure they really were dead, and that I wasn't sick. It spreads so fast, I needed to wait it out," he reasoned. "Someone brought that death to my home. I wasn't going to risk bringing it here."

Billy studied him for another long moment, expression a little more searching than judgemental. But finally he nodded. Maybe not acceptance, yet, but close. "And you, why are you finally here?" he asked and rolled his gaze toward Robin. “I have been sending my concerns for months, and you and your books have ignored me at every turn. So why are you finally here? We could have made so much more headway if you hadn't waited for a witness.”

“Because I might have finally found a clue," she said, triumphantly, expression a little more fiery than she'd worn the week before. "And I'm gonna open up the book to the weird pictures and things that I've been working on."

"What is this?"

"A book I'm trying to translate," she said, jamming her finger against the page as if she had an ancient book in her lap. "I have yet to get very far into it, but it speaks of a temple, deep in the Rootwood," Robin said. "And monsters like the ones we've been hearing stories of. And then I wanna explain the--well, everything that you gave me, so here," she added and handed over her notes. "I'm gonna explain all of that."

"And once she's explained it all, I wanna see if anything she's said fills in any gaps in what I've already learned," Billy said, absently, as he scanned the notes and scribbled notes into his book. "Or, like, if I can piece anything new together from all this."

"Great, whenever you're done reading, roll a history check," she said, and turned back to Robin. "Are you telling him everything?"

Robin smirked, "Of course not! I don't trust him, so I'm only giving him what I've gathered from the book, not the scrolls I've been using to translate it." As Billy glared at her, she held up another set of notes as proof.

Heather had been good about that, helping them figure out what their characters would know about the world that she'd created for them. Gave them pages of more and text for them to use. Steve had his own print out and the notes he'd taken as Robin had explained everything she'd learned, and he pulled it out to follow along. Or, rather, he intended to. Heather beat him to the punch.

"While they begin to compare notes, what's Ront doing?" she asked, easily.

He blinked, felt his cheeks go hot. "Uh, Ront is just looking around the temple."

"Meandering?"

He shrugged a little, "Exploring."

"Poking things?" Heather suggested, innocently.

He saw Billy pull a face, and walked himself back a little. "Only stuff that doesn't look breakable."

Heather narrowed her eyes, lips quirking up in amusement. "Roll a--hm, roll an investigation check for me, please."

"No," Billy said, firmly.

She gave him a wicked look, "Yes."

And Ront's intelligence score had a pretty little negative one above it. Which meant he was pretty dumb. Which meant Heather wanted to cause a little trouble. Meant she was going to let him have fun in order to terrorize Billy a little bit. Get a smidge of revenge for all the shit he's spewed the week before. Which, honestly, Steve could really get behind.

So he hoped, and he prayed--just a little--and threw the die into the little tray in front of him. The math wasn't too hard, thankfully, despite the distracting groan from Billy and snickers from Robin. It was a perfect roll, really. Better than anything he could have hoped for.

But, fuck, it was so hard to keep from breaking, to keep from laughing loud enough to wake the neighbors, that his eyes threatened to water. At his side, Billy had already slouched back against the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Calmly, he folded his hands in his lap, and gave Heather a serene smile. "Zero."

[spelviin]

Yo tell me these things about Rieta: 1. What does your character typically keep in their pockets? 56. If your character had wings what would they look like? (From the slightly obscure dnd character questions!)

1. What does your character typically keep in their pockets? I was gonna say money, but since it’s been well established that I forgot to give her any and the bitch is flat broke, it’s definitely just like, a lil knife and some bits of wood for whittling, which is just a lil hobby I gave her for flavour but that hasn’t actually come up in the campaign lol

56. If your character had wings what would they look like? Ooh, fun fact: since she’s a draconic sorcerer, if she makes it to level 14 she’s actually gonna get some fucking wings, which is rad as hell so we super have to keep grinding out our sidequests in an attempt to actually reach that shit. 

In terms of what they would/will look like... probably just your typical run of the mill dragon wings. Blue, scaly, will definitely not make the best impression on the already-weirded-out-by-tieflings citizens of Barovia... all that jazz. 

[acecasinova]

@deityofhearts

Put those two in a box and just SEE what happens!! What could possibly go wrong with two disaster tieflings bouncing ideas off each other, right~? Abel is a lot but in a gay mad scientist kinda way lol (and you can't get hurt if you don't open up!! ....right?)

Lazarus is so wilddddddd~ I didn't even come up with his family- he didn't have much long term memory before Barovia, so my DM just went "Hey what if he was a weird type of vampire that CAN'T turn others and has to make a flesh slurry then ask an eldritch elk to make that into a child? What if they physically age and grow when they feed?"

So he's like.... Schrödinger's grown adult?? Dunno how long he was 4! Or 14!! But now he's closer to 17-18 physically and MIGHT still be 22 as far as "time he's been sentient" but???? Who knows???? All he knows is that weird red kudzu vines sprout out of vampires after he drains them, he's INCREDIBLY emotionally stunted, and he was legitimately feral in the Barovian woods for like.... several years.

His skin is also a patchwork bc he burnt his left arm (his mother's arm) and about 12 genetically related vampires contributed to his body. (He's got a lil tail nub too lol).

92%, the magician and the lovers for Abel, the chariot, death and the moon for Lazarus

Abel:

92%. Is your character particularly confident? Does their confidence level change if less people are around?

Oh Abel is SO confident babeyyyyyy! Probably TOO confident. For someone who likes working behind the scenes at the circus, he really acts like the ring leader. It goes down if he's alone, but not by much- a lot of his hair brained ideas are cooked up solo and people find out once he whips it out or the tent blows up,,,

01.  the magician  :  how does your muse feel about fate ? do they believe they can change their own destiny ?

He changed his own body, what's a little thing like Fate compared to that~? He certainly believes in it, but like everything in the universe, he knows there's something out there that will change or counter it, so he doesn't consider it set in stone to any extent.

06.  the lovers  :  how important are relationships to your muse ? do they value having a significant other ?

Abel fancies himself a lover, but he's a bit flighty, so he likes more casual things. He certainly values connections but having a significant other seems.... daunting. That's a lot of trust in one person and his heart was already shattered by his brother trying to kill him. If he let someone else in and trusted them enough to be a part of his family or a lover and they turned on him? It would be hard to ever try again. No, arms distance is fine!

Lazarus:

07.  the chariot  :  how much does your muse care about winning ? are they a sore loser ?

Ohhhhhhhh he's such a petty sore loser! He's faily competitive but mostly COMBATIVE so if you give him a challenge he might scoff, but if you then tell him NOT to, or goad him, he'll immediately take you up on it. This HAS led to him being the butt of quite a few jokes and escalations, but what's he supposed to do? Be the bigger person? GROSS

13.  death  :  is there anything in your muse’s life that they should be letting go of ?

For sure some of his pride. And the idea that he can remain completely divorced from society as a whole and expect IT to leave him alone too

18.  the moon  :  what does your muse long for ? is it a realistic desire ?

Mostly he just wants to be left alone to prowl the woods, but since he found out he has Actual Family (can't say flesh and blood bc vampires don't have any and can't say living bc.... vampires)... He DOES want to find out more about their whole deal with literally MAKING a child (and losing him) and just about their strain of vampirism in general. AND he absolutely wants to drain/diablerize Strahd~!

....And now that Q's told him about it, he kinda wants to see the material plane's stars with her? (Not bad as far as feasibility- he's been in survival mode so long he doesn't have many aspirations which is uuuuuuh depressing??)

[vexie-chan]

Not Made to Last

Widojest drabble? Widojest drabble. I wanted to write something about the moment when Caleb draws the Jester Angel in the snow. May write more later but I’m living 3 lives right now and I wanted to doodle this like Caleb’s lil’ Jester Angel while it’s still relevant <3 

* * * 

               In Caleb’s mind, everything had been decided already. They are going back to Roshana where Caleb will go speak with the Vollstrecker in the dungeon again. He tunes the group’s chatter out as soon as he has a goal in mind. He takes out his chalk and begins drawing the teleportation circle, part of his mind already dedicated to planning what he’s going to say to her. As if he hasn’t been thinking about this since the moment they’d left the first time. (After he’d failed so completely to control himself—his old master would be so disappointed in him. His interrogation skills are so rusty now, his mind so easily distracted.)  He stops before adding the final few lines, looking up at the rest of the Nein. He takes the breath to ask whether they’re ready to go, but stops, the question falling dead on his lips.

               The group is standing around laughing. Nothing unusual about that. But it’s Jester who catches his eye. Jester is dancing as snow falls around her, glittering in the early morning sunlight. Tiny diamonds of snow are stuck in her hair and to her dark emerald cloak like thousands of tiny decorations. Her eyes are glittering like the snowflakes and she’s laughing—real laughter that reaches her whole face and every line of her body. She falls backward, sweeping her arms up and down in wide motions, her trailing sleeves making the design in the snow a little more chaotic than it usually would be. Caleb searches for the word for this activity in Common. Schneeengel. Snow Angel. Memories tug at Caleb’s mind—old memories from that forbidden time before.

               “Like this, Bren!” Una makes the motions, standing above him. Bren waves his arms and legs through the snow like a wild starfish. He doesn’t quite have the dexterity for the coordinated jumping-jack motion et. The snow manages to find its way down the back of his coat, leaving tingling paths down his neck and back.  

               “It’s cold, Mama!” he giggles. “Is it done?”  

               “Let’s see! Give me your hands so you don’t step in it,” Una says, leaning forward and reaching toward him. Bren reaches up and puts his small hands in hers. She swings him up and out of the dent he’d made in the snow, swaying him in the air a few times before setting him down next to her.

               “Good job! Look!” Una points, kneeling next to him. Bren follows her finger obediently. There is a small shape in the snow, as tall as a four-year-old boy, with a wide bell-shaped bottom and big wings out to each side.  

               “What is it, Mama?” Bren asks.

               “It’s your snow angel. Look, there are the wings and the dress as she floats through the air,” Una says, showing him. Bren wrinkles his nose.  

               “Why is it a girl angel? I’m a boy,” he says. “I should have a boy angel.”

               “Maybe it’s a robe, then,” Una amends.

               “Should I give him a halo?” Bren asks. “Don’t angels need halos?”  

               “Not always, but you can give him one if you’d like,” Una says.

               Bren carefully walks around the angel and draws a line over its head with his finger. He thinks for a moment, then leans forward and puts two dots for eyes on the face, and a wide, open mouth.

               “He’s happy because it’s snowing,” Bren explains.

               Una laughs. Bren runs back over to her, lifting his knees high to maneuver through the soft snow.

               “Now you make one!” Bren says. “Right next to mine!”

               Una agrees. She falls backward into the snow, laughing as she moves her arms and legs. She lets Bren draw the face and halo on her angel, too. They step back and admire the two angels, big and small.

               “What do snow angels do, mama?” Bren asks.

               “They’re windows so our guardian angels can watch over us. They can peek through and we can peek back. This way we can feel a little closer to them,” Una says.

               “Does everybody have a guardian angel?” Bren asks.

               “Of course. As long as you’re very good, your guardian angel will always watch over you,” Una says, hugging him.

               For the next few days, Bren goes out to talk to his angel. Just to make sure his angel knows all about him. He even introduces his angel to Frumpkin, who is less than pleased with the encounter, dashing off into the woods as quickly as possible.

               One morning, Bren wakes up to find a fresh blanket of snow on the ground. The snow angels are gone, erased by the new snowfall. Una finds him sitting in the window, big tears rolling down his cheeks.

               “What’s wrong, my heart?” she asks, sitting on the edge of the windowsill next to him.

               “My angel is gone. Now I can’t talk to him anymore,” Bren sniffles, looking up at her. Una frowns, confused, until she glances out the window to see the freshly fallen snow. She smiles and pulls her boy into her lap, wrapping her arms around him.

               “Just because you can’t see him anymore doesn’t mean he’s not there. Papa’s not gone forever when he’s on patrol, is he?” Una asks.

               “No, he’s busy protecting us,” Bren says, wiping at his eyes.  

               “That’s right! And just like Papa will come home soon, we can go out after breakfast and make new angels in the snow,” Una say soothingly. “Snow angels aren’t made to last. They always vanish, but we can always make them again.”

               “What if the snow melts and it never snows again?” Bren asks. Una brushes his curly hair away from his forehead and plants a kiss there.

               “Then you’ll have to believe your angel is still there anyway, and remember all the fun you had together this winter,” she says. “Just because things only last a little while doesn’t make them any less grand.”

               Bren makes many snow angels that winter. He makes his mother make them with him as often as he can. It becomes his favorite winter activity that year.

               Caleb blinks several times, a hand over his heart. He’d forgotten. He’d been so very young when he’d made snow angels with his mother. It had been a fleeting belief, but for that one winter, he’d dreamt of shining angels singing and protecting him and his family every night. By the next winter, he was big enough to ride a sled on his own and snow angels were all but forgotten. He looks at Jester again, laughing as she makes angel after angel, connecting them as if they’re holding hands. His mother’s voice echoes in his mind, rich with laughter as they’d played together in the snow.

               As long as you’re very good, your guardian angel will always watch over you.

               If that is truly the case, Caleb’s angel is long gone. No one is there to watch over him but himself. Not that he believes in such things anymore. He has not made a snow angel in a very long time.

               Watching Jester, Caleb almost wants to make one now. She has that effect on him—on everyone around her, really. She has the most peculiar power to make everyone stop and see the fun and wonder in the world. How many times has she stopped their travels to point out the shape of a tree or a rock? How many times has she traced out entire stories in the stars during late night watches, making up her own constellations, even after Caleb had offered to teach her the widely accepted ones? Everyone in the party has become so attuned to this that “Dick Cloud” is now an unspoken traveling game. They don’t even have to say it anymore—someone will point and everyone else looks automatically. Jester has taught them to see things everywhere, to laugh at everything.

               Because of Jester, they—no, he has learned to see things in the world again. He sees fun things. He sees pretty things. He has learned to laugh again. It still surprises him when it happens, but it gets a little easier every day.

               He hadn’t thought it were possible. But more and more he finds himself laughing when she tells jokes. He smiles at the little drawings and messages she leaves him if he leaves his books on the table. Sometimes he leaves his books out just to tempt her, leaving a note on the page along the vein of “I hope Jester does not mark on this page” for her to find only to be rewarded with an answer of “Jester would never ever do that! She is too good and cute!” with a little Jester cartoon blowing him a kiss or doing something equally as silly. He treasures all of them. Jester’s doodles in his books have gotten him through many drudging nights of study.

               Caleb may not have a guardian angel anymore, but he does have a little blue tiefling watching over him, smiling and inviting him to come and play.

               He starts to stand but stops. Jester is still laughing and playing in the snow, but for the first time, Caleb notices where the snow is coming from. Fjord is summoning his sword, brandishing it in a huge arc to throw snow out over the ground and sending it away in another gust of snow. He’s laughing too, an open, relieved laugh. His eyes never leave Jester. He aims the arcs of fresh, clean snow in the easiest place for Jester to fall next. He’s making a winter wonderland for her, his face warm and gentle as he works.

               Caleb sits back on his heels. He may have Jester, but Jester has Fjord watching over her. Not him. He is glad for her, he supposes. Those days on the sea were hard for her, with Fjord growing cold and distant (with and without Avantika). There had been times where Caleb had wanted to shake him for what he was doing to Jester. Had he been a different kind of man, he likely would have. Instead, he let Jester play with Frumpkin and tell him her woes, quietly seething in the belly of their ship. Lately, though, Fjord and Jester’s relationship seems to have improved. It’s good for the both of them, Caleb thinks, watching the soft smile on Fjord’s face. Fjord needs someone loving like Jester, and Jester needs someone heroic like Fjord. It’s very good.  

                Then why does it feel so wrong? A small, rebellious part of him asks. A part he tries to ignore. Seeing Fjord and Jester playing together like this makes his heart sink. He hates it. He hates knowing what it means. At least with Fjord and Jester’s relationship improving, he doesn’t have to worry about all the what ifs that have been plaguing him lately. For just a moment, he’d dared to dream a little bit. No matter whether he should, he couldn’t help it. He’d closed his eyes and thought of a future full of blue skin and violet eyes. But now, he can put his what-ifs away. It’s better that way. She’ll be happier with Fjord and that’s all Caleb wants for her. So long as she’s happy…

               Caleb’s eyes stray back to Jester. He picks up a piece of his chalk and draws a little blue angel on the stone near the teleportation circle—not near enough to confuse the magic. He’s no artist—not like her. But his hand is steady and precise—it has to be for the magic symbols he’s learned. He draws her like a snow angel with a little triangle body and big arcing wings. He doesn’t give her a halo like the one in his memory. Instead, he draws little curlicue horns on either side of her head and a little tail peeking out from behind the bell-shaped dress. But her mouth is still wide and laughing just like all those years ago. Maybe he’d had a premonition, when he was a boy, that the one looking out for him would be laughing like that.

               “Hmm.” The noise makes him jump. Caleb looks up guiltily. Beau glances down at the drawing at up at Caleb. She raises her eyebrows in a silent question. He can almost hear her—

               You wanna talk about it?

               Caleb shakes his head quickly, feeling the blush rise to his cheeks. He tries to erase the chalk drawing, but only manages to smudge it a little. Beau’s smirk widens, though her face isn’t unkind. He knows her well enough by now to know the difference. He shoots her a glare.

               Don’t say anything.

               Beau tilts her head to one side in confusion, though her eyes dance with mischief. Caleb had never had a younger sister, but he imagines that this is what it would have been like. He tries to glare harder. Beau holds her stare for a moment longer, then gives him a tiny nod, turning her attention back to the group.

               A few minutes later, they’re ready to go. Caleb finishes the last few lines on his transportation circle and herds the group through. If he rushes them quicker than usual so they don’t have time to notice his little drawing, they don’t seem to notice.  

               He glances at the hillside one last time, where dozens of Jester-angels are left in the snow. Just before he steps through, a light snowfall begins, soon to erase them all. After all her work and all of the fun and joy they’d brought, they’ll have gone without a trace, hidden under the snow. No one will ever see them. And no one will ever see the small blue angel, drawn in a crude, mathematically trained hand on the stone.

               Caleb steps through the circle and the snow angels are gone.