#king's folly dnd campaign

[zuri-mcflurry]

guys its so difficult dealing with back pain while doing hot girl shit

[stoneseeker-hq]

On Barriers and Boundaries

This one concerns you.

A young man, seemingly without purpose. Secrets which he holds close to his chest. You see yourself in him. How you don't want anyone to glance past the muddy facade. How what is yours shall remain yours lest it become corrupted. And despite this intricate understanding, you are the one to prod his barriers. You are the one who disregards his words of caution as you attempt to open the door ever so slightly. He didn't build those security measures. It was pain and avoidance; a mind protecting its soul.

Where were his parents? Had he always been alone? Was the day they met the first time he had an actual meal in how long? What would he do once he left?

When he comes to your side, you let him calm you down. Your hand gripping his. A light leading a flickering beacon. An ache shared is an ache halved. You speak of your own haunting and then hear yourself ask, "What happened to your parents?" A beat, a pry, a silence. "I don't want to talk about it." A beat, a barrier, a boundary. You wipe the tears from your cheeks, surprised that you had any to give. The walls are back up where they had always resided and yet, you speak a little prayer.

Oh Kelemvor, his heart is good. He carries so much and shares so little. Please protect him from what preys upon his mind, and grant him the peace he fears to seek.

[batrachois]

Grande Re

God of Pathos

Pathos (πάθος) describes the element in an experience or in an artistic work that makes us feel compassion, pity, or sympathy.

Grande Re (literally the Great King) is the patron deity of folly and inebriation, art and passoin. He protects blind loyalty and blesses the dark before dawn.

Symbols: Night, Emeralds, Water.

[he is one if the three main gods from the dnd campaign I dm for my friends and is also very clearly inspired by Grantaire from Les Mis so if anything do consider this fanart lol]

[zuri-mcflurry]

Zuri HCs #1: The party's contact name in Zuri's phone

Modern!AU

Venturi: 🔥🔥🔥- She was too lazy to actually think of one, along with her indecisiveness on how she feels about Venturi. Soooo she gets the "emoji-only" contact name.

Kelzira: Miss K - Zuri would see Kelzira in a similar way to how I see my aunt irl. Therefore, Kelzira would get the nickname "Miss K".

Welsifiyre: Welsiiii - Let it be known that Zuri would vehemently protect her phone from prying eyes anyways. She would put this as Welsifyire's contact name for two reasons. One, she knows Welsifiyre would be mad. And two, she secretly wishes that the two of them were closer than they actually are, but that's a two way street so-

Vareth: Boss Bitch ✨💋💅🏿 - Her favorite. Zuri goes on about how she doesn't do favorites, but she does. And her favorite is Vareth. Also, it's a reference to "Vera".

[zuri-mcflurry]

Zuri Fact #1

Zuri thinks everyone in her party is lowkey nice-looking. Not in a romantic or carnal way, don't worry. It's more like "Ain't nothin but bad bitches in this room" kinda way. Biggest party glazer fr

[zuri-mcflurry]

IMPLIED NSFW BELOW

Zuri has been alive for a long time. As an elf, she's still pretty young. By human standards though? She's been here for at least 3 generations. By the time she reached 200, her "newly-obtained" freedom extended to other aspects about herself. Specifically, her more carnal desires. Naturally, with her straight-forward thinking, she sought out outlets for these desires. They were simple escapades. No strings attached. With these flings, she set rules for herself and her partners. For her partners, it was the usual boundaries, but it came with a very specific rule of No Kissing. For herself, it was reminders that all of this was just stress relief. Just a way to pass the time, no more, no less. It would happen and her partner for the night would leave the next day after breakfast. All of this, with the intent of never if not rarely seeing her partners again, an experience hand crafted to be forgotten. However, Vitko is different. This is the first time that she didn't want to follow these rules. She wanted Vitko to kiss her before, during, and after. She didn't want him to leave in the morning after breakfast. She wanted to see him again, as much as she could infact. This was something she very much wanted to remember. To her, this wouldn't be just a way to pass the time or stress relief. This time, with him specifically, it would actually matter. And that? That terrifies her.

[zuri-mcflurry]

Under her bed, Zuri grabs a notebook. It's old, worn, and leather-bound. You can tell that it was made many, many decades ago. Somehow it doesn't fall apart as she opens it, taking a pen to it's aged pages.

Life is strange. Like, really fucking strange. I came back for the sake of finding some sort of temporary happiness. Not only have I exceeded that goal, I'm now in between the conflicts of world-ending doom? This is not what I signed up for, but like also? I don't mind it? Enough of that. I need to think of what to make for Vitko. I lost the only thing I had left of my parents, and even then I don't think he'd like a signet ring from my family anyway.

On the rest of the space on the page, you see different ideas scribbled and then crossed out.

[stoneseeker-hq]

Through Blood, Faith

Red. Wet. Viscous. Vitae.

And you stand in the middle of it. A puddle at first. A stream in seconds. An unending ocean right now.

Your boots are soaking it all up. Between your slow descend into the blood of your comrades and your subconsciousness attempting its best to disregard the rain of detached limbs and innards, your dark eyes stare at the beast in front of you in disbelief.

This was supposed to be a simple mission. Retrieve an artifact and leave. A quick grab-and-go. Nothing a group of experienced mercenaries couldn't handle. Deep down, though, you'd known this was never meant to succeed. You weren't mercenaries. You were loose ends. You and your companions knew too much. You and your companions needed to disappear. Preferably quick and in an unseen catacomb.

You can't react fast enough, the warhammer flying up just a second too late before the beast's arm slams into your gut, a sharp explosion of pain radiating through your ribs. Air flees your lungs as you crumple, your warhammer slipping from numb fingers as the crimson tied welcomes you. It was so easy to stay here; to let your armor drag your further into the crimson abyss.

The world narrows, the sound of clashing weapons and dying screams fading to a dull roar. You can’t rise. Not this time. Not against this thing. You say your farewells. There were so many things you wanted to do. So many sights you wanted to see. So many experiences you had to be present for.

It is then when a sensation stirs within you, faint at first, like the whisper of a prayer. It grows louder, insistent, until it swells into something undeniable. Warmth spreads through your chest, dulling the pain, washing over the agony with a familiarity that brings tears to your eyes.

Kelemvor.

The name rises in your mind, and with it comes a vision—not of the battlefield, but of a vast, endless plain cloaked in twilight. You stand before the Judge of the Damned, his mask as serene as in the depictions of him that you had studied. Yet, he seemed unyielding. In his hand, he holds a pair of scales.

"You are not done, Kelzira," a voice intones, deep and resonant. The scales tip slightly, and you feel their weight settle into your soul. "Stand. Guide the lost. Fulfill your oath."

The vision vanishes, as air starts to violently fill your lungs, and is instead replaced by the chaos of the battlefield. The beast's eyes glow with cruel intent as it steps closer, but you are no longer lost in despair. Strength floods your limbs, and your hand finds your warhammer admist the red sea.

From somewhere deep within, a prayer escapes your lips: "Kelemvor, guide my hand. Give me the strength to shepherd the living and the dead."

A faint light shimmers around your warhammer as you reach for it, the divine energy of your god imbuing the weapon with renewed purpose. The beast pauses, its glowing eyes narrowing, as though it senses the shift in you.

You rise, blood-soaked and determined, the weight of Kelemvor’s presence at your back.

"I am the shepherd," you whisper, stepping forward, your warhammer glowing faintly in your grasp. "And you are the lost."

[stoneseeker-hq]

Come and See

As you stand next to Welsifyire, you start to see the words form. Come together as one cohesive sentence.

I see you. Come!

Your eyes widen as those words repeat itself over and over again in your mind. The constant feeling of eyes upon you. A dread that you cannot shake off as it seeps further and further into your skin, speckling your skin with goosebumps and making you weary of your surrounding. For children you attempt to stay calm. A cocktail of nonchalance intertwined with motherly concern and the pinch of usual Kelzira-ness made them drink up the facade as you watch Venturi and Vareth argue for the uptenth time today. Welsifyire's sudden fascination with the quaint village life of Mistvale had also served as a humerous distraction from their circumstances. Their mission.

Save the kids. Eliminate the hag.

I see you. Come!

She was waiting for them. Had been watching them the entire time. In their home. On their way on the Golden Road. As they became lost in the woods. Her eyes had always been on them. On you.

I see you. Come!

You zone out. Goosebumps form along your arms, the hair on your neck stands up as you hear Welsifyire relay the uncanny resemblance of the dolls. The obvious resemblance to your group. The equally obvious resemblance to the five innocent people who had been hanged at the hag's makeshift medical shop. The five innocent souls you couldn't shepherd to the next life lest your group was discovered and framed for a murder that you haven't committed.

All of this was their fault. All of this was your fault. Amber eyes burn through the oppressive darkness, unblinking, like embers smoldering in the depths of a furnace, focused on where you suspect the entrance to the hag's lair might be. Your grip on the leather band attached to your shield tightens. It coils in your veins, spreading like wildfire to your core. The goosebumps on your skin remain as the sensation is now fueled by a new source.

As you remind yourself.

Save the kids. Eliminate the hag.

As you chant to yourself.

Save the kids. Eliminate the hag.

As you make it your mantra.

Save the kids. Eliminate the hag.

As you burn it into your soul.

Save the kids. Eliminate the hag. Annihilate that bitch!

[stoneseeker-hq]

For a mere moment, brown eyes wander to her face. It is in that moment where you realize; Venturi is terrified.

Her fingers a gittery mess as she keps on fidgeting with the ring that Sylas had given her. The ring you are still suspicious of, however, for now it's a source of comfort. A comfort you wouldn't dare deny her. Not when she jumped up at every sound. Sounds you knew from nights of tenting with mercenary groups or sleeping under a sea of stars next to an excavation site. Those experiences were your own, not Venturi's, though. When her hand flies up in search of yours. It takes everything in you to suppress a chuckle.

She was just like Kelmara when she was a youngling. A head held high, curiosity unbound, but a shaking leave in the face of a ... grasshopper. Or in this case, in the face of...nature. It made the corner of your lips twitch up ever so slighty before you regain your composure. Reign in the fond memories of had beens and focus on the task at hand.

"Venturi, may I ask you some questions." She nods. You are surprised. There was an automatic expectation of defiance. A beat follows as you ponder how best to address her unique position. A heart always on your sleeve, your animosity towards Vanthampur was well-known, publically displayed. How to convince the girl who was so wholeheartedly committed that you shared any concern for that bafoon's perspective on Venturi's current predicament.

And there, right then and there, you find the solution to this gleaming problem. You both cared about her.

"How was your visit to Sylas?" You use his first name. A step towards approximation. "It...it didn't go well. His reaction to my eye was rather...extreme." "Negative or positive?" Of course, negative. There was a reason why you had intended to speak to the boy before Venturi could. "Negative." She confirms. "Is this why you summoned Vecna into a corporeal vessel?" "Maybe." "How did you know how to do that?" "He told me. He talked to me in the mirror and told me where to go." He talks. That information makes you pause. The eye from which you could sense malice and evil intentions was talking to her? Suggesting? Prying? Convincing? Spying? The potential torture gnaws at you as you bite into the flesh of your cheek.

"You did good, kid," you finally say. There weren't many people who'd be able to harbor the archlich of hidden knowledge in their mind and maintain the natural fear of nature. There was still time. There was still humanity. "You did good, kid."

Repition is always good for a child's memory. Repition is always good to remind a child that you care.

[zuri-mcflurry]

why has everything decided to go to shit now of all times?

atleast i'll have something fun to witness when we come back

[stoneseeker-hq]

She led him here.

In the place where all of you lay your head.

She led him here.

In the place where you all share breakfasts and lunches and dinners.

She led him here.

In the place where you all have dealt with some sort of grief, some sort of haunting, some sort of intimacy.

She led Vecna here.

There is no hesitation as your divine sight reveals the undead nature of the being in front of you. The air around him curdled, the scent of ancient decay choking the room. You should have killed her when you had the chance. The Sacred Flame didn't faze him as he shrugs it off. It wasn't the main target anyway as your trusty warhammer yearned for retribution. You should have fucking killed her. She would have been nothing more than a pulpy mess under your warhammer. He stops you with a flick of his wrist. As you are held prisoner in a ball of energy, your mind races. He speaks, but you search for a way out. A way to fight. This was nothing but a vessel. Bones that are old and creaking. Damaging the vessel wouldn't do anything, you know that.

But it would satiate you; even if it was only for a mere moment.

He addresses the others. Lures them in with his supposed knowledge of secrets. With inklings of solutions to their problems. They are prey and he's the butcher. They were willingly running into an open knife. "I'd rather die than make a deal with you. Kill me! Now!" You demand. Your voice is clear. Your devotion to Kelemvor's teachings etched into every fiber of your being. The moment he would falter, is the moment his vessel would fall. You know this. He knows this as your eyes meet the empy sockets that housed a magenta glow.

Yes, you think about them. Your children. Your family. Your clan. Your father's body in a sealed tomb...

The moment he eases the hold over you, your warhammer moves almost on its own. Swinging with an intended violence and momentun that is reserved only for the vilest of beings; abominations of death. But then he aims and he lets the arrow fly. "Harm me and I will kill everyone in this room." This doesn't surprise you. Of course, he'd use them against you. And yet, it stings. The arrow finding its mark, deeply lodged between your shoulder and arm.

It takes everything within you to stop the flying hammer. You would sacrifice yourself in an instant. Your body knows what it must do. Your mind is made up. If not death, then give me salvation. You couldn't sacrifice them. Your hammer comes to a standstill, inches away from his mask. Somewhere in Velindor, a bell announces that it's time for lunch.

Whether out of resignation or defiance, you drop the hammer. For once, you listen.

[zuri-mcflurry]

tonight was a good night

this is going to hurt so much in the long run but, i say its worth it

[stoneseeker-hq]

There is no righteous path

"I would never put this burden onto you. When it comes down to it, I will kill her."

You hear yourself say those words. Devotion led you to this conclusion. Responsibility makes you know what needs to be done. You have been Kelemvor's cleric for so many years. You have banished the dead countless times. You have ushered them to the pulpits of Kelemvor's tribunal. Now the crux of the problem was...could you kill her? Snuff out a life before it ever began? Twenty two years of age. She was barely a child in dwarven years. She would have taken her first pickaxe into her hand to be part of the Gemstone Rite. Would have learned about gemcraft and traditions in their clan. Instead, you are plotting on how to kill her, should the need arise.

You know you should have done it when you opened your eyes and saw her in your divine sight. The dark energy that came from her. Corruption spiraling out of that left eye. It made the hair on your neck stand up. The trained muscles in your hands twitch for the violent comfort of your warhammer. You couldn't call it hers. For all of her belligerence, hardheadedness and hubris, she had a good side. You know she did!

"It is better to have her under our control than to have anyone else take over that power." You rationalize all of this to the group. You rationalize it to yourself.

You are only buying yourself more time.

This was not how this was supposed to go. Please Kelemvor, don't make me do this.

[stoneseeker-hq]

A Gift and a Curse

"I'm sorry that I cursed you"

You were surprised to hear those words from yourself. What would you say in your last moments? A thought that came up as often as breathing. In your mind, you saw exactly this. Your hands in someone else's as you gasp for air. Last moments of regret falling from your lips. A confession, a pouring of the heart as you want to be as light as a feather when you are judged.

You never imagined that you'd have a peaceful passing. Violence was home to the fingertips that held on to the warhammer which had fallen next to your body on the floor. Endless responsibility dragged your shoulders down; a tiring burden. A heart, plagued by what ifs and have nots. Lungs that barely kept you alive to bring you back to a tomb that you should have abandoned oh so many decades ago.

No, Kelzira Stoneseeker. You do not deserve a peaceful passing.

Not the last images with your loved ones. Not Thalindra as she takes a seat next to your mother in the Council of Hammers. Why have you bestowed her with the shoulders that are doomed to carry such responsibilities? Not Kelmara as she shows you her newest invention. Why have you entrusted her with your curious nature that knows no bounds? Not Ashira as she gives living with her dwarven family a chance, dipping her toes into an uncharted pond. Why have you given this child the hope to be a part of your world?

At the end of the day, you weren't good. Never have been. Never will be. At the end of this particular day, you apologize to your children. You apologize to Venturi. You apologize for cursing someone else's child. The gravest mistake was to betray another mother's trust.

Didn't we just all want our children to live?

[stoneseeker-hq]

In the Case of the Yurt

It follows you.

Around the corners of Velindor you hear the whispers. It's a quick murmur as you see hands exchange goods. Children, on the other hand, yell it as they pass on balls between each other and run down the alley. Even in the tavern that you frequent. It is quiet at first, but the more you listen, the more it pierces into your ear; embeds itself into your consciousness.

"Yurt."

Your eyes wander to Vareth as he exhales it with such ease.

"Yurt."

Your eyes flicker to Vitko as he replies in kind. They nod. There was an intrinsic understanding between the two. A connection you were left out of. Seeking for a thread to follow, you catch a glimpse of Venturi who hasn't uttered a word, however, the shadow of recognition in her eyes betrays her. She would - given different circumstances - also use that word.

Your expression showcases a mixture between confusion and bewilderment. Wasn't there the perfectly good word 'yes' that clearly conveyed the message? Why was there a need to come up with a completely different word? And why was it only young people that used such a ridiculous word? Was she completely out of touch? Lips part as you attempt to form this next question. What does yurt actually mean? Why don't we just use 'yes'? Why are you young people like this? Is this the first indication of the failings of education? The conversation goes on. Vitko, ever chipper. Vareth, ever contemplative. Venturi, ever haughty.

This would be admitting defeat. This would mean you'd came to term with your age. You can come to term with the limitations of your mortality, but to openly parade such a thought in front of these hyenas?

Your lips remain sealed as the mystery that was 'yurt' consumes you internally.