#local hag spotted!!!!!!

[wishcamper]

Nessian Week Day 6 - Legends & Destiny

Happy second to last day of @nessianweek! I have for you a Witcher!Cassian and sorceress!Nesta AU.

You can read here or on ao3!

Out of the Fog, Into the Mist

CW: consensual sexual content, reference to underage marriage and sex trafficking.

In the town of Mulbrydale, just north of the river near Hanged Man’s Tree, whispers rode the chill autumn air like restless ghosts. For weeks, the townsfolk held their breath as a dark shadow loomed over them: girls had begun to vanish. Four in total, all last seen in the gnarled woods at the fringes of their fields. And so a notice was put out on boards around Velen, that anyone who could find the girls (or the culprit) would eat and sleep well in any house, and could lay claim to a hefty sum.

It smelled like trouble, the sickly sweet of a body left long to rot, but Cassian needed the coin. And after four nights sleeping on the hard-ass ground of this war-ravaged cesspool, he wasn’t picky about how he got it.

“They go over the ridge to let the goats feed in the scrubs. Come sundown the goats come back, but not the girls,” the local innkeep explained, and Cassian saw the ripple of fear pass through him as he said it, the curl of his stooped shoulders.

“Right.” He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ignore the stink wafting off his new employer, though maybe he’d ceased to be nose-blind to himself. “So you want me to find what’s killing them.”

“Not killin’, Master Witcher - snatchin’.” The man’s voice was grave despite the lilting accent. “We’ve searched these wood a dozen times and found naught, not a bone. Tweren’t even no blood. Must be a fearsome thing to take them without a trace.”

He gave Cassian a look he’d seen a thousand times then, the furtive dart of a gaze that lingered on the cat-like yellow of his mutated eyes, the two swords at his back: steel for men, silver for monsters. He tried to ignore it, along with the rage that bubbled up at how common folk saw him, a beast barely better than those he slayed.

“And it’s only girls? No boys, too?”

The innkeep shook his head, leaned in to whisper, “The boys come home all dazed-like, remember nothin’. Except for Young Ian, but he were half mad already.”

Cassian sighed and considered the possibilities. There were the tragic but mundane - the girls got lost, or else ran off, ending up for the wolves either way. Then the tragic and unjust, that someone or something was abducting them: slavers, traffickers. It seemed less likely the cause was supernatural, though hags were known to have a penchant for young females, maybe a lesser vampire.

He didn’t relish any of the outcomes, if he was honest with himself. But he’d seen the lavish church at the end of the high street and knew there could be no drought of money in this town, despite the dilapidated dwellings. Crisis had a habit of making converts of even the most secular, and the people of Mulbrydale shed their coin for the Church of the Eternal Fire like the yellow birch leaves now littering their street.

“What did this Young Ian claim to see?” he asked, and the innkeep shrugged where he’d turned to wipe a grimy mug. Whether beast or bastard, Cassian figured the snatcher must have a stash spot nearby since none of the bodies had been found, or else there’d be tracks from a caravan or band of outlaws. 

“He says he saw a lady in the wood, the same day the last girl disappeared. Said she spoke to him day afore yesterday when he went lookin’ for his own sister, Abby. Didn’t find no trace of her, but came back babblin’ like a loon about how he met some Gray Lady. Blue eyes and hair spun of gold, he says.”

Instincts prickling, Cassian leaned closer across the grubby counter, trying to hide his voice below the din of other midday patrons who apparently had nothing better to do than drink. “Did he seem.. Out of it? Acted strange ever since?”

“Well he’s never been quite right, but he did turn down a sympathy romp with Marna over there when he came to tell the tale. Never afore he done that.” 

The aforementioned must’ve heard her name, for a dull-eyed woman rose her head from where it had been plastered to a scrubbed wood table and offered him a watery smile. The innkeep gave him a significant look, eyebrows raised.

The pieces were beginning to fall into place, an artist’s first pass of paint over a canvas. It definitely wasn’t wolves, and while he hadn’t ruled out some other creature it was clear this being was intelligent, enough to cover his own tracks. That left fewer options, all of them dangerous.

Cassian straightened, confident he’d wrung every bit of useful information out of the man, tossed his last few coppers on the counter before draining his ale.

“Thank you. Tell me where to find this Young Ian, and the families of the girls, and I’ll be on my way. And as for my fee..”

They haggled for a moment, and he managed to get the innkeep up a few more crowns, enough to see him through until he reached Oxenfurt. Once there he could rest a bit easier, in more comfort with the dearth of contracts in the city. Maybe even spring for a sympathy romp himself.

Cassian left his horse tethered outside the inn and made his way to the main street. Townsfolk froze in their churning and smithing and general idling to gawk at him, some spitting in his path or crossing themselves and mumbling prayers to the Eternal Fire. Even the reedy looking man in the pillory had the gall to sneer at him, but they were all reactions he’d endured for many years, and Cassian only sent his well-practiced curse to his parents for selling him off so young.

For it was a witcher’s lot in life to be both needed and reviled, a freak mutated with poisons to be stronger, faster, with keener senses and quicker healing. His kind were made, not born, though he might as well have been for all the choice he had in it. 

At the first three girls’ houses Cassian found similar scenes - weeping mothers, dull-eyed siblings, fathers crackling with impotent rage. And the same story thrice over: that their daughter walked over the ridge to the forest like she always did, and at sundown only the goats came home, no trace to be found. 

The tale was simple enough, but something snagged in the back of Cassian’s mind as he trudged up the lane toward the last house. Maybe it was that all the girls were near age thirteen, all described as both comely and disobedient by their fathers. The way the mothers cringed away from their husbands, the young boys in each house better nourished than their sisters.

Abby was the third girl who’d gone missing, who also happened to be the sister of the young man who’d claimed to see the phantom in the forest. Her former house was a sad little cottage of pitch and straw at the end of the lane, leaning drunkenly to one side from time and shoddy construction. Its owner leaned in much the same manner where he sat out front, propped up on a stool with a jug between his feet, dirt and sweat caked along his hairline.

Cassian cleared his throat and the man jolted upright at the sound, somehow startled even though Cassian was big enough to cast a shadow across him from several feet away.

“I hear your daughter’s gone missing,” Cassian bit out, already expecting no useful information. “And your son saw a woman in the woods. What can you tell me?”

The man hiccoughed and blinked up at him, weaving slightly though he was sitting still. “My Abby. She’s gone. The Gray Lady took ‘er.”

“What Gray Lady?”

“Ian seent her, my - hic - son. When he went lookin’ for his sister.” He gestured toward the forest and belched wetly, making Cassian take a step back. “Said he saw a figure in the woods before passing out, and when he woke this was - hic - in his pocket along with one of Abby’s hair - hic - ribbons.”   

The man nodded downward. Cassian looked closer now at the jug between his feet and saw a small flower sticking from the opening, an ordinary celandine. But the yellow petals shimmered in the light, strange, unearthly, and he felt his witcher’s medallion hum against his chest at the presence of magic.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It won’t die. The priest says it’s an omen from the Eternal Fire, that it marks the unnatural has - hic - taken ahold of her. That I gotta pay to have my home cleansed so the blight don’t spread to my others. But I think she sent it as a sign she’s still out there, that she needs me to come save her. Somethin’s not right in those woods, I’m tellin’ you. Somethin’ wicked snatched my girl, I feel it.”

Zealots and swindlers, all priests of that bloodthirsty religion, but Cassian couldn’t deny the wrongness that radiated from the flower, a clumsiness in how the magic wavered he couldn’t quite place. The girl’s father burst into pitiful tears then, and Cassian almost felt sorry for him, as much as he was capable of, anyway. 

“And it would take her of course, my Abby. Most beautiful girl in Velen. She was supposed to be - hic - married next month, you know. I knew one day some important man would come through and see her and have to take her for a wife. Offered a handsome sum, too. My girl. Knew she couldn’t have been born so pretty for - hic - nothin’.” He dissolved once more into weeping, mumbling to himself, a man lost in his own head.

Yet despite the way his voice trembled, something about his grief left a bad taste in Cassian’s mouth, like beer gone slightly off. And not because of the myth that witcher mutations robbed one of normal human emotions - he had more of those than this man was having coherent thoughts at present - but he seemed much sadder about the lost coin than his own flesh and blood.

After a few additional questions that got him nowhere, Cassian left the man cradling the flower, stroking it with one delicate finger and muttering about farm equipment that needed repairing. 

The mystery was starting to come together more clearly, though parts still felt obscured, a thick bank of fog blocking the places where it all connected. The flower was strange, the magic rudimentary, but Abby at least had reasons to run away, or perhaps a suitor uninterested in paying her father what he thought she was worth.

He trudged back up the lane, stomach growling.

With information from a street urchin he cajoled by letting her hold his sword, he soon found Young Ian hiding in the community stables. He could’ve been no older than twenty, sprawled in a pile of straw with one hand tugging hard at his fluffy hair, a ragged feather quill in the other. There was a piece of grubby parchment stretched over his knee, and Cassian wondered if the innkeep was right about his sanity when he saw line after line written and crossed out, fitful scribblings of an unsound mind. 

“Wanted to ask you some questions about the missing girls,” Cassian said gruffly, and the sandy-haired head whipped upwards, startled.

“I didn’t see nothin’,” he grumbled, muddy green eyes hazy. “Now git on with ye, I’m in the middle of somethin’.”

“Yes I can see that. Mind taking a break so we can both get on with our business?”

Ian bared his teeth to retort but seemed to catch himself, spotting Cassian’s leather armor, his twin swords. “Aye, you’re one o’ them witcher’s, ye are. I heard stories about ye. No feelings, none at all.”

“Thanks for your input. Now tell me about the woman you saw.”

“N-no, I didn’t see no-” Ian stammered, but Cassian felt his patience growing short. His belly was empty and so was his coin purse, and none of that would be remedied by debating his own emotional capacity.

“I don’t fucking care what you were doing out there, just tell me what you saw.”

“She told me not to tell.”

Beyond aggravated, Cassian felt his hand moving up to cast Axii before deciding to do so. Ian’s eyes instantly went glassy, his own will dampened, and he glanced out the stable door before leaning in close.

“I saw her,” he said, voice wavy with delight. The reverence that broke across his face crinkled the dirt at the corners of his eyes. “The Gray Lady. She was there in the woods, in naught but a robe, and she was the most beautiful -”

“This was a human woman?”

“Tweren’t nothing human about her, Sir Witcher, sir. She was - She -”

A faint buzzing sounded, and Cassian felt his medallion hum against his chest again. Something was preventing the young man from telling what he’d seen despite Axii’s influence, perhaps from remembering it altogether. He could read now the scribbled lines on the parchment - poetry, declarations of love to a golden-haired goddess. The gifts he’d lavish upon her, where he’d lick - 

With a groan, Cassian lumbered away from the young man, who returned moony-eyed to his musings with hardly a second glance. This job just kept getting worse.

It was too late to back out now, he reasoned, and he returned to the inn to wait for nightfall. And to stew over what the fuck he was going to do.

For this was no common trafficker or hag or even an incubus that took those girls, any of which would be preferable to what it probably was. It was most likely a creature more formidable than all others, against which he had a particular weakness. Cassian sharpened his silver sword while the townspeople descended into drunkenness that evening, trying to ignore the dread that had begun to coil in his stomach, wondering if the blade would even make a difference.

When the moon was a pale wisp on the horizon, he slipped out of the tavern and proceeded into the woods on foot, not trusting his horse to resist whatever tricks may lay in wait. The forest was dense and silent, quieter than it had any right to be, and he met none of the usual night creatures as he wound further between the trees. Cassian found himself holding his breath at intervals, the creeping feeling that he was treading somewhere he ought not go, pressing ahead in defiance. Perhaps in foolishness, too. 

Water sounded close by, the smell of wet earth and something sweeter, trunks thinning to indicate a glade ahead. The ground was softer here, and with his witcher’s sight he noticed a crisscross of small footprints in the mud, a scrap of flowery fabric snagged on a branch. A twist of magic drifted on the air, sharp and metallic, making his lip curl and his medallion shudder.

Yet at the same time his better sense begged to turn back, a thread tugged low in his gut, pulling him forward. With the blessing of vision in the dark, Cassian crept through the trees until he came at last to a starlit clearing.

A gray-robed figure stood in the pool of a silver waterfall, hood shrouding the details of her heart-shaped face. He could tell it was a woman from the contours of her body, from the long, golden-brown hair that swayed like reeds in the updrafts from the falls. Though he’d approached on silent footsteps, she turned in greeting like he’d come crashing through the brush, her full mouth bracketed with annoyance as if he’d kept her waiting.

Slender hands reached up to remove the hood, and the woman beneath was unlike he’d ever seen, tall and willowy, her face glowing like the moon. And those eyes - he could see why Ian was trying to put his passion to paper. They were the blue-gray of a winter sky reflected in his sword, smoldering like white-hot embers in the night. His empty stomach fell out then, for such unnatural beauty only graced one kind of creature.

A sorceress.

All around him plants rustled in a phantom breeze, giant tropical flowers, willows with branches that trailed in the clear pool at his feet. He could see silver-scaled fish flashing in the water, chiming where they brushed against one another, against her shapely legs. Legs he’d die to have wrapped around his waist, or crushing his head as he -

A tendril of magic wrapped about his throat, choking off his breath before he could shield himself. Cassian saw one elegant eyebrow raise when he didn’t pass out immediately, knew it was a trap but oh, what a trap to die in.

Fucking sorceresses.

“You seek the missing girls.”

Her voice was like liquid starlight, and he tried to stammer out an explanation but found only a dumb groan pouring from his throat. “Do you mind toning down your glamour?” he managed once he’d collected himself enough. “It’s giving me a headache.”

The woman’s brow furrowed, and he wondered if she expected him to fall to her feet as the village boy had. As many others had before, he suspected. 

But she relented, the intense aura around her dimming somewhat to reveal a woman more earthly, yet somehow more beautiful still. She had a severe look about her, her face all angles, and he couldn’t help how his eyes traced her lush body, more gorgeous than he’d seen in many long years. Not that it meant anything about her potential to rip him in half, though it certainly was an.. Obstacle.

“You know where they are,” he choked out.

She smiled, cloying, and the wind brought the scent of lilacs drifting toward him once more. “I take it you’ve come to rescue them from evil, brave knight.”

Her countenance was soft and inviting, but Cassian knew what wolves could live in pretty clothing. Knew the dangers in taking her kind’s word, drilled into him through experiences both vicarious and personal.

Don’t ever trust a fucking sorceress.

He should be better at learning from his mistakes by now.

“Where are they?”

“Safe.”

“And I’m supposed to take your word for it.”

He’d heard of crooked mages snatching girls to sell to the academies, earning commissions based on each student’s aptitude. In a dream world the law would put a stop to it, a fool’s dream given Velen had a skewed view of justice these days. But something about the woman before him gave him pause, a crispness in her manner that belied a stronger moral code. Mostly the fact she hadn’t killed him yet.

“What other choice do you have?” she said in her silvery voice, and a shudder threatened to steal through him.

“I could kill you.The families think some evil creature stole them. Want me to bring back its head.”

He knew it was a gamble, but he wanted to gauge her power, how much of a threat he posed to her. Her moonbright eyes darted toward his weapons - he saw genuine fear there, and Cassian wondered if he’d misjudged her before her expression melted back into smugness.

“Two swords. I should’ve known.” She wrinkled her delicate nose and gods, he wanted to kiss where the skin crinkled. “They’ve hired you to dispatch the monster, and here you are.”

“Tell me where the girls are and there’ll be none to kill.”

“Those zealots wouldn’t know a real monster if it were clawing at their hollow legs,” she muttered to herself before straightening. “Then it seems I must plead my case. Come. Let’s see if I can’t convince you to spare me.” 

She flashed that sensual, terrifying smile again and Cassian was half tempted to turn around and sprint away. Sorceresses were of a duplicitous ilk at best, abjectly cruel at worst, and whatever this one was doing out here on her own, the whole thing spelled trouble. He got the distinct impression she was concealing something, though what it was difficult to say. But when she extended a hand out toward him, Cassian couldn’t find it in himself to deny her, to think anything but whether its owner would let him press his lips to it, among other places. 

“Well?” she asked. “Are you coming in, or must we do this in the cold?”

She beckoned him forward before turning and walking straight through the waterfall. Cassian  followed dumbly on leaden legs, braced himself for the rush of chill water but was met with only a whisper of warm air, the scent of lilac and parchment dancing on the wind.

They emerged into a circular courtyard, surrounded on three sides by a stone villa tucked into a mountainside, archways leading to various chambers beyond. The remaining side stood open to the night air, the steep drop beyond, shadows shifting in the light of several braziers along the perimeter. His hostess looked different, too, her roughspun cloak transformed into a high-collared gown, the deep plum fabric spotless where it swept against the polished stone floor. A lush banquet was laid out before them, and even as his stomach growled Cassian knew this was a mistake, knew she already had her hooks in him and was just waiting for the right moment to pounce.

“Let’s have dinner before you decide to kill me.” Her smile was luminous and terrifying, and he swallowed in spite of himself. She gestured to a plush-cushioned seat at one end of the long table, draping herself in the one opposite. “Well, witcher. Have you the courage to drink for a sorceress’ cup?”

Along with her clothing, she’d transformed into an even smoother, more self-assured woman now they were in her bower, a spider biding time at the edge of her web. A goblet appeared before him when he eased into the chair, as if dropped out of thin air. The wine within was blood-red, and Cassian felt himself overcome with a thirst that he tried to resist.

“Depends.”

“On what?” She quirked her head to the side, amused.

“Whether I can be of some use to you.”

Her eyes flashed, and he thought saw something like his own hunger mirrored there, but it might’ve been a trick of the light.

“Oh I’m sure you can be very useful, Lord of Bloodshed.”

He balked when she used his nickname, the one he’d earned on the battlefield in the last Temerian rebellion. Her smile widened. 

“Let’s negotiate. You believe I’m involved in the girl’s disappearance. The villagers have asked you to come kill me, and offered you a certain amount of coin to do so.”

“That’s right.”

Cassian eased his swords off his back and set them against the table beside them. That she’d let him keep them would’ve been comforting to a novice, but he knew enough now to tell she wasn’t foolish. Just secure enough in her own power not to worry.

“So it would stand to reason that if I offer you the same amount of coin, you’d happily be on your way.”

It might not be an empty promise - along with the fine dishware on the table, all manner of gemstones and arcane artifacts cluttered the high shelves between the archways, any one of which would’ve doubled his commission.

“That would be true if I didn’t have a reputation to uphold. A witcher doesn’t skip out on a job without good reason.”

“Am I not a good enough reason?” she asked, fluttering her lashes. 

His eyes were immediately drawn to the supple curves of her breasts visible above the table. With great effort Cassian managed to keep his expression stony and shake his head. 

She huffed. 

“You’re a harder nut to crack than the rest. I don’t imagine threatening you out of it would work either. Oh, don’t get twisted about yourself,” she added when his hand moved automatically toward the hilt of his silver blade. “All that would happen is you’d break a lot of my things and then I’d have a great bloody mess to clean up. Truthfully I can’t be bothered.”

“You’re wasting my time, sweetheart,” he growled, patience waning. “Where are the girls?”

“Don’t be beastly,” she scoffed, disgusted, and Cassian bristled at her offense, at the accusation in her eyes. Here she was trying to lure him into a trap, bribe him from his duty, yet acted like she saw nothing but a brute across from her, just like the townspeople.

“Snatching children from their homes, I could argue you’re the beast. No better than a bog hag, bathing in blood to stay young.”

It was a low blow but he didn’t care, wanted to see her face twist with fury, relished the silver fire that sparked at her pale fingertips.

“Of the two of us at this table, who was crafted to kill?” she snarled, jumping to her feet to lean toward him, an accusing finger pointed at his heart. Rage pounded harder through his skull, and Cassian found himself on his feet too, fuming at her across the banquet table.

“Tell the truth for once in your crooked life, sweetheart. All this is an illusion. At the end of the day, you’re just like me. Blood and guts, bones and coin. Only you like to pretend the dirt doesn’t cling to your skirts.”

“The girls are never going home.” Her skirts whipped up in a sudden wind, a whirl of violet, lighting crackling overhead. “Tell the families they’re dead, bring back my head if you must. It will not change the facts.”

“Then you’re every inch the fucking monster you pretend not to be.”

He braced himself for her wrath, the wave of magic coming to steal his breath. But to his surprise she stilled, watched him for a moment, that same evaluating stare from the clearing. Something sad passed across her face, and Cassian felt like he could see through a chink in her armor, just a peek at the scared girl she’d likely once been.

“You think I look at you and see a brute. But I know you and I both have curses to bear. Doomed to live on the outskirts, worth just what we offer to others. I only wish for my freedom.”

An understanding passed between them, of two people stranded in an eternal no man’s land. For himself, Cassian had surrendered long ago to his fate straddling the fringes of society, helping people who smiled in his face and spat at his back. He’d tried living away from civilization altogether for a few decades but found it brutally lonely.

There were respites, of course, when he found favor with a noble or a woman who could tolerate him for more than a night, but he aged so much slower that eventually everything permanent proved it was not.

They both sat back down in unison, a truce. Cassian took a sip of wine, and her stormy blue eyes tracked the movement, a blush creeping across her chest.

“You could have both,” he observed, and she wrinkled that perfect nose again. “A sorceress like you could easily find home in a court. Why hide out in this shithole?”

“A boring, sad question with a boring, sad answer. You and I have more interesting things to discuss, I think.”

The hunger rose in her eyes once more, and he saw them rove over his body, pink tongue coming out to wet her lips. He chuckled. So this was the trap at the web’s center.

“You must be wanting for bed partners if you’ll have me, sweetheart.” An understatement given he’d been sleeping outside for a week, but his hostess stood after downing her own glass, waving a bored hand.

“Nothing a little water can’t fix.” 

She crossed to one of the archways and opened the door to a lush bathing chamber, the sunken pool steaming with fragrant water, lilac and sage. Cassian rose and followed, but he caught her arm on the threshold, heard her breath hitch when he pulled her body flush to his.

“I don’t make a habit of bedding women whose names I don’t know.”

“It’s Nesta,” she said, smiling, and the wind echoed her: Nesta Nesta Nesta.

He let her have her way with him the first time, knowing from experience she wouldn’t be satisfied until he was on his knees before her, where he belonged. She combed his hair while he recovered, and atop her silk sheets had her way with him again, only allowing him to explore her once she was wrung out and purring. Squeezed those lovely legs around his head and ceded the high ground at last, crying out beneath him as he took her as he’d wanted to from the beginning, hard and fast and desperate. Whimpered so sweetly when he kissed a line down her back and claimed her from behind, though they both knew who was in charge. He thought he might die from it, from her pressing back into him just as eagerly, the roundness of her hip in one of his hands, her pleasure in the other.

He brushed the hair from her forehead where she lay against his chest after, skin glistening under the soft blanket of the moon. Her bedchamber was cluttered with books, piles of them on the dresser, the small desk. A portrait of her and two other young women hung over the hearth, all with the same gold-brown hair.

Nesta flinched when he bent to kiss her soft cheek, just the smallest amount, that mortal eyes would likely miss. There was something heartbroken about her he couldn’t quite place, a loneliness even their coupling hadn’t remedied. Like she still expected to have to kill him.

Then light shifted in one of the archways, the air rippling, and he knew.

“They’re here.”

She hummed in annoyance and kept her eyes closed. “Don’t speak yet. You’re ruining this for me.”

“Tell me where they are.”

She pulled back and regarded him for a long moment, evaluating, and he tried to be whatever it was she was looking for, if only so she would keep looking.

Nesta nodded, having found it, and strode toward one of the archways wrapped in the blanket, drew back a curtain of air with a graceful sweep of her arm. A portal.

Inside lay a stone chamber filled with moonlight, a round table in the center carved with runes and littered with herbs and gemstones. Beyond a door on the far wall he could see rows of bunks built into the stone, the forms of children sleeping, their gentle snores carried to him on a lilac-scented wind.

“Are they here of their own will?”

“Somewhat.”

“So, no.”

“They are my pupils.”

“Some would call them hostages.”

She clenched her fists, incensed, and he saw the waves of power gather about her, Chaos begging for her touch. “What shall I do, leave them to be used as pawns by their families? Sold to wretched old men or wasting away in that cesspool? I’m giving them a way out.”

“And condemning them to walk alone in the process.”

“They deserve to decide their own fate.”

“And be like you? Hiding in the woods?”

“Do you pity me, witcher?” She was so close he could see the veins of magic in her eyes, as if her very blood was luminescent. “I may not have the splendor nor the influence of a court mage, but I am shackled to nothing but my own desires. Do you not seek the same?”

I seek nothing but a warm bed and a hot meal, he thought. But when he tried to say it, Cassian bit his tongue so hard he drew blood, and her eyes blazed brighter. He tried again and bit down even harder, the spell preventing the lie from passing his teeth.

“Do you not?” she repeated, and he heard the broken edge there, the plea. “When you sleep on the ground, do you not do so with a glad heart because it is ground you have chosen?”

“We’re all shackled to our fate, sweetheart. Trying to defy it only makes it come faster.”

Before Nesta could respond, there was a small cry from the bunk room and she rushed to attend to it, exposing her back to him without a second thought. Guilt leapt in his stomach, and Cassian couldn’t tear his eyes away as she comforted the girl, pulled the quilts back up over her and stroked her hair.

Feeling intrusive, he moved to don his trousers, and was just reaching for his shirt when she reappeared. “Where are you going?”

“Don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“You weren’t wrong. About the solitude. Though it does help to have visitors, to pass the time.”

She trailed over to kiss him again and her mouth was sweet as Toussaint wine. They tumbled back to bed once more, slower this time, and he pretended not to see the shine of her tears in the starlight.

“One of your pupils sent something to her family. An everlasting flower. Gave them hope she’s still alive,” he panted when they were spent, having somehow ended up on the rug before the fire.

“Foolish girl. Her father was preparing to sell her to a traveling merchant. Thirteen years old.”

“One of them will go back one day. Bonds of family are strong. ”

“Not for us though, right?”

Cassian swallowed, knew it wasn’t worth bothering to refute her. His own family was likely long dead by now, and he didn’t even know where they were buried.

“You put yourself at risk doing this,” he warned, not wanting to touch that tender spot any longer. “You’ll have to stop or move on soon.”

“I don’t recall asking for advice.”

“Not advice. Concern.”

“I can take care of myself, witcher.” Nesta looked down from where she sat astride him now, smirking. “Haven’t you learned that by now?”

Cassian woke hours later at the edge of the waterfall’s pool, a spray of shimmering lilacs tucked in his pocket, sunrise just a few breaths off. Felt the ringing in his head as he plodded back through the woods, the fuzz of wine, the ghost of her fingers in his hair.

He didn’t bother thinking of a tall tale to appease the townsfolk, didn’t even consider stopping at the inn to finagle his commission. On the way out of town he passed Abby’s father sprawled stone drunk by his front gate. Clutched in his hand was the enchanted celadine, still glinting weakly.

Cassian made the sign for Igni and set the flower alight before kicking the man awake.

“Your daughter’s dead.”

He turned his back on the howls of despair, tucking his cloak tighter about him as he headed down the road toward Oxenfurt.

[miracles-and-butterflies]

Random Chaotic Quotes from my Reincarnation AU Drabbles #2

Again, feel free to add any you think of in the comments below.

“Imagine if we had gone, it would have been ICONIC. I can already see the news lines, ‘Encanto sisters spotted at Glasgow’s Willy Wonka disaster’.” - Luisa

“I don’t care how old she is, somebody had to tell that old hag that she’s gonna fucking kill that bonsai tree!” - Isabela

“Please, Lola! I don’t speak meme! I don’t know what a ‘yeet’ is!” - Mirabel

“Isabela, I want you to be careful, okay? Not because I’m concerned about you, but because medical care isn’t free here and I’m not paying a single penny to fix whatever stupid thing you’ve done to yourself.” - Dolores

“I finally met a Sephora ten-year-old today. I just shoved that fucker straight into a display unit face-first.” - Isabela

“Why are the ladies wearing black? None of them are widows.” - Mirabel, about the cast

“If you keep shouting at me, Dolores, I’m gonna storm onto the local golf course and unleash my inner Troy Bolton!” - Luisa

“And now Isabela’s in the river with the dogs…” - Dolores

“I don’t care what anyone says, Legoland is leagues better than Disneyland. Fight me on it. You won’t win because I’m right and, well, I have more muscle than Disney has cash.” - Luisa

“Now, remember, sis: the cast are more scared of you, than you are of them.” - Isabela, to Mirabel

“Goodbye, you little shits.” - Dolores, in the supermarket intercom

“I thought I just liked cleaning, but my doctor tells me it’s a trauma response, so now I’m worried that I don’t like anything at all and it’s just my trauma speaking. I may think I like embroidery, but perhaps I just like the idea that I could cover my problems away with embellishments. I may think I like history, but perhaps I just relate to Marie Antoinette because I also had my head chopped off. Who knows!” - Mirabel

[blackjackkent]

OK, trying to make a beeline for the Counting House to do that quest first although the urge to wander around and trigger every other quest in the area is very strong.

Due southwest. Do not pass Go. Do not collect 200 gold.

A lot of interesting stuff spotted along the way; I'm going to have to come back and walk through this area more systematically soon:

An execution notice for Florrick, who has been deemed "guilty of treacherous and seditious activity against the people of Baldur's Gate" and is to be executed in five days. I'm assuming that, like all the other quests in this game, there isn't ACTUALLY a timer on this until we actively pursue it, so hopefully she'll still be rescuable by the time we get back to Wyrm's Rock.

There's apparently a Hag Victims Support Group at someplace called "Barren's Coop".

A LOT of Steel Watch and Flaming Fist, all of them actively engaged in making the locals miserable on Gortash's behalf; definitely some local trouble we're going to want to follow up on once we've got Minsc.

Cute banter between Shadowheart and Karlach. Karlach: "I wouldn't mind doing a little shopping in the city." Shadowheart: "Same. I think I may have overdone it with the black and purple for, oh, my entire life? Your look serves you well, though." Karlach: "I'm ten years behind; don't want the youths to think I'm not, you know, up with the times." LOL. We'll def do some more clothes/equipment shopping once we're done with our current High Priority Missions.

Shadowheart's wound also went off again for no immediately obvious reason.

More brainquakes.

A very upset vegetable merchant whose stall had been overturned, who had monk-specific dialogue when Hector spoke to him (because I thought he might be a trader). "Do you know how hard it was to get those cabbages into-- wait. The stoic stance, calming presence... You're one of those monastic types! Stay clear of my cabbages! Your sort have done enough damage as it is!" Hector was thoroughly baffled by this.

Quite a number of beggars and dead bodies; the Batman vigilante instinct that Hector was starting to pick up seeing all the suffering out in Rivington is starting to rear its head again.

Made it!

Whew. That was emotionally draining. XD Ignoring sidequests, even temporarily, is a CHALLENGE.

[redprotons]

First Aid - DoctorRose Bingo

Summary:

Rose ends up hurt on the estate at a time where the Doctor is avoiding her at all costs.

Notes:

warnings: minor description of injury, hint of past turbulent relationship, emotional angst, swearing.

Embarrassed, really. She was embarrassed more than anything. She’d lost count how many planets and people she helped save – not that she ever counted, but still, she knew it was a LOT. She’d faced death hundreds of times, outsmarted aliens; Ice Warriors, Slitheen, the flood. She’d done all that and come out with barely a scratch, and she trips down the stairs… just off of the estate… stairs she’d walked up and down her whole life, and, she was pretty sure,  broken her arm.

God, what a bloody plonker she was, the throbbing pain was well deserved.

For a while she just sat on the steps, staring into space. Part of her thought she was in shock, but shock that she’d been hurt like this, this after everything else that had tried to kill her in the last week alone.

It was her own fault, though.

She’d spotted Jimmy’s mother in Tesco. A wretched woman who she once tried so hard to please, but no matter what she did there was always something wrong. She’d go to sleep crying some nights over dishes stacked the wrong way. And the worst thing was, because Jimmy was Jimmy, she truly believed it was her who was in the wrong – that she was being too sensitive, too much of a bitch, too whiny. Well, she wasn’t such an idiot these days - ha. She strode right up to the hag and gave her a piece of her mind, and maybe, just a little, looking to reassure herself. She launched into how her son was a horrible piece of shit who manipulated women – because she knew she was not the first,  she was just convinced into believing otherwise back then – and bled them dry, and it was no surprise because she was a horrible mother in which her perfect little angel could do no wrong,  and thank God her family got her out before he dragged her down with him.

She was expecting a fight – screams of ‘how dare you talk to me like that!'.

Instead, Laura Stone burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably.

Jimmy was dead, killed way back in the Auton invasion.

Utterly mortified, she fumbled out an apology and left, her cheeks burning, fully accepting, that from now on until she perished,  she’d have to walk a mile out of her way to the Sainsbury's local further down the road.

It felt weird. She wasn’t sad he was dead… or maybe she was. It was all sort of muddled. She was absolutely in love with him at one point in her life after all – would do anything for him. But the fact it was Jimmy was almost insignificant. No, it was more because someone from her past had died. Someone she knew from school had lost their life to the adventures she lived every day. It made it real; the danger. The fact that she could die, that her mum, that this world's Jackie Tyler, could really die. That Mickey might be dead, but now she would never know.

It was more difficult to convince herself it would never happen to the people she cared about, when it already, in a way, had. And she'd not had a clue.

Maybe Jack had died after all, and the Doctor decided to let her live in ignorance.

It scared her, and that horrid niggle in her stomach lingering from Pete's Jackie's death intensified.

Taking a deep breath in, and an even longer breath out, Rose pushed it all down. Scared or not, it didn’t change the fact that her arm hurt… a lot. She would need to see someone about it and, as much as she had figured out, she had three options.

One, find the Doctor. She didn’t have anyway to contact him, but the Tardis wasn’t parked far away. She could call her mum to let her know something came up, and wait in the console room. He'd eventually come back from wherever he’d actually gone to hide from her. With all the advanced medical equipment on the Tardis, a broken bone would basically be first aid. She’d probably be able to go home for dinner, her mum none the wiser.

Two, call her mum to come and get her. They’d go to A&E, and she’d get patched up the old-fashioned way. And it takes so long to be seen, the Doctor would eventually worry something was wrong… she hoped, and call her. She’d lie, she’d stay a few days with her mum, and, with how he was acting at the moment, she doubted he'd notice.

And three, tell neither of them, and go to the Tardis and see if she could work out how to heal her arm herself.

At this present moment in time, she was leaning more towards three. The Doctor was being weird with her lately. Whether it was because of Mickey and Pete world’s Pete, or the whole France incident, she didn’t know, but he'd avoid her one adventure, then not leave her side the next. There was a dread in her gut that told her it was because he was getting ready to give her the chuck. Which she didn’t really want at the moment, and especially now. The Doctor made her feel safe, despite how much of an arse he could be, and with this sudden reality check, she wanted to be somewhere safe right now. But if he saw her hurt, and from such a stupid accident, it might speed up the process. And also, he was so annoyingly curious and bloody nosy, that he’d know the whole Jimmy story by the end of it, and she was, admittedly, ashamed of that chapter in her life… and sometimes,  with this new-new doctor, she wondered if the same thing was happening all over again.

So, then there was her mum. With Mickey, and now Jimmy, she was extra sensitive. She missed home and missed her family and friends. She’d even made a plan to see Shareen while they were here. But her mum was also nosy, and she would question why she didn’t want to go to the Doctor to get sorted, and then she’d have to say, and then her mum would slap the Doctor into a new face,  shout bloody murder at him, and threaten to cut off his crown jewels if he didn’t clean up his act.

Rose smiled despite herself.

The Doctor would never admit it, but he feared Jackie. Yet, more than Jackie, he feared any sort of social uncomfortableness. In his current body especially. He’d run to the Tardis and never come back. She’d have to get a job, and go back to the Rose she was before him. Which, she now realised, wasn’t that far below the surface as she initially thought.

Grimacing, she heaved herself off the step, walking in the direction of the Tardis.

So… three it was.

“Rose?” the Doctor asked, popping his head up through the grating just as she reached the corridor.

Her shoulders slumped, of course he was there – typical.

She plastered on a smile before she turned around. “Yeah?” she asked cheerfully.

His face dropped instantly. “What happened!” he asked, springing out of the gap in the grating and rushing over to her. His eyes were fixed on one side of her cheek, and she realised she must’ve hit her face as she tumbled. With the pain from her arm, she hadn’t noticed.

“It’s nothing.” she said.

 “It doesn’t look like nothing.” he accused.

  Yeah, well, he hadn’t noticed her arm yet. She didn’t say anything.

The Doctor pressed his lips together. There was an argument there, a demand, but he didn’t voice it. “Come on.” he said instead. “Let’s get that healed up.”

Then he took her hand, the broken one. The pain had already been getting worse the closer she got to the Tardis. She guessed it was the shock wearing off. His grip was sharp, and it really, really hurt. She couldn’t hold back the sob.

The Doctor let go instantly. “Rose?” he asked, the concern, and absolute horror that he’d hurt her, clear in his voice.

But the pain was too much. She’d been trying to be brave – be strong with everything she was feeling, but this was her limit. She started crying. He quickly scanned her with the screwdriver. God, she was so embarrassed.

“Okay, Rose, listen to me you’ll be fine. Rose? I’ll fix this, I promise.” She nodded through her tears. “Just stay here, don’t move. I’ll be right back.” he said, before rushing off into the depths of the Tardis.

When he returned, there was a ratty old gym bag slung over his shoulder. He must’ve sprinted the whole way, because he was out of breath, which he rarely was - all the running he did coupled with his ‘superior biology’ he loved to mention… all the time.

He was really worried.

“Okay, this -” he began jovially, unzipping the bag and pulling out a clunky metal tube cast that looked akin to a torture device crossed with a rusty cyberman arm. “- is the best bone healer of the 97th century, will fix you up in a jiffy.” he explained. “Just need to tune it up a bit and run a scan so it heals you nice and proper.” He beamed at her, an invitation – or maybe a plea – for any sort of positive response.

She felt too awful to muster the effort. She just wanted him to heal her up. She nodded.

The smile slid off his face, and he got to work. He was gentle, oh so very gentle, despite the clear tenseness in his shoulders as he worked – the way his jaw was set.

The machine made an ungodly rattling sound when he switched it on. A wave of tiredness crashed over her, while, at the same time, the pain dissipated and lifted her mood.

“Better?” he asked cheerfully.

She yawned and forced out a smile. “Yeah, thanks.” she said, and saw a little of that tension leave him. She knew he was going to ask, so she spoke before he had the chance. “I better get back to mum’s then.” she said. “She’ll be wanting the milk for her tea.”

“Did someone attack you.” he asked darkly, all preambles gone from his voice.

 Her face fell. She hadn’t thought he’d drop the façade so quickly. Unable to meet his eye, she fiddled with her sleeve. “It’s so stupid.” she said. “I tripped down the steps at the back of Spring.”

The Doctor’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Spring?”

“The block with that little post office.” she clarified.

“Ah.” He studied her for a long moment. “And you tripped?”

“Yeah.” She didn’t look up.

“Rose.” From the tone of his voice it was obvious he didn’t believe her.

“It’s true!” she protested. “That’s why I didn’t say because it’s so bloody embarrassing – alright!” she snapped back at him.

He gaped stupidly for the second it took him to work everything out. Why was he so smart?

“It was that loose pave-stone, wasn’t it? That one you yourself warned me about. You’re always careful on those steps since you cut your knee open when you were a child – that’s what you said.” He was mad now. “Something happened. What was it? And more importantly, why’d you try and sneak off by yourself and not tell me.”

“I don’t have to tell you everything.” she bit back on the defensive. “You never do.”

He gaped at her, thrown that she’d brought such a topic up. Admittedly, she was a little startled herself. The conversation stopped and the hum of the Tardis filled the space. But the Doctor had to know. “Did someone push you? And you might as well tell me now, because you’ll know I’ll find out.”

Her fury bubbled over. He was threatening her like she was a Dalek, or a Cybermen or something. “Oh so you care again now? Make up your mind!”

The Doctor’s brows furrowed, then morphed into outrage. “Of course I care! Why would you ever think otherwise!”

She was the one baffled now – surely he couldn’t be that unaware of himself. “Oh, wow." she scoffed, remembering who she was talking to. "Okay, what about Sarah-Jane, you said you wouldn’t leave me, and then we end up on a spaceship where you leave me and Mickey to go… ‘dance’ with some French queen, without having anyway to get back? What about that time in after Rome – I mean we actually kissed, and then on Plass-6 you put me on a different team to you for a whole week, and worse with that arsehole robot Mars-65? And what about now!? You spent the whole time we were on Pete’s world with me, and now were here you’ve been hiding away on the Tardis for days… or wherever you’re lying about being!” she yelled.

 Her breaths came out harsh while he just stood. She hadn’t planned on it all coming out, but it’d been building for so long, and she was so angry at him, it’d just sort of happened. Part of her wanted to apologise, but the other part of her thought, fuck it. All of it was how she really felt, and she shouldn't back down this time. “You know what? I’m going back to mum's for a few nights, so if you want to leave me behind, here’s your chance.”

Shereen took one look at her and hugged her tight. Honestly, it was what she needed. They ordered take-out and stuffed their faces with chocolates watching scary films. It was like she was a kid again. Yet, her mind kept wondering to the Doctor and his stupid puppy-dog eyes. She’d left before he healed the bruise on her face, so every time she laughed, he was there with her.

Oh, please, please, let the Tardis still be there when she got home.

She stayed another two nights at Shereen’s. They had a lot to catch up on, but really, the longer she stayed the more she could avoid the absolution of seeing the empty space where the Tardis was last parked.

As she rounded the corner, she held her breath, trying to prepare herself. The Doctor out of her life for good... oh, what had she done? She should’ve just shut up and said nothing… but it was too late now. She was brave, and she would face this.

The Tardis was still there.

Rose’s whole body unwound right to the core – the soul. He was still here. A smile lit up her face. Her walk turned into a jog towards the most brilliant blue box in the universe. She turned the key, stopping just as she opened the doors. She had to remember how she left things, she needed to brace herself.

He wasn’t there. She tried the usual places, the library, his workshop, the kitchen. Nothing.

“Mum have you seen –“

The Doctor poked his head cautiously around the hallway from the living room, like he’d taken a biscuit from the tin, and she knew he was the guilty party.

All the tension left. She smiled at him. “You’re here.”

Believing it safe, he stepped fully into the corridor. “Well I didn’t have a choice, she’s keeping me hostage.” he said, pointing to Jackie.

“Oh, give over. What are you like, honestly.” her mum complained, thwacking him on the arm as she walked over to Rose and gave her a big hug. “Have a nice time? Feeling better?”

She smiled. “Yeah, I did, yeah. Like we were kids again.”

The Doctor smiled at that.

“Right, there’s dinner in the oven if you want. I’m off to see Bev – she’s down for the week, over in Eltham, that guy she used to date Martin, he’s got a flat down there now, said he’d put her up, and you know what Bev’s like. She’s been asking for you, be nice for her to see you before you run off. Mind you, you know she’ll bring up that year bad-driver here brought you back – twelve hours my arse.” She gave Rose a kiss on the cheek, and reached behind her for the house keys.

The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry.” he added flatly.

She gave her mum another hug, grateful that she was making herself scarce so they could talk. “I will, promise.”

Rose could hear the hoover in the flat above, banging against the walls. For a while the two of them just stood watching each other, the Doctor rocking on his heals, his hands deep in his pockets.

“You said a few days. But then when you didn’t come back, I worried something else happened, so I asked Jackie. She told me you were at Shereen’s… been a prisoner ever since.” He gave a half-smirk, an invitation to joke.

She couldn’t help it. She smirked back, just for a moment. “What else did she say?”

His expression turned serious. “That you ran into an ex-boyfriend’s mother in the shops, and she upset you.” He paused, reconsidering whether or not to push on. “She didn’t tell me why.”

Thank you, mum, Rose thought. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

He studied her up and down. “Fair enough.” he said, dropping it, even though he hated not knowing things, especially about her. “It’s not because I care one second and not the next.” he said, throwing Rose off balance. She was sure they'd fall back into the same old routine, where they ran off to the next adventure and pretended stuff like this never happened. “It’s because I care too much, it terrifies me so I run, but I can never stay away for long.”

Rose’s jaw dropped. Her mind whirled so much it became a thick dough of goop. She tried to clear it, snap back. “Why are you telling me this?” she wondered out loud. “I mean we never talk about this stuff.”

The Doctor scoffed. “Why? Because you asked me to leave, Rose, and that’s only one step away from you leaving on your own, and I – I don’t want you to go.”

Okay now her head was really properly spinning.

He nodded to her arm. “I’m sorry I hurt you.” and she heard what he really meant.

She was taking it all in, but apparently, he wanted her to say something. “Am I?” he prodded fearfully.

Her brows furrowed, not putting it together. “Are you, what?”

“Going to lose you.” he said, the slightest crack in his voice, so quiet Rose convinced herself she was imagining it.

She straightened, standing tall. “Depends, if you keep messing me about.” she stated. “We act like we’re together; it feels like we’re together, but then you run off, or avoid me, and leave me wondering what I’ve done, or if I’ve read things wrong. So.” She stared him down. “Are we? No... wait.. do you want to be?”

The Doctor balked, his eyes wide. He shuttered his expression.

“And don’t lie.” she added. “Or say what you think you want me to hear.”

She waited, watching him in apprehension. He didn’t look at her, keeping his gaze on the carpet.

“Yes.” he said at last.

Oh.

She fumbled with her hands, not quite sure what to do next. She hadn’t expected this to happen quite so easily. “Right. Well. Okay then, will you stop running away from me now?”

He nodded weakly. “Yeah.”

Again she waited, but he didn’t look up. “Right, so… do you want to go down the chippy, then we can half what mum made for us?”

He glanced up at her, befuddled, his brow furrowed. “That’s it?” he asked disbelievingly.

She shrugged. “Well… yeah. Unless you have anything to add?”

He shook his head, unable to hide his utter relief. “No... nothing from me.”

“Right, good…. so… chips?”

He beamed. “Chips! Oh, yes!”

Walking through the estate, she felt his hand gingerly brush against hers before he took it. She linked arms instead, so she could snuggle into him. He let out a breath, and she felt the tension leave his body.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked. “You don’t have to tell me what happened, but I need to know when you’re hurt.”

She pondered for a moment, then smirked at him. “Well, my face still hurts a little.” she admitted. “Don’t suppose you’ve got anything for it?”

He smiled at her, true gratefulness in his eyes. “Oh, Rose Tyler, I have just the thing.”

[hopeforkitten]

Mizora talks to Tav the warlock, who has lost the mercy of Raphael. kind of like a continuation of that

Tav had already joined the atmosphere of the trip when the almost defeated Hag shouted "As a follower of the devil, have mercy on me!" Another lump in Tav's throat appeared when the witch gave away a lock of her hair and mentioned her smell and that the master would obviously like that she had become stronger.

Tav looked condescendingly at Mayrina with the animated corpse of her husband. "It's better to turn to the devil with such requests," a thought flashed through her head. Mayrina would have remained in debt, but she would have lived her life with love, or if the devil had taken her child, he would have raised him to be a first-class assistant, and Hag would have simply eaten him.

Tav sent her companions ahead to the camp, while she lingered in front of the tea house. She knew that the illusion around her hid a terrible quagmire, but she did not want to give up this illusion, not when her sun was so bright and warm.

There was a sharp lack of warmth in her life. A few days without Averno and the girl feels weakness and sore throat, the first signs of the disease. But what is missing more warmth, body or spirit?

The spirit longs for another warmth, for love and care, attention, banter.

How is Haarlep? She promised to be back soon and she has never been away for so long. How is Korilla forced to cope alone? How is Raphael?.. Raphael was what she needed.

Tav is sitting in a green clearing in the sun, hugging his knees. The bright light blinds her eyes and she does not immediately understand what kind of dark spot is in front of her.

"Oh, my puppy is no longer here, what a pity"

The purple spot took on the features of Mizora, she blocked the light with her wings and pretended to press her finger to her lips.

"But how lucky that you're here,"

The finger came off his lips and briefly pointed at Tav

"How lucky that someone else's puppy is here? Or will all creatures of evil already call me the devil's whore?"

"What rude words, pet. Get up,"

Tav stopped staring up at her and shook herself off and stood up.

"Let me decorate the landscape,"

Mizora waved her hand, darkened by magic, and the Witch's illusion fell away. Now the girl and the she-devil were standing on a burnt-out gray path surrounded by a quagmire.

"That's better," Mizora smiled. Tav looked around wistfully, missing the sun.

"Well, well, little warlock, did you like the local landscapes so much?"

Tav did not want to answer.

"You know, having an affair with a patron is so convenient and obvious in fact, maybe you will give such advice to Will."

Tav has known Mizora for a long time. Previously, they had not communicated alone. The devil turned out to be extremely talkative.

"Maybe you can give him some tips on how to take care of a new accessory on his head, it will pass for flirting."

Tav joked, remembering Will's new look. It really suited him, and the shape of the horns is comfortable, he still has a chance to freely pass through doorways."It's very funny, but I want to be taken care of."

"It seems to me that Will's affair with you will not protect him much from Zariel's whims. It doesn't help me either," Tav ends sadly.

"Come on, sweetheart, you're such a great couple. I do not know why Raphael is so mad at you now, but I do know exactly why he brought you to the ball then. He was bragging about you sincerely." Mizora whispered these words in Tav's ear like the sweetest poison

Oh, that ball, a weird formal event at the Averno citadel. The devils clearly knew its purpose, for humans it was a strange farce. A few hours of empty conversations among devils of all stripes and their guests.

"Many devils bring their warlock with them, but obviously not as an ornament for themselves."

Raphael has chosen a pair of luxurious outfits for the two of you. He didn't let you go all evening, you were one wonderful ensemble. You were his calling card, which is ready to disarm the interlocutor. Say hello, ask a question about the latest business when you first see this devil.

"You probably had a sore left side from his constant half hugs. Or maybe his claws had made a hole in the dress? And then you disappeared somewhere else, I wonder what you were doing..."

"Obviously, this is not what you think"

Rafael took her to a large balcony where no one would see them. Even if there was music playing at the party, the devils would be dancing. However, Raphael's theatricality required an exit, and they performed with him literally a couple of elements of the waltz.

Tav smiled at the memory of how he had praised her, how he had let her head rest on his chest before they returned to the others. He promised that he would definitely take her to such events many more times...

"Is it that bad, cutie?" Mizora was grinning.

"Devil, what do you want?"

"I'm having a friendly conversation, nothing more. You know, try making lemonade out of lemons. Look around, Will and Karlach also have all the hellish features, except for the wings of course."

"This is the worst sentence I've heard from the devil, Mizora"

"If you want changes, change the big red man to a pale young man? Astarion is very charming, you want to take a bite out of him. If he hasn't done it about you yet."

"What interest do you have? Could this affect my master's interests?" Tav frowns incredulously

"The powerful of this world are playing a global show the way they need to, I just want to sweeten this local school amateur activity, no more"

The devil walked back and forth a little, reasoning

"My entertainment now is your team, do not get discouraged, spoil the picture," Mizora said with some disdain and hiding in a cocoon of wings disappeared, leaving Tav alone

[justnerdy15]

Misermie Mall (Flash Fiction Friday/daily snippet 8.25.23)

wip: original fiction wc: 1005 prompt: @flashfictionfridayofficial Mall at Night

The mall in Misermie, Tennessee finally shuttered its doors in 2007, leaving its massive buildings derelict and abandoned in the town’s crumbling downtown district.

It served no purpose — considered useless even by graffitiing teenagers and lone squatters who left the building untouched and alone — than to be the biggest eyesore that the residents of Misermie ever seen.

Yet, the city council had spent the past sixteen years striking down any attempt to get the mall demolished. At the beginning there were promises of new businesses, of a so-called economic revival for the destitute local economy, but those were quickly proven empty when a year passed, then two, then four with no sign of improvement. By the fifth year the Coming Soon banner, tattered and dirty, disappeared from sight after its cords snapped during a thunderstorm.

And that’s about the most exciting thing that’s happened to damn thing since.

People don’t even talk about it anymore. Maybe mumble a “Oh, that old thing” or even a “You mean those buildings downtown” when a kid tries to bring up the fact that nearly 4 blocks of downtown is obscured by the industrial corpse of the mall.

And god forbid you try to bring up the smell.

“Dude, my mom acts like I’m crazy when I bring it up,” Sam complains as she vaults herself over the fence. Her sneakered feet hit the asphalt with a smack and she winces at the sharp pain that zips up her legs. “Like, how can you not smell it?”

She turns to watch as Henry clambers his way over the top of the fence, the dim streetlights illuminating the dull metal, making sure he doesn’t snag himself on anything on the way.

“Yeah,” he breathes out as he swings a leg over, “My parents are the same way. It’s pretty weird.”

He decides to drop the rest of the way down and nearly topples over because of it.

“Jesus, Henry,” Sam says as she reaches out to steady him. “We haven’t even made it inside yet.”

He makes a face at her and wipes his hands on his pants. “I’m fine,” he grumbles, adjust the backpack on his shoulders, “Is Violet here or what?”

Sam pulls out her phone, studiously ignoring the texts from her parents, and checks her conversation with Violet. “Uh, she’s already at the back entrance. She said to keep the lights off until we’re around the back.”

“Of course she did.”

She kicks him with her foot. “C’mon, don’t be such a baby. Let’s go.”

As they walk through the parking lot, cracked and weedy, Sam looks over her shoulder every once and while, making sure they’re still in the clear.

“Hey, did you hear about that news reporter?” Henry asks a couple of minutes later, knocking his shoulder into hers. “The one from ETNN?”

Jeremiah Meadows. Knoxville native. Graduate from Northwestern. Missing five days and counting.

“A little bit. Not much though,” Sam says, glancing over at Henry. “What about it?”

“My sister’s weirded out about it. You know, she works for the city — the mayor’s office? They were bitching about the guy visiting for days. Like, downright being nasty.”

“Buncha old hags. Not your sister,” she added quickly, giving a brief grin, “but I’d say that seems pretty par the course.”

“Yeah, but then the guy goes missing! That’s pretty fucking weird.” His nose scrunches up. “Ugh, god, it’s getting worse.”

It’s hard to describe the smell. Like floral rot and mold and rust. A kind of, like, raw meat smell? It ebbs and flows, but never quite disappears and it feels like it invades every part of town no matter how far you are actually from the mall.

How her parents have no idea what she’s talking about is beyond her.

Sam smothers a gag, reaching up to cover her nose with her sleeve-covered hand, and shakes her head. So gross.

They turn the corner, finally reaching the back portion of the buildings, when she barely spots Violet a couple of yards away.

“Well, there’s Vi,” she says, muffled through the cotton fabric.

“Hey, Vi!” Henry calls out, waving.

Amateur.

Sam kicks him again.

“Shut up,” she says, muffled, wacking him on the shoulder. “We’re trying not to get caught. Remember?”

“Oh my god, it’s not like anyone else is here but us, Sam, lighten up.”

“Hey Henry!” Violet replies just as cheerfully and as loud. Henry gestures towards her. See.

Whatever.

Violet greets them with a wide smile, scooping her bag up from the ground, and jerks her head towards the boarded up doors. “Welcome, welcome,” she chirps, bouncing on her toes. “You nerds ready for an adventure?”

“Sure, if we can even get in.”

Sam rolls her eyes. “We’ll get in. Where’s the loose panel at?”

“Over here.” Violet walks to the closest door and nudges a wooden panel with her foot. “I thought about kicking it in, but you said you had it covered.”

“Yeah. Fair warning,” she says as she rummages through her bag, “This is going to take a minute.” There it is. Sam pulls out a hammer and goes to kneel by the panel.

She grips the hammer tightly and pounds the head against the panel. It takes a few hits before she can feel the wood give a little and she starts to move around the perimeter.

She nearly has the panel loose when a wave of the smell hits her. Recoiling from the door, she blinks away stinging tears. Shallow breaths, Sam.

They’re getting into the damn building.

“Do you want some help?” Henry asks, tapping her on the shoulder.

She shakes her head and stands. “Nah. I’m good.” And kicks the panel in.

Violet claps her hands. “Well, welcome one and all to the Misermie Mall!” She takes a step back. “Henry, you first.”

[faebhaal]

One of the greatest legends when it comes to the Court of Wonders, is of Alice. Alice Liddell was a young, aspiring bard who at the age of 15 by accident traveled to the Feywild and lived to tell the tale.

Young Alice came from a moderately wealthy merchant family. Her adventure started when during a garden party she spotted a peculiar white rabbit and in an effort to ditch the stuffy gathering, chased after it. And down, down, down she fell into a hole. What she found on the otherside was nothing short of a dream; the Feywild.

Through her journey Alice is guided by a mischievous though wise, ever grinning cat whom she would dub the Cheshire Cat. Never was there a dull moment. Dryads, pixies, nereids, hags, satyrs and more. But the most dangerous creature she encountered (and pissed off) was the ruling archfey of the court. By the skin of her teeth, Alice was lucky to escape the wilds with her life and mind intact. Yet when she had returned, she was surprised to find out she had been missing for several years despite at most being in the Feywild for a couple of weeks.

Alice would go on to write and publish a book called Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, where she would recount in great detail her time in the Feywild. The book would include descriptions of the creatures, etiquette she learned, tea parties, games, riddles she was given, illustrations and more.

And while it would have been wise for Alice to stay away, she just couldn't. When children started vanishing in her local village, she took it upon herself to investigate. What she found was they were being spirited away to the Wonderland she had once visited. Determined to put an end to the mystery, Alice journeyed back to the Feywild. Through the looking glass she went, Vorpal Blade (a sword made of pure iron) in hand and nary a warning to anyone else.

This time, Alice did not return to the material plane.

In her stead she sent back letters (delivered by a strange cat) to her elder sister, Elizabeth "Lizzie" Liddell. Such correspondences were like diary entries almost. Alice would tell tales of the battles she fought, like against a beast she called the "Jabberwocky," and the archfey that she had slighted years ago. She'd include more beastly compendium pages, more drawings and little artworks, day to day events, etc. One day the correspondences stopped coming. Grief stricken, Lizzie wanted to keep her sister's memory alive. So in dedication, she published a book of all the information that she had received from her beloved littler sister. The work was titled: Alice through the Looking Glass. At the end, there is a mention by Lizzie that for a long stretch of time she would hear banging on all the mirrors in the family manor. Each instance when she would check them, the only reflection she would see was her own. Eventually there was no more pounding on the glass.

It's still never really known what Alice's fate was. Many adventurers take up the challenge to solve the mystery or in the very least find the legendary Vorpal Blade. It's a miracle if even one person makes it back from the so-called Wonderland. The majority get lost in eternal dreams, forever slumbering until turned to ash.

[skywise-earthloved]

During the eclipse, I had an interaction that filled me with a childish glee.

Waiting in the parking lot of a rural highschool, where we voluntarily paid the entry fee to support the school's band program, full of other people's children playing instruments we would never hear, far from home, I made a friend by offering them a cool rock.

The school had an area of decorative stones near the entrance and while I sat among them on a larger bouldwr in the shade--so as not to get sunburned (I failed)--I spotted some fossils.

We were far from the shores of the lake where I usually found fossils like these, but I recognized them and easily picked a few handfuls and filled my pockets. (There were plenty more stones and the fact these still laid here, fantastic and ancient meant nobody paid this accidental rock garden much mind. Still, I left a pile of them on the flat boulder for the next school day, gifts for those that actually pass by here every day.)

Around the side of the school there were clumps of strangers with a fantastical array of telescopes, some, we learned, were from as far away as the Netherlands. My father and I wandered among them, complimenting the scopes and asking questions. My last question was always; "Do you want a fossil?"

Everyone was confused but most accepted save only one pair out of around a dozen. In one of the groups, someone who had been slouched down in their seat in the shade, not marveling the sky like everyone else, perked up. They said that they were a rock nerd and gave them the rest of my collection when I had finished gifting them. "Do you mind showing me where you got these?" they asked.

While waiting for the moon to cover the sun, I squatted among imported rocks in front of a strange high school, chatting with a new friend who lamented that they didn't have any cool rocks where they lived, just clay. I had never considered this daunting prospect before and resolved to be more grateful to my local geology.

It was refreshingly like childhood before I was strange--back when everyone was strange, because we were children and knew next to nothing about expectations and social rules. I don't know their name or pronouns, only their age, because they asked. We showed each other our finds, offered each other ones we knew the other was were for. I showed them how the crescent sun shone through the eye of the hag stones I had found, holes worn through the stone by millenias of wind and water. (How many eclipsis have they seen?) We watched the eclipse, a once in a lifetime event, with each other's families.

We marveled at the ground together, we marveled at the sky, marveled at the streetlights coming on and the technology that allowed us to watch this and just how powerful the light was when only a sliver returned and twilight was rendered daybright once more

This was the first and last time we will ever see each other. We gave gifts and met each other's families and shared excitement and a unique memory. We were kind and authentic.

I was so happy.

[pokege-ne-project]

(blueespeon) Toshi @ Neo-Ka

So, just for clarification, you lived here for quite a while before some van found you and tried to capture you, correct? In that case. How did you get here then? How did the van found you?

I'm sorry, I'm just a bit confused, so would you mind telling this old hag in full detail?

@blueespeon

A panicked response. Every question felt more trapping,

"OI! Can ya lay off the questions for a sec-"

The Eevee cut themself off, glaring at the Espeon before they realized what they're doing. The gaze softened; deep breaths, deep breaths.

"A-anyway- I ain't a local. The van and I's got the same origin on that front. Usually it goes out whether there's some special trainin' on some remote spot. Dunno why I was the only one this time, but, wasn't my problem.

Point is, this city apparently was parta the route, and the truck happened t'take a stop, a pretty long one at that. Helps the bozos 'pparently forgot t'come back for awhile. An' forgot to do their usual quality lock work.

Bein' in the city... Was somethin' else. Bein' cooped up forever's never gonna prepare anyone for that."

The rest of the words came out more smoothly than initially, the Eevee seeming to regain her stride. "If it helps, least the labcoats ain't ever picked up outsiders, so consider y'self lately. Jus' don't rapid-fire like that next time Grams, aight?"

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

Ask hints have been updated!

[unitedbydevils]

A dressing room leakier than Old Trafford's roof: why fans must ignore the nonsense

Another day of drama for Manchester United. Another day of ridiculous media coverage because guess which club has the biggest news pull.. that's right, it's the (temporarily not so) mighty reds.

Unity is needed to fix our poor form, but I think an inquisition is needed to root out the leakers because it's boring. Years of shit being passed out from Carrington like it's a paper note in a classroom. Grow up.

Does Erik Ten Hag have favourites? Perhaps. Does this mean you should down tools? Absolutely not. The attitude here forgets several things:

You are an asset in of yourself. If you give up, other teams notice. This will lessen your value for a sale.

It also reduces your personal growth as a player. 6 months of not trying might have been the period where you level up your skill set and playstyle.

Football is a game of small margins. Anything less than your best could be the difference between a salvaged point and a painful defeat.

The rumoured leakers are obvious: Sancho, Maguire, McTominay, and maybe Donny Van de Beek (I doubt this last one). Henderson was also rumoured to be leaking before, as was Eric Bailly. Disgruntled players are the obvious suspects, and normally it's correct.

Roy Keane, seen here on Sky Sports, has the right take: players are failing to take responsibility for their poor performances, and are giving up too easily. Could ETH make better subs or quicker tactical changes? Sure. But it's his second season, having finished 3rd, won the League Cup, and reached the FA Cup final, all with Weghorst up front for crying out loud. Give the man a chance, believe in his plans. We can't keep cycling through managers. United will just be a graveyard for talent and a money pit.

The latest 'leak' or drama is about David De Gea's departure. People have short memories. He was a good goalkeeper, and kept United alive for many shitty seasons, but his last few years saw his shot stopping - the star attribute - fall off in terms of stats and success. This is an issue. Onana is a solid replacement for the keeping metrics, but with great feet to help play out from the back.

Our current form isn't derived from Onana playing badly. It's derived from an injured Varane showing the gulf of skill between him and Lindelof, and how important Varane is to getting the best out of Lissandro Martinez. Hence the need for Kim Min Jae in the summer.

Beyond that, Eriksen starting games at 31 with a heart condition. What the fuck. Casemiro looks overweight and slow and needs to be eased in to the season. Last year he played more games in the season than he EVER did at Madrid. Ever. They're playing though because Mount, Amrabat, Mainoo are all injured. All three would be playing if they were fit. They might all feature tomorrow versus Burnley, and they'll make a huge difference going forward.

The media is to blame as much as the players though. The Daily Mail published an article about Onana dropping his car keys. How is that journalism? The same goes for Samuel Luckhurst, seen above. There's a lot of stirring the pot to cause drama, to generate clicks.

The reality is that people shouldn't be taking the Manchester Evening News (M.E.N) seriously because they're clickbait these days. The death of local/regional news; clamouring for clicks and views rather than offering actual substance and building loyalty and respect.

United are in a rough spot, and perhaps this poor start means we fail to make the top 4 this season, but if - in the grand scheme of things - Ten Hag gets United playing the way he wants to then so be it. I want us fixed, and I'm willing to back this manager to get it done. If everyone was pulling the same way, trying, and it just wasn't working then fair dos, Erik might not be the man, but no. He hasn't had his preferred first XI. He hasn't had players properly trying. He's had issues with leaks, player insubordination, scandals off the field, and the takeover farse.

There are better managers, but I guarantee they cannot be arsed with United and the Glazers. Lets get behind Ten Hag, back his authority, lose the dregs and crybabies, and see what we can achieve with a committed squad of battlers and ballers. Up the reds.

[milo-skyseekers-journal]

Journal 3 - Green Eggs and Harpies?

A loud rumble shook the walls around me. I found myself back on the mule-drawn cart, putting distance between myself and the edge of the forest near my grove. The merchant and his wife chatted quietly about taxes in Westbridge, their voices blending with the steady creak of the wheels. Suddenly, I heard the heavy thump of footsteps—a large presence approaching from the forest. Just as the trees began to fall and a dark shape was about to step into the sunlight, I woke up.

As my eyes adjusted to the light in the room, I heard loud snoring coming from down the hall. I saw Urzha and Illy walking down the hall, talking about breakfast, so I joined them, and we all went to the dining room.

We selected a large table for our group. Rinaldo greeted us and asked what we would like to eat: Green Eggs or Trout and Greens. Urzha and Illy ate a lot of eggs—A LOT of eggs. I was served nicely prepared trout and a bitter green that I decided to call "Winter Stalks" since I had no idea what they were called locally. Faelen showed up shortly after we started eating, as did a couple of the ladies who had been at the library last night. Meren was not in the mess hall; apparently, he wanders from time to time and would show up at some point.

As Krevek, Illy, and Urzha finished off a second plate of eggs, we decided to talk to the ladies from last night to get more info on Claud the Hag. Grace told us that he would have been happy to die doing what he loved. Pericule, her husband, had been fishing in a boat called The Old Knucklehead. They didn’t know where the secret fishing site was but were glad we would look into his disappearance. I noticed what seemed to be a shard of quartz or a similar stone around her neck, seemingly designed to match another stone. I decided to ask about it, even though I knew it would be difficult for her, assuming it was a gift from her husband. She said the stone came from the shore near the docks and then explained their entire relationship. We promised to do our best and then took our leave.

Captain Imdra walked in and noticed we were talking to the widow. I informed her that I wanted to talk to her about the widow’s late husband, and she said that it was exactly what she wanted to discuss with us. She said their fishing spot was known and very cursed. It was on an island down the coast to the north. We would have to tow the boat to open water since most of the coast was frozen solid. I asked about beasts of burden to possibly tow the boat, and Captain Imdra told me about dogs and axe beaks. Apparently, we would be able to tow it fine ourselves, though axe beaks are great for overland travel. I asked about which stable she would recommend, and she replied, "Gregor’s stable." She also told us about a skiff called The Skiff, a medium-sized boat sitting on the ice four docks north of Scython’s Ferry, which we would take to the island. Luckily, Faelen was a sailor, so we wouldn’t have any issues on the boat. I was glad, as I had never been on a boat before besides the ferry yesterday. Back in the Grove, if we needed to cross water, we would either swim or the elders would wildshape into forms to help us cross.

We reached Gregor’s, a large stable with many axe beaks roaming around. Gregor offered us some eggs, and I learned that the eggs at the inn were indeed axe beak eggs. I was glad the green eggs weren’t actually bad; maybe I’d try some tomorrow morning! Krevek ordered a dozen eggs and put them in his bag. I saw a couple of young axe beaks, and I approached them. I put my hand out and willed one of them to come closer. It suddenly rammed into my hand, and it hurt like heck! Gregor told me that they get a little ornery without food, so I asked to feed them. He handed me some hay, and I fed it. The mother then approached, eyeing me. I turned to her and offered her some food. As she ate, I petted her and blessed her in the name of the Lady of the Lake. Gregor then informed us it was 50 gold per axe beak. We definitely didn’t have enough for one, so we said we would return if we needed a beast of burden. We then left to find the skiff.

It turned out the name of the boat was actually The Skip, and we dragged the boat to open water. It wasn’t fun or really difficult—just cumbersome. As we sailed up the coast, we arrived at a creepy island. It had three cave mouths, and as we looked at it, an alluring singing voice pierced the wind. Illy started to act strangely and walked toward the edge of the boat. Krevek suddenly pulled Illy’s cloak, toppling him to the ground.

Just then, a naked bird-lady creature came flying at us! It looked vicious and mean, so Urzha and I flung two spells at it. Illy seemed to regain his senses and stood back up. Faelen tossed a knife at the bird creature but missed by a wide margin. Another bird-lady swooped into the fight from the cliffside, charging toward our boat in a flurry of feathers and skin. Krevek hurled a hand axe at the new one and hit it squarely, but the axe fell into the lake. I shot another starry wisp at the first bird creature, hitting it and causing it to screech. It then swooped down to Krevek, managing to claw him and drawing blood. Urzha cast some kind of bane spell at the creatures, and Illy struck the first one with his axe, nearly killing it. Faelen then moved like the wind between us, spinning around the mast and launching at the first bird, kicking it in the head and snapping its neck. The other bird creature bolted away, but Illy managed to hit it with an arrow. Urzha conjured an extremely bright energy and hurled it at the fleeing creature but missed. As we caught our breath after the fight, I asked what these bird creatures were, and Faelen told me they were harpies—monsters that lure sailors to watery deaths by charming them with song. We beached the boat and stepped onto the island.

Krevek communed with the land to sense magic. While we waited for Krevek to complete his ritual, we noticed the ice cave at beach level was making howling noises. Everyone started to put on these things called "crampons" on their shoes. Illy and I didn’t have these crampons, so we had to find a way to walk on the ice. Krevek offered me a ride on his back and tied Illy to him to help him not fall. However, Illy took a spill right at the start, so we decided to move more slowly.

As we explored the cave, we approached a frozen waterfall about ten feet high. We decided to make a human ladder out of Krevek and me. Faelen then climbed up our ladder and secured a rope for the rest of us to use. I was the first to try to climb up, but I slipped, and my knee went through the ice. A hole opened up, and water began to spew out. The water then collected into a mass, forming a serpent-like creature.

Seeing this, Urzha caused bells to ring out, hurting the creature. Faelen then jumped down from the waterfall, bounced off Krevek, and landed beside him, unaffected by the ice. He kicked the monster, but the blow seemed dampened. The monster charged through the group, but Krevek and Faelen dodged it. Illy then charged in and swung his sword, but it seemed to pass through, causing minimal damage. Krevek also swung his great sword with similar results. I conjured a ball of flame and threw it at the creature; it hit and sizzled, rippling across its surface before fading. Urzha and Faelen attacked again, and Urzha struck the creature. Illy sliced it again, nearly severing a tendril. Krevek climbed up the rope and threw his other hand axe, landing a blow before it skittered across the ice floor. I shouted to Urzha, "Remember the spell you cast at the fleeing harpy? Cover your eyes!" I then replicated her spell, casting a green-veiled Guiding Bolt toward the creature, hitting it and causing a rainbow of light to fill the cavern. Faelen then kicked the creature, which dissolved back into water.

After the fight, Illy noticed a pick and a backpack near the waterfall. Inside were bags of what had once been food and a strange necklace. It was a gold brooch that triggered Krevek's detect-magic spell. While Krevek redid the ritual for his detect-magic spell, I recalled a creature similar to it—something called a Water Weird.

[prototype-muse-workshop]

Charon A. Goodchild

Of course I'm good, it's in my bloody name!

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Race: Hagspawn

Blood Type: O-

Height: 6'2

Weight: 719 lbs

Birthday: October 17th

Personality: Irritable, spunky, quick tempered, lonely

Likes: Apples, any dish with apples, a good fight

Dislikes: His mother, electric stuff, 'snooty' people, thunder storms

Background

Charon was born as Charon Applecheeks, the son of a mountain hag and a very unlucky mortal mountain man. Growing up he was routinely beaten down and insulted by his mother as he worked on their small apple orchard in the mountains and having to deal with her cruelty. Till one night he managed to sneak into the orchard and set it ablaze, planting a blade of a local townsfolk to trick his mother into attacking the wrong person so he could make his great escape. Now on the run from his mother and naming himself 'Goodchild' he is on a search for his own freedom, revenge, and something he calls 'his missing heart'.

Personality

Charon is easily irritable and snappish, though this is mostly due to his stunted emotional growth having to deal with his mother on his own. He's quick to tell others he's 'fine' when he really isn't due to having little capacity to understand others may actually care for him. And while he has little sympathy for those he beats down when pressed or fight, he doesn't take particular pleasure in the deed.

In the truth of things he's very lonely and does desire companionship. But he is plagued with self esteem issues believing he's not worthy of friends due to his mother's cruelty or no one will be there for him, which leads him to be slightly standoffish and determined to be 'strong' even if he has no real idea what that means. And when someone does offer him friendship he's unsure and keeps thinking there's another angle, though he recognizes it is an effect of his upbringing and has to remind himself sometimes a kindness is just a kindness.

Charon calls himself 'Goodchild' due to a desire to actually be good and help out others. Though he has little knowledge on what that actually means in the grand scheme of things, due to how Hags in general see things in the inverse. Pretty is ugly, ugly is beautiful, and wickedness is holiness to most Hags, and Charon spends his time trying to unlearn this mindset so he can actually be good. While he can take most insults at him, with various degrees of muttering and grumbling, one thing that will make him snap is seeing someone else being brutalized as he was. It triggers bad memories to him.

Powers

Hagspawn - Due to his mother being a mountain hag, his bones, teeth, and nails are actually iron. As such he's extremely heavy and his physical strength is great, and his blows can be felt as getting battered by a sledgehammer. His iron nails and teeth are always growing, so he'll routinely lose some of them only for them to regrow back a few days later.

Mountain Magic- Though he doesn't have the magic of his mother which is a sore spot for him, he has picked up two tricks. Namely able to generate a thick billowing mountain fog that is very hard for others to see through. A trick he uses to blindside others, or to make a hasty escape. The other is the ability to grow apple trees relatively quickly.

Apple knowledge - He has weirdly specific knowledge on apples, their uses in medicine and agriculture, and how to make meals out of them. Which he claims comes from the fact he lived on an enchanted apple orchard for all his life and therefore subsisted on nothing but apples basically.

Strengths

His iron boned body makes him extremely heavy and very hard to move, and lets him take a hell of a beating.

The fact his teeth and claws are made of iron makes him great at fighting against others who are weak to Iron, like other fey creatures.

He is a fantastic cook as long as it involves apples.

Loyal to those he cares about, and caring in his own odder ways.

Weaknesses

Due to his body being of iron bone, electrical attacks are very effective on him. He's also basically a massive lightning rod. And if he's on a fragile surface like thin ice, he will break it and sink.

A tad clumsy due to his awkward height and weight make him ungainly and hard to keep his balance

Is plagued by self esteem issues and somewhat gullible about the wider world around him

Stubborn as a mule and twice as hostile when his hackles are raised

[dnd4adults]

Tales from the Great Library

Book of the Raven

(Day 17) It' i's unusually stormy for Alekhandir, with wind whipping gales off sea. The actual storm hasn't blown in yet but it's rumbling away, black on the horizon. Half the ships in harbor intending to sail that morning remain in port, warned off by dawn's bloody light. Within the Great Library, the Court of Air is puddled, gray, and empty, its usual social custom seeking refuge withindoors.

The Hearth is particularly crowded, thanks to the weather, and Hyram's taking over cooking in an effort to raise spirits. (Performance 18, success!) The halfling makes time to visit with his friends at table, even so:

Hyram: Any luck, tracking down that bird book for me? Teddy: Perhaps. I believe you described Book of the Raven-- Hyram: Yeah, that's the one! Teddy: --which is not about the care of injured birds, in fact, but an account of Vistani habits and tradition. Khazpar: The mist wanderers? They are known in my homeland, as well. Andros: They wander everywhere, friend. The river lords calls them gypsies. Hyram: And, I'm sure they're pleased as cabbages about that! But, why would Dear Aunt Tansy ask for a book like that? Teddy: (Insight 24; Hyram doesn't have an Aunt Tansy, dear or otherwise.) Probably for what fell out of it. Gate Warden: Hey! How about that chicken parmesan you promised? Hyram: How about keep it in your codpiece half-a-minute? (Performance 7; Everyone laughs at the Gatewarden, not with him.) Khazpar: What fell out, my friend? Teddy: A map marking the location of . . . Chalet Brantifax!

A long wave of low thunder rolls in from the sea, and a Sage enjoying the warmth of the fire cackles aloud. Sister Haggis is elderly and an authority on matters of local folklore and superstition, including Alekhandir's many ghosts and hauntings. Widely regarded among Avowed as a hag, Haggis stubbornly turns out to be human whenever somebody checks.

In fact, it was she who shooed away that raven, years ago. Back thing carried a book right over rooftops into the Court of Air, explaining why it's called Book of the Raven. Everyone else was so busy, carrying on about obvious vulnerabilities in the Great Library's defenses, they didn't notice her carry the bird’s book away. Haggis retained the Vistani account for years thereafter, but even she never dared follow its map to Chalet Brantifax!

The Cursed Chalet

The place was built long ago by a western knight who'd grown famous and wealthy through adventure. He came to Alekhandir to retire with his treasures, choosing a rise of land in the western quarter notable for prominence and scenic beauty on which to establish estate. The architect he employed was a gnome, explaining why the style of architecture is called chalet. Tragically, the gnome and three dwarven stone masons were crushed to death in an accident during construction.

After occupying the chalet, Sir Brantifax suffered spells of sleep-walking during which he wandered about the estate, looking for his dead hound. Unfortunately, the servants mistook this behavior for delirious insomnia and assumed he was awake during the spells. One night, Brantifax fell down the well shaft and drowned. No one ever heard his cries for help.

Thereafter, both the knight's daughters met tragic ends, whereupon his wife and the servants abandoned the chalet, insisting the place was haunted. What is more, no one has been able to find Chalet Brantifax ever since. Whenever someone's tried it's either vanished or they have. There have also been reports of the chalet being spotted in other parts of the city.

In fact, Sir Brantifax made his name by infamy, an Oathbreaker who made his fortune through violence, deceit, and treachery. The gnomish architect was actually his accomplice, and thoroughly insane. Their flight to Alekhandir was evasion of justice, and the building of Chalet Bronifax an open taunt to the western authorities who could no longer reach them. The three dwarf masons actually sacrificed themselves, killing the gnome, thereby assuring he couldn't complete the conjurations originally intended. 

The dead wizard’s quasit familiar continued wreaking havoc, however, first killing the family's dog, then driving Sir Brantifax mad, and murdering his daughters. Along the way it also completed enough of the gnome’s rituals to have lasting effect. The quasit, itself, was consumed entirely to seal the ritual magic but ever since the chalet has become something like a ghost, capable of appearing and disappearing at will.

More accurately, it shifts between material and ethereal states, carrying everything and everyone inside along when its shifts from one state to another. This within the chalet's structure cannot distinguish a difference. Externally, however, the structure disappears completely, not only invisible but ethereal. It does not move to different locations, as Sister Haggis' story suggests. That is a fabrication added to the growing legend over time.

Sir Brantifax and his accomplice originally intended for the chalet to turn ethereal and back on command, but that element of control was missing from the quasit's final ritual. Instead, the chalet is semi-awakened, deciding for itself when to shift ethereal and later return material. Having no will of its own, the chalet only becomes ethereal when threatened or when responding to the psychic-emotional cues of personalities inhabiting it. 

The Scarlet Sash

More recently, the abandoned hulk of Chalet Brontifax has been occupied by a society of wereravens. They use the ethereal-shifting stronghold not only as residence and base of operations, but also a secure repository for evil artifacts they've recovered. In humanoid form members of the order wear black clothing with scarlet sash belts, giving the society its name. They are careful to never approach or depart from the chalet in this appearance, however, reserving their arrivals and departures for raven-form.

Madrin Natterask is leader of the society, responsible for maintaining security of the hidden artifacts. He and his fellow sash wearers make use of their mimicry skills, creating the impression that Brantifax is actively haunted to scare away any who stumble on its location. After scaring away the chalet obligingly disappears for a day or two, so no follow-up investigations have been completed.

Madrin's task has become decidedly harder of late. The evil stored in the chalet, together with its ethereal shifting, has opened a passage to Shadowfell in the estate's cemetery. Shadowy figures emerge there each night, attempting to enter the chalet and retrieve the dark treasures within. Thus far, Madrin and his company have been successful both in beating the invaders back and preventing their slipping out, into the city. The Scarlet Sash is under siege, even so, and obliged to spend so much time in the ethereal realm that supplies are running low. Returning to the city runs the risk of renewed attacks while the chalet is under-manned.

The specific source of Brantifax's trouble is one of the evil artifacts the Scarlet Sash keeps hidden in the cellar. Known as an Dark Shard, it is a "piece" of the Shadowfell, itself, "broken off" and carried back to the Mortal Realm. Madrin's grandmother took it from a necromancer passing through the city after making the man her lover. 

Simultaneously pining for woman and idol, both, the necromancer attempted entering the chalet many times but it always shifted into ethereal form, keeping him out. He finally resorted to the Great Library, searching for a means of overcoming that defense, and there drew the map of Brantifax's location. He never had the chance to try any scheme he developed, however. The necromancer was murdered by the very rival from whom he'd stolen the Dark Shard originally. In tidying up the scene of his crime, the assassin tucked the map to Chalet Brantifax in a book on Vistani customs close at hand, never realizing its significance.

While the very presence of an Dark Shard is enough to attract evil, the ethereal shifting of the chalet has drawn that lure across multiple realms, creating a weakening in the border with Shadowfell. Denizens there feel the stone's silent call and are compelled to retrieve it. Each time the chalet becomes ethereal to prevent that happening, the passage to Shadowfell grows a little wider. 

Madrin's grandmother genuinely loved the necromancer but her loyalty to the Scarlet Sash came first. She therefore rejected him to capture and conceal the Dark Shard. After his murder, she recovered his possessions as mementoes. Years later, she entrusted the book to Lady Lore -- the Book of the Raven hoarded by Sister Haggis.

Madrin Natterask is therefore offspring of the necromancer, and bears a striking resemblance to his grandfather. While he takes his responsibility as Scarlet Sash leader seriously, never leaving the chalet, Madrin is desperate for a solution -- and sorely tempted to resort his grandfather's old spell book, the one memento granny didn't give away.

[dankusner]

Cedars mural — Sandwich Hag

Ookuma is serving up Japanese burgers in Dallas

Dallas has no shortage of burgers and no shortage of Japanese cuisine, but Japanese burgers have been virtually nonexistent in the city until now.

Ookuma, a new walk-up restaurant from two local restaurant industry veterans, is serving teriyaki-infused burgers out of a space in the Cedars that previously housed Sandwich Hag.

It’s one of the only places in Dallas making the Japanese fast food classic.

George and YuYee Kaiho of Ka-Tip Thai Street Food leaned on George Kaiho’s childhood as inspiration for Ookuma, which they opened in late June 2024.

Teriyaki burgers, said to have first been created by a Japanese fast food chain in the 1970s, can be found on nearly every street corner in Kaiho’s native Japan.

He saw a wide open opportunity to introduce them to Dallas, the city he’s called home since 2005, he said.

Ookuma owner George Kaiho is pictured at his newly opened walk-up restaurant on Botham Jean Blvd in Dallas.

Ookuma means "big bear" in Japanese, and Kaiho and his wife designed the restaurant's logo to match.

Kaiho, bar manager at cocktail bar Jettison, started making Japanese burgers during the pandemic and served them for a while at the bar as sliders.

He resurrected his recipe when Sandwich Hag chef and owner Reyna Duong asked him and his wife if they wanted to sub-lease her closed restaurant’s kitchen space.

Duong will reopen her Vietnamese coffee shop ChimLanh alongside Ookuma in the coming months.

“I was confident it would work as a concept,” Kaiho said of Japanese burgers.

He couldn’t find any restaurants in Dallas serving Japanese burgers, but he knew they’d be a hit in a city that has proven its love for both burgers and Japanese food.

He also felt compelled to bring a lesser-known facet of Japan’s rich culinary history to Dallas.

Ookuma’s teriyaki burgers, which come with pork, beef or vegan pea protein patties, are the kind of burgers you can’t easily (and wouldn’t want to) set down after the first bite.

The teriyaki sauce yields a delicate patty and a softer-than-average burger.

To make the burgers, Kaiho first gives the patties a quick sear, then finishes them in a simmering, thin teriyaki sauce.

As the patties cook, the meat absorbs the sauce, creating a supremely flavorful burger.

Kaiho serves the patties on toasted brioche buns with Kewpie mayo (no other kind will do, he said), crisp iceberg lettuce and four dill pickles.

The magic of the burger is in its simplicity.

Kaiho tops a burger with teriyaki sauce at his new Japanese burger restaurant Ookuma.

Along with teriyaki burgers, Kaiho also serves a panko fried chicken sandwich with tartar sauce, chicken karaage, takoyaki (battered octopus balls), korokke (potato and meat croquettes) and furikake-seasoned fries.

The menu is simple, and Kaiho plans to keep it that way.

After all, Ookuma is his third job, and he doesn’t consider himself a chef.

“I’m a bartender,” Kaiho said.

“In that sense, I have never cooked and probably will never call myself a chef.”

Kaiho does consider himself a project guy, though.

He’ll pick a food and study it until mastery, then move onto his next project. Ookuma is the product of his pandemic-era Japanese burger project.

His hope, he said, is for Ookuma to be received as not just another burger spot, but an expansion of the city’s diverse culinary landscape.

“I would be very happy if people who live in Dallas feel it is a cultural addition to the city,” he said.

Ookuma is located at 1902 Botham Jean Blvd., Dallas. It is open Wednesday through Sunday from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. instagram.com/ookumaburger.

[deck16]

This is a continuation of the campaign journal of Adventures in Lyria. The first entry is here and you can see all entries here.

Act 9: Port Cissylvania

The heroes head to a sleepy fishing town, and bring an inglorious end to General Magnus Strabo.

It was at this point I moved the game from Roll20 to Foundry. You can read more about my thoughts on this here.

Before Port Cissylvania

Garo and Zeke were all that was left in the adventuring party after the events on Silvercap Mountain. They took a well-deserved rest, leaving clean-up duties to General Salvius (first seen in Act 2).

When they woke, the General informed them that the Umbralenses (developed in Act 7) did indeed cure lycanthropy. The enemy forces were being cured.

But there was fresh trouble: a ship had come ashore on the nearby coast. The heroes were sent to investigate.

Meeting Alexandros and Surkiv

The players of Cyrus and Flutter had new characters. Taking Cyrus' place was Alexandros the half-elven drakewarden ranger. Flutter's spot was now filled by Surkiv the dragonborn path-of-the-beast barbarian. These two had been captured while defending the homelands of the boreal dragonborn, fighting against invading forces led by Magnus Strabo (mentioned in Act 7). Surkiv was native to those lands, and Alexandros was a sort-of warrior pilgrim from a distant island of dragon-worshippers.

Both of these new characters were prisoners on the very ship that Garo and Zeke have been sent to investigate. The ship had been abandoned when Alexandros' drake companion, Ion, loosened his muzzle and used his breath weapon to tear a hole in the hull.

The two prisoners were freed, and the group investigated the boat. Documents onboard suggested that the contents of the boat were items stolen by Strabo in the invasion that were being taken to his private collection. Dragonborn weapons, cultural items, dragonborn eggs, and even Alexandros, Ion, and Surkiv themselves! The heroes had a dim view of a man who would steal eggs!

Some of Strabo's men appeared on the scene: veteran soldiers from the Second Legion. These men had been sent to collect things from the wreckage. After a tense stand-off, combat ensued, the soldiers were defeated, and some even killed. Somewhat controversially, Garo dipped into the party's precious supply of diamonds to revivify them.

The Forest Hag

General Salvius urged the party to carry on to mainland Cantia. Strabo was landing there (as noticed in Act 8). His reputation suggested he would punish the local population for their recent uprising, and since the False Moon was now gone, they would have no ability to fight back.

After travelling across the channel, the party met a kobold bard called Algo, who belonged to a new player to the group. Algo had been displaced by the war, and was just trying to survive; he tagged along with the party, grateful of their protection.

The group were preyed upon by a forest hag. Feigning to be under attack by wolves, she appeared in the form of Media Bellicent, the last of a royal line of Cantia, ousted by the lycanthrope rebels. Truthfully, though, the hag's home had been taken over by the real Media Bellicent and her were-bear bodyguard. The hag tried to trick the heroes into fighting the were-bear but failed; she was killed.

The heroes learned that the hag had been working with the lycanthrope rebels, and was keeping other members of the Bellicent family captive in her basement. These poor children had perished and now haunted the basement. The heroes put these ghosts to peace by dispatching the spirits and burying the remains. Zeke, however, used his sword Asurath to "claim" the soul of the young girl Alula Bellicent; he could now summon her at will. (She was not especially powerful as a combatant but was potentially useful as a scout or distraction. During later dream-visitations to his sword's "interior", he'd find her living happily with his paternal ancestors.)

Media encouraged the party to help her defend the people of Cantia. She had a number of plans how they could help. But Garo was convinced the party could do better elsewhere. He wanted to investigate Strabo's legally-dubious personal collection, believing that it would be easier to tarnish the man's reputation and have him removed from his position than it would be to fight him and his soldiers. It would be unlikely that his replacement would be as harsh and merciless.

Media wished them luck. The party returned the Bellicent family torc (first found in in Act Two) to her. As she was of the Bellicent bloodline, she could use its full powers. Media made arrangements for the party to fly on to their next destination on the backs of griffons.

During this flight, Garo would reveal his past. His blood-line was thought to trace back to that of the god St Cuthbert. This was quite a prize, and Magnus Strabo had arranged for his daughter Katarina to marry him. It was to be an important political marriage. But Garo was not exactly into women, and he turned her down rather than live a lie. This made him something of a pariah. He threw himself into his crusader duties and tried to keep out of the public eye.

(This came as a surprise to me as DM. But it was so good, I absolutely ran with it.)

Port Cissylvania

The documents pointed the heroes to a sleepy fishing town called Port Cissylvania (Port CS). They would spend a long time here, doing various things. As I did with Act 7, I'm going to document things by “quest-chain” rather than chronologically. In reality, these stories were interleaved.

This is the map I used for Port CS. It's actually a map of Carrickfergus. If you search for maps of the place, you'll find lots of drawn art for it from different time periods.

Roster Changes

Some players would change characters during this Act.

Clever Clover the tabaxi rogue would replace Algo. Then Clever Clover would depart late in this act as the player left the game. (This was a player new to TTRPGs, and this was a tough game to join in part-way through. There was no drama in this exit!)

Trystan Valerius, a human, would replace Alexandros. Trystan was a bard at some point and a bladesinger wizard at another as his player experimented with different classes.

Myra's player returned from a hiatus to play Aden Heskin the half-elven warlock.

Flutter would make a return late in this chapter, displacing Surkiv.

And, of course, not all players were present for every adventure.

Barry the Baker

As the party arrived at Port CS, they were met by a familiar figure: Barry. Barry had joined the lycan forces on Cantia as footsoldier, though he was not a lycanthrope himself. The heroes spared him in Act 5 at Fort Nelisa, and Cyrus had given him gold so he could start up a civilian life.

Turns out, he'd done exactly that! He was now the owner of a bakery in Port CS, and his signature pastry was called the "Sticky Cyrus".

Ship Fiends

The party were approached by Karl Burr (first seen Act 4) and Felix Spurius (first seen Act 1). A Lyrian Guild Society ship -- the Absolute Advantage -- anchored offshore had been overrun by fiends. The evacuating crew had alerted Karl Burr, the local Guild representative. Karl in turn alerted Felix, as the ship was transporting a magical stone tablet and a kobold called Taklak (first seen Act 2) for him. Karl wanted the situation dealt with quietly -- without the authorities asking questions. Felix wanted Taklak and the tablet saved. The heroes leapt in a longboat and rowed across.

On the way over, an imp teleported on the party's longboat! The creature was delivering a parchment to Zeke -- a contract. This, of course, made the party quite curious, but no actions were taken. Zeke would surreptitiously sign the contract while on the Absolute Advantage, while no-one was looking.

This represented the contract in-game, made with Foundry's tools.

On-board the ship, the heroes had several run-in with devils: spiked and barbed devils, a duplicitous incubus/succubus pair, and two powerful bone devils. Surkiv brought the arrogant bone devil leader down to size with incredible grappling and pinning moves, holding the fiend down while his comrades dealt with other fiends.

The party would find a cowering kobold called Bilgewurm, one of the Absolute Advantage's crew. This poor kobold was the reason for the fiends: he had activated Felix's stone tablet (similar to the spell tablet in Act 2), summoning a fiend. This fiend forced Bilgewurm to keep activating the stone, but luckily Bilgewurm managed to escape with invisibility. Unable to swim, the poor kobold just had to hide and hope for the best.

At some point, the topic of Zeke's contract would come up. It was discussed. Most of the party disapproved that Zeke had signed it, but did not take any action. Garo quite strongly disapproved.

Ultimately, the ship was cleared. Taklak, Bilgewurm, and the tablet were recovered. Garo was not happy that the tablet was going to be studied, rather than destroyed, but Felix assured him that the local Imperial College campus had a very secure anti-magic lock-up for such things.

College Fiends

Despite being a small fishing town, Port CS had a large Imperial College campus. The wizards there enjoyed the relative isolation. Trystan was an accomplished student there.

A cambion named Laila enacted a plan to steal from the college. She wanted the fiend-summoning stone from the Absolute Advantage. She also kidnapped the college's fiend expert, Archmage Spellwatch. She used Zeke's contract to allow succubi and incubi to access the vicinity of Port CS. From there, these cunning creatures infiltrated the college and charmed or impersonated the staff.

But there was a problem: the vault where the stone was kept was protected with anti-magic to suppress any magic items kept there. Charmed agents would be un-charmed in such a field, magical disguises would cease, and her succubi and incubi allies were not powerful enough to defeat the golems that guarded the vault. So, she decided to send a charmed Felix, and then later a charmed Trystan, to lie to the heroes and have them dispatch the golems.

Laila's plans didn't work, though. The heroes managed to undo the charm on both Felix and Trystan. They proceeded to free the staff and students from charms, rooting out the fiends in their midst. The heroes suffered a lot of weird magic thrown at them by charmed and confused students and staff. At one point, Flutter separated from the group and had to fend off multiple fiends alone long enough for help to arrive, making good use of the sunbeam spell.

I made a macro in Foundry to randomly select spells. I figured students at the college would not necessarily have prepared spells for combat, but rather would have prepared strange spells related to their studies.

A final confrontation happened in the basement of the college. Laila, it turned out, was Zeke's cousin (though a distant one)! She entreated Zeke to join her so they could remake their ancestral homeland of Laconia together!

Zeke refused, a battle ensued. Efforts were made to capture Laila, but she slipped free using fiendish powers of teleportation, taking Archmage Spellwatch with her. The fight with Laila's remaining minions was a hard one, but the party managed to win out.

Burt Cobb

While attending to other matters on the island, the party would sometimes run into an older human male called Burt Cobb. Burt was guiding a group of refugee orphans who had fled the war on Cantia. He taught them to fish and generally survive.

Cobb was a devout follower of Pelor, and spoke about religion to Garo.

Museum

The heroes pursued a lead regarding Strabo, and found he had contracted a local taxidermist to preserve some dragonborn corpses. She was kind enough to draw a sketch of the person Strabo sent to do the transaction.

Using scrying magic purchased from the local branch of the Lyrian Guild Society, the heroes saw this man was on the western coast of Cissylvania Isle, along with a number of dwarves.

In hot pursuit, the party arrived at Foxtail Grotto. This was a location of historic importance, as the last emperor of Lyria was held hostage here in his youth. Strabo had funded a museum to be built here.

Foxtail Grotto, once a bandit hideout. The story was inspired by something that apparently happened to Julius Caesar.

The museum area was being carved out underground by the dwarves. An illusionist, Ellyjobell Timbers, was creating an illusory hologram-like recreation of the historic events at Foxtail Grotto. Another mage, Wyns Rand, had been paid to create a permanent teleportation circle at the site.

Supervising all this was Claduis Ensis, the man from the sketch. And with him was Katarina Strabo -- Garo's spurned fiance!

A very tense moment ensues. The party are very suspicious of Claudius, and he of them. Katarina and Garo, of course, share an awkward meeting.

During this, Surkiv and Zeke explore the museum. They find exhibits that enrage them both. Survik finds souvenired "prizes" from his homeland, including dragonborn eggs. Zeke sees an exhibit about his ancestors' failed rebellion, and finds tiefling skulls, including one of his grandfather.

This animosity turns into a fight with Cladius, but Katarina and Garo calm the situation down. The party leave Foxtail Grotto.

Cassia

The visit to the museum had clued the heroes in on the likelihood of dragonborn children being raised somewhere on the island of Cissylvania. Claudius, apparently, was routinely visiting these children who were being cared for by a figured called "Cassia". The heroes managed to learn from the orphans in Burt Cobb's care that a suspicious figure matching Cladius' description would head into a particular forest on the island.

And so the heroes went to this forest. Two faerie dragons -- Sunflare and Corona -- tried to confuse and disorient the party but failed, and the party arrived at Cassia's home. No-one was home so the party intruded to search for (and find) a number of clues.

Cassia did eventually return home, with a number of dragonborn children in tow. She was very hospitable, explaining she was a reluctant carer for the children. Though she loved them, she did not approve that Claudius was training them to be spies against their own kind. But she felt powerless: as a druid and hence part of the church-outlawed Tetrarchy, she was essentially a fugitive and owed her freedom to Strabo (and therefore Cladius).

Cassia's home was near Lake Nemi, a beautiful secluded body of water hiding a sunken temple. Inspired by a real place.

The Flooded Temple

Cassia mentioned that Strabo stored some items in the nearby flooded ruins of a temple. The heroes, eager to get some dirt on Strabo, set out. A naiad called Syrinx guided them, giving them water-breathing, and pleading with them to help her lost love Iphianassa.

The nereid Iphianassa was the guardian of the flooded temple, magically forced into the job by Cassia. In turn, Iphianassa had charmed a number of aquatic animals to guard the temple. The heroes prevailed, freeing Iphianassa from her duties, and allowing her to reunite with her love Syrinx. The party also found Strabo's stash, and apart from treasure and magical gear it contained a lot of contraband items from the Tetrarchy.

Betrayal and Capture

When the party returned, Cassia invited them to have a meal. This was a trap. The food was laced with a sedative-like poison. Moreover, Claudius had been called, and was able to make the distance in the time the heroes explored the sunken temple. Claudius led a small army of legionaries to Cassia's house and surrounded it. Cassia pleaded with the heroes to surrender, not wishing for them to die.

Poisoned and surrounded, the party had little ability to win. Some fled. Garo and Alexandros remained to be captured -- defiant not to leave.

Claudius accused Alexandros of war crimes, both further back assisting dragonborn against the legions, and more recently killing legionaries on the shipwrecked boat. By name-dropping the names of killed legionaries, Claduis tried to rile up the legionaries, but Garo countered with a speech on morality and justice, and no legionary volunteered to execute Alexandros. So Cladius did the deed himself, slitting Alexandros' throat and throwing his corpse off a nearby coastal cliff. The rest of the party watched on in horror from the tree-line.

(Alexandros' player was okay with this, as the player wanted to change from Alexandros to Trystan. Alexandros' corpse would be fished from the bottom of the cliff at an early, safe, opportunity by Zeke.)

Animal Form

The heroes would later return to Cassia's home, for reasons explained in the next section.

Cassia was devastated when her dragonborn "children" were taken away. As a powerful druid, her sadness bled into the forest around her home, turning it dark and unwelcoming. The party had to battle a malevolent fey entity called The Spirit of Lake Nemi to proceed through the forest.

The heroes arrived at Cassia's home. Corona and Sunflare sought to keep the heroes away from Cassia, and used a one-charge wand of mass polymorph to turn the heroes into small animals. Undeterred, the party worked together in their new forms to conquer the obstacles and animal guardians in Cassia's home.

I had made several stat blocks for the occasion. Stewart the cat, Bertie the snake, Cherry the crow, and Vincent the (relatively) giant crab. These were past pets of Cassia's that the faerie dragons had known. The players had to work together as these animals to navigate the "dungeon" of Cassia's home and battle some of the animals inside.

The heroes would confront the faerie dragons and break Corona's concentration to undo the polymorph. From there, they made a dark discovery: Cassia, alone in her bedroom, was dying! She had tried to take her life with a herbal poison. The heroes, working fast, cured her.

Cassia and the heroes were both victims of Magnus Strabo. The heroes convinced Cassia to help them (see more below).

Strabo's Arrival

Things were heating up in Port CS. Garo was taken prisoner for killing Strabo's legionaries. But Garo had sent for help prior, and it arrived. Not a charging brigade of mounted crusaders, but rather, a Pelorite priest named Vincent Pearson.

Meanwhile, Surkiv had decided to leave. Paying to be smuggled out by sea with the unbroken eggs from the museum, he left in the early morning.

Three large transport ships loom out of the mist. Your little boat's pilot mutters to himself as he wrenches the rudder to keep clear. Taking care to stay under the canvas, you watch the middle vessel sail past. Standing near the ship's fore is a Lyrian officer. You've seen him before, leading the forces which attacked your homeland. Stocky, balding, but still severe in his uniform. His cold gaze is directed forward, but as you pass he turns to glace at your ship. You can swear he is looking right at you, despite the distance.

Magnus Strabo had arrived at Port CS with a large number of his Second Legion troops. The heroes' investigations and interferences had given cause for the general to come sort matters out first-hand.

It was impossible to keep this from the public eye, and the eye of Port CS officials. Legal accusations were being flung both ways, essentially boiling down to Garo versus Strabo. A court date was arranged. Pearson arranged for Garo's freedom, confident that Garo was not the type to run.

Felix, who had once represented the heroes in court before (see Act 3), could not guarantee his presence. Instead he managed to get Trystan Valerius, an accomplished student at the Port CS Imperial College, to be Garo's legal representative. So began a rush for evidence and witnesses (including Cassia, as mentioned above).

Trystan and Garo had a tense meeting with Strabo in the general's war camp just outside of Port CS. It was mostly a psychological clash, each side trying to goad and rattle the other, with neither succeeding. Strabo made his disdain clear: Garo's meddling had endangered the Lyrian Republic by distracting him from his war against the lycanthrope rebels. He also expressed his dislike for the dragonborn, and wondered why Garo should champion their cause.

Some of Strabo's men had contracted lycanthropy in the battle against the rebels, and he used these men in a suicide attack on the heroes. The heroes defeated the werewolves, and spared their lives, managing to cure them with one of the Umbralenses. They were so grateful they became witnesses on the heroes' side.

Court Case

The date of the case arrived. It was a big event, the town's small temple to Minerva was packed. The local priestess acted as judge. Both sides were given access to a quota of zone of truth spell usages.

Garo takes the stand as Trystan's witness.

Strabo was represented by Aemilius Lepidus, one of his top captains. Lepuidus tried to defuse claims that Strabo was involved in an illegal war against the dragonborn by producing official orders from the Lyrian Senate. He also cited laws around prisoners of war, intelligence gathering, and other such activities.

Lepidus's next tactic was to paint a picture of Garo being an obsessed individual, hounding Strabo over minor things. He called upon Karatina Strabo, and asked questions about their failed engagement and subsequent fall from prestige. Lepidus insinuated that Garo's obsession was fuelled by a desire to see revenge upon the Strabo name.

Cladius then testified, quoting Garo's determination to bring Strabo to justice, painting those comments as obsession and fixation devoid of presumption of innocence. Cladius alleged that Garo wanted to besmirch Strabo's reputation by any means to force a legal clash.

Lepidus called Ezekial to testify invoking the zone of truth. As a known ally of Garo, Zeke's tiefling heritage and family history were used to suggest that his feelings are motivated by revenge.

Finally, Garo was called to the stand, zone of truth invoked again. Garo was forced to admit he was given no official orders to pursue Strabo, and that he had done so on his own accord. It was insinuated that this was a trivial folly, at worst a minor matter, hardly worthy of a crusader's time; all this fortifying the case that Garo was motivated by revenge.

Trystan counter-examined each of these witnesses, and when it was his turn to call, brought in a number of witnesses and submitted considerable evidence. Trystan's strategy was to paint Strabo was clearly involved with some Tetrarchy materials and affairs, which apart from being illegal were highly damaging to his reputation. If Strabo was to leave the court with a mild penalty, his battered reputation would at least mean he was stripped of rank.

(As a DM, I have notes about Lepidus' actions, and only memories about Trystans. Hopefully that explains the disparity in details.)

It was a fierce contest, but as Trystan got going, his strategy gave him bonuses in the dice-rolling mini-game that represented the court's opinion. Magnus Strabo's case fell apart as he himself took the stand under a zone of truth.

Strabo, furious as opinion turned against him, launched into a tirade that only worsened this.

"You crusaders hunt demons and undead and pat yourselves on the back for a job well done. Good for you. But do you have any idea what real war is? Have you battled the sharp teeth of a dragonborn, or the hulking mass of an orc? Have you seen hordes of them, serried arrays howling for your blood? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. I am the thin steel line that keeps these threats from the doorsteps of your churches and homes. As Naso once said, 'let them hate us as long as they fear us.'"

He gave Katarina Strabo a meaningful look. She cast a spell (word of recall) and she disappeared along with her father and his legal team.

Strabo's Coup

Moments after this disappearance, horns began to sound. Garo looked to the priestess acting as judge. She confirmed: Strabo was now an enemy of the state to be captured. The heroes sprung into action. Stepping outside, they saw that Strabo's men were launching an assault on the town!

First concern: one of Strabo's naval destroyers had flung a burning trebuchet shot at the temple! Zeke, with Flutter's help, managed to fling a fireball to deflect the shot enough to miss the building, giving enough time for everyone to get outside.

Legionaries assaulted the temple grounds, and the heroes fought to hold them back long enough for everyone at the court case to get away.

Elsewhere, the town was under strong attack. The heroes made a plan, and tackled each of the front-lines, moving as a group from one location to the next.

First they went to the harbour. Venturing to the end of the pier, Flutter used reverse gravity on the naval destroyer. It rose in the air, turning about listlessly. Flutter mercifully waited for the crew to swim away, then released the spell, causing the vessel to crash down and break. Strabo's forces lost their artillery.

Next they went to the town square. Port CS had a small garrison of elite troops, and a number of border guard, and these forces were -- for the moment -- holding back Strabo's troops in the choke-holds of the city streets. The heroes dove into the fray, helping even the odds, and allowing the local troops time to retreat and regroup. Meanwhile, Trystan summoned a magnificent mansion in the middle of the town square into which many of the town's civilians could seek shelter.

After a quick detour to help Felix, and the party headed to the town's small castle. Strabo had entered into the keep through a hole earlier punched in the outer wall by the destroyer. Local troops tried to re-take their keep, clashing with Strabo's at the front gate. That distraction allowed the heroes to mostly (but not entirely) enter without opposition.

They arrived at the Aediles' chamber. Strabo was sitting in one of the chairs normally occupied by the ruling Aediles. One of the Aediles was hurt and unconscious on the chamber floor. With Strabo was Katarina, Wyns Rand, Lepidus, and a number of soldiers.

Strabo offered a truce. He would claim that the town was set upon by lycanthropy, killing anyone in a position to disagree. In return, the heroes would stand down.

Strabo: "Come in. Let them in. There's been enough violence today. Clearly I've won. I'm not a heartless man. Why don't we hammer out an agreement? We'll go along with my story. That this town had been infiltrated by lycanthropes. I get the two Aediles, Salvius and son, and the judge at the temple here. You can go by boat or teleporter, after staying as my guest for a while to ensure you don't cause further trouble. Oh, and I want that sword. I won it fair and square. Katarina: "Garo. I made him promise to let you live. Father's right, there's been enough death today."

Of course, the heroes did not agree.

Combat broke out. The hectic fight saw some cross-interference, but largely the battle consisted of a few smaller battles or duels. Clever Clover duelled with, and defeated, Aemilius Lepidus; who died ever the loyal right-hand man to Strabo. Katarina mostly flung supporting spells, not wishing to commit to more deadly combat.

Garo shines with a powerful holy spell as the rest of the party battle around the chamber.

Flutter and Trystan had to first deal with Wyns Rand, who used his favourite tactic of casting greater invisibility and throwing high-level spells with impunity. They eventually managed to corner him, frying him with a lightning bolt. The pair also held back reinforcements from the castle, flooding the main entrance with nasty magic and dealing with those soldiers who entered via other ways.

There was a moment where Flutter used a scroll of mass polymorph to turn many of the foes into creatures. Flutter's mind must have been remembering the underwater temple, because he chose to turn them into something he'd seen there: horse-sized giant pistol shrimp. This threw the room into chaos for a while but had limited long-term effect between Katarina's dispel magic and the fact that the shrimps reverted after enough damage was dealt to them.

It was a glorious fight. Strabo's "gimmick" wasn't that he was a raw powerhouse of a boss. Rather, his wide range of abilities was meant to reflect a highly strategic thinker and master swordsman. I couldn't have done all those Recharges without Foundry to help! (All of those "strikes" could replace any of his four attacks. I know it was wrong of me to put them in the Actions area, but hey, until now no-one but me has seen this NPC sheet.)

Zeke and Garo fought Strabo. Claudius joined into this localised fight, springing from his hidden location. This was a tough battle, especially against Strabo whose attacks were debilitating.

"Was that your father who was stupid enough to seek me out on the plains of Skala? He thought a general a soft target. Even decades on I will show you just as I showed him, I can carry myself in a fight."

In the end, Ezekial managed to strike a killing blow on Claudius, knocking him out a second-story window in the process, avenging Alexandros' death. Strabo was struck down by Garo; there were thoughts to heal him but Katarina pleaded that he be allowed to die.

What officers remained in Strabo's army did not have the dedication to carry on this fight without their leader, and stood down.

The heroes had saved Port Cissylvania. Strabo's attack only cemented his nature as a villain that the court case already had exposed. The heroes were lauded, and would have a monument built to them in the town square.

Four bas reliefs are carved, each into a face of a square fountain-base in the town's main street. The designs are artful, and depict a scene's events more than any sort of realistic perspective or proportions. The work is richly detailed and features a consistent and clear style. The first image depicts the interior of the Temple of Minerva when it was used to hold Magnus Strabo's trial. Central to the scene are Trystan and Strabo. Trystan extends a hand with pointed index finger, while Strabo glowers back, resting his hand on the pommel of his sword. Around each main figure are their supporting posse, and the artist has included Ezekial, Garo, Flutter, Vincent Pearson, Katarina Strabo, and Aemilius Lepidus. A concerned judge and crowd fill out the image. The second image depicts a crowded town street. On the image's left, Second Legion soldiers clash with Evocati and Limitanei. Ezekial and Flutter support the defenders by blasting Second Legion soldiers with magic. On the image's right, an opulent tower is shown, and Trystan guides fleeing civilians inside. Garo helps carried an injured civilian toward the tower. The third image contains an image of a boat suspended above the water. Sailors fall from the boat. The artist has drawn the tilting boat firing a flaming catapult projectile to the right of the image, where Ezekial Zarken is shown blasting it with magic. To the image's left, Flutter raises his feathered arms toward the levitating boat. The final image depicts the Aedile's chambers within Fort CS. In the centre, Ezekial duels with Magnus Strabo. Garo stands behind Ezekial, glowing with holy light, weapon raised. Katarina stands mirroring this position, posture and illumination behind her father. On the image's right, Trystan whips Aemilius Lepidus, who raises a shield in defence. On the image's left, Flutter holds a Second Legion centurion and several soldiers at away from the slumped form of Aedile Daetris Meliscient with blasts of magic. Hidden away in the corner, under one of the chamber's thrones, is a pistol shrimp.

Fisherman's Festival

The upcoming Fisherman's Festival in Port CS was given extra importance this year as the town celebrated not being destroyed by Strabo. The heroes, of course, were the main celebrities.

There were some pieces to pick up before the heroes could celebrate...

The heroes would examine Cladius' body. He had a curious hidden magical tattoo, and other strange magics about him.

Alexandros, whose body had been recovered prior, was restored to life by Garo's holy magic.

Ezekial's dreams now included Claudius Ensis battling with his ancestors. Zeke theorised that the soul of Claudius was also "inside" the sword now, fitting with its behaviours in the past. This was troubling.

Cassia, who had been held in a cell due to her Tetrarchy links, had been tormented by Claudius after Strabo's forces had taken the keep. In an effort to extract information, Claudius had tortured and killed the faerie dragon Corona. Cassia left Sunflare with Flutter (becoming his familiar), and she and Alexandros took the dragonborn children and ventured by boat to catch up with Surkiv.

Strabo's funeral pyre.

Strabo's funeral was held, and many made the trip to be present, including those harmed by him such as the now-Queen Bellicent. The queen's torc had helped her hold her people together against Strabo's invasion and the aftermath of the war. Katarina spoke as his body was cremated, mentioning his impressive military career, his patriotism, but also his darker side: in battling monsters, he became as relentless as one.

This chapter comes to a close with the heroes enjoying the festival games and dancing. Ziffy (first seen Act 7) arrived from the Feywild to spend some time with Zeke. We see Flutter and Garo slowly turning around the dance floor, with the short kenku standing on the crusader's armoured boots.

The Battle Atop Arcadion's Ladder

I'll squeeze one last thing in that happened during the wrap-up period. The heroes used legend lore to learn more about Ezekial's sword Asurath.

The heroes saw an epic battle from times long past. Mortals had risen up against the fiendish tyrant Arcadion; an alliance of tieflings, elves, Cuthbertine crusaders, and others. A band of mighty heroes ascended a mountain-side staircase to battle Arcadion at the peak as a battle raged below.

(The players took the roles of these level 20 heroes. They were given pre-made characters, but could pick prepared spells as they battled. They also had secret orders, which would come into play later.)

The mighty heroes were led by the tiefling Ezekial Charillos. With him was a winter eladrin called Zephyra, a previous student of Lady Xilo with powers similar to Cyrus (first seen Act 1); a Cuthbertine crusader who looked a lot like Burt Cobb; and a druid whose name has been lost to time.

At the start of this scene, the heroes witnessed the sword Asurath being gifted to Ezekial by the drow blacksmith Celle Brimbor. The necromancer Cazna (first seen Act 5) was present an ally: her undead army kept the fiend reinforcements off the heroes' back so they could confront Arcadion without distraction.

It's at that moment that a drow pushes through Cazna's little army. She rushes up to Ezekial, a sheathed sword in hand. "I got here… in time…" she puffs. "It's here. It's ready. Asurath." She presents it to Ezekial. "A blade forged from three sources. Carburised ironwood from the Outrunner's oldest grove, near-impervious but still growing. The zinc-heavy metal of their own soul-snaring blades, to keep them from rebirth. And wrought iron from the Shadowfell, to render those trapped within despondent and calm. You must land the killing blow on Arcadion with this."

Arcadion summons a barrier, thinking he has trapped Ezekial. But the plucky tiefling replies "I'm not trapped in here with you. You're trapped in here with me!"

Eventually the heroes defeat Arcadion, and seal him within the sword Asurath.

But then those secret orders kick in. Arnus demands Ezekial hand over Asurath, claiming it is too dangerous and must be cleansed by holy magic. Zephyra, seeking to disrupt Asurath, plays the role of "referee" to this argument and tricks the pair into taking the sword, shattering it to pieces with her chaotic magic. Arnus scrambles to pick up two of the pieces before magically teleporting away. (This became in-game history, and will come into play in later acts!)

[combatfaerie]

Ficlet: From Scare to Care

Story: From Scare to Care Word count: 1,204 Relationship(s): Liv/Rhea; Damian & Rhea Prompt: "It hurt when I saw you with [name]" Also available at:AO3 and Wattpad and dreamwidth Summary: Liv wonders what she's done to upset Rhea.

"Okay. I give up." Liv dropped her bags to the hotel room floor so suddenly that Rhea almost tripped over them. "What's wrong? If I did something wrong, tell me."

Rhea sidestepped Liv's bag and headed to the balcony window, opening the curtains and staring out at the ocean view. She should have been enjoying herself—there was a beach on their doorstep and since WWE had rented the entire private resort, they didn't have to worry about kayfabe or fans snapping pictures. But the tension in her shoulders wouldn't go away and, as petty as she knew it was, she couldn't shake her annoyance. "It hurt when I saw you with Raquel."

"With… Raquel?" Liv shook her head in confusion. "What do you mean? We're tag team partners now. Of course we're going to spend time together. She was just asking me about a theme for our next set of gear." She went over to Rhea and hugged her from behind. "We're just friends."

"Just friends," Rhea echoed. "That's what <i>we</i> used to tell people too, remember?"

Liv squeezed a bit harder until Rhea grumbled. "You're the one who decided to join the local goth gang, not me. Being in a tag team at least gets me match time. And Raquel's dating Braun. You know that. Besides, she's not my type anyway."

Rhea turned around as much as she could manage in the circle of Liv's arms. "And did you always know I was your type?"

"Yes." Liv went up on tiptoe and kissed her. "Because you scared me."

It made Rhea laugh, at least, and she caved a bit, wrapping her arms around Liv. "I scared you?"

"Yeah. I mean, in a good way. Mostly." Liv ran her hands up and down Rhea's back as she gazed up at her. "I mean, you're just so… together. You're so young—"

"I'm only three years younger than you," Rhea interjected. "You're hardly an old hag."

"Listen, would you?" Liv pouted until Rhea rolled her eyes and nodded. "You're so young and you've already accomplished so much, but more than that, you always had this... confidence. You carried yourself like a champion. When I was in Riott Squad, I was always sort of the extra. Ruby was the leader and Sarah was the strength and I was the third, basically. Inside the ring, outside the ring, I didn't know who I was. But you—it feels like you've always known exactly who you are."

"Nah. I haven't. It was more a fake it til you make it deal." Then Rhea stopped. "Wait. You said I scared you. Past tense. I don't anymore?"

Liv started walking backwards, pulling Rhea to the bed. "I was getting there. Honestly." She kissed Rhea again and reached for the zipper on her jeans. "If you just want to fuck, though, we can do that instead...."

Rhea almost never turned down the chance to have sex with Liv, but now her curiosity was piqued. "Okay, okay. I'll behave. Shutting up now."

"Good. Then sit." Liv gestured to the headboard and watched as Rhea took off her shoes and crawled up to the top of the bed. Then she kicked off her sandals and straddled Rhea's lap, hooking a pinkie finger through Rhea's left lobe plug. "As I was saying—it was obvious that you were going to be a star. It made me feel like I was missing something. I've always loved wrestling, but no one ever said to me, You're going to be the one who makes it, kid. It's... it's not about competition or taking someone's spot, but you were such a great fit already. It made me feel like I missed a step or I wasn't cut out for this or something like that."

Rhea pressed her lips together so she wouldn't interrupt, but Liv gave her a small nod of assent. "So what changed?" she asked softly.

"I watched you—not like that!" Liv laughed, sliding her finger free of Rhea's tunnel piercing so she could swat her shoulder. "In the gym, in the locker room, in the ring. I saw how much work you put in. I saw you talking to everyone from Shawn to Damian to Beth. You were always moving, always learning. Yes, you were absolutely a star—but you made yourself shine. No one was handing you victories and opportunities. It helped remind me that even though there's only so much I can do, I can always put in the work. I can be the one who comes in early and helps out and stays late and talks to everyone who will listen. Once I started doing more, I started getting more in return."

When she thought Liv was done, Rhea cleared her throat. "Everyone's path is different. Everyone's timeline is different. We're both here, right?" She ran her hands up Liv's thighs, stopping just under the hem of her cut-off shorts. "Don't forget, it was different for me from the start. Coming from Australia, it's that much harder to get noticed anywhere. I knew I was going to have to work hard and I just kept... working hard. Now it's habit. I want to make sure everyone knows I've earned it and I continue to earn it every fucking day."

"I know," Liv said softly, kissing her with equal tenderness. "That's why I'm so proud of you. And in awe of you. And yes, I'm still a little bit scared of you, because if you've done all this before you're thirty... I mean, what's next?"

"We've been together for months now," Rhea said, sounding slightly baffled. "How can I still scare you?"

"In different ways." Liv traced Rhea's jawline with her fingertips. "Because you're so amazing and I'm worried I can't keep up. Because I fell for you faster than I've fallen for anyone before. Because you make me feel... braver, I guess, and then I'll do things I never dreamed of and then I'll be shocked. Because I never really knew what I wanted and now that I do, I'm afraid of losing it or screwing it up."

"I'm not going anywhere," Rhea murmured. "A rather cute girl is making sure of that." After pulling Liv closer for a kiss, she sighed. "So does that mean you're not scared of Raquel?"

Liv shook her head. "I mean, she's scary tall, so there's that. But she's... I don't know. More like a sister. When I look at her, I don't feel all... fluttery, like my heart's about to launch into orbit."

"Sweet talker," Rhea laughed. "Well, if I don't have anything to worry about from Raquel—"

"From anyone," Liv interjected. When Rhea looked surprised at the interruption, she stuck out her tongue. "You kept stopping me. It's fair game."

"Yeah, yeah. Well, then, if we're all good...?" Rhea looked up at her expectantly.

Liv nodded, wrapping her arms around Rhea's shoulders. "All good," she confirmed.

"Then I believe you mentioned something earlier about fucking." Rhea drew her legs up and wrestled Liv to the mattress. "Unless that scares you too? You do scream a lot...."

"Make me," Liv grinned, wrapping her legs around Rhea's waist.

"I was planning on it."