#not aimed at any elves in particular

[xenusion]

this man to any official/higher up he's had the displeasure of interacting with

[vixstarria]

Bloodbang Chronicles - Chapter 13 - Tiriel the Barbarian

Chapter summary: Can Astarion handle not one but two drunk red-headed half-crazed half-elves?! Also, a cautionary tale of drinking and exhausting all of one's spell slots.

Chapter word count: 5.3k

Chapter CW: drunk and disorderly behaviour, gore

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Series summary:

Five years have passed since the confrontation with the Netherbrain. Astarion and his warlock lover, Asmodea, are living it up in Baldur’s Gate, running a cabaret. Their life of decadence and debauchery seems idyllic, until Asmodea’s patron disrupts it with a proposal. One that seems too good to be true. One they cannot refuse.

Pairing: Astarion x Original Female Character

Genre: Humor / adventure / smut

Rating: Explicit

“Hold it firmly, with both hands. No, not there, hold it near the end. …There, that’s better. Good. Now brace yourself, bring one leg forward and align it with where you want it to go. Goood… Now lift it over your head… No, what are you doing? Don’t flick your wrists, limp wrists will get you nowhere. Yep, like that. Now show me how you’re going to do it, without releasing. Nonono, aim straight ahead, not above your head… Yes, good job. And don’t worry about rotating it. There we go… Again. One more time. Perfect. Perfect technique. You’re doing so well. One more time, and you can let go. …Now release!”

The axe flew out of Asmodea’s hands, spinning recklessly towards a tree trunk. It successfully met its mark, firmly lodging itself in the bark, though, miraculously, it penetrated the tree with a corner of its handle, rather than the blade of the axe head.

Tiriel cocked her head and released a low whistle at the sight.

“So… What you just did is actually really impressive. …But I know you did it by accident, so you still lost. Drink up!”

Astarion observed the absurd scene from the opposite edge of their campsite’s clearing. There was something similar about the two half-elven women, though he couldn’t quite pin-point it down to any particular feature. Curious about their level of vigilance in their obvious inebriation, he deliberately stepped on a twig, making it snap. Both women spun, wild-eyed, in his direction - Tiriel lifting her own throwing axe, and Asmodea raising her hands, ready to hurl magic at any intruders - both alert and ready for violence, though decidedly unsteady on their feet. Ah… There it is, he thought. The spark of madness…

“You’re back!” Tiriel exclaimed. “Good. Assie here keeps trying to convince me she’d make an excellent berserker.” Astarion held his breath, waiting for an eldritch blast to befall the hapless woman for butchering Asmodea’s name, but it never followed - instead, Asmodea only grinned at him proudly. “You can take over making sure she doesn’t accidentally hurt herself, I’ve got some business to take care of.”

With that, Tiriel headed out beyond the clearing, past the tree they had been using for target practice. Having made it a few steps out, she paused, threw a wary glance at Asmodea and the axe she had retrieved from the tree trunk, and walked in the opposite direction instead.

Astarion only chuckled and sat down on a log near the fire. Within seconds of sitting down, he found Asmodea on his lap, impish smile on her lips.

Her breath smelled of a weird combination of mint and ale from the peculiar halfling brew she and Tiriel had been drinking. He knew she had enough alcohol in her blood for it to affect him. It was… tempting. Very much so. Especially now, when he desperately wanted to get his mind off the encounter he had earlier in the night. His mind had been spinning and spiraling out of control the entire way back to camp from the abandoned shack.

His lips caught hers in an eager and needy kiss, grappling for any peace that she might give him, seeking to lose himself in it, even if only temporarily.

“You and Tiriel seem to be getting along like a house on fire,” he murmured in her ear, gathering her closer against himself.

His lips traced down her jawline and to her neck, until he grazed it with his fangs in silent question.

Asmodea squirmed in his lap and leaned away, holding a finger against his lips.

“Better not,” she said. “Don’t want things to get out of hand while we’ve got company.”

“Oh?” Astarion said, genuinely surprised. “I was sure you were going to suggest we invite our new friend over to our tent to play.”

“She’s not interested in me,” Asmodea said with a solemn smile.

“How do you know?”

“I can tell,” she said, simply. She then tilted her head at Astarion for a moment, before gasping and giggling. “You’re disappointed!”

“Disappointed?!” he sputtered in mock dismay. “Darling, I’m relieved, dealing with two red-headed half-elves might just be the final death of me.”

Asmodea laughed and slid off his lap, also staggering off into the bushes just as Tiriel returned.

Tiriel didn’t say anything, but rather sat down to dig around her bag, appearing to look for gods only knew what, whilst throwing increasingly long and thoughtful glances at Astarion from beneath her brow.

“You’re staring,” he said, finally. “Rather intensely, in fact. What is it?”

“I can’t shake off the feeling that I know you from somewhere,” Tiriel said, frowning.

“Have you visited any alehouses in Baldur’s Gate over the past 200 years?” Astarion asked, offhandedly. It may well have been that they’d crossed each other’s paths at some point, though clearly they hadn’t gotten to know each other too closely, else she would be somewhere in the Underdark, likely plotting his demise, and not out in a forest, teaching his wife how to hurl projectile weapons.

“I have, but that’s not what I mean… I feel like I know you, but not from Baldur’s Gate or anywhere here, but…” she paused, trying to find the right words. “It’s as though I knew you in another life, or… on another plane of existence,” Tiriel tried to explain.

Astarion barked a sudden laugh, catching Tiriel off guard.

“Another one!” he said, as though to himself. “You know, you’re not the first person to tell me that,” he said to Tiriel.

“No?” she blinked.

“No, I’ve heard that from several people. Why, even our bouncer, Ban, said the very same thing almost in those exact words,” said Astarion. “Only she thinks she and I were bats in whatever other world she met me in,” he chuckled.

“Do you ever feel like you’ve met these people before too..?” asked Tiriel.

“My memory is full of gaping holes and I try not to dwell on whether I’ve met anyone before, much less the circumstances of the meetings,” Astarion deflected. “But ah…” he paused before continuing, “I would appreciate if you didn’t mention this to Oddie. She’s not too fond of these doppelganger sighting. Stopped thinking it was funny after the first three, in fact. Wouldn’t want her to hold me accountable for whatever trouble all my alter egos are getting up to on all these alternative planes,” he said with a toothy grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Tiriel nodded, just as Asmodea crashed back onto the clearing through the bushes.

“So d’you see anything interesting while you were prowling around?” she asked, plopping down onto а log.

Astarion hesitated before answering.

“As a matter of fact, I met the vampire the Hornhollow residents were so concerned about,” he said.

“You WHAT?!” Tiriel exclaimed, getting back up on her feet. “Well, where is it?!”

“And weren’t there s’pposed to be two?” added Asmodea.

“There was only one, I told you the villagers were exaggerating,” Astarion lied. “And how in the hells should I know,” he shrugged at Tiriel. “I told him to scram and he left. He won’t be bothering the villagers and their dogs any more.”

“FUCK!” Tiriel’s shout just about shook the trees around the clearing. “I don’t give a damn if he bothers them or not - no proof of kill means no pay, and I needed that bounty money!”

Astarion bristled at her tone, but before he could say anything, Asmodea cut in.

“Now wait a minute, Tir. You can’t just… go around killing people only because they stole a chicken and scared someone.”

“It’s a vampire!” Tiriel said, as though stating the obvious to someone ignorant, and as though Astarion wasn’t sitting with his fangs bared just a few paces from her. “And I need new boots.”

“Vampires are people like you and I. They just have… unfortunate dietary restrictions,” Asmodea slurred, parroting words she’d heard said by Katrina about vampires. Alas, the diplomatic turn of phrase did not deter Tiriel’s rage.

“It committed a crime, and had a bounty on its head. A bounty is a bounty. And you,” she said, gesturing at Astarion, “made me miss out on it!”

“Do you honestly think you could have taken him on?” Astarion said, narrowing his eyes. “He’d have charmed you and made you his thrall before you knew what was happening.”

“I nearly had you, didn’t I?” Tiriel retorted with a grim smile.

“Shut up, both of you,” Asmodea cut in, again. “How much was the bounty?”

Tiriel named an amount so paltry, Asmodea and Astarion could barely keep their faces straight on hearing it.

“Why don’t we just give you that sum? For the inconvenience, ale, axe-throwing lessons and good company?” Asmodea suggested.

“Do I look like a whore to you, taking payment for my company?!” Tiriel exploded again, choosing to disregard a good portion of what Asmodea had just said. Astarion belatedly remembered that the tribes of the Sunset Mountains, from which Tiriel had told them she hailed, had prickly and complex notions when it came to matters of honour.

“So you won’t take our money, the vampire the villagers wanted dead is gone, and you can’t kill this one in his stead,” Asmodea said, gesturing at Astarion. “What do you suggest?”

Tiriel hmphed, her lips drawn into a tight line, and looked away, arms crossed, considering something.

“The villagers have another bounty up,” she said, finally, looking back at Asmodea and Astarion. “On gnolls. They say there’s a pack of them that’s been roaming the forest.” Astarion rolled his eyes and groaned, but Asmodea perked up, excitedly. “I heard their yowling out there, deeper in the woods,” Tiriel said, gesturing. “They’re easy prey, but there’s too many of them for me to take on by myself. Help me, and we’ll be even.”

“We’ll do it!” Asmodea said, jumping back up on her feet.

“Darling…” Astarion began.

“Great! They’re not far, if we set out now, we’ll be finished well before sunrise.”

“Let’s go!”

“Darling,” Astarion repeated.

“What?!” Asmodea snapped.

“Darling, you’re drunk,” he said, pointedly. “Both of you are, in fact.”

“Yes, I fight best after a few ales,” Tiriel said, once again giving him a look like she was explaining something obvious to a child.

“Do you think I can’t handle a few gnolls?!” Asmodea said, projecting defiance and indignation with her very stance, her fists planted on her hips. The gesture was somewhat ruined by a loud hickup that escaped her throat.

“Come on,” Tiriel picked up her greataxe and beckoned Asmodea to follow her. The warlock happily obliged, first taking another hasty but deep swig of the brew they’d been drinking, and grabbing one of Astarion’s harnesses containing a multitude of bladed weapons.

And just like that, Astarion found himself silently cursing and trailing behind the two women as they headed deeper into the woods. Bloodying his daggers wasn’t the worst alternative to what he initially had in mind when he returned to the clearing, he reluctantly admitted to himself.

“Who’s a good little creature? Who’s the goodest, good widdle critter?? Yes, you! Who wants to go kill some beasties??? You wanna go kill, yeah??! You wanna spill some blood??? Yes you do!!!” Asmodea cooed and lilted enthusiastically, stomping and crushing through the forest. She had gotten ahead of Tiriel and Astarion in her eagerness for bloodshed.

“Who is she talking to..?” Tiriel asked Astarion, cautiously, keeping her voice low, as they crept after her.

Astarion released a resigned sigh.  

“She says it’s her patron, but to be honest, sometimes I wonder whether she’s just insane,” he replied.

Abruptly, Asmodea stopped, raising her arm in a halting gesture. 

“They’re close,” she whispered, crouching down and creeping forward quietly.

The sight that unfolded before them would not have made the gnoll god Yeenoghu proud.

A ragtag group of a dozen or so gnolls - most of them on the scrawnier side, presumably all strays chased off from other packs, who had banded together - surrounded a central bonfire, barking and snarling at one another in something that sounded like rudimentary Low Common. Crude weapons lay scattered around the makeshift camp. Several hyenas lay gnawing on bones of unknown origin. They had not detected anyone’s presence yet, perhaps being unable to smell or hear anything through their own stench and ruckus.

“How do you want to handle this?” Astarion whispered.

“The pincer maneuver,” Tiriel answered. “I’ll circle round and leap into their midst. They won’t expect it. You two, get to high ground and pick them off with your arrows and spells. I doubt they’ll manage to react fast enough to harm me, but if it looks like I’m in trouble, pick off the ones closest to me. Can I trust the accuracy of your arrows, elf?”

“The answer you seek lies within your very question,” Astarion scoffed.

“…What?” Tiriel looked at him, her face void of understanding.

“…Yes, damnit,” Astarion spat.

“So why not just say that?” Tiriel chided. “Good. Now, just give me a minute.”

Tiriel gripped her greataxe, shutting her eyes. She breathed in, deeply, through her nose, and exhaled. She repeated this over and over again, each time the breaths growing more ragged, until she began to hum on her exhales. Astarion had seen Karlach do something similar when working herself up into a berserker rage.

Tiriel’s eyes shot open. Though they were beginning to glaze over with an animalistic fury, she wasn’t quite fully gone yet, and she began to creep around the gnoll camp, continuing her breathing regiment.

Something about the primal simplicity of it, as well as her casual control of the uncontrollable, was terrifying, Astarion had to admit.

“I’ll boost you up a tree,” he said, turning to Asmodea, only to find that she was nowhere to be found. “Oddie..?” He whipped his head around, searching for her, and finally spotted her edging the gnoll camp in a direction opposite to Tiriel’s. “What do you think you’re doing?!” he hissed.

Asmodea held a finger up to her lips and shushed him, grinning entirely too mischievously for his liking.

“Oddie,” Astarion repeated with a warning in his tone. Asmodea only giggled and waved him off, turning towards the gnoll camp. “Oddie, no,” he said firmly.

She paid him no mind, instead getting up and bringing her fingers up to her mouth, to release a shrill whistle.

“Gods fucking damnit, Od!” Astarion cursed, grabbing his bow.

“Heeeeere, puppy!” Asmodea yelled. “C’mere, boy! To heel, you ugly mutt!”

With those words, she snickered and disappeared off into the woods. Several gnolls and a hyena took off after her. Off to Astarion’s side, somewhere across the gnoll camp, Tiriel released a bloodcurdling scream and hurled herself into the encampment, immediately taking out a gnoll with her very first blow. Amidst all the chaos that was breaking loose, Astarion never had a chance to release a single arrow, as he found himself face to face with a snarling gnoll, and reached for his daggers instead.

Asmodea sped through the forest, ululating and leaping over roots and collapsed tree trunks, as the beasts chased after her.

She reached for the throwing stars contained in Astarion’s harness – shuriken, the vendor had called them – as she ran. She doubted she could have caused any real harm if she flung them at her pursuers, but that wasn’t the plan anyway. Instead, she began dropping them on the ground.

“Let me in,” Fuckface whispered, their anticipation palpable.

She did.

She lowered her barriers, allowing her patron deeper into her mind, letting their presence unfold and spread through her.

She felt Fuckface’s psyche blending and merging with her own, the lines between the two blurring. Her mind buzzed and whirled with ghosts of thoughts and notions that couldn’t have been hers. Newfound wonder and joy at the mundane, together with inexplicable streaks of cruelty or indifference which were too unlike her, couldn’t have been her. Surely.

What was ordinarily limited to telepathic conversation and the sharing of her sight expanded into her patron gaining deeper insight into all her senses. She knew the fey could now taste the very air she breathed and feel the pleasant burn of her muscles as she raced - all so alien and strange but all the more enticing to them. In turn, she felt more alert. More resilient. More alive. Lighter on her feet. Everything appeared just a little bit sharper, her hearing became just a touch more acute. All her little aches and pains that had been distressing her body melted away into nothingness, replaced with vigour and energy.

And, most importantly, her very being brimmed with magic, begging to be used, percolating at her very fingertips.

It was euphoric. Exhilarating.

And so she screamed for joy and ran, letting the fey feel the thrill of the run.

As she ran, she reached with her mind for the hyena that chased after her, searching for the cracks and fissures in its psyche, and slipped inside, effortlessly, and sent the beast running on an alternate path.

Astarion wouldn’t have approved, but what he didn’t know couldn’t bother him.

She allowed one of the gnolls to get so close she could just about feel its hot, rancid breath on the back of her neck, before tittering and misty stepping away in a different direction at the last moment.

The gnolls skidded to a stop, seeming to have lost her for the moment.

“Here boy,” she yelled at them. “Fetch!” With that, she hurled a firebolt in their direction, badly singing one of them. And the chase was on again.

A new gnoll that must have broken off from the camp, appeared right in front of Asmodea as she ran, but the hyena she had claimed bolted from the undergrowth, sprinting and slamming into it from the opposite side, knocking it over and tearing at its throat. Asmodea paused only long enough to bury her pact-bound dagger into the gnoll's guts while it was distracted by the hyena, and kept moving.

Misty step. Firebolt. Sprint. All the while dropping more throwing stars in new spots, gradually taking the gnolls in a circle. Repeat, until Asmodea or Fuckface, she couldn’t tell which at that point, grew bored.

Finally, just as the gnolls were on her, Asmodea released a bone-chilling howl that had the gnolls stop in their tracks, clutching at their heads, before they stumbled away, fleeing in a desperate attempt to escape something only they could see.

The silver mist enveloped her again, and Asmodea teleported to a different spot, positioning herself atop a small hill at the base of a tree. The approach was root-laden and covered with thick moss.

The gnolls had recovered from their mass panic and were amassing on her once more, more cautiously now.

“Little doglets,” she cooed. “Not even your mothers could bear to look at those muzzles, huh? Banished, exiled from tribe and clan? Unwanted. Useless. Pathetic.” 

One of the gnolls lifted a spear in her direction.

“Puny bitch,” it snarled, its voice guttural, words barely understandable. “Scumfang wear your skull as codpiece."

Asmodea’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. How did Scumfang know the word ‘codpiece’..? Ah well. She wasn’t about to delve deeper into its vocabulary, alas.

With a gesture, Asmodea brought all the throwing stars she had dropped flying towards the group of gnolls. They lodged themselves haphazardly in the gnolls’ flesh, most sinking into haunches and shoulders, only one winding up in a gnoll’s neck. This seemed to anger them more than anything. One gnoll charged forward, but an eldritch blast knocked it back into the others, sending them all sprawling in a snarling, yelping mass.

‘Look at these ugly, stupid beasts...’ she thought. ‘How can anything this base even live..? Vermin. Parasites. Why should this mindless evil deserve life when so much good perishes, for nothing..? They don’t belong here. A blight on this forest. On this very world. A festering boil that must be lanced. I will purge them. Burn them. Cut them to shreds. Let their blood soak and fertilise the soil so that new things will grow. Rend their flesh and turn it to mulch. Feed them to the worms. Tear them. KILL THEM. END THEM.’

Another gesture, and the throwing stars began to spin.

An explosion of blood and gore followed. After the initial burst, the throwing stars left the torn flesh and continued to spin and fly, haphazardly, continuing to lacerate anything that crossed their path. The gnolls howled and tried to crawl out of the onslaught, but it was all happening too fast: flesh, tendons and blood vessels being torn faster than they could react.

Suddenly finding herself lightheaded, Asmodea hunkered down to sit on her heels, watching her modified cloud of daggers do its job at the base of the hill. She was pleased, very much so. She hadn’t had a chance to test the spell with the throwing stars until then. The only downside was that it was all over too soon: Astarion had laced each projectile with poison to boot.

Somewhere within her mind, Fuckface all but danced for joy. Asmodea smiled. It had been so long since they last coalesced this way. There was no reason to wait so long again, no.

After some unsuccessful attempts, she had given up on even trying to explain or describe this connection or its depth to Astarion. He wouldn’t have understood. No, he would have been horrified by it. Disgusted, most likely, given his history... He already often complained about his dislike of having to share her. The jealousy was cute, in a way, if unjustified and undue to begin with. She was never ‘shared’. What she offered him never diminished. Rather, through this connection, she was more than she had ever been before. And she would become yet more.

She was brought out of her musings when she abruptly realised that everything around her had grown silent, aside from all the regular night forest sounds. The gnolls lay dead. The cloud of daggers had exhausted itself, the projectiles all having dropped into the pile of viscera.

Asmodea slid down the hill through the moss, wrinkling her nose at the distasteful mess, and began retrieving the shuriken. Thankfully all had ended up near the top.

Asmodea was considering whether it was worth casting prestidigitation to clean them off, or whether to simply wipe them, when her thoughts were interrupted.

“You’ve done enough for now. Go find your vampling,” Fuckface’s words sounded in her head.

The fey had a point. Prestidigitation would have been wasteful. She already felt like she was close to her limit.

Sounds of battle reached her as she made her way toward the gnoll camp. Could they possibly still have been going..? Suddenly worried, she directed her thoughts as Fuckface.

‘We have to get there, fast.’

‘A final burst,’ the fey acquiesced.

Another series of leaps via misty step, and Asmodea stumbled out onto the clearing, gasping from the rush.

Tiriel and Astarion, but especially Tiriel, were covered in blood - not their own, from the look of it. Asmodea glimpsed Astarion throwing her a look of concern, which turned to exasperation as soon as he was satisfied that she was unharmed. 

They had finished off most of the gnolls, but one still remained - the largest, most scarred, ugliest gnoll, which couldn’t have been anything but the pack’s chieftain. They circled it, cautiously, but it waved a massive polearm, not letting them get close enough to strike. Didn’t Astarion have a bow..? What happened to that?

“Wait… Just one more…” she pleaded with Fuckface.

“Last one.”

With a low, throaty laugh Asmodea raised her arms, readying a string of eldritch blasts. It had been years since she’d last pulled something like this off, and when she did, it was on a target much smaller, but this was the perfect opportunity to practice. Now if only she angled and timed them just right, making the bursts criss-cross and overlap just so…

Power surged from her hands, as she cast three blasts in a rapid succession. The force with which the blasts collided with the gnoll’s body from different angles tore it into pieces where it stood. The head, which had been ripped off the neck, rolled towards Tiriel’s feet. It was an instant - if an extremely messy - death.

Tiriel swore, recoiling in surprise, before breaking out into a laugh.

Asmodea approached Astarion on unsteady legs, still giggling.

“Rest now, little one,” a whisper sounded in her mind.

Fuckface withdrew, taking its power with them. Exhaustion hit her with the force of a charging rothe. Her knees buckled, and she sagged against Astarion, clutching onto his shoulder. He caught her, looking at her with worry again.

“Ahhh! Now wasn’t that fun?” Asmodea grinned as he scowled.

A limping hyena approached her and Astarion, looking at them questioningly. She and Astarion both turned to look it.

“Shoo!” Asmodea hissed at it, finally breaking the mental connection that she hadn’t realised still lingered. The animal whimpered and bolted, its tail tucked. Astarion frowned but did not say anything.

Meanwhile, Tiriel had picked up the gnoll head by its mane.

“This will be enough for the bounty, it’s huge,” she said. “Is she alright..?” Tiriel added, looking at Asmodea.

“’m fine,” Asmodea slurred, though her vision was beginning to blur. “Just need a little nap.”

“Idiot,” Astarion muttered, lifting her off her feet. “Never do that again, you hear?”

“Hmm? Oh I w-” she never got to finish what she was saying, as she lost consciousness.

She didn’t feel any better once she came to at the camp.

Fuckface had been right when they told her her power waned from disuse. She could do more, much more, before. Her body had grown unaccustomed to the stress. She needed practice to build up a resistance to the exhaustion. In the meantime, she didn’t think she could gather enough magic to lift a feather until she rested properly.

She and Astarion decided to spend another day at their campsite. There was no point trying to move further - the night was almost over.

“Will you stay with us longer?” Asmodea asked Tiriel.

Tiriel shook her head.

“Better not. I’ll head back to Hornhollow - wash all this gnoll off me with a proper bath, then pass out in a proper bed. Besides, I don’t trust the innkeeper not to rummage through the things I left there.”

“I guess this is it, then,” Asmodea said sadly, before perking up again momentarily. “Wait, I’ve got something for you.”

She disappeared inside the tent, to return with something pink, gossamer and trimmed with feathers in her arms.

“…What in the…” Tiriel blinked, looking at the bundle in horror.

“It’s a dressing gown! I want you to have it.”

“You really are out of your mind,” Tiriel said point blank, once she had regained her voice.

“No, no, I know what you’re thinking, but hear me out… Here’s my vision. You’re on a quest. You were tasked with rescuing a captive. A prince! Who’s a vampire. …A handsome, silver-haired one.” Astarion snorted where he sat, cleaning his nails with a dagger. Asmodea ignored him and went on. “His captors are huddled together, scheming how best to torture him, when a fearsome battle cry shakes the very ground they stand on. They look up and cower in fear, for lo and behold - it is you. You are power. You are vengeance. You grip your greataxe and take a stance as your frilly pink robe flutters in the wind! You are death incarnate.”

Tiriel guffawed and accepted the robe with one hand, drawing Asmodea into a hug that nearly cracked her ribs with the other.

“Very well! And you take this throwing axe,” she said, removing the weapon from her belt loop and handing it to Asmodea. “Try to hit your target with the right end, next time.”

“Farewell, Astarion!” she said, still choosing not to get too close to the vampire. “Thank you for not drinking me dry.”

“Thank you for not leaving any stake-sized splinters in me, it would have been most inconvenient,” Astarion said snidely, baring her fangs, but gave Tiriel a cordial nod and wave nonetheless. “Do stop at the Dancing Siren if you’re ever in Baldur’s Gate. I expect we’ll make it back there again… ah… eventually.”

And with that, she was gone.

In the ensuing quiet, Astarion’s thoughts immediately snapped back to the gnomes and all the implications surrounding them. He glanced at Asmodea - she had taken out her travel journal - something he hadn’t seen her written in since their journey back to Baldur’s Gate after the nautiloid crash, and was busy scribbling away in it. He watched her through his lashes.

Eyes the colour of sunlit leaves, locked on her writing. A soothing, lulling heartbeat. Warm hands. Warm skin. Warm blood.

He had already made up his mind, he realised.

He couldn’t even tell her about the freed spawn capabilities. Even if she didn’t immediately demand to join him in undeath, she was already reckless - she would only throw all caution out the window completely, if she thought that he could drag her out of death’s maw should it ever come to that.

No, he had to keep the knowledge to himself. It was safer for everyone that way.

Besides, he didn’t even know how it was done… The gnome must have done something wrong. Or been too weak. Or his spawn must have already lost her mind by the time he turned her. Must have…

Asmodea had finished writing in her journal and set it aside, gazing into the fire instead.

“Finished documenting your heroic battle with the gnoll mongrels already?” asked Astarion.

“The gnolls aren’t worth the ink or paper,” she answered. “But I’ve been thinking… I remember events from five years ago just fine. Ten - it starts to get blurry, but mostly remains intact. Twenty - I have a notion of what went on, but the blanks I must fill in are bigger than the pieces that remain. What will happen in another ten years? Another thirty? More? I can’t fall back on reverie to preserve my memories. Will I even be the same person if I can’t remember who I once was?”

“Is that why you’ve started this again?” Astarion asked, gesturing at the journal. Asmodea nodded. “May I?”

“Sure,” Asmodea shrugged, handing him the journal. “It’s only brief notes.”

Astarion opened the journal at the last page with writing. Having read the passage, he shut the journal and looked up at Asmodea.

“Earth-shatteringly deep,” he said with an unreadable expression.

“I told you, it’s brief. Just breadcrumbs for my mind to find its way back to this day.”

‘Met a feisty barbarian named Tiriel,’ the passage read.‘Hot tempered. Hot headed. Hot. Bonded over ale and exterminating some gnolls. Had to part ways after. Pity. DNF.’

“What does ‘DNF’ stand for?” asked Astarion.

“Oh that. ‘Did not fu-’”

Asmodea’s voice faltered as a man with a drawn bow emerged from behind a tree.

“You have got to be kidding me, twice in one night?!” Astarion sneered. “Are we in some amateur two-copper adventure tale?”

Another joined him. Then another, and another, and more, until they were surrounded.

Astarion threw a glance at Asmodea to gage her reaction, and saw that she had paled, eyes trained on the only man who did not have a drawn weapon. With a subtle, one-handed gesture concealed from everyone else, she slipped off her wedding ring and hid it in her sleeve.

“Well, well!” The man said to Asmodea, jovially. “Fancy seeing you again, after all these years!” He cast a sweeping gaze over their camp and laughed. “And I do believe you still have something that belongs to me!”

~~~~~

Thank you for reading!

Tiriel belongs to my friend @spacebarbarianweird. Thank you for letting me borrow her! ^_^ Read more about Tiriel in her Raging Blood series, and check out her other works!

Find the fic on AO3 as well.

Tags:

@littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tragedybunny @spunky-89

@lariatbunny@whiskeyskin @asterordinary @wingsy-keeper-of-songs @spacebarbarianweird

@brabblesblog @littlejuicebox @icybluepenguin @snowfolly @ayselluna

@mj-bites @bardic-inspo

[reysdriver]

Late At Night | R.L.

Remus comforts you in the middle of the night when being new parents starts getting to you both — remus x fem!reader hurt/comfort

warnings: postpartum depression and exhaustion, mentions of past abuse

words: 0.8k

a/n: this got deleted idk if i did it by accident or tumblr did it but anyways its back now

You are awoken in the middle of the night by the sound of your baby girl, Olive, crying from the nursery across the hall. 

You sleepily look over to the clock on your nightstand displaying the time. 2 o'clock. Of course it is, you thought. Your daughter hasn't slept through a full night once since she was born; a trait you would love to blame on your husband, but knew you were at fault for as well. 

You let out a small, exhausted groan as you sat yourself up to go take care of your daughter. But just as you started to move, you felt your husband's strong, yet gentle hand on your shoulder.

"I'll go, love, don't worry." Remus told you. His voice was rough, and you assumed he woke up at the same time as you did. "Go back to sleep."

"Really?" You asked groggily. 

"Yeah." He said, getting up from the bed wearing an old band t-shirt and a pair of boxers. 

"There's a bottle in the fridge if she's hungry." You reminded him. 

"I know." He said from the doorway. "Now, go back to sleep, love."

He walked out of your bedroom, and you could hear him cooing and speaking softly to your daughter once he got to the nursery. Feeling overwhelmed and a new rush of currently indescribable emotions wash over your mind and body, you started to sob quietly into your knees as you sat up against your bed's headrest. 

After a few minutes, your daughter's crying had stopped, and you could hear Remus' footsteps nearing your room. 

Seeing you sitting up, Remus knew that you were awake and whispered "Okay, Olive is in bed, not sleeping, but at least she stopped crying."

Then, he walked closer and noticed that you were crying now. A wave of concern for the love of his life washed over him, and he walked closer to you. 

"Oh, honey, are you okay? What's wrong?" He asked, crawling into the bed, but hesitant to touch you in your fragile state. "Honey, please tell me what's wrong." He repeated softly. 

"Why does she do this?" You asked, aimed at him, but it was really not to anyone in particular, your voice breaking with every word you spoke. "She sleeps in random, two hour bursts, and it's hardly ever at night. It's just so exhausting."

"I know it is." He said, now holding you in his arms. "I know."

"And it can't be healthy for her either, right?"

"The nice ladies at the infant wing said it was fine, remember that? And they said it'll stop soon." He whispered as he held you tightly against his chest.

You sighed, but didn't say anything in response.

"(y/n), we might need to get a house elf." He added.

The idea of having a house elf was something you discussed before getting married, and then again before Olive was born, and you decided against it both times. You had grown up watching your nasty family mistreating house elves, and knew that having one was something you definitely didn't want, and Remus was alright and accepting of that.

"No, Rem-" You began to protest before your husband cut you off.

"Honey, I know we've talked about this before, but we won't both be able to go back to work if she doesn't sleep at night. We don't really have any other options."

You continued to try and argue, though it was hard with a lump in your throat and a continuous puddle of tears threatening to leave your eyes. "Well, I could quit my job and just stay home and take care of her."

"We can't afford that right now." He said sympathetically. "Plus, you're a healer. People need you at St. Mungo's. I need you there."

You paused, still nuzzled in your husband's chest and trying to think of other options for your family.

"We don't have to treat them the way your family did." He added, seemingly reading your mind. "We'll treat them nicely and everyone will be happy. It'll be a good thing to have an extra pair of hands around the house, and it'll be good for Olivewhen she gets a little older."

You mulled over the proposal for a moment, then mumbled a small 'okay' in response. 

"Okay?" Remus confirmed, turning your body so he could see your face.

"Yeah, okay." You repeated softly, burying your face into his collarbone again.

"Good." He said, pulling the blanket over the two of you. "We can sort things out tomorrow. Goodnight."

"I love you, Remus." You said, kissing his neck softly. 

He kissed your temple and said it back to you. "I love you too." 

[iamawolfstarsimp]

Sup bitches im back

decided to throw out a cute lil unprompted summer fluffy fic for ya'll (cause who doesn't love those)

hope you guys' first week of 2024 has been good!

So yeah enjoy

Summer break was probably Sirius' favorite time of year. Which was funny to him because he remembered a time when he hated summer break.

Hogwarts was the first place that truly felt like home to him, so departing from that place was devastating. Ever since he had separated himself from his family and the god-awful house and spent summer break with James, it had been amazing.

He could go and do whatever he wanted in town, got three delicious meals everyday, and spent all of his time with his best friend.

It just got even better when Remus was allowed to spend summer with them as well. When Sirius first got word that Remus would on fact be spending summer with them, he anxiously waited everyday for any letter from Remus.

After what felt like forever, Mr. Potter was sent a letter and instructed to go and get Remus to bring him to the house safely. Sirius spent the whole morning waiting excitedly (which included looking out the front window every two minutes, bouncing his leg, and immediately jumping up when he heard a noise outside), much to James' amusement.

When Remus did show up, it didn't budge Sirius' newfound excitement to show Remus everything they did for fun at the Potter's. He spent the whole day dragging Remus around town showing him all the shops they went to, the mini quittitch pitch James had in his backyard, all the many rooms in the large house, introducing him to the house elves, and helping him unpack. Remus was tired but enthusiastic.

This particular evening, Sirius and James had pleaded long and hard enough to James' mum that she had let them sleep outside under the stars. Peter had brought two large sleeping bags that they would share, two in each bag and they all camped out, listening to Sirius point out all the different stars and constellations.

"-oh, and, the "star" next to the moon isn't actually a star, it's Venus." He said, folding his arms behind his head after pointing to Venus.

"Wow. How did you learn so much about astronomy?" Remus asked, probably the only on actually paying attention because he could distinctly hear Peter and James quietly giggling from their sleeping bag.

"It's one of the things mum wanted me and Regulus to know a bunch about. Partially because a lot of the black family names have to do with astronomy." Sirius shrugged.

"I think it's cool that you know so much about the stars and stuff." Remus answered quietly, sensing Sirius' embarrassment.

"Heh, thanks." Sirius smiled at him. Remus could faintly see the blush dusting Sirius' cheeks.

"Don't go shy on me now, that's my thing." Remus poked Sirius in the side. Sirius grinned and batted his hand away.

"Oh, what's this?" Remus grinned back, his grin meaning something different than Sirius' though.

"S-stohop!" Sirius giggled when Remus continued his poking, using his other hand as well.

"Be quiet, you're gonna wake up the others." Remus scolded.

"They're already awake!" Sirius kicked out, aiming for Remus' shins. Remus laughed and kicked back, poking anywhere he could reach.

Sirius rolled away but only ended up tangling himself and Remus in the sleeping bag. They both giggled as they rolled across the ground before bumping into James and Peter's bag.

James grunted. "What are you two idiots doing?"

"He's killing me!!" Sirius shouted, grappling with Remus' hands.

"He's fine!" Remus laughed along with Sirius.

Soon enough after hearing Sirius' complaint, James came crawling out of his own sleeping bag to help mess with Sirius.

"Noooo!" Sirius groaned as James crawled into the sleeping bag with the other two, smushing Sirius between Remus and himself.

Sirius was lost in his own mirth as James and Remus tormented him, not being able to cover up or protect himself wasn't helping.

Some time after James had joined them, Peter also crawled inside but mostly kept to himself and laughed at their antics.

"-stop stop stop stop, ple-hehehe-please!" Sirius had given up on trying to fight back and put all his efforts in curling into a ball.

James and Remus backed off, letting him breathe. Sirius immediately unfurled himself and attacked Remus though, digging into the werewolves' ribs. Remus yelped in alarm and burst out laughing, throwing his head back and squirming away from Sirius.

Peter and James laughed as well, joining in on playfully torturing the next victim. After a few minutes of tickling though, Remus managed to crawl out of the sleeping bag and run away from the others.

Sirius immediately hopped up chasing after him, James hot on his trail. Peter stayed where he was, watching the whole scene go down.

Remus (for once in his life) thanked his werewolf abilities which enabled him to see in the dark and run faster than the average teenage boy.

He out-ran the other two boys til they got tired and trudged back to their little camp. Too tired to actually tuck himself in, Remus plopped down on top of the other sleeping bag next to Sirius who was panting.

James was the first to speak. "I hope we spend every summer like this."

"Of course we will." Sirius nudged him. "We're marauders. We'll always stick together, no matter what."

Even though Sirius' mini speech was sappy, Remus quietly hoped that Sirius was right. He couldn't imagine summer any other way.

Hope you liked

[saintsenara]

I've just read your fic Ecclesiastes 3 and:

I love your characterisation of Andromeda. We don't see much of her in the books and she often gets written as a somewhat overly nice and accepting person who merges personalities with Ted (who also doesn't have much screen time in canon, mind you). I love that in your writing Andromeda is not perfect and she's very much Bellatrix and Narcissa's sister. You can see the similarities and the broken bond between the sisters without exclusively putting the blame on any of them.

I desperately need to hear that story of Andromeda watching Rabastan fall head first into a soup tureen. Praying for details.

thank you so much, anon! i'm absolutely thrilled that you enjoyed ecclesiastes three!

i seem to have settled into the belief that rabastan is a bit of a flop - a side effect of having to make rodolphus seem vaguely interesting, i fear - who fucks up from bean to cup.

in this particular case, he was showing off with a quaffle [despite having been told not to throw it inside] as the elves set up for bella and roddy's engagement party.

partially, this was because he wanted to impress the hot daughters of the knights of walpurgis, who had all been invited. partially it was an effort to distract his brother from the fact that lord "steal-your-girl" would be turning up any minute... as bella's plus one.

he was unsuccessful in the first aim - although lucius malfoy was thrilled to help narcissa wipe lobster bisque off her décolletage - but he triumphed in the second, when he tripped over an elf and plunged head first into the soup tureen. laughing at him was the first time he'd even seen rodolphus and his fiancée look even vaguely comfortable in each other's company.

[he did jump to the top of lord voldemort's murder list though... until the dark lord got sloshed on cherry brandy at the afterparty and forgot.]

[thevalleyisjolly]

Concept: The Jackson Hobbit movies, but Tauriel is Legolas’ older sister instead:

It allows her conflict with Thranduil to remain focused on their actual disagreement/differences in perspective rather than getting sidetracked by elitism/classism/fantasy racism (which is also inconsistent with the book dynamics between Thranduil’s family and the Silvan elves, but I digress) or by Legolas’ crush.  They kind of touched on that in the movies, that she’s an ordinary if favoured guard speaking out against her king and that there’s a massive difference in power and station.  But it’s never satisfactorily addressed or resolved because of course, the aim of the movies is not a class critique, so then don’t introduce that particular dynamic at all.  By making her Thranduil’s daughter/heir, it allows them to use the limited screentime they have to focus in on their actual disagreement rather than alluding to some class commentary that never ends up going anywhere.

It removes the love triangle/angle that they really didn’t have enough screentime to develop fully.  Tauriel and Kili can still have a romantic interest in each other, Legolas just becomes the younger brother who is mistrustful of this new “interloper” in the family and who is shocked that his older sibling is breaking convention by showing any interest in a dwarf.

As a subtle tie-in to LOTR, it provides a “canonical” reason for why Legolas was sent to Rivendell on essentially messenger duty and why he was able to join the Fellowship on a months-long quest - he’s not an only child and he’s not his father’s heir, so he’s able to spend that amount of time away from home.

And so what if I think it would be cool to have at least one kingdom in Middle-earth explicitly follow absolute primogeniture.  I just think it would be one neat way of distinguishing the Silvan elves as a sociocultural group rather than just ‘more dangerous, less wise.’

It lends greater weight and consequence to Tauriel’s decisions.  She’s not a single captain going rogue, she’s the king’s heir and every decision she makes carries significant political and social implications.  Aiding the Company, and Thorin’s heirs in particular?  That’s a hell of a stance from the heir to the Woodland crown.  Disobeying Thranduil’s direct orders and pursuing her own course of action?  That’s not just treason, that’s the king’s heir going against the king.

I’m really not a fan of how they adapted Thranduil’s character in the movies, but given the story that we were presented with, it would create another parallel between him and Thorin - their heirs openly defying them because of their decisions as leaders.

More Elven women as leaders.  Look, these movies were never going to be an exploration of class, just let her be an Elvish princess and explore how she approaches decisions as the heir apparent to the crown.

Also, just saying, Tauriel following her own strong personal beliefs rather than listening to the orders of an Elven king who wants to take a more cautious, defensive approach makes for some pretty great parallels with Oropher.  You could even have a flashback scene of the Last Alliance and Oropher leading the Woodland elves into a massacre as a young Thranduil looks on in horror - that way, you get a further parallel with the scene of Thorin watching his father and grandfather charge Azog at Azalnubizar.

Almost all the Elven women in the books are either younger siblings or (functionally) only children.  Someone get Findis some company, it’s time we got more Oldest Daughter representation.

[dragon-swords-prophecies]

Writeblr Re-Intro, 4th Edition

Hi! I'm copper or dragon or whatever else you wanna call me. Minor, he/him preferred but they/them also works. My main is @copper-dragon-in-disguise. I'm queer & neurodivergent.

Asks and messages welcome! I might take a while to respond to them but I like them. I mostly write fantasy, and my current main WIP is a steampunk fantasy murder mystery called Herald At Dawn. I also have a few back burner WIPs, which are all below the cut. (also, these all have taglists, if you're interested i can add you to them!)

Post subject to updates at any time.

My WIPs:

Herald At Dawn (#wip: herald at dawn)

Synopsis: 11 years ago a woman named Marisol Ekker was murdered by the wife of her son's father, Evelyn Belmont. Despite evidence to the contrary, Evelyn Belmont was acquitted, and faced no punishment. Nearly a decade later, investigative reporter Alexandrina McLelland approached Marisol Ekker's son, Nathaniel--who was 12 at the time of her death--, to write an article about the corruption present in the case. Shortly after the article is published a string of murders begins, with no seeming rhyme or reason to connect the victims. But the timing seem suspect, and as the fallout of the articles publishing hits Nathaniel, more and more people keep dying, until the killer targets somebody much closer to home than Alex would've ever guessed.

Herald At Dawn was originally done for NaNo 2023 (I did a half nano, 25k not 50k), and its a steampunk murder mystery with a dash of fantasy. Set in a city called Volimere, it tells the story of the staff of a newspaper called The Clockwork Herald, and their adventures with a murder. The main POV character is Alexandrina McLelland (she/her), an investigative reporter. It's gay as fuck and also the first in what I intend to be a series!

Backburner WIPs:

Some context: The first three are all inspired by dnd characters/campaigns, and are in the same world/universe. The fourth is also in the same universe & dnd inspired, but it doesn't have a specific character attached to it.

Frost & Fire (#wip: frost & fire)

Synoposis: The death of an ancient primordial dragon brings the greatest (if not that well known) adventurers of the last centuries together. Enna Helder-Kromlin, half-Elf thief and contractor for the crown of Halmond, along with her sister, Anne, leader of the thieves guild Oleski. Anastrannia & Redari Galendel, twin half-Frost Dragon, half-Elves, one a shadow ranger and one a shadow sorcerer. They must work together, if not get along, to stop a evil dragon named Dizerdrat from trying to claim the power released by the death for himself, because if he does his could conquer the world—and would.

Frost & Fire is my original WIP, and I need to rework the plot a lot, but I still quite like it. Its about two twin half-elves named Anne (she/they) and Enna (any pronouns) Helder-Kromlin , and their efforts to stop a dragon from using magic (that he got from killing another, different dragon who was as old as time, pretty much) to conquer the world (this one particular continent, but despite the fact that they're spectacularly well traveled for half-elf orphans neither of them have ever actually left the continent, so its the world to them). Along the way they meet Anastrannia (she/they/ze) and Redari (they/he) Galendel, two siblings who have a lot of secrets and know a suspicious amount about dragons. This has a wip intro, though it isn't super current, but I'm linking it anyway.

One of Copper (#wip: one of copper)

Synopsis: The current god of death, Illa, came to power during a war between the gods a thousand years ago. A wizard is now trying to start another one, aiming to kill a god and take their place. Illa does not want to see another celestial war. She has no direct influence on the mortal plane, however, and so she outsources the quest to a ragtag group of heroes, when the original group of heroes sends back a memo saying that they're retired, and she can come down herself and make them go herself if she's so insistent.

One of Copper is about a bard named Kairon (he/they) and his friends, Ash (she/her, 60-something blacksmith), Joshua (he/him, quarter-elf fighter with minor nature magic and a massive crush), and Elas (they/them, elf sorcerer who is mildly (read: Very) cursed) & their adventures. Originally this was gonna be high fantasy, then it was gonna be lighthearted high fantasy, and now its gone in the exact opposite direction into high fantasy except much sadder than the original. Its about Death trying to stop a war between the gods that a wizard is trying to start, because the wizard wants to become one. (the goddess of death is called Illa. she's inspired by the Raven Queen in d&d).

UNNAMED, aka Enna's Prequel (PREV: Angel's Daughters) (#wip: ennas prequel)

By the time they were 19 years old, Enna and Anne Helder-Kromlin had been accused of murder once, imprisoned at least three times, and orphaned twice. By the time they were forty, those numbers would be changed to six, fourteen, and one, respectively. They had only ever actually committed four of the murders they were accused of, as Enna liked to remind people. Unfortunately, they had also been the targets of a blood feud, gotten kidnapped then almost killed by a necromancer, and twice had to go into hiding.

This is the backstory of Anne and Enna. Its set approx. 10-20 years before Frost & Fire, and it shows how they ended up where they are now, and their adventures. This is directly based off the original d&d campaign I played with Enna as my PC, and the main plot elements are a necromancer named Eleanor, a murdered brother, blood feuds (of a sort), and various other things. This is unnamed. It was previously called Angel's Daughters, but that rather spoiled the ending.

Silence and Secondhand Souls (#wip: silence and secondhand souls)

Fate is an interesting thing. Some doubt it even exists. Not me. Not anymore. Souls don’t rest until they’ve told their story, and I’ve got a long way to go yet. My friends are dead and so am I, haunting a narrative I never got a choice in. How exactly did that happen, you ask? Let me start at the beginning. Or the end, rather. I died when I was 21 years old.

Silence and Secondhand Souls is a first person POV story, narrated by Alexandra Rovenowa. She is dead. This is the story of how she died, set seventy years or so before Frost & Fire. It is also the story of how history likes to repeat itself, and how sending kids on quests for the sake of the world is bad, and of a kind Death, despite it all. (This is my most dramatic wip. Its a tragedy, and I really, really like it.) This does not have a current wip intro.

[silliestcowpoke]

[F4A] [Long term Rp] [Pirate/Western/Medieval Fantasy] [Romance]

Hello all, I hope you are doing well!! My name is Em, and I’m on a long term partner search today!! First things first, let me introduce myself with some information about me!

A little about myself:

-I’m 23

-I use she/her pronouns

-I have 8+ years of experience roleplaying

-I’m literate to novella. Sometimes I write book chapters, it really depends on what's going on!! :)

-I adore OOC chatter!! :) I’m a very talkative, friendly person!! Love love to yap.

-I work full time. I may only be able to respond once a day sometimes. Or sometimes I need a break (usually just a day or two). But usually I’m able to reply at least once a day, at most 3+ times.

-I’m a big fan of romance, fantasy, and just doing creative roleplays that we can build off of

-My favorite color is pink!!

What I’m looking for roleplay wise:

Disclaimer: I’m looking for someone to play the male character for these roleplays. I would also like to do romance based plots

Also also, I love love love, gruff characters, that have a hard/tough exterior, but a softer interior. Just in case you have any of those characters for these plots

Pirate

-Your character, a pirate, takes over an enemy ship/ransacks a local territory only to discover that they took a woman prisoner. Your character takes her aboard your ship, she keeps to herself, and doesn’t reveal much. Your character discovers that she is a princess on the run with a fairly large bounty over her head from the king if she is safely returned. Your character tries to return her to her kingdom in order to get the bounty but comes across many challenges along the way, including others who try to capture her to have the bounty instead, and the challenge of letting her go after slowly falling in love with her

what could be added: My character reveals she was on the run in hopes to gather allies in order to prevent a war between her kingdom and neighboring kingdom. She tries to negotiate with your pirate character, and tells him if he gives her safe passage to a couple more places to gain allies, then she will let him take her back to the kingdom, and double the bounty.

-My character, an elven woman, is not from your pirates realm, and is desperately trying to get home. After months of trying different ways to persuade someone to give her safe passage to a far away island that holds the key to open a portal to lead her back home, she finally tricks your pirate character into giving her safe passage. Little does she know, she’s not the only person who accidentally got sent through the portal to this realm. And it wasn’t on accident…

Medieval Fantasy

-Elves were thought to be long gone after the took there final stand alongside the humans in order to rid the world of the dark forces that threatened to take over. No one knows exactly why, they just know they disappeared shortly after the war, never to be seen again. Then one day, an elf ventures out of there kingdom, which has been hidden for long under a magical barrier they put up. She wanders in hopes to find a companion that will help her on her journey to help rid the darkness once more.

Western

-A group of marauders has been going around from town to town burning towns to the ground, and taking everything the people have. Your characters town is nearly next on the list, and he aims to put an end to it all. While seeking for help on his quest to get rid of the band marauders, he receives a letter from a well recommend mercenary for hire, saying that they will help. Days later the mercenary arrives into town, and your character discovers it’s not the mercenary he thought it to be. Rather it is a beautiful young lady from down south. But he soon discovers she’s much more than that, she’s actually all the help his town needs.

Fandom Based

Looking for someone to play Wolverine/Logan Howlett, Doctor Strange/Stephen Strange, or Obi Wan Kenobi !!

-I don’t have a particular plot idea for this one, so I would love to create something we’re both passionate about. Additionally, I’m willing to double up and play another character of your choosing from the MCU for you. Just let me know which character.

Code word for post: All for one, and one for all.

What I’m looking for in a rp partner:

-Must play the male character

-Must be 20+ and up in age

-Must be semi literate, literate, or novella. I’m looking for 3+ paragraphs for response

-Must be friendly. Must be willing to talk ooc in order to talk about plot, characters, ect. Must be willing to continue to talk about these things in order to keep the ball rolling per say

-Must be willing to do romance based plots

With all that being said, if you’ve made it this far. Thank you for reading through my entire post.

If you are interested please send me a well developed introduction of yourself, how many years of experience you have in rp, what the length of your replies are, the code word, which plot you are interested in, and what is your preferred platform to roleplay on. I will not answer your message unless it has these details.

Thank you all, I look forward to hearing from you all soon!! :)

[kitkatt0430]

3, 6, 8, 10, and 11 for the fanfic ask game!

3.) What is the most amount of research you’ve done for the smallest detail? What was the detail and how much time/effort went into researching it?

I've put time into researching the different types of power of attorney for a few different fics, though I put the most time into it for Hello Hadley. I also put quite some time into finding out the requirements for getting a PI's license for Anya only to decide that she was just gonna circumvent the system.

I don't really know how much time I put into those, but definitely several hours of googling stuff and deciding how much of it would actually go into the fic.

6.) What is your favorite type of feedback to receive (favorites/kudos, comments, DMs, complete and utter silence in the pursuit of remaining unperceived?)? If comments or DMs or anything else involving a reader writing, do you have a particular type of feedback that excites you more than other types?

Comments definitely, though kudos are a close second.

I especially love getting comments that mention the commentor's favorite part (or parts) of the fic. Rambling comments because they enjoyed it so much. But honestly, I know how anxiety-inducing it can be to leave a comment sometimes, so I'm excited for any type of comment I receive. I get ridiculously happy for them, even if sometimes it takes me a while to respond.

(That morning kudos email, though... I get one of those and it makes me smile all morning.)

8.) Is there a story idea you have that you would love if it could appear fully realized but that you do not think you’ll ever write yourself?

In high school I started a Tales of Symphonia fanfic where Zelos was much more deeply embedded in the Renegades. I wrote some side stories for it and I'd desperately love to finally write it all out, but... I have not made any progress on it since college. It would have covered from Zelos as a pre-teen, meeting Yuan because he ran away from the Tower of Salvation, hoping the angels would kill him so his sister could be the Chosen. Though her being half-elven and half of the wrong lineage, she's not actually second in line to be Chosen. (He had a very difficult childhood.) He's lucky that the angel who finds him is Yuan, who takes him to the Renegade Base and convinces Zelos that what would help his sister more is to topple the system that destroyed their parents lives.

Zelos goes back to his life of the Chosen, but with a new resolve. As the Chosen of the flourishing world, he's considered for candidacy for the real organization of Cruxis and Yuan makes sure he gets in. So in one part of Zelos' life, he's traveling to Dherris Kharlan regularly to see if he gets his wings and a permanent place in Cruxis, in the other he's sixteen now and politically active, trying to make Tethe'alla a better place for half elves with the support of the elder of the two princesses, who just so happens to also be the person the Church has arranged for Zelos to marry to carry on the Chosen bloodline. They're genuinely in love - something Zelos' parents very much didn't get - but of course tragedy strikes when they're eighteen and the pope has the princess assassinated. The attempt was intended to take out Zelos too, but... it fails. His best friend from Cruxis makes sure Zelos doesn't do anything stupid and winds up recruited into the Renegades as a result.

Zelos doesn't stop trying to help half elves, but takes his support into the shadows, perfecting the public persona he has in the game while teaming up in the background with his sister's aunt who runs a loose organization for helping at risk half elves escape. The problem is, of course, that her being his sister's aunt also means that she's the sister of the woman who murdered Zelos' mother - who was aiming to murder Zelos and missed. They do wind up becoming close friends because she very much disagrees with her sister's choices, but it takes time for them to learn to really trust each other.

By the time Zelos enters the events of the game, he's already neck deep both in overthrowing Cruxis with the Renegades and trying to overthrow the pope more locally so that he no longer has to worry about Seles being used against him if he became more politically active again. Openly politically active, anyway. So he still plays the triple agent he did in canon, but he's a bit at odds with Yuan over the Renegades backing the attempted assassination of the Sylvarantian Chosen - he's the Chosen too, he's not going to be okay with just killing that girl.

Meanwhile it would have filled out the backstory of the Renegades and established a number of OCs to build up the organization's leadership beyond just Yuan and Botta. And done the same for Cruxis, demonstrating that a lot of the angels aren't necessarily bad people. They've led difficult lives and suffered under prejudice so heavily that when offered a way out... it's no wonder they took it, even if it meant in some cases compromising their morals.

It would have gone post canon too, including a reinterpretation of the sequel, but... yeah, I was waaaay too ambitious with this at a time when I did not know my own limits as a writer.

10.) If you could banish a single trope to live at the bottom of the ocean, never to be seen again by any human eyes (or at least your own), which trope would that be?

Hanahaki disease. While I've seen a few that aren't awful, it's a massively amatonormative trope and I find it way worse than soulmates in that regard. It has such a feeling of 'blaming the object of desire'... or shaming them into requiting feelings. The whole thing just kinda creeps me out. And not even the versions where there's 'surgery' to cut the feelings out, as it were, make it better. I don't know, it just seems worse? Like this character has to undergo surgery to keep from basically killing yourself with flowers? All because they can't deal with unrequited feelings? I just... flowers are such beautiful things to me, but there's something very ugly and entitled about this trope.

11.) Conversely, if you had to pick a single trope to read for the next seven-and-half years, which trope would that be?

Enemies/rivals to lovers. I really enjoy the dynamic of two people who think they hate each other discovering they actually love everything about one another. I like it better than friends to lovers because so often it kinda treats the friendship like it was never more than a stepping stone to the romance, which just annoys me. Enemies/rivals to lovers though? It's gonna have that belligerent UST I enjoy so much. Hartmon, Coldflash, Coldwest, etc... definitely a lot of fics out there that capitalize on that trope.

[cptponcypants]

A Year of Recovery

I am the 7th overseer (player) of @dorfposting​‘s Dwarf Fortress succession fortress Gerbilgod. Here are the results of my year of running the fortress!

1st of Granite, 156

Gentledwarves, I am uncertain that I have ever before encountered catacombs so large and yet so full. The tombs are nearly all occupied and many slabs memorialize the fallen untombed. This place needs a turn of good fortune, but - alas - it appears that they look to me to deliver it. I will do what I must, but can make no promise to these desperate folk.

Much in the fortress appears to already be in good order. Food is in abundance, the mechanisms of most industries are in place, and standing orders have been given to keep essentials flowing. The issue, however, is a dearth of labor. We already have only a small number of residents, and this problem is exacerbated by many of them being permanent residents tied to particular jobs within the fortress rather than citizens proper.

I will attempt to convince them that it is in their best interest to throw their lot in with the rest of us and join the fortress in earnest. If I succeed then we can begin training them into skilled professionals who will hopefully be of more use in attempting to keep things afloat. More important than that, even, will be the ability to draft them into the militia, which is presently nonexistent.

(I've heard that if you remove the entry under the 'Labor/Locations' menu of permanent residents, they are more likely to become real citizens, so I'm going to give that a shot.)

Also in the interest of establishing a more robust defensive force, I am considering assigning a full-time laborer to steel smelting work. We have sizeable stocks of iron, processed coal, and flux stone, so the only thing preventing us from full-scale steel production is labor and time. If my attempts to convince our residents into citizenship are successful, I may assign one of them this task.

15th Granite, 156

So far, I have not managed to convince any of our residents to engage in real citizenship, but I have not given up hope. They will not join our military but may yet be willing to perform labor.

Furthermore, an elven caravan has appeared. I will see whether they have brought anything worth having and whether we have anything to give in return.

21st of Granite, 156

The elves brought little of worth, but I traded for it anyway in the hopes that someday they may bring something of more use. I also noticed no small number of trade goods crafted of flux stones. Our supply of flux is large but not endless, so I have forbidden the further use of flux stones for crafting purposes.

10th of Slate, 156

I have established a dedicated furnace operator and assigned them to a furnace with orders to produce only pig iron and steel. The weaponsmith will first be tasked with the production of an assortment of steel battleaxes, maces, warhammers, and shields before moving on to armor. The aim is to prepare to fully equip 3 squads, each with 8 axedwarves supplemented by a macedwarf and a hammerdwarf.

The idea is that axes are reasonably effective both against the unarmored, with their limb-loppery, and against the armored, with their large striking surface and good force multiplication. Then, the hammer and macedwarves can further support anti-armor efforts as well as provide more pulping in the event of needing to fight undead.

13th of Slate, 156

Migrants! And many of them! A full twenty two(!) new dwarves have joined our dingy outpost, and all but one are grown adults ready for labor and, of course, militia service. They were all drafted immediately apart from the medical professionals, who were assigned posts in the hospital.

After the draft, we now have two full squads of non-essential dwarves ready to be assigned barracks and rotate through training. Given that the old barracks have been overtaken by butchers workshops, I have designated space for new ones to be hewn from the earth. They will be near down to the magma forges so as to ensure militia dwarves are able to patrol for wandering magma creatures regularly.

24th of Slate, 156

One of the new woodcrafters immediately set about creating a new artifact for the fortress: a walnut wood earring!

I'll be honest, I wasn’t much impressed by the notion of a simple wood earring, but upon closer inspection it looks pretty neat!

It has also occurred to me that in order to accomplish my defense goals I will have to re-open the passage to the magma forges. Closing them was perhaps judicious in the past, but I am hoping now that things have calmed down enough that this won't invite total disaster.

2nd of Felsite, 156

The first Forgotten Beast of my tenure has arrived. I have done my best to identify what gaps my predecessors have left in our defenses that might allow access to the cavern it has appeared in, but I cannot be sure I have identified all possible routes. At the least I have identified one door that I think must be walled off to prevent a flying beast from entering, so I shall assign a dwarf to dedicated construction duty and hope they are swift.

4th of Felsite, 156

It seems my concerns were unwarranted. Even if the beast ever had a path into the fortress, it became immediately distracted by the presence of another of its ilk which quickly slew it upon their meeting. Good riddance, I say, and I hope its killer soon dies from its injuries.

21st Felsite, 156

It has come to my attention that there is the spirit of a bard haunting our dwarves. Despite its fullness and the number of slabs already stood within it, it seems our hall of memory is far from sufficiently memorializing all of our previous fallen. This will have to become a major aspect of my activities, now, as the restless dead are the last thing we need.

Upon closer inspection, this appears to be in part because there are a great many corpses left untombed. I will begin expanding the tomb complex immediately.

11th Hematite, 156

A human caravan. Two of them, in fact! Naturally our overworked Broker is taking some time to get to the depot, but hopefully some useful trade can be accomplished.

Work expanding the tombs is proceeding at pace. There are more than a few ghosts now, however, and we've already had one of our human residents scared to death.

Also, my layout of the barracks for our hopeful 3 militia squads has been completed. All of the rooms are hewn and smoothed and most of the furniture has been designated if not laid out. The only thing missing is to finish producing armor stands and a few weapon racks for the attached armory rooms.

17th Hematite, 156

The were-tortoise mayor was re-elected. I suppose this demonstrates our residents' opinion of local government.

The human merchants had little of use, but some cheeses and exotic meats seemed a reasonable enough excuse to dump a load of tattered clothes onto them. They don't seem to mind anyway.

20th Hematite, 156

The expansion on the tomb complex has been mined, but now it must be filled. The current rate of door and coffin production is insufficient, so our dedicated miners have temporarily been put on stonecarving duty. We needed to give some of these miners a side-job anyway.

8th Malachite, 156

One of our recruits was killed by a giant olm in an area exposed to one of the cavern layers. I think I will start walling these places off so as to prevent any more pointless casualties. We need these people to live until we can train them into soldiers dammit!

14th Malachite, 156

Another seven migrants - this time one of the new arrivals is an expert record keeper, so I have appointed them bookkeeper and assigned them an office. Hopefully this helps take some of the workload of our present manager/broker/chief medical dwarf. These new migrants will fill in the gaps of the latest fallen dwarves in the existing squads and begin to fill the third.

9th Galena, 156

The new barracks is just about complete, with the first set of armor stands being designated for placement in the militia commander's squad's armory. Here it is in all its boulder-filled glory!

Presently the squads are set to train periodically but I may set up a new schedule for them that trains more lightly until we boost the population further.

15th Galena, 156

Oh come on. We were just getting back on our feet here.

Well, Mr. Udil Etesathel, Recruit. Yeah, you with the axe. Have at 'em.

I guess at the least I won't have to quarantine them.

Please just punch alpacas until you bleed to death...

Why did the were-creature have to be the veteran mercenary!

16th Galena, 156 Ok, the were-camel’s bled to death now. I genuinely don't think there are any dwarves that tussled with him and lived so I'm going to hope that nobody got infected and this was a one-time single-shot temporary setback of just under 10 individuals mixed between citizens and residents. All while the monster hunters stood around and did nothing. Typical.

1st Limestone, 156 Given our latest mercenary misadventure, I am inclined to temporarily make our tavern accessible to citizens only so as to discourage dangerous guests from setting us back further. I may well go about carving out a new publicly-accessible tavern near the trade depot that can be locked down in the event of more were-creature guests.

Furthermore, I have a concern that may not warrant immediate action, but has loomed over all my efforts so far this year. Many dwarves, especially those longest-term residents, are generally unhappy - some of them very much so. This is almost certainly due to living in a place piled with corpses and haunted by the restless spirits of those who once inhabited said corpses, but despite our present efforts to alleviate that particular problem, it's slow going. It may be worthwhile in the mean time to provide something new and energizing into the lives of our dwarves. This idea may be foolishness, but given that we have a river, a series of mist generators would not be untenable. I'll blueprint something out but we may have higher concerns.

13th Limestone, 156 Our first full moon since the werecamel attack - only the tortoise mayor transformed! I dare not count on this sort of luck again.

We also received a caravan from a neighboring dwarven civilization. I traded for some thread, quivers, waterskins and the like, uncertain whether our textile industry is functioning properly and knowing that waterskins and quivers will be useful for our militia if we decide to expand it to include crossbows. I sent them back with such a load of tattered clothing as to be the talk of their mountainhomes for the next year. Why they agreed to take it all I still cannot comprehend.

10th Sandstone, 156 Eight more migrants, including a blacksmith. They are not particularly good as of yet, but I think I will start training them up constructing flasks for the militia. Also these new arrivals can fill out the gaps in our squad that was decimated by the werecamel attack and get us back to having two full squads and one 7-strength squad! I do not expect more migrants this year, but if more come in spring, we should be able to finally fill out our militia properly.

25th Sandstone, 156 It came to my attention that steel production has been dramatically delayed by two crucial smelting jobs being stuck in the traditional smelters which have halted production in favor of the magma smelters - this held up the entire process. The blocker has been removed by simply deconstructing them - now for progress and the power of magma alone!

18th Timber, 156 Finally! After much labor to produce slabs, coffins, doors, etc. I've finally managed to get enough residents focusing on furniture hauling duty that they're actually filling out the catacombs and putting ghosts to rest. We've lost a handful of residents and animals to these hauntings, so I can only hope we can continue at pace with this.

25th Moonstone, 156 There is a path to the caverns somewhere. I don't know how, but residents have been getting down there and are being attacked by cavern dwellers! We've lost two to this nonsense already, so I'll have to figure out how to plug up the gap.

Having inspected the fortress layout, I believe the only viable path may be some dangling up/down stairs that hang over the cavern. Perhaps ghosts have haunted citizens causing them to dodge and fall down the gap? Either way, I have designated the bottom of these for removal and shall floor over the gap and re-route the stairs, but will remain vigilant for more pathways.

15th Opal, 156 It appears my hypothesis has been confirmed. Somehow one of the cavefish people seems to have climbed up into these dangling stairs, but was quickly dispatched by the militia. Once the gap can be floored over, we should have security again.

1st Granite, 157 It seems my time is now up. I have endeavored to leave this place better and more secure than I found it, and I hope I do not flatter myself to think that I indeed have. Though I suppose the migrants would have shown up either way so I can't take that much credit.

Nevertheless! The barracks is complete. The militia is equipped with weapons and shields. Armor is soon on its way.

Some of the last gaps into the caverns are designated to be plugged, and a new airlock into the lowest is nearly completed in case a mission to retrieve corpses proves necessary.

(these floor designations are necessary to prevent cavern invaders from climbing the foliage below up into the downwards stairs, which used to be up/down - whoever’s next, make sure they get finished!)

Some new quarters have been carved and designated to be furnished for the furnace operators and smiths in order to keep metallurgy moving swiftly.

Last and certainly not least, the catacombs have been expanded, furnished, and zoned (or at least designated & zoned). This has not altogether stopped our haunting problem, and may well not sufficiently memorialize all of our dead, but these structures and the many unengraved slabs that remain should provide much fodder with which my successor can work to put all of our remaining spirits to rest.

And with that, to my successor, I say good luck! Beware of the were-beasts, and do not trust to the soldiers to defeat them. Now I retire.

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

I've chosen to dorf (or rather gorb) myself as our only goblin resident. Please don't throw them into the magma sea! I've named them 'Smörtukbuse', which is the goblin for 'fancypants' ('poncy' not appearing in the goblin dictionary) but without the diacritics which I couldn't figure out how to type into the text box.

Many thanks to @dorfposting​ setting this succession fortress up! This is the first opportunity I've had to get in on one and it was very enjoyable.

[snowflakesnsundry]

Chapter 63- A Little Poison, A Little Time

I forgot I didnt have work yesterday, so I ended up writing an extra chapter so... enjoy one early!  https://archiveofourown.org/works/33865711/chapters/110732980

You found yourself seated beneath that tree with increasing regularity in the days that followed. There was no immediate response from Loki, and you kept your time occupied practicing what the Allmother had taught you; so in the few moments you had to yourself you felt the need to escape the palace walls as best you could.

Winter was growing more mild by the day, and soon you were sure that the sprouts of new life would begin to emerge any day now. Until then, you sat beneath the mistletoe, watching its evergreen leaves against the gray sky- the pinprick white berries glowing among them.

It took great care to remind yourself of your position. You were not here because the royal family called for you, but because you still remained under their watch. This was meant to be your penance for a crime you felt shouldn’t have been a crime at all- and although you were keen to prove yourself, the opportunities to prove yourself were just that- opportunities. Chances gifted to you by happenstance and the threadbare remnants of fate; and you held to them like they were all you would ever know.

You had already spent some time in the library- given that the archives were off limits without explicit permission- trying to find anything that included mention of the infinity stones, tesseract, or aether. You found nothing of the former, but you did find mentions of the latter- in children's books.

You were told the same stories as any other child of Asgard when you were young- the stories of old kings and queens, of the Valkyrie  and their brave deeds; of the wicked Frost Giants and Dark Elves and their hunger for power. They were not something you remembered word for word, but the spirit of them persisted in every Asgardian who had grown up with such tales. It had only occurred to you to check the childrens books when you found yourself idly toying with the pendant on your mother’s necklace; bringing back memories of said stories, and how differently your mother and father told them.

The information held within was not particularly useful. It said little about the origin of the two items, and even less about where they might be found. They only seemed to have been found worthy of documenting when they were turned against the nine realms, and even then they only lived on in fairytales.

‘Ancient Relics’ the book had called them, and you wondered if those relics and the stones Loki had mentioned were one and the same- things that predated the nine realms themselves, and that might very well outlast them. If they were all of different forms, or contained within different vessels, they would likely be quite hard to identify let alone track down. They seemed as if they would be impossible to obtain, even for something as powerful as the Crown of Asgard.

Would that not prove the same for the Titan?

“You seem quite lost in thought, good Lady.”

The mood immediately soured. The voice of Lord Baldur was unwelcome at the best of times, but you had a particular distaste for encountering him in and around the gardens. He had approached from behind, graciously remaining a few feet away-although you would argue that was not enough.

“There is a great deal to think about these days, my Lord.” You replied, aiming to remain curt lest you become something far less pleasant.

“That surprises me, all things considered.” He stood firm, no sway in his stance as he watched you, hand resting thoughtlessly on the pommel of his blade. His eyes were trained on you with great intensity, seeming to expect you to remember something you clearly did not.

“Would you care to clarify?”

Baldur grinned. “You’ve yet to do as you were told.”

[z-h-i-e]

Get to know me better...

I have been tagged by @sallysavestheday and I aim to please. Or, at least answer the call to answer questions. ^_^

Relationship status: Smaug and I have been together since 1997 - according to the Elves, we've been married since 1998, according to the Race of Men, 2000. We're also besties, so that definitely made all the time spent together during the pandemic pretty nice.

Favorite color: I have a favorite color spectrum that includes purple, green, and gold. It slides around depending on my mood. I will also argue that glitter is one of my favorite colors.

Song stuck in your head: This precise moment? My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark/Fall Out Boy -- I've been listening to it, thinking of Finrod composing songs about the burning of the ships that become popular and this leads into Celegorm and Curufin being pissed at him later that their shoreline deeds become Noldorin pop songs without them getting any credit

Favorite food: I am a big fan of mushrooms - years ago, when I used to do impromptu Discord calls while cooking and imparting fandom and life wisdom, it ended up named 'Mushrooms in my Ramen' because that's the best way to ramen. I also like fruit; I grow several types in my yard. Shrimp, shrimp is amazing. Shrimp on pizza, shrimp and corn chowder, shrimp and grits -- just, shrimps, yes. Also poutine. I love a good poutine. I like making soups and chili the way I want them (basically, no tomatoes - tomatoes are my species enemy, they will try to kill me), so, tomato-less and meatless chili is kind of my jam. My big guilty pleasure is Chicken McNuggets. I know they're basically fried chicken goop, I will still consume them. I don't even need sauce. (But, sauce is good, so it honey with them.) Oh, and raw sweet corn. I don't know why people cook corn. It's so much better raw. (not canned cold, but fresh raw sweet corn)

Last song played: I heard Alone Again Or by The Damned when I drove home. I had only previously heard the original by Love, which I, heh, wow, unintentional pun, love. It's a song on my original Glorfindel/Erestor playlist from twenty years back, when the early shippers were jockeying for position and trying to figure those Rivendell bois out. I should teach myself to play that song. I wonder how it would sound on the balalaika... *pencils that in for a summer project* I already know the lyrics... [So the connection for me with Glorfindel and Erestor on this was the idea of Glorfindel being really friendly with everybody, but the only one he wants is Erestor, so he remains alone and waits for him during the early fourth age when the two of them are the last two remaining inhabitants of Imladris. Even though they aren't together yet, Glorfindel still uses terms of endearment for Erestor - right to his face - nothing hidden. My Erestor is such a asshole. Someday he'll do right by everyone... moving on...]

Dream Trip: I'm at a point where I hate any trip where I can't be home to sleep. Apnea diagnosis did that. So, I guess I'd like VR to catch up to a point where I can really and truly immerse and then go to...Middle-earth, of course I'm going there, or Thundera (obviously pre-explodeyness).

Last thing I Googled: I've been trying to help a friend find apartments in Milwaukee county that are not ridiculously expensive or have weird stipulations or fees attached to them. Certainly been a challenge. But the last last thing was googling Alone Again Or by The Damned so I could listen to it again but also sing along as I was writing this (yeah, that's apparently a creepy thing I do, is singing songs with unrelated lyrics while typing other words or blog posts or fanfic, so that's a thing I have going for me)

I guess that's all for now. Instead of tagging anyone in particular, I suggest that anyone who is interested in sharing please steal these questions and have at it. Or, just go and listen to Alone Again Or. It's a good song.

Love: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cPbNpIG8x_s

The Damned: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nYVDN27CrOo

Only just realizing this now, it's not a bad Finrod pining for Amarië or Edrahil song, either... I'll have to tuck that away for later.

Your mileage may vary - if you do listen to it, I would would be interested knowing who it reminds you of.

[paleyshelie]

There's a bigger game on the horizon in WoW Cataclysm Classic. There are other players.

For example, Blizzard has PvP combat which is executed in a relatively straightforward manner that could transform race conflicts. In particular, WoW Cataclysm Classic 's eight-player races are divided into WoW cataclysm Gold two major grouthe Horde (which includes orcs, trolls, and tauren as well as WoW Cataclysm Classic) and the Alliance (which is comprised of night elves, human beings, Dwarves and Gnomes) and characters of different races are able to engage in battle. In the present, WoW Cataclysm Classic uses the "PvP flag" that will tell you the possibility that your character is able to attack or get attacked by characters. PvP has added a brand new concept called "contested zones"--now every area in the game is three categories: statfriendly, adversarial or contestable. A friendly zone, marked by green text is one where you aren't able to attack as well as be attacked by other players.

A zone of enemy, marked by red text and red text, is part of an opposing race. When you're in enemy territory, you're playing fair game for all members of a race that isn't yours but you aren't able to attack the enemy unless it takes aim at you first. A contested zone is one that is under attack by other players and is vulnerable to attack, based on specific circumstances. (Blizzard has created an "race battle" test server with various rules for contested zones to aid in testing race-versus-race combat.) At present, whenever players from the opposing race start to attack an area you'll get an update on your chat screen that declares that the area is in danger.

The current combat between players works as regular battle against monsters: you are able to use any normal attack as well as magic spells, which work the same way like they do against monsters. But, as with battle between players in other games there is a need to watch out for other issues including very powerful guards of the other race who guard certain regions looking for wandering adversaries. This is why a lot of players have organized groups of attacks on enemy territory in order to eliminate the formidable guards (for an example, the most powerful level of experience that beta players can achieve at the moment is at 45, while some guards are 70 or higher).

Although this is a good thing in keeping areas with a lot of people secured, some areas of wilderness don't have guards and, depending on if you're on the race war server or whether you've just fought in an online battle, could cause traveling on an open roads in zones that are contested risky. Blizzard is currently evaluating what "dangerous" it intends the areas to be for travellers, and the studio is adjusting the actual combat system.

Guards can shield you from the attacks of enemies…somewhat.

As one would imagine from an early-test versions of games which is months away from releasing Battles between players aren't far from being balanced currently. We've witnessed numerous unbalanced encounters that have seen massive group of cheap Cataclysm Classic Gold players banded against one another or even locations where high-level players have slipped into zones where new characters from different races are beginning their journey. Assassins of the highest level (some players may refer to them as high-level sneaks by cleverly removing a few words from "assassins") cannot actually be able to attack lower-level characters until they have their own consent to play initially, we've seen cases that players have engaged in abusive actions, such as killing key trainers and quest-givers leaving lower-level players without a chance until the NPCs who are key to their lives respawn. It's funny, Blizzard has implemented protection against such activities in which crucial NPCs are spawned with high-level guards whenever they come under attack.

[projecteldritch]

Eldara - Meet the characters! (spoilers)

I have been writing since june of 2014 and (hopefully) gotten rather good at it. That being said, most of my writing is in the form of worldbuilding; characters, settings, locations, maps, etc.

Here's a quick rundown of my characters with some more detailed descriptions below the break:

Kody - space mage assassin

Orthus - ancient dragon

William - ranger with a perfect aim

Zeenie - young dragon wanting to prove herself

Ezon - dark strider with a hard shell but a soft heart

Violet - rogue mage with a long life of trauma and alienation

Kody Johnson:

Bio: Cis gay/asexual man, white skin, short, black hair and black eyes, short, compact build

Age at start: 22, working as an assassin for the last 6 of them

Magic: space magic (teleportation, extra-dimensional spaces), telekinesis (weak/latent)

Inspiration: mostly all AC games and an initial self-insert/edgy character whom I've worked to make more realistic since

An assassin by profession, space mage by birth. Born into a high noble family, trained to kill, then disowned when he failed a family rite of passage (which was probably set up for him to fail). He lives in a house he built with Orthus, his dragon companion. It is partially inspired by the TARDIS of all things, being just a door on the outside, but a full-fledged home on the inside. Built with perhaps a bit of megalomaniac zeal, it has way too many rooms for just the two of them, but it serves as a good base of operation for the team once it assembles. He's pragmatic, tactical, but prone to over-straining his magic and ending up exhausted after any given high-intensity event.

Orthus:

Bio: Trans bisexual/biromantic man, dark skin (in human form) and pitch black scales (in dragon form), dark hair & eyes, variable stature & build

Age at start: at least 3000, though he might be significantly older. Has been living with Kody for the last 7 years.

Magic: Shapeshifting (inherent with dragons, but especially versatile in his case), space, fire, earth, shadow, etc.

An ancient dragon with a particular soft spot for humans. Born very long ago in the middle of a war, he hatched in the arms of a young, human girl, and grew up as her companion. He's gotten into a lot of trouble over the millennia and knows a few gods on a personal basis. Respected by Aquilan (northern/wood) elves and has a statue dedicated to him in the capital of a southern union of former Empire colonies. Transitioned after having to really consider his gender after getting pregnant and abandoning his daughter (an egg which comes up eventually in the story). He's calm, collected, a appears pretty stoic at first, but you'll get to know him as someone who cares deeply about everyone around him.

William Wolf:

Bio: Cis straight man, with shoulder-length, blond hair, blue eyes, and white skin, tall, slender

Age at start: 23, 17 of which were spent with the rangers

Magic: undetermined, but he has a low intensity, but long range ability of telekinesis, which is unusual

Inspiration: Aragorn/Legolas

A Ranger Patron (one down from Master) with high chances of making it to Master. Born in a small village of magic users, William always felt a bit of an outsider. His sister, Violet, who's 3 years older than him, was the reason that their parents moved there. From early on, a Ranger Master called Halt was interested in young William, who showed special promise to be a great ranger. When he was 6, their village was razed by empire troops, and he found an unhatched dragon egg under their home, which hatched in his hands. The young dragon is Zeenie, and has been with him since. After the fires died down, he and Zeenie escaped to meet Halt in a nearby town. Halt took them in, and raised William as his son, inducing him into the ranks of rangers.

Zeenie:

Bio: Cis girl (sexuality not addressed), short, thin, light green scales (in lizardfolk/vern form), blue/white scales (in dragon form), white skin and short, blonde hair (in human form, later dyed blue)

Age at Start: 17, hatched when William found her egg, beeing living with him since

Magic: limited shapeshifting, water/ice, air, light, etc.

Hatched from a long-forgotten egg buried under a family home, Zeenie had very little to go on by herself. She's become strongly connected to William, his initial burst of emotion being the thing that triggered her hatching. Through the years, she's been treated as an extension of Will, an accessory to him, and it has been bothering her for a while. Never having seen another dragon in her life before, when Kody mentions he is good friends with one, her mind was made up. Her journey is centered around learning to be a dragon, and above that, her own person.

Ezon Athor:

Bio: Cis bisexual man, medium height, bulky build, slightly hunched over posture, black hair and eyes, tan skin

Age at Start: 40+ (unknown), his past is a bit of a mystery even to him, having forgotten significant portions of it. He ages differently to other humans due to a number of invasive magical experiments performed on him as a child.

Magic: Absorption (he can forcefully drain any source of (regular) magic to bolster his own strength and endurance, accelerating his healing to unnatural levels), preconception (limited)

Inspiration: Bucky Barnes

Born into a small village, he was kidnapped by cultists as a baby because of his connection to one of the Elder gods (Nemun). He was experimented on (basically tortured), and gained a number of strange abilities with it. His perception is slightly skewed through time, making him see a bit into the immediate future, enhancing his reaction speed. His left arm was infected with a magical fungus, which enabled him to absorb all (regular) sorts of magic into him. He eventually escaped and later founded a family, which was then destroyed along with his new home in an attack by a fractured god (Nefest). He's been trying to gain power to defeated the god ever since.

Violet Wolf:

Bio: Cis bisexual woman, medium height, compact build in good condition, red hair, blue eyes, white skin.

Age at Start: 26, escaped the attack that left her and William orphans. She spent a few years on the run, then a few more at a wizard's home as his apprentice. She's been jumping from town to town for the last 10 years.

Magic: Blood magic (a chaotic counterpart to nature magic, the generic healing/life force magic, discriminated against even amongst magic users and subject to a witch hunt a few hundred years back. She can sacrifice life force to open portals into a doomed realm to draw on its chaotic power)

Inspiration: Jean Grey (X-men, Dark Phoenix), Katarina (League of Legends), and eventually Violet (Arcane)

Having escaped the Empire raid on their village, Violet and her friends fled to the same nearby town as William did, but they did not know they had an ally there. One of the girls' parents lived there, so they spent the night there, but were attacked by assassins hired by the Empire (Kody's later estranged father). Only Violet managed to escape, and spent a few years homeless. A wizard took her in, so for a few years, she had a teacher and a home. It all ended bad however when he figured out her magic was blood magic, and she was forced to flee yet again. Thoroughly traumatized and with an unhealthy lack of trust in people, she acquired a daemon (symbiotic dark spirit feeding off of her emotions, acting as a permanent companion and occasional protector), and has been spending her time in random places for as long as people will have her. Meeting her long-thought-dead brother was a bit of a shock for her, and she's got some enemies to take care of.

[tanadrin]

my dragon age: origins hot takes:

bhelen is the obviously correct choice for king of the dwarves. yes, he’s personally obnoxious and has no real claim to the throne. that doesn’t matter; i don’t care of political leaders are good people in their personal lives, and royal legitimacy is something bad kings use to skate by when people question their rule. although he ends up dissolving the assembly, this isn’t actually an antidemocratic move by modern standards: in plenty of premodern societies, noble assemblies existed to ensure a weak monarch who could not provide a countervailing force for the nobility exploiting the underclasses. dwarven society in Ferelden is clearly no exception, and frankly bhelen should have abolished the assembly as soon as he took the throne.

morrigan isn’t just written to be unlikeable, she’s written to be low-key insane. like the writers just inverted how the “good” party members would act in any situation, resulting in someone that is a weird caricature of a selfish person. there’s a version of her that could have worked, where she was the thedasian equivalent of, like, an ayn rand-reading libertarian anorak, but even an ayn rand reading libertarian anorak would agree that it is wrong to butcher slaves using blood magic to gain 1 measly pointy of constitution. it doesn’t even make sense that morrigan as written would give a shit about the blight (and she clearly does).

and don’t @ me about her wanting to use the blight to steal the soul of an old god. that bit of dialogue is so obviously tacked on to make the escape hatch ending work, and it’s not at all consistent with the scene where flemeth actually sends her off with your party. she’s just badly written! and you don’t want to admit it because she’s hot and she’s voiced by Claudia Black!

it bugs me how nobody manages to express to qunari characters the most obvious objection to the qun, which is “look, a totalitarian, highly regimented society, even one nominally organized on strict utilitarian lines, sounds like it would be really stressful for everyone who lived inside it, and given that qunari in general and non-kossith converts to the qun in particular seem to have more or less typical psychology, it sounds like your social-moral-political philosophy, while aiming at greatest good, is actually just a recipe for burnout and misery.”

some of the potential quest outcomes are stupid. you have to work really hard as a writer to make the player choosing any kind of massacre plausible, much less appealing; “but the mages might be secretly evil!” doesn’t work, because we can go on the wiki and check what happens if you don’t let the templar massacre the mages, and oh look, it’s totally fine. don’t get me started on the fact you would have to go out of your way to convince the werewolves to massacre the elves. why is that even an option?!

as it stands, after one playthrough--or nowadays, before you finish your playthrough, if you look at the wiki--a lot of potential choices that for characters hinge on uncertainty just aren’t difficult as a player who wants a happy ending. one solution for this would be to make quest outcomes probabalistic: if the templars had a point--if, say, there’s a 10% chance that things go Horribly Wrong if they don’t do the Rite of Annulment--then you might actually hesitate to dismiss them! same with morrigan’s ritual; if there was only a chance it could work, it might be less tempting! and you could secretly randomize all these outcomes when the game began, to make savescumming them impossible.

i may or may not have romanced Alistair just because i really wanted to be queen at the end

[absynthe--minded]

From Qenyaqesta: the word "qen" in the singular is "fays or pixies or brownies, leprawns,etc." So still no connection with European folklore?

see I know you’re using an early form of Quenya because of the absence of a particular letter in the alphabet; that’s not the later use for quen linguistically.

Also, I’ve at no point said there was no connection to European folklore, you’re moving the goalposts again. What I’ve said, and have been saying, is that Tolkien’s elves are an original creation inspired by multiple things, not an accurate rendition of European folklore, so they don’t have an obligation to any preexisting tradition because they don’t have a single preexisting tradition. On top of that, works of urban fantasy that are much more directly linked to European folklore and depict folkloric figures and creatures more accurately and faithfully have been featuring colorblind and racially diverse casts for decades while maintaining a high degree of faithfulness to the traditions they draw from. this both means that not only is it totally unnecessary to make elves white if you’re aiming at folkloric accuracy, Tolkien’s elves specifically are not innately or particularly anything. they’re an amalgam. they do not have to be white. the fact that this is making you so angry is frankly hilarious to me, because you’re digging through early and later rejected conlang notes in a desperate attempt to prove me wrong.