#not session notes just an item we found in that oneshot where we played the kids grown up

[caemidraws]

...

[flowerwrites06]

diamond trail finale — myg

Plot: The theft of his most elusive and mystery possession leads to a web of trickery that threatens every large syndicate in the country. (alternative: Yoongis’ prized possession is stolen but he’s not the only gang leader being betrayed)

Pairing(s): Mafia Boss!Yoongi x Consigliere!Y/N

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 3k+

Genre: Mafia | Marriage | Mature Themes/Fluff/Smut

Tags & Warnings: criminal activities, mentions of past abuse (outside of the pair), explicit smut (spanking and very brief anal play), mild violence, coarse language, prostitution, slightly more graphic physical violence in this part (it’s brief but beware) 

Authors Note: here's the finale peeps! hope you like how I ended everything off! as usual, let me know what you think of this story and a like/reblog/comment go a long way!

Nectar Oak still had the same atmosphere as it did all those years ago. The smell of allspice flowers and jasmines, plumes of smoke flowing out of the customers’ mouth as their wallets emptied and cheeks glowed from excitement. All the workers held themselves up with the elegance of a geisha despite knowing they’d never be considered to such a standard. You looked up at the height of the building. How much bigger it looked when your mother used to hold your hand walk you around the streets just for some fresh air.

You felt like a ghost eerily wandering the place an old part of you died. You didn’t miss it but you could feel her. The innocence of hoping that you’d never have to work here and the relief of finding a better life. Not the best life. It was still filled with tears and suffering but at least here, she was in power. And she had the people she loved.

Silk red robe draped upon your form, resemblant of a traditional hanbok twisted and ‘modernized’ to create an erotic appeal. Golden vectors curled to accentuate your waist, the band covered your torso to enhance the curve of you breasts and you hair loosely tied by a gold clip encrusted in emeralds. You habitually touched your finger but found it empty, a small twinge of anxiety grew heavy in your chest.

*With a deep reluctant breath, you pulled off your wedding ring, hugging it to your chest before carefully placing it in a jewelry box for safe keeping.

When Yoongi saw you, a cold wave washed over him. Like the cruel turns of time twisted back to those days where he felt the walls closing in on him. Preventing him from holding onto his parents’ legacy for his mother and building his own family. His heart already dropped into the pit but he still noticed the ache. “Let’s get this over with.” He muttered under his breath.*

The owner of Nectar Oak became one of your connections. A solid reminder that things were not as it used to be. You talked to him like you were his equal rather than a worker. He also had enough brains to know he wasn’t talking to a random worker anymore. He was speaking to someone who could break his business in a blink. The thought of it caused sweat to drop on the sides of his temple.

“You know how to promote me, Jung,” you spoke as you two sat in his office. “Just do what you do best and your building will stay safe and funded.” A smile tugged at your lips, sadness gripping your gaze but you knew well to hide it from the likes of his kind.

Yoongi secluded himself in one of the courtesan rooms. He sat on the velvet couch, shirt sleeves rolled up and a cigarette between his fingers, burning eyes fixated on the cameras set up inside Nectar Oak. Particularly targeting you and Jungkook.

The man-child arrived in a half hour. Exactly on time. Black dress shirt and his cheeks sucking in an almost burnt out cigarette, dark hair messy and damp with the look of someone who was given everything he wanted. He blew the plume of smoke as he eyed the courtesans dressed in coloured silk.

Jung, the plump owner of the courtesan house pranced over to Jungkook with a jovial smile. “Welcome, sir!”

“Jung.” Jungkook grinned, leaning against the emerald marble counter. “What’ve you got for me?”

“Only the finest, Master Jeon.” Jung chortled, grabbing the hardcover book designed in teal and gold vectors. Inside were different pictures and descriptions of all the patrons that lived in the current courtesan house. “We have your favourite selections of curvy and petite as you well know. There’s also the special treatments if you require a little more spice.”

Jungkook scanned the book with an air of a teenager seeing a picture of a naked woman for the first time. Hungry eyes finally stopped and stared at one picture. “Who is she?”

“Uh—oh, she’s not quite available yet, sir.”

Hunger turned to determination. “Why not?”

“Well—see her prices—she’s one of our most risky patrons.”

“You’re saying I can’t afford her?”

“No, no no no!” Jung chuckled nervously without hitch of losing his act. “It’s just—only a select amount of customers have actually been able to have a session with her. She has her own ground rules, you see and some extremely challenging—eh—punishments if those rules are abided by. Experienced employee benefits.”

Yoongi had to hand it to him for his marketing skills. Anyone like Jungkook would love a challenge if someone thought they couldn’t do it.

“I’ll take her,” Jungkook said. “Whatever the price.”

“Oh, sir—”

“I don’t like waiting, Jung. Let’s not taint this friendship we have, hm?” Jungkook narrowed his gaze.

Jung let out a shaky breath and nodded. “Of course, sir. I will call her down.” He pressed on one of the buttons at his desk.

Yoongi heard the buzz from the vanity table where you sat.

You stood up from the chair, walking out of the room without sharing a glance at Yoongi so you could steel yourself. The time for softness wasn’t now.

Walking down the wooden stairs, even the echoes of your shoes were too familiar. Time rewound, bringing you right back where you started. No. You mentally shook your head and raised your chin. Your presence lit up the room, silencing the younger members and alerting the other customers. The silk train left behind exuded an air of magic, like wildflowers growing at your every step.

All the illusion of a trained courtesan in this country.

Jungkook stared at you, hunger burning in his eyes as he stamped the cigarette on the silver ashtray lain on the counter.

“Master Jeon,” you said, bowing in front of him. “Pleasure to be of your service.”

“Pleasure is all mine,” Jungkook spoke with the delicacy of a lover but the fire of a conqueror. “Jung here holds you to high regard in this establishment.” He walked close to your form until he towered over you, feeling the filmsy satisfaction for seeing your gaze lift for him. “I’m excited to see what the mystery is all about.”

You side-eyed Jung with a calculated smug smile, reddened lips and eyes moist. “He’s an enthusiastic man but not a liar, I assure you. One doesn’t make a room stand still like this without having a few skills under her skirt.” Your cheeks glowed like polished jewels.

Jungkook chuckled under his breath. “That’ll be all, Jung.”

Jung bowed with a wide grin and walked away.

You held onto Jungkooks’ hand. “This way, sir.” Nervousness faded completely as the mission at hand became your first priority. The scent of opium was thick around Jungkooks’ form as he shifted closer, nudging his nose in your hair slightly. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Master Jeon.”

“Oh? Nice things I hope.”

“Tales of conquering the higher ups and standing up for the street dwellers.” You looked over your shoulder. “You’re a hero amongst the whispers of the alley.”

If confidence had a physical form, it’d be like gold oozing down Jungkooks’ ears and mouth like tears and slobber after sex. He was young. His nerves were easy to tug and manipulate to your whim. “Do you think I’m a hero?”

You hummed with a cheeky shrug. “I like physical proof of things rather hearsay. Lingers more on the mind.”

“I can fix that soon.” Jungkook moved his hand over to your waist, squeezing and digging into the skin. You tried not to wince. “And when I’m done with you, you can watch the chaos I created soon.”

“Chaos?”

“I’ve achieved a magnificent feat of having the Queen of Gae Pa herself…” He pressed his lips against your ears. “…giving herself over to me.”

A tiniest twinge of anxiety tugged at the back of your mind but you stayed steady. “Was I really that obvious?”

“If I could steal all of the most powerful gangs’ precious items, I think I could recognize your face.” Jungkook traced a finger down your cheek. “Must say you’re a thousand times more beautiful than your pictures.” He moved his fingers down to the curve of your breasts. “Your daughter looks just like you.”

The anxiety that tugged now flooded your entire body, hot rushing in then freezing. All in confusing pattern until your head started spinning. Glossed eyes blinked slowly and your chin raised, staying strong.

“I have my own spies too,” Jungkook whispered. “There’s alleys and streets everywhere. Enough sorry souls to do anything for a new life. You understand that, don’t you?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Do you have her with you?”

“Oh no…I’m not that evil.” Jungkook jutted his lips out. “She can stay happily in that cute safehouse. Except there’s eyes always on her.”

You took a deep breath to calm your nerves. A neutral expression on your face. “What’s your negotiation?”

“Nothing special. Just for all the Dons to pledge themselves to me.” Jungkook shrugged. “Especially Don Kim and your husband.” He tilted his head. “You also know just as much as I do that I have every measure possible to ensure they won’t say no.” Palm traced up her back to her neck. “And I also require your mind. Despite my little street friends running around, you have the most connections known to the underworld. Your body could be a wild bonus.” He smirked.

You raised your chin, breath sucked in and stuck in your throat. “I don’t want to talk in the hallway. Everything is being recorded.” You spoke under your breath.

Jungkook hummed as you brought him towards the bedroom.

Yoongi refrained from trying to break another mug of coffee. Instead he listened carefully. Anxiety shook through his body hearing a stranger—no, their fucking rival—speak of their daughter. But he knew what had to be done. Eyes sharp, he flickered his gaze over to the corner of the courtesan room. The bed adorned in red and gold silk sheets held a figure, both arms tied to the bedposts and his mouth gagged with cloth, stained with the blood from his fresh glistening wounds.

He stood up from his chair, hands dug in his pockets as he examined the heaving body. “You’re up, Kim.” A sinister smile flashed to Taehyung. Silent reminder on who held one of the underworlds’ pillars. The lead alpha of this country. That same terrifying individual now stood here, heated with anger and the urge to protect his family sent sizzles throughout the room.

Taehyung blinked slowly as the realization hit him.

Jungkook wasn’t coming out of here unscathed.

***

It was the best news you received in a while. They found him. Kim Taehyung.

Your notes at the auction managed to help the spies track down the buyer. Apparently they wanted to be rid of it after hearing of the murders in the other gangs. They kept it hidden in their backyard instead of displaying it. You took it off their hands and sent it to Jwi Pa.

Despite their current clean slate, the gang still had the best trackers. You needed them to find the elusive auctioneer. The moment they saw the ledger in your gloved hand, they were putty. Any request and they would abide.

Kim Taehyung lived in a private estate personally gifted by Jeon Jungkook once he rebuilt Mal Pa to its former glory. As soon as his location was exposed, it took only a couple of minutes of breaking through security and having the man in their grasp. Jungkooks’ weak spot.

Nor Yoongi or Namjoon were happy to see him. Both of them failed to push back their punches but they knew enough to keep him alive.

“There’s a high chance Jungkook will know my face,” you said.

“So send someone else,” Namjoon suggested.

Yoongi tightened his jaw, not wanting to admit the truth that was right in front of him. “She’ll know what to do better than anyone.”

“You have so many talented spies!” Namjoon gestured wildly. “Fucking hell, I hate that I’m the one who has to admit it.”

“A scenario, Namjoon.” You intertwined your fingers together. “If Jungkook sees through the operation, what do you think they’ll do to a faceless spy?”

“If it’s her then Jungkook will be distracted.” Yoongi curled his fingers into tight fists.

“Well enough for me to actually bring him to the room whether he finds out or not.”

Namjoon let out a frustrated sigh. “Why is it so annoying that it’s a good idea?”

“For the first time, Kim, I agree.”

You gave them both sharp looks. “We end this now. No hitches.”

***

Opening the door, Yoongi noticed your glossed eyes. He wanted to hold you right there and then but there was still work to be done. Yoongi knew partly you were maintaining an act. It wouldn’t finish until the curtains were closed.

“Don Min!” Jungkooks’ lips stretched ear to ear. Expression bright and confident of the achievement right in his grasp. In a split second, his gaze flickered over to the tied figure. The golden tones of his skin lost its vibrancy, grin disappeared and his eyebrows in the realization of the bleeding man. “Tae—”

Taehyungs’ groans and screams muffled by the soaked cloth. Eyes flooded with tears as Namjoon closed the door behind Jungkook. There was no way to escape.

Jungkook looked over his shoulder. Both the leaders of Gae and Sutal Pa together in the same room. Caging him in. Namjoon had a satisfied smirk, dragging the stone mallet towards him.

Out of instinct, Jungkook pulled the gun out of his holster and pointed it to your chest. A sense of accomplishment rushed through him when he saw Yoongi raise his gun frantically. He could do this. All that progress to come this far from a street rat to a gang leader. It couldn’t all end here in a second. It was too quick. He needed to breathe. "Want to see which bullet reaches first?”

Taehyung protested through his cloth, struggling out of the rope.

You pushed Jungkooks’ hand to the side with your left hand, causing a stress shot to speed past your shoulder. Right ear ringing, you used your other hand to reach for the grip. Gun now in clasped in your hand, end of the barrel pointed at Jungkooks’ heart.

Yoongi didn’t hesitate taking a shot at Jungkooks’ leg, causing him to drop on his knees with a pained grunt.

Namjoon chuckled with a raspy tone, raising his stone mallet. “What a good day.” He slammed the mallet on Jungkooks’ calf. The crack and scream that came afterwards was one that could haunt you at night. But it was nothing new in the underworld. You try to break the underworld pillars, they’ll break you back ten times worse. It was the law in this hell.

You watched Jungkook thrash on the ground, blood darkening the wooden floor. Mixed with Taehyungs’ loud sobbing. It was a nursery rhyme of nightmares. Melodies of suffering that will melt into the walls of the courtesan house. No one will speak of it but they’ll know. They’ll never forget.

***

The new dawn arrived golden and the birds sung the continuous reign of Gae and Sutal Pa. Mal Pa was once again broken down into chaos as their usurper leader stepped away from his position and hid away after the two gangs made their example clear. Taehyung, still healing from his own wounds, opted to stick by Jungkooks’ side. The new looming darkness over their faces were hard to miss.

“If it’s worth anything, Jeon, you did good.” Yoongi stood over him on the stretcher. “Just not good enough.”

Jungkook stayed silent, gaze averted to focus on Taehyungs’ shirt. “Might not be me but someone else’ll come back to do the same thing. You can’t reign forever.”

The diamond ending of every underworld devil. Every gang had it. That one day when everything falls apart before their eyes and there was nothing to do about it. A fate worse than assassination.

Sun peaked through the buildings, framing Yoongis’ silhouette and casting warmth on his cool cheek. “It’s true. But when it does, it’s gonna be by my hand.”

Jungkook blinked over at him in confusion.

Yoongi smirked, gently tapping his shoulder. “Get well.” That day for Yoongi wasn’t to be shut down by another gang or a new leader. But to throw the match in himself and see it all burn. The beautiful end to his diamond trail.

Jungkook and Taehyung were moved to secluded area, away from any kind communication with the underworld.

Street dwellers will be loyal to anyone that could promise them something good. Now that Jungkook couldn’t provide it anymore, they scurried like rats under Yoongi or Namjoons’ wing. The underworld, even in the top ranks was cruel and brutal, leaving no mercy for even the good-hearted.

When you arrived back to the manor, the first thing was to remove the god awful dressing from the courtesan house. You draped back into your work dress, letting out a sigh of relief that it was all a play.

Namjoon paid a small visit to cast a farewell. Shaded eyes scanned across the mansion, admiring the architecture and paintings. Or just staring at them to avoid eye contact with Yoongi. “So European.”

“My mother grew up travelling between France and Italy,” Yoongi said. He dug his hands into his trousers. “She really liked all the architecture of the old buildings.” His heart swelled remembering the years after their father passed away. They found a new venue and spent over a year just working on the house. It was the most time they had ever spent alone without any kind of distractions from their father.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking—what happened to your mother?” Namjoon asked. “She was quite young when she married.”

Yoongi hummed, a sad smile tugged on his face. “She wasn’t well for a long time. Since she gave birth at a young age, the stress of it had lot of side effects in the long term. She held out long enough to ensure that I wouldn’t have to live with my father alone.”

Namjoons’ expression softened. “I’m sorry. Having a good family member in the household is already a rarity in itself. I can’t imagine losing them.”

In the small silence, you stepped down the stairs. You met the two men with a kind smile, fingers intertwined together. “Nice to see you two playing nicely.”

Yoongi smiled. “Of course.”

You, Namjoon and Yoongi padded outside of the manor into the afternoon light. The black SUV glinted and the guards looked like insects scurrying to their positions so that Namjoon was protected.

Pausing at the end of the entrance stairs, Namjoon turned to face the two of you. “It was fun working with you—just lighten up a little more.”

“Not a chance,” Yoongi stated plainly. “But—it was good not being at war for once.”

Namjoon smirked, eyes flickered to you with a softened expression. “Good day, my lady.”

You nodded in acknowledgement as the male turned on his heel and climbed into his SUV. A sense of relief washed over your form. Yoongi took your hand and escorted you back into the comforts of the manor.

“The diamond gun is back in its original place.” Yoongi let out a long exhale, emptying his chest of the anxiety. “I can take a fucking nap now.” He wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his head in the crook of your neck. A silent reminder that nothing was lost in this fight. You were safe and your childs’ location was still unknown to everyone else. “I know what you were doing.”

“You did?” A smile stretched across your lips.

“Taehyung was just a final tick.” Yoongi led you over to the couch, settling down with a deep sigh. “Jungkook was more terrified at the fact that Namjoon and I actually worked together.”

“If you two fought then both the pillars would’ve been crumbling. Easy for Jungkook to break.” You traced your fingers across his raven fringes. “Maybe you two should stop bickering so much. Just in case another street dweller comes in to hurt you.”

“One step at a time, my love.” Yoongi smiled, throwing his head back against the couch. “How’s Jewel?”

Jewel was her nickname. Her eyes shone even when there was no light reflecting off them. Maybe it was just their rosy lenses but you didn’t care. “She’s been moved to another safehouse. She says she’s happy.”

“Good.” Yoongi nodded. “That’s good.” He held onto your hand and kissed it. “We’ll all be together soon for the holiday. I promise.”

“I’ll make sure of it.” You raised a brow.

Yoongi loved his new family.

<< prev chap | 

[seasonofthewicth]

kings and queens

a smutty rowaelin halloween oneshot

(if smut isn’t your thing you can still read, just finish when Aelin says ‘you’)

my masterlist

------ 

The clear gems on her crown shone in the dim, evening light. She had found the crown a week ago in a thrift store and the moment Aelin had seen it she knew it was perfect. It rose up from her golden waves to reach three peaks, the middle slightly taller than the two either side, and they were each topped with shimmering imitation diamonds. A far better find than any useless piece of trash she could have found in a costume store.

Aelin didn’t do costumes by half. The dress she wore was a deep red velvet, with a corset style top that helped to give her chest a boost and a gold lace trim that she knew would draw the eye. It had a short but flowing skirt that hit mid-thigh, showing a peek of the border of her thigh high stockings. She had painted her lips a bold red to match the dress and her eyes were lined with heavy black.

Dressing up as a queen for Halloween didn’t mean she had to be a maiden.

Aelin always went all out for Halloween, but her costumes were never gimmicky. She could find a way to make the dorkiest of ideas sexy to make sure she felt good and more importantly, looked hot.

“You ready?” She heard her roommate and best friend Lysandra call. “Aedion just texted asking where we are.”

Aelin grabbed her small shoulder bag off her bed, her only out of character item for the evening, and left her room to meet Lysandra in the hallway between their rooms. They shared a small two bedroom apartment off campus, it was far from luxury, but it was their space and she loved it. Since meeting Lysandra in her first year of college she hadn’t lived with anyone else.

Lysandra was leaning against the wall, fully dressed in her own costume. She wore a dress with a tight green bodice and a short but full skirt that flowed as she moved. Her hair was piled atop her head in a messy bun and her make-up was peachy and subtle. Tinkerbell.

Aedion had invited them to the party he was hosting in his own house off campus that he shared with a few roommates. Aelin had spent most of her first and second years at college tucked away in that house spending time with her cousin and his friends, she loved his friend Fenrys who shared her appreciation for all things devilish and she had been close with his other housemate Dorian. She and Dorian had shared a mutual attraction but had quickly moved past it to become as thick as thieves and he had been one of her best friends.

The time she spent there had plummeted in her third year when Dorian moved out after his graduation and Rowan Whitethorn moved in, filling the spare room. Aelin hated Rowan Whitethorn with a burning passion. He was arrogant, hot-headed and spiteful, all traits she despised.

The first time they had met she had thought they could have been friends, he got along well with Aedion as did she, but he had opened his mouth to let her know his thoughts on the opinions she had shared in a political theory class she hadn’t even known he was in, and that had been it.

Since that day she noted his presence in the same class, and they would share verbal barbs and taunts every week. She knew it made the other attendees of the class uncomfortable and even the professor leading the sessions seemed at a loss with the sparring students. Aelin couldn’t even understand why they would argue, no matter whether or not she agreed with his point the sound of his voice, the rich and swirling Wendlyn accent would set her off.

Aedion had tried to bridge the gap somewhat, playing moderator to their fights whenever they crossed paths, but ultimately even her easy-going cousin couldn’t fight the fire Rowan made her burn.

She knew he would be there tonight, but she wouldn’t let him ruin what was predicted to turn into a great night, especially not on Halloween when she looked so good. Aedion’s teammates from the football team would likely be there, and it wouldn’t take her long to find someone to distract her from Rowan’s presence.

------

The music at the party could be heard from down the road, and as they walked up the path she took in the decorations in the front yard. Someone had strung spider webs through the branches of the twisting tree in the corner and there were fluorescent lights shining orange and green in all directions. There were people in all kinds of costumes spilling into the street as she and Lysandra battled their way into the front door.

They edged their way into the kitchen, pushing past groups of already intoxicated revellers to fix themselves a drink.

Once in the kitchen a loud cry caught their attention.

“Ladies!” Fenrys shouted to them, his voice booming over the music. He reached them and tugged them each under an arm, pulling them into an extravagantly painted but otherwise bare chest.

“What are you?” She yelled.

“I’m your dreams come true,” He gave her shoulders a squeeze as she and Lysandra both rolled their eyes at his proclamation. Fenrys was an ass but they loved him for it.

“Have you seen Aedion?” Lysandra yelled in his ear as she twisted to search for a cup and a drink.

“So desperate to leave me when you’ve only just arrived?” He raised a hand to his chest in mock offense but released them and turned to find them each a drink.

“The vision of you is burning my eyes so bad I’m desperate to get away,” Lysandra told him as they accepted the drinks he handed to them. Fenrys only stuck his tongue out at her, seemingly too drunk to bother trying to come up with a better response.

“I think he was in the main room with Rowan and Lorcan.” He told them before saluting them and venturing back into the throng of moving bodies.

Aelin raised her glass in a toast to Lysandra before taking her first sip and tugging Lysandra to find her cousin.

It only took a minute to spot her cousin, his golden hair spilling out of a small brown cap tucked onto the top of his head. She took in the green tights and tunic before sending a sharp glance at Lysandra. She hadn’t known they had planned a couple’s costume, but one look at Aedion told her he was clearly the Peter Pan to Lysandra’s Tinkerbell.

She took in the two males stood next to her cousin, opposites in their exterior, light and dark, Rowan and Lorcan. Lorcan had made the safe choice, a black mask pushed up onto his forehead the only part of his Batman costume that was out of place.

The sight of Rowan Whitethorn had her blood boiling. He wore a deep green velvet cape and a glowing golden crown atop his silver locks. She was going to kill him, how dare he come as a King to the same party she was dressed as a Queen.

She was vaguely aware of Lysandra slipping up to Aedion and Lorcan’s brief greeting and dismissal as he sought out his crush, Elide, before she was marching up to Whitethorn and hissing in his face.

“What are you wearing?” Her voice was tight.

“Hello to you too, Princess,” He drawled, tipping his chin down to look her directly in the eye.

“I’m not a princess,” She snapped, feeling her anger bubble in her throat. “I’m a Queen.”

“You look like a princess to me,” His voice was as smug as the smirk that spread across his face, showing rows of straight white teeth, canines flashing in the light. He reached a hand up to poke at her crown. “Especially with your little tiara.”

She slapped his hand away. “It is a crown!”

“Sure it is, Princess.” He was making her blood pound in her ears, the sounds of the party fading into the background and she stepped closer to him again, trying to crowd into his space, no matter the fact that he towered over her. She took a deep breath in, readying herself for the barrage of insults she could throw at him when a voice behind her pulled her out of the spell.

“Aelin, hi!”

Aelin turned her head to the side and spotted the source of the voice. Feyre Archeron. She and Aelin had shared an art class in the previous year and Feyre had been a natural, painting with smooth strokes of her brush where Aelin was all pointed jabs.

Failure in her artistic endeavour aside, Aelin liked Feyre, and she knew Aedion ran in the same circles as her boyfriend Rhys.

“Oh hey,” She smiled at Feyre with a small wave. Feyre seemed to take a moment before approaching, glancing between Rowan and Aelin.

It was then that Aelin noticed their proximity. Her body was fully pressed against the length of Rowan’s where she had managed to back him against the wall. The hard planes of his body sending an aura of warmth into her. Their faces were close enough to share a breath as she leaned up and he down. An outsider could easily assume they were lovers, and to Aelin’s horror it seemed an outsider did.

“I didn’t know you guys were together!” Feyre exclaimed and Aelin’s mouth dropped open. “And a King and Queen costume? Gods, such a great idea, I’ll have to tell Rhys for next year.”

Aelin couldn’t find the words. Her and Rowan? Her eyes flicked to his face and he seemed in a similar state of shock, pink lips slightly parted as he stared at Feyre.

When neither of them spoke Feyre blushed and before Aelin could find words she had disappeared into the crown. Aelin immediately took a step back, putting space between herself and Rowan, trying to ignore the way her body moaned at the lack of contact. It was Rowan rutting Whitethorn for Gods’ sake.

He seemed in a similar state to herself, arms frozen where they hovered at his sides, and she glanced around desperately seeking Lysandra but her and Aedion were gone.

“Fuck you,” She spat at Rowan and turned on her heel, pushing through the crowd, putting some much needed space between them and ignoring the way she desperately wanted to turn back.

------

She spent most of the party slipping between groups of people she knew, refilling her drink each time her cup emptied. She didn’t see Rowan again and spent at least an hour catching up with Yrene Towers and Manon Blackbeak in a toilet.

She shook her head, laughing at the unusual combinations alcohol and loud music could bring out in people. She was still yet to see Lysandra and Aedion again, poking her head into each room and looking for her best friend.

Once back at the kitchen, having searched each room she resolved to take a look outside, musing that as long as she spoke before she arrived she’d be unlikely to stumble upon anything she wished she wouldn’t have to witness between her cousin and best friend.

“Lysandra?” She called, wrapping her arms around her body as the chilled October air bit at her skin.

There was no response from her best friend, but a male voice reached her as she tucked the door shut behind herself.

“Unlucky for you, Princess, I’m the only one out here.”

Just her rutting luck. Rowan Whitethorn leaned back against the wall of the house, the butt of a mostly burned cigarette dangling between his fingertips. He threw it to the side as she took a step closer to him.

“Stop calling me princess,” She snapped, crossing her arms across her chest. She didn’t miss the way his eyes darted down to her chest, lingering a second before dragging themselves back up to her face.

“Why would I do that,” He pushed off from the wall taking a single step closer to her, “When it suits you so well?”

She rolled her eyes. “Suits me how?”

“Well, I think most people would probably describe princesses as spoiled and entitled.”

Despite his close proximity she unwrapped her arms from her chest and flashed him her middle finger. His own hand came up as fast as a flash of lightening, to grab her hand and wrap her fingers up in his own as he tugged slightly, knocking her off balance and she stumbled into him slightly.

“I’m not spoiled or entitled.” She mumbled, unable to draw her eyes away from his lips, now close enough that his warm breaths washed across her face.

“I’d beg to differ, Princess. Seems to me like you always get what you want.”

Her breathing had quickened, coming in short pants and gasps where he had her pressed against the cold wall of the house. His hand still wrapped around her own, burning her skin where he touched.

“I don’t always get what I want.” She whispered as he leant into her even further, bracing his free hand against the wall by her head. He cocked his head at her words.

“What could you possibly want that you haven’t got?” His voice was a seductive caress against her neck where he tilted his head down.

She didn’t let herself break eye-contact, her unyielding gaze staring him down.

“What I want,” She began, voice weak.

“Mhmm,” He hummed, the sound sending vibrations through her own chest.

“What I want is for you to take that damned costume off. I’m the Queen.”

He laughed; a dark sound filled with promise.

“Princess,” He drawled. “If you wanted me to take my clothes off you only had to ask. Don’t pretend it’s about some dumb costume.”

She gasped, frustrated to no end that he always managed to rile her so. Always left her speechless, her mind swimming with rage. Her body drowning in arousal at his closeness. Fuck.

She stared him down, his body now pressed along every inch of her own as he blocked her into the wall. His eyes flashed to her lips and she couldn’t hold herself back from doing the same. He seemed to be warring with himself, his expression pained as he stared into her eyes.

She took a breath, begging herself to do something, anything, but she was frozen.

A beat passed, and then he crashed his lips to hers.

He kissed her as furiously as he argued, his hand grasping her face hard and plunging his tongue into her mouth. She gasped and twisted her fingers into his hair in response, holding his face to her own, and she registered the clunk of his crown hitting the floor. Good.  

A fire spread through her veins as he kissed her, taking control and owning her completely. She allowed him, opening her mouth to him greedily as he nipped at her lips. She knew they would already be swollen.

He kissed her as if she was a prize to be won, as if he needed to or he would shatter. The desperation spreading through his hands as they roamed her body, slipping down her sides and back up to lightly brush the undersides of her breasts with his thumbs and back down again to tug her hips against his own.

He slid a thigh between her legs, and she writhed against the pressure, letting out a small cry as the sensation sent a jolt through her entire body, finishing with a flood of heat below her bellybutton.

He drew back with a gasp, panting. He only got as far as she let him, her fingers still twisted through his silver strands as he pressed his forehead against her own.

“Fuck.” He growled, tucking his chin to bury his face in her neck. She tugged at his hair, begging for him to do more than just press his lips gently against the soft skin of her throat. “What is it that you want, Princess?” He asked again.

She tugged his face back to meet her gaze, vaguely aware of her crown slipping from her head as she looked up at him.

“You.”

------

Back at her apartment he crowded her against the door, his heat behind her and a delightful pressure against her lower back had her fumbling with her keys in the lock. She had managed to shoot Lysandra a quick text letting her know she was leaving, knowing her best friend would be safe with Aedion when Aelin left.

When Aelin left with Rowan Whitethorn. Shit.

He had been a storm she hadn’t seen coming, kissing her with a passion that burned all the way to the soles of her feet. He pressed her back against the door once they were inside, leaning down to kiss her hard and fast. His tongue lavishing sweeping strokes that lit a fire inside of her.

He pressed his knee between her legs and this time she didn’t hold herself back from rocking against it, letting out a breathy moan as she pulled back, tilting her head back until it hit the door with a thud.

He pressed hot and wet kisses down her jaw until he reached her neck, nipping and sucking his way down. The sensation sent her wild, drawing short gasps from her lips with every press of his tongue and scrape of his teeth.

His hands burned a path down her side, not stopping with a brush against her chest this time, instead wrapping her breast in one of his large hands and squeezing sharply. She bucked her hips against his thigh as he rubbed a thumb across her nipple. Rowan let out a dark rumble of laughter at her reaction and did it again, timing it perfectly with a swipe of his tongue up the side of her neck.

He bent down slightly, sliding a hand down her thigh until he reached the crook of her knee and straightened, wrapping her leg around his waist and pressing his hips firmly into the gap he had created.

She let out a moan, slamming her head into the door again as he pressed his lips to hers again. The pressure of his hips was firm, burning against her core, and his lips were relentless as he licked into her mouth aggressively as she fisted her hand in his cape.

She pulled back, panting.

“You need to take this off.” She yanked even harder on the cape and he grinned, hands leaving her leg and chest to loosen the clasp at his neck. He didn’t stop there, reaching down to the hem of his shirt and pulling it off his body in one sharp motion.

Her mouth went dry at the expanse of tanned skin now exposed. His chest was covered in firm muscle and down his left arm swept a swirling and intricate tattoo. She traced a line across his shoulder with a finger, transfixed by the beauty of his body.

His hand flashed out to grab her by the chin, tilting her face up to look at him.

“You too, Princess.”

His fingers left her chin, trailing a torturously slow path down her neck and across her chest to rest at the knot at the top of her corset top. The sheer possession in his touch had her grinding her hips against him, desperate for any kind of relief.

Undeterred, he slowly wound one of the laces around a finger and bit his lip as he took in her heaving chest.  Her skin was flushed as her heart pounded beneath.

Torturously slow he pulled the string, unravelling the only closure of her top. His deft fingers loosened the ties as the red fabric slid away to reveal her heaving chest and full breasts. His dark eyes devoured the exposed skin and his tongue darted out to moisten his lower lip.

His head ducked down as he slowly wrapped his lips around a peaked nipple, tongue swirling around the sensitive flesh. Her head fell back to the door again as she moaned and her hand flew behind her, trying to find any purchase on the flat surface.

He hummed against her skin, the vibration sending sparks down to her core. His thumb found her other breast, flicking her nipple hard. She groaned, pressing her hips into his own, becoming desperate.

She laced her hands through his hair as he looked up at her, lips still around her, and she groaned pulling his head up.

“Bedroom, now,” She said breathlessly as she pushed him away from herself and pressed away from the door, dropping the rest of her dress to pool around her feet. Rowan was silent as he took her in, his eyes trailing a burning path from her face to the tips of her toes.

At the sight she trailed a feather-light touch across the front of his trousers where they strained against his hardness. He groaned at the touch, his head tipping back and the vein in the side of his neck straining.

“Bedroom,” He growled and grabbed her by the waist.

------

Rowan laid her down on her bed, having lost his trousers along the way. She lay bare for him, only a thin pair of black panties prevented her from being exposed entirely.

His head tilted as his predatory stare assessed her.

“You look so good like this Princess,” his voice was raw as he crawled up the bed between her legs, resting his weight against her body and pressing her into the mattress. “We really should find you that tiara again.”

She rolled her eyes but tugged his face to hers. Pressing her lips against his firmly, his short stubble scratching against her cheeks in the most delicious way. He braced a hand by her head, supporting his weight, and the other brushed down her body, starting at the base of her throat until his index finger pressed gently against her centre.

He let out a moan at the dampness of the dark fabric and he swiped a long stroke over the line of her folds. Aelin bit her lip, trying to hold in the moan that his electric touch elicited. Her hips shifted at his teasing, raising them to try and press further into his touch, but he only laughed against her lips.

He nipped her lower lip, the pressure almost painful, but it sent another wave of arousal through her.

Slowly he slid his finger beneath the fabric, pressing a finger into her and the heavy pressure had her fisting her hands in the sheets. His tongue swept into her mouth again as he pumped his finger inside her, slipping a second in a moment later. His thumb came up to press against the apex of her thighs, the friction sending sparks through her entire body as he swirled his thumb against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

She broke away from the kiss to moan, twisting her face to the side, unable to focus on anything other than the sensations he was creating. The delightful pleasure his fingers were creating as his mouth pressed hot, open mouthed kisses down her throat.

“Please,” She gasped, and she felt his lips against her neck curve into a smile.

“Please what?” His voice was playful as he teased her, pulling his hand back leaving her clenching around air.

“You know what. Dick.” She snapped, tugging his head up to look at her.

“Now, now, princess,” He carded his fingers through her hair, twisting them into the strands at the base of her head before pulling hard. “Remember to use your manners.”

She gasped again, back arching off the bed to press her body against his. He ground his hips against her own, the hard length of him catching against the spot she needed most.

He nipped at the skin on her neck before pulling back, tugging her panties down her legs, wasting no time before shucking off his own briefs revealing the full length of him to her. Her eyes rolled back at the sight.

He tucked himself back between her legs, pressing the tip lightly at her entrance. Her hips bucked up as he grabbed a hold of her chin.

“Condom?” He asked, his voice low.

“I’m on the pill.” She breathed, rolling her hips, urging him to hurry.

He groaned, lining himself up and pressing into her as he crashed his lips to hers.

Her mind cleared at the sensation, thinking only of where he filled and stretched her. The brief flash of pain sinking into a burning pleasure. He paused his hips, allowing her to adjust, but still pressed his lips to hers. His togue sweeping into her mouth.

She sank her nails into the skin of his broad shoulders, urging him to move and he eagerly obliged, snapping his hips into hers with a force so strong the bed crashed against the wall, rhythmic thuds in time with his thrusts.

Her skin was on fire as he pounded into her, drawing breathy moans from her throat as she clung to him in desperation. Rowan’s hands tightened on her hips, owning her with his touch as he moaned low in her ear and nipped her lobe with his teeth.

Rowan tugged one of her legs up to tuck it over his hip, changing the pace and thrusting into her wildly. Aelin clung to him, fingernails pressing crescent moons into his shoulders as his hands dug into the flesh of her thighs.

His pace became frantic as he brought one hand around between their bodies, swirling his thumb over her clit. Her breath hitched in her throat as he growled.

“Come on, Princess.”

His words sent her over the edge, shattering around him with a cry. She felt him increase his pace and he bit sharply into her shoulder as he came sending another wave of pleasure through her.

He ghosted his lips over hers a final time as he pulled out gently before lying next to her on the bed and pulling her into his side, wrapping a broad arm around her shoulders. She pressed her face to his chest, hiding her satisfied smile.

“I still think you’re a dick,” She muttered eventually, interrupting the easy silence.

His laughter rumbled through her, shaking the bed they lay on.

“That’s okay,” He said squeezing her hip. “I still think you’re a princess.”

[asylum-miniatures]

Side session - Demonlord Oneshot

A slight change in the regularly scheduled update.  Yurian couldn't make it to this game, so we decided to do a one-shot.  Ocelots player is a big fan of the game "shadow of the demon lord" and runs another session that myself and the GM play in.  He decided to run a quick session to introduce the others to it.

Normally I wouldn't put this up, but the session was so completely insane the story just had to be shared.  I curse you draspher, you couldn't just have a nice normal quiet session, you had to mess this up in such an entertaining way I had to do a write up didn't you.  I didn't take my laptop for notetaking since I thought these events weren't important but I guess we all know how that turns out, don't we audience.

We are playing a group of outcast kids, a gang who stick together.  Our players tonight are:

Jaune(me) will be playing Fagan valjean, a human fighter who happened to be the head of this little group.  I was also annoyed that I had gotten almost the exact same type of character I play on the other game.  Some oddities include:  I was a student of law, medicine and a murderer, I was a student of said topics but could not read, my personality was someone looking out for themselves yet I was the one in charge of the group, I randomly had a brain in a jar as an item.

Sim will be playing Grub, an orc wizard and pick pocket.  He was the one who found the map when he pick-pocketed a guy in robes.

Our GM will be playing Snotrag, a goblin rogue and also very similar to what he plays on the other game

Draspher will be playing Cumberland, a dwarf fighter with a two-handed Warhammer and skills as a forage/gatherer

Vex will be playing Victoria Waterfield, a changeling rogue who looks like a child

Occelot will be playing as the sessions DM

Part 1, x marks the spot

We start off with Grub presenting me with a map he lifted off some wierdo in robes.

Fagan – alright guys you know what we have to do, the only responsible thing and hand this in to the proper authoirpsh hahahahahahah I'm sorry I couldn't finish that with a straight face, let's go treasure hunting

We set of and find the doorway indicated.  We send Cumberland off to open the door.  He gingerly takes his Warhammer and carefully pushes it. After a few minutes of trying he finally finds out it’s a pull door. We make our way inside and the door seals behind us, showing a thin and dark corridor.  We set of, Victoria up front checking for traps, Cumberland with his better sight beside her, Snotrag pushing Cumberland ahead of him and grub and I at the back.

Just as they get to the end of the corridor Victoria botches her perception roll and steps right on a pressure plate and darts shoot out of ether side, hitting both herself and Cumberland and knocking them out.  Grub tries to use his masterful medical skills by kicking Cumberland awake, but it doesn’t work so we have to wait a few minutes for them to get up.  

When the other wake up we send Cumberland to open the door.  He tires pushing on it with his Warhammer and it turns out it's another pull door.  We make our way in and find a set of stairs leading down and a set of three pillars at either side of the room.  Cumberland decides to use his Warhammer to check how stable they are.  The good news is that they are pretty stable, so stable in fact no-one can see the cultist hiding behind them as they guard the stairs.  One comes out and goes to stab him while another the other side of the room shoots at him with a crossbow and two make themselves known at the back of the room.

Cumberland strikes the one next to him but he's still standing.  Victoria throws her dagger at the one with the bow but she botches it so badly he just catches it, leaving her disarmed.  That does not stop her rushing in to try and get her dagger back though.  Snotrag charges to the other side of the room and manages to stab one in the eye killing him outright before charging the second one.  I mock Cumberland about how Snotrag is doing properly, and I demonstrate by killing the one with Victoria's dagger in a single blow.  I then move to help Snotrag, only to fall down a trapdoor into a pit.  I use the rest of my turn to struggle out of the pit, only to get out directly on top of another dart trap, and I fall unconscious.  Victoria picks up her previously lost knife and jumps over the pit to get at the last guy and between the two of them he falls quickly.  When I wake up I ask Grub for a health potion. Cumberland decides now is the perfect opportunity to use his once a day heal ability to top himself back to max, against the rest of the groups better judgement.  

Part two, I'm not fat  

We make our way past down the stairs from before in the previous formation.  A strange rivalry starts up between Snotrag and Cumberland. Snotrag keeps licking things to claim them as his, and after he lost a beard-comb to him cumberland starts nicking things back by licking them as well.  It is at this point Snotrag has decided to call Cumberland fatty.  He delines the invitation to call him jew to make the referance complete so he calls him ginger.

At the bottom of the stairs is a room filled with barrels and boxes.  As we leave the stairs they retreat back into the ceiling, trapping us down there.  We quickly check the room and decide that since most of the boxes and barrels seem to be empty its best if we just move onto the next room.  Cumberland then tries the door with his same trick, and the DM has him roll a D6.  Turns out this is the third time in two minutes he has tried to push open a pull door, and so he just gained some insanity points for that.  As we leave Grub decides to magically lock the door.  We then hear scratching on the door as we make our way down the corridor.  Turns out there was a giant spider in the room, and Grubs locking the door prevented it from coming after us.  Doesn't stop us from charging down the corridor to get away from it though.  

At the end of the corridor is a room as large as the whiteboard we were using, and it is completely pitch black.  we make our way in, with Cumberland at the front since he has the best eyesight, and the rest of us take each other's shoulders so we don't get lost.  Or at least most of us do.  Snotrag immediately runs to the wall by himself to be stealthy without us.  We can faintly see a figure standing at a lit alter right at the back but we soon realise we are not alone in the room.  There are around a dozen zombies wondering about in the dark.  We decide to stealth our way to the lit alter at the back where we should be able to see, and Snotrag gets annoyed that we immediately go to the wall where he ran, forgetting that was our plan in the first place.  We all make our stealth rolls but unfortunately, as a human my night vision is pretty terrible, so I immediately roll a 1 and alert the entire room to where we are.

Part three, thriller in the dark

As the horde move in, Snotrag immediately does a runner along the wall, in his players own words "looking for a place to cry".  I attempt to follow him, but am less successful in being graceful, first running face first into the wall, then tripping on stuff as I run along the wall. The first zombie gets to us and starts attacking Victoria.  Cumberland moves in and between them they take it out.  However, Cumberland decides to "double tap" it by smashing the dead body just to make sure, and gets both of them covered in goo.  Grub drops a speed boost spell on both himself and Cumberland before using an invisibility spell on himself and running off into the darkness to get to the alter.  I small tear goes down my eye as I look on, turning invisible and running away, he's learnt so much from Jaune.

As the horde approach the main group Snotrag masterfully sneaks past.  Fagen attempts to do the same, but trips over a body and creates a huge cacophony of noise before picking himself up and finally getting a good stealth roll.  This means that Cumberland and Victoria now have the entire horde coming towards them, with around 9 zombies total.  Cumberland, prepares his nerves, hardens his resolve, and runs like crazy, using the speed boost to make it to the other side of the room.  This leaves the rogue Victoria to deal with 9 zombies.  She tries to run, but they keep managing to catch up to her, and every time she tries to run she just sets off more attack of opportunity's.  Luckily three manage to trip up over the gore/body of the first zombie, so they just crawl after her, but they still prove a difficult challenge.  Especially when one gets a critical, which in demon lord means they infect her, killing her in three turns and turning her into a new zombie.  Or at least it would have if she wasn't a changeling and immune to diseases.

Meanwhile on the other side of the room Fagan keeps running along the wall, hoping to get round the back of the figure on the alter.  What he fails to notice was Snotrag curled on the floor crying in the fetal position.  Unfortunately tripping over him alerts the guy on the alter to their location, and he summons 5 more zombies to attack us.  I get up and try to rouse Snotrag with a motivational speech, but the impact is lessened why the alter guy casts self-canalise on me, and I start eating my own arms.  Realising his importance, Grub moves in under the cover of the invisibility spell.  Unfortunately, although he is invisible his shadow is still visible, and as he gets closer the torches reveal his shadow, so the alter guy uses a bone-shatter spell on him.

Seeing that he was in need to get physical the alter guy pulls out a green knife and goes for Grub. On a side note, at the time I had to comment about how I liked this guy.  He may be a mage but he's not afraid to get stuck in when the time calls for it.  My comment was made before I saw his proficiency, or more rather lack of, in using said knife.  The guy missed.  Infact he missed so badly that he slips on the step and the green knife that literally glows with a desire to draw blood rams itself straight into his chest.  Seeing this Cumberland charges up and smacks him round the head with his Warhammer.  

Meanwhile things do not look good for the rest of the party.  Victoria is still being chased and is on virtually no HP and surrounded by 5 of them.  Snotrag and Fagan both charge the group of zombies heading towards them, but Fagan takes a critical in the first round and unlike Victoria has no immunity to disease so he's dead in three rounds.  The round following this Snotrag takes several blows at once and gets killed.  Victoria meanwhile finally figures out a way to lose them.  She uses her changeling abilities to look like a zombie, and since they are so stupid 4 of them believe her. She manages to put enough distance between her to escape the last one, so she's safe for now. Back at the alter Grub comes up with a plan. Just as the guy is pulling himself off his own knife, Grub hits him in the back with a wind blast forcing him back onto his own dagger again, this time killing him.  He then charges over to help me finish of the group attacking me.

Part four, turns out I'm turning

Cumberland examines the alter and finds a bowl full of liquid.  He decides to smash it but somehow nearly misses (if I hadn't of reminded him to add his Strength to the attack roll, he would have missed the inanimate bowl on the table).  The zombies all immediately die, leaving me with only about a minute before death.  Cumberland searches the alter guys body and fails to find anything by rolling a 1.  I spend my last few moments alive (to the tune of my immortal on violin curtsey of my iPad) giving Grub my health potion and trying to make him my replacement.  The DM has Grub roll and intellect roll, but he gets a 1 as well.  Turns out that just as I shove a healing potion is his hands and take him by the shoulder to look him in the eye, I turn and now he is in no position whatsoever to defend himself as I sink my teeth into his neck.  

He desperately tries to throw me off, but he never was a strong sort and I end up forcing him to the ground.  Cumberland charges over and attempts to prise me off Grub, but thanks to a roll of one somehow gets himself judo thrown by the mindless abomination, so he falls over both of us prone on the floor while I reduce Grub to 1HP.  By this point I've found the situation so hilarious I ask the DM to roll my own attack rolls.  I roll for damage on Grub, 1D6 and I get a 1, leaving him unconscious instead of dead.  I then turn my attention to Cumberland who has just gotten up beind me.

The DM laments to us at this point that yes, the guy did have a flask of potion that could cure the bite, problem was Cumberland had rolled so low he overlooked it.  He also questions how he's so successful at killing the player in this game, when he hadn't even been trying that hard, yet his other game with us we've only had 1 death.

I fight against Cumberland (I'm not trying to fudge my rolls, I think this scenario is far to hilarious that I end up wiping the party once I'm turned, I'm disappointed when I fail to roll a critical to infect him) but a mindless zombie against an actual fighter with a weapon can't hold its own and I ultimately fall.  Cumberland decides to neck his health potion and confirms what he suspected earlier on.  Early on, around the time he was knocked unconscious, Grub hands the DM a note, then hands it to me.  He planned to steal Cumberlands health potion with his pickpocket skills.  I approved it and the DM allowed him but he'd take a corruption point for doing so.  Cumberland suspected something, but in his fashion he manage to roll a 1 again as he was patting himself down.  When I asked for a health potion earlier I was asking for the one he'd stolen of Cumberland, and combined with the fact my own was broken when I gave it to Grub and attacked him meant there was no spare one for him to take.

The problem remains that Grub needs a potion.  A quick check of Snotrags body provides the potion and Cumberland gets to admisterng it.  Grub suddenly wakes to a pair of lips on his, and his mouth being filled with a combination of potion, tongue and beardhair.  This is such a shock to him he immediatly takes 5 points of insanity damage, and spends the next 5 minutes choking up dwarfen hairballs.  Cumberland has also looted Snotrag's body for his precious beard-comb.

Everyone regroups and takes stock of the room.  They find two prisoners tied up behind the alter.

Part five, new sheets

Fagan will be replaced by Patrick Fitzgerald, a crossbow wielding mercenary who tried to retire as a miner before being captured and held here for six years.  He's a good guy, always trying to do good because it’s the right thing to do, and he has two pet mice (mini and mighty) who unbeknownst to him keep whispering into his ears at night.

Snotrag will be replaced by Slipknott, an orc who duel wields axes and has unusually shining eyes.

These to lead to an interesting change in power dynamic.  While the original group were all kids, these two are way older, so they pretty much take command. We examine the room and find a trough on a wall surrounding the room filled with oil, it seems to be a lighting system.  The only reason none of us saw it was that only the short (Snotrag) or the blind (Fagan) went near the walls and couldn't make it out.  The problem is that none of us have any form of torch or match to light it.  I (Patrick) as Grub to borrow his shortsword (stolen off Fagans body) but he refuses.  I go over to one of the bodys, rip of a section of cloth and go back over, telling him that I intend to make a torch by rapping the cloth around the blade, lighting it off the brazier at the alter then lighting the room up.  When he refuses a second time I smack him around the head and take it.

With better light we examine everything.  The zombies had nothing on them and the green dagger the alter guy had has fused itself into a tattoo on his skin.  Without the command word we can't retrieve it.  Cumberland also takes an insanity point for wanting to "steal the cultists bloody robes to use as pyjamas".  We can't find an exit but what we find is a mess of bodies. There are piles of cultists all surrounding the body of an orc, an orc holding a green sword.  KLEAVE, NOOOOOO!

Some background on to why this is a shocking image.  In the other game I rolled up an orc fighter named KLEAVE to balance out the lack of frontline fighters in that group.  The first personality trait I rolled was "KILL!" And everything after that just seems to blend with that.  I was a sarcastic former solider kicked out of the army after I fell in love with a human woman, and also a raving nutter.  My accomplishments include:

• Terrifying two would-be church robbers so badly they tripped on their own urine • Accidently killing one of them when I punched him for insubordination • Attempting to hide the body and the still living robber in the church broom closet and breaking the doorknob • Getting the last hit on a demon, then rolling as character motivation "you came in contact with a demon at some point in your life, and are now possessed" when I went berserker • The demon in question is far more refined and cultured than I am, yet I am unable to differentiate its voice from my own • I talk in haiku poetry dedicated to murder/death/war whenever I berserk • My single greatest accomplishment was when the whole group got captured by beast-men.  I was put out in the centre ring for their gladiator entertainment.  I killed the first two in one round with one stroke each, then soloed a minotaur that was several times our groups ideal encounter level and held my own.  In the last round I stepped back to try and heal, he killed another party member in a single massive blow and I finished him off by throwing my axe into his head, before taking his massive two-handed battle-axe as a memento of my worthy foe. • Winning multiple arguments with the group salamander (a replacement for the guy who died to the minitour) then rubbing it in his face that he lost to someone with such low intelligence and wisdom scores.

Considering this, seeing him dead surrounded by the army of cultists it took to accomplish this was a nice/horrifying nod to our other game.  Grub immediately picks up the green sword, while Slipknott respectfully closes Kleaves eyes before moving him to the side to reveal the exit. This act endears Slipknott to Grub, and he immediately starts hero worshiping him and following him everywhere.

We go through to find a well-lit room made out of polished marble and granite.  The is a door straight on and a door to the left, with a large tapestry on the wall.  Slipknott and Grub go to check the front door, Victoria and Patrick check the tapestry and Cumberland just kind of hangs around the middle of the room.  As we get closer I realise it's not a tapestry, its faces, hundreds of cut off faces sewn together, and then it falls down on top of us.  Victoria manages to get out of the way, but I am not so lucky, and get flattened.  I manage to jump out from under it and join the others, but it follows us and lands on the three in the centre.  DM then rolls 26 damage and our faces turn white.  To give us a fighting chance (and save some of his spare sheets) he decides to roll individual damage.  Cumberland gets the 26 and dies instantly, Victoria got around 16 but her health was so low she dies instantly, while I manage to get only 10 damage, which considering he was rolling 5/6 D6 is pretty lucky.  Slipknott and Grub quickly move in and immediately kill it, but Grub immediately goes insane from the sword, and rolls for the effect.  He is now convinced there are bugs under his skin, and must claw and cut at his own flesh unless someone stops him.  To repeat, he must cut himself with the sword of major damage that causes you to go insane every turn.

At this point the others are looking over their new sheets, and Cumberland gets an idea he starts giggling to himself about.  The DM approves it and in marches a clockwork and a dwarf.  The dwarf immediately introduces himself as "captain Cumberland, here to deal with the cultists.  By the way has anyone seen his grandson".  The entire room collapses in laughter

Part six, the peanut buttercup incident

The DM decides to give us a one-time boon considering the Cumberland family connection.  The Clockwork happens to be a cleric, and as a one-time thing the DM will allow her to attempt a resurrection spell.  This will take an hour; any interruption will destroy Cumberland Jr's soul and it only has a 1 in 6 chance of success.  She somehow pulls it off and grandfather and grandson are reunited.  During this Slipknott quickly realised what Grub was about to do and with my help we take the sword off him and tie him down before he can do anything.  He quickly gets over it, and we get introductions out of the way

Cumberland Sr will be played by the former Cumberland Jr, while Cumberland Jr will be under the DM's control.  He's a Dwarfen fighter sent in to deal with the cultists.

Victoria will be playing N0-N4-M3 (she literally couldn't come up with a name so she went "no name" so I 1337'd up to make it more clockwork) a clockwork cleric.  She used to be a cleric in the temple before it was overcome by the cultists years ago.  Her soul found it's way inside of the clockwork and she wandered to compound for years until she wound down, unable to find an exit.  She happened to be in the room with the empty barrels and boxes, and the two would have made it to us sooner if they hadn't come across a giant spider and the doorway out hadn't been magiclly locked.

She tells us the way forward is the correct route, but we find a room identical to the first room.  We start second guessing ourselves, me in particular pointing out maybe we should try the new door she doesn't recognize if she has been locked here for years.  The Cumberland duo lead the backtrack to the room and check it for traps in the Cumberland family way (pushing the hammer against it).  They also seem to finally realise they should check if it's a pull or a push door.  Inside is an entire room filled with soft fluffy white beds.  The two immediately rush in, keen for a bit of comfort down here when there is a flash.  Where there were two dwarfs there is now one, with two arms that don't quite match, four legs that don't seem to quite match and two heads, one of an old man and one of a young boy.  The two have been forcibly joined together through powerful and corrupt forbidden magic into a horrific abomination against nature. We are all naturally horrified at what has happened to them.

Cumberland Sr – I'm a super Dwarf!

Yes, Cumberland just can't seem to understand how anyone would NOT want to be forcibly fused to a member of their family.  We carry on down the stairs and find a huge corridor as wide as the whiteboard and a couple of times longer. Slipknott goes up front to check for traps, I walk alongside him to talk, Grub follows Slipknott, N0-N4-M3 after us and far in the back the Cumberlands waddle along with none of us wanting to go anywhere near it.  It's at this point Cumberland Jr gets the name "Peanut", named for what he looked like as a baby, and Sr gets named "Buttercup", making this thing "Peanut-buttercup".

Part seven, a fitting end

I am walking with Slipknott primarily to discuss the idea we need to put the Peanut-buttercup out of its misery, let it die a noble death instead of this mangled existence, when Slipknotts trap-spotting method of "smack the floor with a stick" proves how useful it truly is.  We both die instantly from a huge burst of flame from either side.  As Slipknott burns the truth is briefly revealed.  He was never an orc, just a changeling pretending to be one, but it matters not at this point.

The DM gives us our new and last character sheets.  And I do mean last, we have managed to get through the entire pile he prepared for this session.  I get Cumberland Jr's sheet.  I am now controlling half of the monstrosity that is peanut-buttercup.  I play to type:

Cumberland Sr –We be a super Dwarf!

Cumberland Jr – I want to DIEEEE, [sniff, sniff]

My performance as peanut greatly displeased buttercup, mainly he couldn't understand why anyone wouldn't be in this situation and thought I was just being a jerk trying to get his totally awesome new character killed.  I mean I was trying to die, but that was more for peanuts sake than spite.

We head down the corridor, this time peanut-buttercup leading and checking for traps.  We had one brief moment where I attempt to throw us on a spike trap to end it all but I couldn't overcome buttercups resistance roll.  We eventually start hearing the sounds of combat.  Slipknotts new character is fighting 5 zombies by himself.  We immediately charge over, but the fact he's taking out multiple enemys on his every turn proves he doesn't need us.

Slipknott will be replaced by what the DM can coined, "the anti-Kleave".  This is a level 7 orc with a completely opposite backstory and motivation to Kleave.  Instead of a mad barbarian he's a super awesome, super nice paladin.  The DM was originally going to leave this character till far later, but we were nearing the end of the night anyway and we had successfully used up every other sheet by that point.  I was more than a little annoyed that I didn't get the guy (they had hinted at an anti-Kleave sheet earlier in the night) considering I am the regular Kleave.

Just as we get close he kills the last zombie, turns to face us and sees the monstrosity that is Peanut-buttercup and does the only logical action of charging it.  the others of course have to make attacks of opportunities to try and protect their fri....comra....teamma...horrific meat shield.  The next turn buttercup tries to talk him down and explain what's going on, but I seize my chance:

Buttercup – no, ya don't understand, I got fused with my

Peanut – DIE FOUL PALADIN! [swings at anti-kleave]

We had to end it there but the only way it could have gone is anti-Kleave killing all of us and moving on.  

This was the single most nutty game session I think I have ever been on. And I blame it entirely on Draspher, now hear me out, I have it mapped down to the steps: 1. Draspher failed to roll high enough to find the cure, so I turned into a zombie 2. He also abandoned vex so she had virtually no HP left 3. Aside from nearly eating the party I had to swap from a self-serving to a goody two shoes character 4. Because I was a goodie two shoes, I helped look at the tapestry instead of standing back 5. Therefore, I was directly under the trap instead of standing back where I could have helped kill it before it ate half the party 6. This meant we went through character sheets rapidly and got the cleric to resurrect Cumberland, which lead to the peanut-buttercup 7. This also meant we had no rogue to check for traps down the corridor 8. Since I was playing the goody two shoes I was at the front discussing morals and ethics so I got killed by the trap 9. This meant I ended up as peanut and I played to character as suicidal 10. This meant I picked a fight with the anti-Kleave to die, which turned him against the party getting us all killed

Last session of the year unfortunately, we will try to meet up again for the next session after the new year. Hopefully we will finish the desert stuff and then try out the side session.

Character killed – 9, 6 seen deaths (snotrag, fagan, cumberland jr, victoria, patrick, slipknott) and 3 probable (cumberland, N0-N4-M3, Grub) Draspher getting drilled over – 10, the front door, the first trap, the second door, the third door, insanity for the third door, getting robbed, judo flipped by the undead, the tapestry, dead grandson (.5), fusing with grandson, attempted suicide by half of his body (.5), half his body invoking a paladins rage Longest lived character – grub, the only survivor of the initial gang right till the very end Shortest lived – N0-N4-M3, didn't even get a scene or a fight