#old man living his best life in the nature (Underdark)

[unaarista]

goddamn hippie

[wakacreations]

Zevlor's Bizarre Cocoa Adventure (Ch. 1)

@falcatamandarina Here's a little treat for you. <3

Prologue Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5

Word Count: 1610

Summary:

Tav gifted Zevlor a box of chocolates. The last of the chocolates were eaten and the last chocolate review was sent. Now, how will Zevlor return his thanks? With a box of chocolates of course!

“That is the last of the letters” as Zevlor neatly folded and sealed the letter. When he took upon the task of being Tav’s chocolate reviewer, the thought never occurred that his eating habits would lead to such affairs. “I’ll have to thank Tilses for divulging such information.” Zevlor thought as he leaned back in his chair. A whole month worth of letters in exchange for a box of thirty chocolates. Each review slowly came attached with a memory of his youth. At some point he wrote, 

“You know, Tav the white chocolate orange reminds me of the orange sherbet of Elturel. Maybe it is the sweltering weather of Baldur’s Gate and the taste of orange on my tongue. This is a Hellriders’ secret but we secretly took shifts to watch for our superiors and snuck off to go purchase some. I was always the lookout, of course best believe we needed one person that had absolute deniability. I had grown used to the rough punishment of our superiors but what was another verbal lashing and physical torment to a Hellrider? If you ever come across some orange sherbet on your journey, do give it a try. It is quite refreshing and perfect for such a warm day.”

He himself often questioned if his letters were long winded ramblings of an old man. Maybe Tav would get bored of his mundane updates into his life he lives now in Baldur’s Gate. It would be different if he were still a hellrider. A man of valor, of duty and purpose. He had spent his life more outside the city’s borders on patrol than within its walls as he climbed their ranks. He was out and about settling skirmishes at the borders with monsters. In his later years, slaying hordes of undead that besieged his people and home. Then the fall occurred then everything… Tav surely understands his yearning for a peaceful existence but as an adventurer at heart as they were, would grow tired of such a life in contrast.

Zevlor stared up longingly at the ceiling, their tail swishing idly sweeping at the floor. Even if that is the case, their correspondence proves one thing… they will return to Baldur’s Gate. “Now, what shall I give back to them in return? I suppose if one gives chocolates, they would expect some in return.” as he stretched his legs. “They can’t be no ordinary chocolates. Maybe truffle perhaps. Such an old sentimental fool his old Hellriders would have jabbed at him.” A warm chuckle escaped him. His hands resting on his thighs as he raised out of his chair, his knees gave a slick crack. “Old, old indeed.” Zevlor sighed.

The shopping venture in Baldur’s Gate proved unfruitful. To his surprise, even the upper districts came up empty handed. Maybe it is due to the upper classes having such sweets directly shipped to their homes instead of visitings shops. Unlikely but the fact of the matter is there are no chocolates to be had or of any kinds. He did hear about some issues of goods traversing from the Underdark. Something about caravans being attacked more frequently. Though, that was just the nature of working in the Underdark. In any case, he found himself at the entrance of Sorcerous Sundries. While Rolan and himself shared few conversations during their travels from Elturel to Emerald Grove, they often found themselves awake at the same hours keeping watch over the others.

There be no need for conversation between the two of them. A simple nod of acknowledgement was enough words. “You are up with your own thoughts as well? The same as always, my friend. I’ll be here should you need anything.” The same silent conversation they held every night. Rolan kept up with his wizardry studies late till dawn. Zevlor meticulously checked the perimeter of the grove. He took note of any need for further fortifications and supplies for the next coming days. “It may be due for him to have some different reading material.” Zevlor thought as he peered at Rolan clutching a tattered spellbook, Evocations: The Basics of Elemental Spellcasting.

“I do not know how useful these books would be towards your studies but it is some new reading material regardless.” as he handed Rolan the small stack. “This is what I found during my patrol. If I come across any spell scrolls you’ll be the first to hear of them.” The younger tiefling stared wide-eyed as a smile slowly crossed their face. “Should you need anything, you know where to find me” Zevlor turned back towards the front gate. He was halfway towards the gate before, “Parchment, if you can find some.” called Rolan. “Thank you, Zevlor!” With a wave of goodbye, Zevlor returns to patrol once more.

There is a sort of pride to be had when you see your own flourishing. The young wizard, now the Master of Ramazith Tower. Lia, the up-and-coming sharpshooter of the flaming fist was working the desk. Cal, running an orphanage at Lakrissa’s and Alfira’s Bard school was scurrying around restocking shelves. To think just a moment before they were all huddled together near a campfire. “Zevlor! What brings you in? Up for another round against the flaming fist recruits? They have been very adamant this time they can best you” Lia grinned at the paladin. “Maybe some other time, Lia. Is Rolan in perchance?” The older tiefling scanned the many faces moving through the shop. “Oh, he’s in his study. I can go grab him if you need.” Cal said while moving boxes of scrolls. “That won’t be necessary, Cal but thank you.” Zevlor made his way up the tower’s staircase. “What do you think he’s really here for?” Cal glanced at his sister. “Knowing Zevlor… If it’s not working with the fist or helping with the shop, then there is a chocolate shortage.” Lia let out a yawn.

The Master of Ramazith Tower was busy penning down his findings. His time at the grove proved fruitful as a perfect environment for experimentation. There were wide open spaces where Rolan could perform spells and need not worry for whatever destruction was made. Colour Spray was the first spell he ever perfected be it in Avernus of all places. To Cal's insistence, he was able to change the color to blue. Rolan grimaced at the thought of the accidental fires it sparked in doing so and the scoldings from Lia at the grove. The second spell he perfected was Thunderwave after goblins attacks became more frequent. He later perfected Magic Missile and Mage Armour thanks to the materials Zevlor procured for him. Though he himself questioned if Zevlor knew when he gave him A Pleasurable Deal, the contents of the book. He gave him the benefit of the doubt, he probably didn’t. Rolan immediately tossed the book after skimming through. He did not say a word when he saw the book at Dammon’s tent and later his new workshop. “How was the Hellrider doing?” he thought as he continued to write. A knock at the door. 

“You may enter. I am surprised you finally used some manners, Cal.” said the wizard not looking up from his writing. “Those long nights studying at the grove were worth it wouldn’t you say?” The wizard paused his quill ears perking up. “I am glad to see you are doing quite well for yourself. Do you prefer to be called Master Rolan or are we still on a first name basis?” as the Hellrider wandered to the shelves of the study. “First names as always, Zevlor. It is not often you come into the study.” Rolan watched the older tiefling skim the bindings of the books. He plucked a book off the shelves. “I remember you always had this book (Evocations: The Basics of Elemental Spellcasting) on hand. I am surprised it made it all the way to Baldur’s Gate. I can have it mended, you know.” Zevlor took his seat in front of Rolan. He carefully examined the tattered book.

“A kind gesture but that won’t be necessary. What is it you need, old friend?” Rolan took a sip of his tea. “Please, what’s mine is yours. If there is anything you need I can secure it for you.” The paladin let out a sigh. “As you know there seems to be a shortage of chocolate in Baldur’s Gate.” Rolan chuckled into his cup. “There seems to be so indeed. If anything I would have assumed you were the cause, Zevlor.” A flush began to creep up their face, tail irritatedly flicked about. “Worry not, I have already looked into the matter. I have a colleague from the Society of Brilliance that will have you sorted. Seek for someone named Blurg or Omeluum.” Rolan sat down his tea and began scribbling down the address.

“Though, do spare me a crate if you could kindly. The children under Cal’s care are expecting some pastries from me.” He handed him the note. “If you need anything else do let I, Cal or Lia know. It’s the least we could do for what you’ve done for us.” Rolan gave a warm smile. “Thank you, Rolan and I’ll see to it that the children are not disappointed then.” Zevlor rose out of his chair, and sat down Rolan’s book on the desk. The wizard waved the man off as he closed the door behind him. As he left the entrance of Sorcerous Sundries he heard, “Bye Grandad!” from Cal and “Make sure you come to training next time, ya!” called Lia over his shoulder. He made his way to the Society of Brilliance.

[themindarchive]

"Look to the stars, young one, and see as they do."

The BG3 brain rot has joined with one of the movie's i loved when i was a kid and still subscribed to the christian newsletter.

I had already made a post about it here:

But, I couldn't get it out of my head so now i am writing out the first draft of a piece of a future chapter.

In this chapter, Halsin has traveled with Razzikel to reuinite with his people. A group of wandering nomads who have no home for reasons both tragic and agravating but joined together to form a community loving and diverse community jst as willing to share what little they have as they are to protect it from being taken from them.

When he gets there he see's this diverse community from every walk of life, race and creed. Seeing Razzikel's home he better understands where Razzikel's kind, compassionate and non judgemental nature came from.

Tears may have been shed at the overwhelming beauty of it.

However, as he looked over this incredible community that was vibrant and full of life, those old thoughts that his captors in the Underdark instilled in him begin creeping in.

And even though he tries his best to remember his friends kind words as they had traveled over, it isn't enough to keep him from staying on the outskirts of the lively and joy filled celebration.

However, the ever observant source of Razzikel's wisdom and compassion does not fail to notice his child's new friends hesitation and sad expression. So, with warmth in his eyes and a gentle smile in his voice he walks over to help him not miss out on the joy and love those present wish to give him, because of the dark voices others had put there to keep him from living.

Written blurb under the cut.

Halsin held his cup of warm spiced cider to his chest as his other arm wrapped around his middle. His sad Hazel eyes watched in longing the dancing form of his friend as he spun and leaped, laughed and sang, the normally stoic drow blooded ranger radiating joy and freedom that he envied.

He wanted to join them. He wanted to bask in thier joy and warmth, letting it wrap around him until he forgot the world around him.

But the voices in his head began to whisper all the ways he was unworthy. They whispered how he was an outsider, a stranger to everyone but Razzikel. They told him that he was no longer needed, now that Razzikel had returned to his people. He should leave they told him. You don't need to be here anymore, you are just using up resources that are already scarce. Your wasting thier time, thier space, their company.

"Cub, why do you hide here?" A deep and gentle burr interrupted his spiraling thoughts.

Halsin looked up to the 7ft, 1/2 furbolg elven man, his tanned skin and long red brown hair, framing green eyes the deep color of maple leaves. The bonfire gave his gaze a warmth that made everyone around him feel safe despite the mans immense size.

"I would have expected you to be out there with my son. But I find you here in the shadows looking like someone stole your favorite staff. Are you all right?"

"I..." Halsin wanted to try and come up with a lie but Razzikel hadn't been exagerating when he siad his father's gaze saw straight into you. Looking at him now suddenly reminded him of the father he had lost so long ago. He had a gaze that was so filled with warmth and understanding that it was difficult not to tell him what was wrong.

So instead he cast his eyes to his feet.

He heard the man sigh before he felt a large hand gently rest on his shoulder.

"Cub, what is it that troubles you? What is it that keeps you from doing what you very clearly want to do?" He then gently hooked a finger under his chin and tipped his head up. "Let me be the arms that carry your burdens when you can carry them no more."

Halsin couldn't help the tears that pooled and fell down his face, nor the sobs that began to wrack his frame.

"Oh Cub, come here."

The larger man pulled him forward and wrapped his large muscular arms around him. The embrace was all encompassing in the same way Razzikel's often were. AS much as his friend would joke about taking after his mother in appearance, it seemed he took after his father in almost everything else.

Halsin let himself melt into the fatherly embrace as Rhu's voice gently echoed in his head.

"Razzikel told me of what happened to you in the dark and how isolating it has been for you. My heart aches knowing that the man who rsiked life and limb to get my son home has no one to turn to." He then stepped back and rested his hand against Halsin's face, wiping away a tear with his thumb. "So, cub, let this old wolf ease your burden. It is the least i can do after what you have doen for my son."

Halsin's eyes drifted back over to Razzikel who was now spinngin around with a couple kids hanging on to his arms, laughing and smiling, his Amthyst eyes shining like jewels in the fire light.

"I don't deserve to be here. I am an outsider. Now that Razzikel is home, i am of no more use. If i am not useful I..."

Rhu leaned down and pressed his forehead against his forehead. "Those arn't your words."

"What?"

Rhu then reached down and pulled up the tunic he was wearing. a few inches above his hip bone was an old faded branding scar. He didn't know which house it was from but he knew the aesthetic design on a drow noble house.

Halsin's eyes widened, "You too?"

He nodded. "In the same way you brought my son home, Danny did the same for me. That's why i know those aren't your words. Those words are theirs. You are worthy and deserve so much more than to just 'be of use'."

He then turned him back towards the celbration, his hand sweeping out towards all of his people so full of joy and life.

"This celebration could have easily been a funeral if it wasn't for you." He then pointed at Razzikel who was back to dancing and leaping around the campfire, his mother now having joined his side. "My wife could have been lighting her son's funeral pyre, instead there they both are dancing around a bonfire." He watched as tears began to form as he watched his wife and child. "When we lost him, our world shattered. Razzikel had been a blessing form Selune herself. A child Danny didn't think she was even capable of having." His eyes then turned back to him, the tears now falling down his face. "You brought him back to us out of the kindness of your own heart. What little we have, Halsin, is yours. As of today, you are a member of Clan Moonclaw and will always be welcome amongst us."

Halsin started crying again, happy tears this time. "I...I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything." He then saw Rhu look up and nod at someone. When Halsin followed his eyeline he saw Razzikel walking over, his chest heaving a bit out of breath. When Rhu saw him looking he smiled and said, "Instead, I want you to ignore those voices in your head that tell you you don't deserve to be here, and when my son offers his hand, you take it."

"I don't know how to dance." Halsin spoke but didn't stop Rhu from taking his cup out of his hand.

"You don't need to. Just let the music and energy flow through you, your body will do the rest."

When Razzikel reached them, his naked chest was glistening with the sweat and heat of the celabration, his thick pack alpha scent setting his veins on fire.

He held out his hand, the fire a blazing halo around him, making him seem as if he was the spirtual empobiment of the celbration itself.

"Dance with me?"

Halsin took a quick glance in Rhu's direction who tipped his head towards his son encourgingly.

"I would love too."

[terrible-eel]

Thank you @piipaw for tagging me! Here's a game to show off your Tav, feel free to reblog and add your own or take the layout to make your own! I have a million ideas for my guy so I'm so glad I have somewhere to put a few. (Also feel free to ask me questions if you're curious, my dms are always open)

Althea|| Drow || Druid || He/it || 127

What’s your Tav’s…

Favorite weapon: Whips. When in the Underdark Althea whips were his weapon of choice. Once Althea learned how to wield magic through the Old Faith, he grew a thorny vine and nurtured it to maturity before taking a piece for his thorn whip.

Style of Combat: Althea is used to guerrilla warfare from fighting the Loth Drow, but he prefers direct confrontations, taking wildshape and eating whoever’s in front of him.

Most prized possession: He doesn’t care much for material things so he just gives everything he finds to everyone else. He does feel accomplished seeing his companions in the things he gives them though.

Deepest desire: Althea had broken away from the Underdark and traveled alone for so long that he hadn’t given it much thought until he began to get to know everyone. Now he wants to make sure his companions are free.

Guilty pleasure: He makes a terrible Druid by most Druid standards. He’s a complete hedonist and does whatever he wants,( drinks, fucks, fights etc.) feeling that following his own base nature is true worship. He doesn’t care about any gods and has no illusions about “harmony” not implying “savagery” in some ways because everything has to eat and exists on a food chain. (That being said, he hates cruelty)

Best-kept secret: His entire past is a secret. He still has family in the Underdark who chose to remain there. He’d die before revealing anything about them.

Greatest strength: Althea’s sense of fear might be a little broken. It’s not quite bravery so much as an absence of caution, which can be great in combat but might not be so good a trait in a leader.

Fatal Flaw: He falls into caretaking everyone before realizing it. He had left his responsibilities once before, thinking he’d stay independent, but now he can’t help but pick up strays and aid every person who asks, just because he feels like he can.

Favorite Smell: Amber and cloves *wink*

Favorite spell or cantrip: Wildshape. 100%. Learning that specific magic was really the first time he felt free.

Pet Peeve: Volo. The entire man.

Bad Habit: Althea doesn’t enjoy doing one thing for too long. He lacks followthrough with a lot of plans and will just think “Bored now” and find a way out of a situation if it becomes too tedious, even if it means killing someone he had built trust with.

Hidden Talent: The man could command a small army pretty successfully if needed. He has the experience. Not his proudest talent, but it’s there.

Leisure activity: Althea will gamble any chance he gets. Gold is for gambling as far as he’s concerned. Dice, cards, tests of strength. He loves watching people play games more than he cares about winning.

Favorite drink: At some point Gale makes him a cup of sipping chocolate and his life is changed forever. He lurks around when he sees Gale cooking, hoping to get another cup.

Comfort food: Any kind of roast with potatoes and carrots. He loves to eat anything he can get his hands on but roasts are nostalgic.

Favorite person: Aside from his dog and owlbear friends, he’s growing very close to Gale and maybe falling for Astarion.

Favorite display of affection, (Platonic and/or Romantic): Romantic: Althea loves directness and straightforward honesty, but Astarion’s complicated combinations of flirtations and confessions has him fixated. He wants to take Astarion stargazing and let him calm down. Platonic: Gale’s sharing of knowledge is his favorite form of friendship. He’s never bored with what Gale has to say. He wants to show Gale all the secret little magics he’s learned living in the woods. How even smaller mushrooms can reveal secrets, or how bird eggs hold life-lines like the palms of one's hands.

Fondest childhood memory: Building little forts between giant mushrooms with his siblings and pretending they had a little house together.

@basuralindo And anyone else who plays Bg3!

[timeforelfnonsense]

Lost and Found

Astarion x Dafni 

Rating: T

Hurt/Comfort

TW for depression mention 

Ao3

I’ve been working on this bad boy for a month and it’s done at last!

 An important note: There is some reference to the Lolth Sworn drow in this and I feel the need to clear the air and state that I have some issues with the way WotC characterizes the drow as inherently evil. My house rules are that none of the races are inherently evil because the broad strokes in the source material as problematic af. So while the followers of Lolth might be evil I want to make it clear that doesn't equal all drow are bad. Dafni holds all varieties of elves in tender regard. As an eladrin of the fey wilds and a follower of Corellon she understands that fluid and changing nature of all living things. Life is messy and people do not fit into boxes, very few folks are all bad or all god. Not every elf worships the Seldarine and that’s ok. A fundamental part of Corellon is freedom and choice therefore it would be foolish to insist her path is the only right one. Her issue is with Lolth not the drow as a whole.

The Underdark was a horrid and forsaken place. A shudder ran down Dafni’s spine as she rubbed away the gooseflesh cropping up across her arms. Lolth’s influence hung heavy in the stale air. She would have to step lightly. A cleric of Corellon would be a great prize to the followers of the Spider Queen. She missed the warm sun on her face, the feeling of grass beneath her bare feet. She could feel herself wilting under the oppressive darkness that surrounded them.

Anxiety was a strange and forging feeling. The majority of her 160 years had been spent embodying the playful delight of spring. Perhaps it was on account of her relative youth. Or, maybe it was the influence of Corellon Larethian, whose wild and wonderful influence she had felt all her life. He had looked out for her. Cared for her as a father would his child. Truly, Corellon felt as much a parent to her as her mother, Thesmia did. A meek half-smile tugged at the corner of her lips. He had given her a reason to leave home when the wanderlust became far too much for her to contain. If she was to flourish as both an elf and a divine servant, Dafni would need to truly know herself beyond being Thesmia’s shadow. Absentmindedly her fingers reached for the familiar crescent moon that hung from her neck.

Her feet skidded to a halt, her trembling hand pulled away empty. Her blood turned to ice. An agonizing dagger of guilt pierced her heart and she felt as though the ground beneath her would open up and swallow her whole. Part of her wished that it would. She had carried the holy symbol since she was a young girl. Though she knew in her soul it had been her’s even before that. It had served as her connection not just to her god, but her heritage and primal spirit- The very essence of her being. 

“I lost it.” Her voice was less than a whisper, stunned and distant. Tears began to well up in her eyes. The world around her was growing colder by the second. “My amulet is gone.” Her breath began to come out in heaves and she began to sob in earnest. “It- It must have gotten lost when the minotaur tossed me!” 

 Her sharp cry stopped her traveling companions in their tracks. Each of their faces dressed in varying degrees of confusion and concern. Gale began to speak but his words were drowned out but the low ringing in her ears. A dizzy, sickening feeling bloomed in her gut and the edges of her vision began to blur as the darkness she had so feared gripped her soul.

They had doubled back to the old Selûnite fort. The others were still there setting up a temporary camp. Shadowheart hadn’t been able to find anything physically wrong with her aside from the normal bumps and scrapes that were to be expected on an active adventurer. 

Astarion felt truly helpless for the first time since he’d escaped Cazador’s clutches. It had been an hour and Dafni had yet to wake. He clasped her hand in his. A soft blue had slowly been spreading over her sage-green skin, creeping its way from the tips of her fingers to the crown of her head. Her locks were shifting at the root from rosy pink to a frosty teal. The flowers that wove through her loose ponytail had all weathered into dust. 

He squeezed her hand, “Come on Daffodil…”

Gale had been fairly positive that this was, to some extent normal for the eladrin of the Feywilds. Something about a book he’d read by some notable wizard? Truth be told Astarion hadn’t been paying much attention. He was too busy staring down Lae’zel, who’s paranoia filled gaze had been locked on Dafni’s sleeping form from the moment they’d returned. 

He should have been annoyed at her. The loss of some silly costume jewelry had caused her to swoon like a high born lady. He knew she was made of stronger stuff than that. Her little spell had put them all behind and left them without a healer the whole trek back to the fort. Yet, try as he might Astarion couldn’t seem to conjure up the ire he held for those too weak to survive hardship on their own.

 He groaned, letting his head hit the wall behind him with a soft thunk. There it was again- That damn sentimentality! By the Hells, he was a vampire, not a nursemaid! What had gotten into him? 

“You should rest.” Wyll placed a hand on his shoulder, “I’ll keep an eye on her for a bit.” 

His eyes went narrow, a low growl rumbling in his chest. The idea of leaving her while she was vulnerable made his blood boil. 

I’ll watch your back and you watch mine…

Her promise echoed through his thoughts. Dafni had held her end of the bargain with unwavering resolve. If he left now it would feel too much like betraying the one person he’d allowed even a fragment of trust in the past two centuries.

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t an appropriate reaction.” He muttered while he whisked away an icy tear from her cheek. “I’m just a bit... Out of sorts.” 

Wyll nodded, taking a seat on the dusty floor beside him, “Hey, she’s tough. She’ll pull through, whatever this is.” The warlock gave him an almost smug look, “You really care for her don’t you?” 

“I hardly see how that’s any of your concern.” He sneered with a wave of his hand, “Besides, my concern is simply a matter of pragmatism. Our little band of misfits can’t afford to lose our best healer-” Astarion hesitated for a moment before adding, “Don’t tell Shadowheart I said that. We need not add my body to the pile- Should things go poorly.” 

“If I promise not to sell you out will you take a break?” 

For the first time since she had fainted, he noticed the scratchy dryness in his throat. Astarion scowled, there was little in the way of appetizing food that he had seen but he would just have to make due. He was loathed to leave her side but Wyll was a good man, a better one than him in truth. He would keep her safe. 

“What’s this? The legendary Blade of the Frontiers, stooping to common blackmail.” He tried to keep his tone flat but he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips, “Fine, I’ll take a break. I’m a bit parched anyway. I suppose I’ll try to track something palatable down here. Unless…”

 He arched an eyebrow towards Wyll who moved away with an overstated scoot. 

“Not a chance, now go!” 

Cold. 

A crushing, all-consuming chill wrapped its arms around her spirit. Spring had left her. Now she stood alone in the isolating melancholy of winter. She reached out for the familiar warmth of The Protector but here- In this cursed place his influence felt far and foreign. If only she had her holy amulet. It could have served as a compass leading her back to Corellon’s embrace. She would simply have to press on. She had put them behind already and there was no time for sentiment. She wouldn’t be able to cast spells until she found a replacement and the chances of a spare symbol of her god in the Underdark were laughable. Dafni tried to sniff back the tears pricking at the edges of her eyes but it was no use. They rolled down her baby blue cheeks freezing before they could fall to the ground. She glanced up at Astarion, who walked a few paces ahead. While Gale and Wyll had spent the better part of a day coddling her, he had remained distant. 

Maybe he didn’t want her like this? Her sadness threatened to consume anyone near her and he had enough grief of his own. He had admitted once that he enjoyed having her near. Whispered in her ear that she was sunlight and happiness made flesh as he took her in a flower patch of her own creation. 

The feeling of a gentle hand pulled her from her thoughts. Gale offered her a small smile before speaking, “Are you all right?” 

“Oh-” She sniffed, whipping away another frozen tear, “I’ll be alright. I just don’t feel much like myself right now.” 

Gale nodded in response, “Yes, I can see that. Perhaps we shouldn’t have brought you here. The Underdark does seem quite at conflict with the very core of your being.”

A mournful laugh escaped her aching chest, “I don’t think we’d have had any better luck with that shadow curse above ground. No, my sorrow isn’t a good enough reason to risk the rest of the group’s safety.” She brought an icy hand to Gale's cheek, causing him to shiver, “I appreciate your concern but really I’ll be alright. We eladrin are ruled by our emotions, a shift of season was inevitable at some point or another. It’s unfortunate for the rest of you it had to be winter. Things are dire enough without my sorrowful presence bringing you all down with me. Perhaps it would be best for all of you to keep your distance.”

 She sighed, her eyes falling on Astarion, who lingered just on the edge of the bitter cold her sadness created. While it pained her to say it, she knew he was right to keep away. The others should do the same if they were wise. Gale gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 

“He’s a funny one, Astarion.” Gale mused, “Wyll told me he had to resort to extortion to pry him from your side while you were out. Yet, today he acts as if you have the plague.”

A small snort of laughter broke past her tears, “Extortion?” 

“I believe comments were made comparing Shadowheart’s healing abilities to your own. Wyll offended his silence in exchange for Astarion taking a break.”

“That’s not fair to her.” Dafni sniffed, “She’s not a life cleric, she does her best.” 

“You have a good heart, Dafni.” Gale said giving her arm a squeeze, “My point is I think he cares about you, in his own odd way. At the very least he’s far more pleasant when you are around”

“You really think so?” 

“I do,” Gale assured, “he’d have to be the biggest fool in Faerûn not to see how wonderful you are.” 

Dafni felt a bit of warmth return to her heart. Not enough to thaw her sorrows but it was a start. Gale’s words helped her sort through the chaos of her mind as they had so many times before. He was a loyal and kind friend, as was Wyll. Shadowheart too despite her evasive and secretive nature. Even Lae’zel had warmed to her as best she was able despite their differences. There was a solace to be found in the support of her peers. She wasn’t so alone after all.

The sound of her laugh hit Astartion like a battering ram. She seemed to be in slightly better spirits since arriving in the Myconid Circle. She floated about the fungus folk with an easy familiarity. It seemed being among the vibrant plants and creatures of grotto had offered her some sense of normalcy. He looked over his shoulder to see what had coaxed a giggle from her (no matter how pitiful and melancholy it sounded). A sharp twinge of jealousy ran down his spine as he watched Dafni stroke Gale’s cheek with a somber smile. 

He bit the feeling back. It was better for them both if he kept his distance. Gentle kindness was hardly his strong suit. Gods, he was a disaster. How many times had she offered him comfort even when he spurned her? She had given so freely to him, her kindness, the warmth of her bed, the very blood in her veins. And there he was relying on someone else to comfort his lover.   

 Dafni was a resilient little thing. So optimistic and sweet it made his teeth hurt. It was disorienting to see her so morose. He had learned the boundaries of her emotional aura rather quickly. He had noticed an unfamiliar warm feeling that first night at camp. He found himself lingering near her as often as he could after that. Savoring the tender happiness that radiated from off of her. She had told him it was simply part of her nature. A charming quirk he’d grown to enjoy a great deal. But now he could feel her heavy sorrow as if it were his own and he longed to make her hurt go away.  

Damn sentimentality.

He had his own worries. He didn’t need to take on hers as well. She didn’t need him to coddle her. And more importantly, he most certainly was not beholden to her contentment for his own survival despite his halfwit heart’s insistence to the contrary. She was making him soft. It was ridiculous! He was far too old to be fretting over her like a lovelorn sprat. 

It must be the tadpole. Her compassion must have wormed its way into his brain somehow. That was the only logical explanation.

He needed to clear his head and get some distance between them so he could feel more himself. He wandered aimlessly about the grotto as he attempted to show away any feelings of softhearted sympathy but it was no use. He rubbed his temples and let out a frustrated huff. He should never have taken that first taste of her. She’d become an irresistible craving from that moment on. It wasn’t just her blood, but every aspect of her that called to him. Inviting him to take refuge in her affections. He could feel himself lowering his guard a little bit more each day despite his efforts to keep her at arm's length. She’d flash him that beguiling little grin, her topaz eyes brimming over with admiration and he would find himself tempted to let her just another inch closer. He’d known she was dangerous from the moment he clapped eyes on her in the wreckage of the crash. He’d prepared himself for a stake to the heart but the infatuation she had inspired in him was infinitely more frightening and possible just as deadly.

He made his way to the alcove where the Society of Brilliance had set up shop. The strange hobgoblin had mentioned something to the party about being a collector of magical items and oddities. Walking had failed to rid him of his frustrations perhaps shopping would. 

A glimmer caught his eye as he approached the cluttered stall. There, on the table was a familiar silver amulet. He was going to get it back for her and pray the gesture was enough to curb his need to see her happy. He could swipe it easily enough but he didn’t want to draw trouble to Dafni if she was spotted wearing it. No, charm and a dash of intimidation would be his best shot.

“Excuse me,” He smiled wide allowing for a slight flash of his fangs, “I was hoping you would be willing to part with that necklace.”

“A vampire interested in the acquisition of a holy symbol?” 

“Yes, it’s very ironic.” Astarion rolled his eyes. “Now, how much do you want for the damn thing?”

“Well, first time for everything.” the hobgoblin shrugged, “You have a good eye, this is very unique. It’s forged from mithral and inlaId with sylvan moonstones. The holy symbol of Corellon is more commonly depicted as an eight-pointed star these days rather than the crescent moon. Meaning this item is very old indeed! It was brought in just yesterday. I would be hesitant to sell it but my research does require more funding. How does 900 gold sound?”

“I hate to be the one to tell you but ‘very old’ is a relative term when it comes to items of elvish origin.” He kept his tone flat and unimpressed, “Long-lived people do tend to hold onto things.” 

“Ah, but you’ll find this is more than your average antique! Judging by the craftsmanship I would say it dates back to the time of the primal elves.”

Shit. 

Of course, her necklace had much more than sentimental value. He had hoped for a quick haggle but it seemed he was going to have to work for it. He really didn’t have that much coin on him, nor was he inclined to spend it on something that was not rightfully the hobgoblin’s to sell. He raffled through his mind searching for a thinly veiled threat or convincing argument to lower the price until the perfect mixture of the two dawned on him.

Astarion let out a droll hum as he checked his nails with casual disinterest. He spoke in a low, blasé voice, “You said before you weren’t much for combat? Don’t you think it’s risky, carrying around a holy item of Corellon in the den of the Spider Queen? It would be such a shame if something were to happen to you at the hands of a zealot. Really I’m doing you a favor by purchasing it. I’ve crossed swords with the Lolth sworn before they are merciless and skilled fighters almost as dangerous and bloodthirsty as vampires.”

He let a wicked bark of laughter. A bemused expression flickering across his face. He could smell the fear stirring in the timid merchant. It would seem he hadn’t lost his edge after all.  

Blurg swallowed hard before mustering a response, “ Ah- I hadn’t thought about that...”

Dafni sat cross-legged on the ramparts of the fort fletching a new batch of arrows. She’d need more to compensate for her lack of magic for the time being. She’d spent the whole trek back to their camp scanning the ground for her necklace but it had all been for not. She’d just have to accept the fact it was gone no matter how much it broke her heart. 

“There you are, darling. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

 The sound of Astarion’s voice caused her to jump, tossing her arrow down with a start. Dafni clutched her chest shooting him a sharp look. He only laughed, his infuriating gorgeous face fixed in a grin that reminded her of a satyr who stumbled upon a river of bathing nymphs. He dipped to his knees placing a hungry kiss on her scowling lips. He couldn’t be serious. All-day she had been desperate for his attention and he was completely uninterested but now that he had an itch to scratch he was searching up and down for her. Unbelievable! She shouldn't have been surprised. It wasn’t as if he’d ever promised her his undying love and devotion. Still, she had thought him tactful enough not to proposition her after the hell she’d been through that day. 

“I’m not really in the mood right now.” She scolded, “You’ll just have to entertain yourself tonight, you egotistical lecher!”

“That- Isn’t why I sought you out. But, if you truly don’t want my company I’ll leave you be.” He shrugged his tone flippant despite the flash of vulnerability in his ruby eyes.

“I- I’m sorry that was really mean and uncalled for. Please stay.”

Stupid impulsive girl.

She slumped forwards, hiding her face in her knees. She could feel the icy tears threatening to spill over for the hundredth time that day. He’d come to check on her and she’d cut him down because of her own insecurity. The bitterness had gotten the better of her and she had unwittingly discouraged his attempt at compassion. 

“If you think the accusation of being a rake is the most heinous insult that’s been hurled at me I’m afraid you’ve missed the mark by quite a lot.” 

He sat down beside her, placing a hesitant hand on her back. She could sense his uncertainty. He was nervous and clearly out of his depth but he was trying. His cautious fingertips moved slowly across the expanse of her back, tracing nebulas shapes and patterns as she drew short, shallow breaths. She couldn’t bear to look at him. She just knew he was staring at her with the same wide, gentle eyes he had when she’d offered her neck to him that night in the woods. If she saw him like that the dam would break and she’d be an utter mess. 

“I still shouldn’t have said it.” Her voice came out shaky and quiet as she peeked over the top of her knees at him. 

“I think I’ll find it in my heart to forgive you.” He leaned in close, whispering in her ear. “I have something for you. Now, stand up and close your eyes.”

She arched a questioning brow but compiled, hopping to her feet. He pushed her ponytail to one side. His touch lingered on her jumping pulse causing a shiver to run down her spine. A warm chuckle falling from his lips in response. The cool feeling of metal draped across her throat, an otherworldly comfort hummed all around her as the delicate weight of a pendant fell against her chest. 

“Where did you find it!!” Dafni gasped, “I thought I had lost it forever! You can’t fathom how much this means to me.”

“It’s a gift, to repay you for all the ones you’ve given me.”  

It probably seemed a small thing to him but he’d returned a missing piece of herself. Words felt woefully inadequate to express her gratitude. She threw her arms around his neck, sending him staggering back a bit. She hardly noticed. She stood on her tiptoes placing gentle kisses all over him. First over the bridge of his nose and then his cheeks and down his neck. Her fingers laced through his soft curls tugging him close, her lips brushed against his. Astarion’s hands fell to her soft waist, his mouth ever so slightly parting for hers. Dafni sighed, running her tongue along the warm seam of his lip earning her a satisfied purr. His hand ventured to the small of her back gently coaxing her closer. She took in a deep breath, the dizzying blend of leather and patchouli making her weak at the knee. She could have stayed like that forever, pressed safe and content against his solid chest. The feeling was big and terrifying but magical and perfect all at once. 

Drat...

She was falling in love with him.

[hawkesvarric]

Masterlist of my D&D Characters

⚗️ ARTIFICER ⚗️

Breena Boddynock. Forest Gnome. Alchemist. Criminal. Twin sister to Brocc, a monk. She’s an inventor who sells her creations to the highest bidder, not terribly concerned with “morals” or the “law”. Currently traveling through the Underdark to return a magical hammer back to the duergar clan it rightfully belongs to. (After she stole the hammer in the first place, but let’s not split hairs here, shall we?)

🪓 BARBARIAN 🪓

Cormyn. Human. Ancestral Guardian. Archaeologist. Grew up in the wilds among a tribe of barbarians, though among the clan there were also healers and magic users. He loves learning about ancient histories and digging through the abandoned ruins lost in the mountainside. The spirits of his ancestors speak to him, telling him of the past. He has a wife, another human barbarian named Galatea, and they have a son together named Tiran. A mysterious illness overtook a large portion of their clan, including Galatea, and now Cormyn seeks a remedy to bring home to his people.

📯 BARD 📯

Bonejangles. Skeleton. Whispers. Charlatan. He woke up in his own grave and had to claw his way to the surface. No tombstone, no memories, and no name. People either feared him or tried to kill him, so he learned how to disguise his skeletal features and how to forge fake identities for business purposes. In his past life, he was a powerful warlock named Romero Marivaldi who had struck a deal for eternal life. However, one should be very careful what they wish for when striking a bargain with a fey. Has (had?) a wife named Damiana, who had her own twisted part to play in Romero’s unfortunate fate.

Altair. Human? Lore. Entertainer. Once, Altair was a half-orc named Kash. He was the son of the chieftain, training to one day take his fathers’ place. Then a dragon attacked, slaughtering most of his clan including his father. Including him. Barely managing to escape, his fathers’ adviser Grimon drug Kash’s body away from the carnage, using the last of his magic to return the boy back to life. Only the spell had unintended consequences. For now Kash was in a completely different body, that of a human. He fled once he learned of the clan’s fate, leaving Grimon behind. He took on a new persona, Altair the Wanderer, hoping to leave his past behind him.

🩸 BLOODHUNTER 🩸

Red. Human. Lycan. Haunted One. Unwilling test subject in an experiment performed by wizards on behest of the king to try and create more powerful soldiers for his armies. It worked, though perhaps better than they anticipated. Red managed to break her chains on the night of the full moon when she transformed and slaughtered everyone in sight before escaping. Now she seeks to find any others like her so they may unite and kill the king. Maybe blow the whole kingdom up while she’s at it, she hasn’t decided yet.

⚕️ CLERIC ⚕️

Keothi Ogolakanu, the Wolfkiller. Goliath. Life. Outlander. Grew up high in the mountains, longing to discover the rest of the world. But Keothi’s role was to be the clan’s healer. She had all but accepted her fate when a pack of winter wolves attacked. The goliaths fought back, but were overwhelmed by the wolves’ numbers and ferocity. They began to corner a child, teeth gnashing violently, when Keothi heard a whisper in her ear: “Protect.” She used a magic she never had before, killing the wolves single-handedly. The spirit that spoke to her was that of the Pathfinder, one of the old gods her people still worshiped. It was now her destiny to leave her clan behind, following wherever the Pathfinder’s path might take her.

🌿 DRUID 🌿

George “Pebble” Pebbleton. Half-elf. Moon. Hermit. As a child, she wandered into the woods all by herself. She has no memory of where she came from or what her name once was. A pair of bears found her and, perhaps because they could sense the magical energy inherent in her or maybe because they had just lost a cub of their own, they took her in. Of course, she still interacted with people from time to time. Travelers and adventurers, the occasional bandit, etc. It was from one of them that she heard about a local tournament being ran in a nearby town. So she decided she was ready to leave, though her bear guardians still follow her around to make sure she’s safe. On the tournament registry, she made-up the name George Pebbleton on the fly, hoping it sounded normal enough.

⚔️ FIGHTER ⚔️

Kimbatuul Sora. Dragonborn. Champion. Outlander. Sora was always a braggart, a show-off, and a ham for attention. But for good reason - she really was the best fighter in the Kimbatuul clan. Her father had a seat on the council while her mother ran the market. Life was great. Until her adulthood celebration, that is. Sometime during the night of revelry, a council member was murdered with her trademark halberd engraved with her name. Sora tried to defend herself, but the evidence against her was overwhelming. The punishment was traditionally a battle in which the accused could “prove” their innocence by withstanding a barrage of attacks from the council. However, her father couldn’t stand the idea of raising his sword against his own daughter, nor could he idly stand by and watch the others do so, so he managed to convince them to banish her instead by forfeiting his own council seat. Though alive, she was now disgraced by her own people, being deemed guilty and dishonorable for not fighting. She was banished into the neighboring woods, becoming a sellsword in order to provide for herself.

Seymour Quincy. Warforged. Eldritch Knight. City Watch. On the fringes of a magical college dedicated to cutting edge education, a team of dwarven wizards were tasked with studying the mysterious entity we call the soul. They had performed many experiments with little to no success. Either the souls wouldn’t bind to the objects chosen or they would go on a murderous rampage after being untethered to their own humanity. Just as their research grant was about to be taken back, one of them suggested using a younger soul. Hence Experiment #57 was born--er, created. After a short observational period, it was deemed a success. No unbinding, no stabbing. The experiment even seemed to possess a personality. Perhaps a bit more personality than the dwarves would’ve liked. #57 didn’t like being called a number. In fact, #57 didn’t like being referred to as ‘it’ either. He decided he ought to have a proper name--Seymour Quincy. The research team indulged him at first, still glowing from their success, but it was quickly made clear that #57--Seymour wouldn’t function the way they had hoped. They couldn’t sell him to the military as a soldier. He was physically strong, even capable of performing magic, but he was more interested in searching the woods for stray bunnies. The only times Seymour would fight were when he believed somebody innocent to be in harm’s way. For now, he has a “job” with the local city guard so the researchers can continue to observe his soul’s development and hopefully find a way of making some sort of financial returns off of him. If only he’d stop wandering off because he thought he saw a kitten.

👊 MONK 👊

Rikeo Sepret. Human. Open Hand. Gladiator. Born in the gladiator ring, Rikeo was forced from childhood to fight for nobles’ entertainment. These fights were not only brutal but to the death. He learned early on how to use his body as a weapon so as not to rely too heavily on swords and such. Rikeo also learned how to put on a show. If he was forced to have blood on his hands, then he was determined to be the best at it. His grandiose personality combined with his over-the-top combat maneuvers and his undefeated track record granted him a bit of freedom. Just enough for him to knock out the guards and escape. Now he travels, armed with only his fists and his wit.

🛡️ PALADIN 🛡️

Giselle Baldric. Human. Ancients. Folk Hero. When her hometown was destroyed by a dragon, the Baldrics took up residence in a neighboring city as humble workers. Giselle worked on the docks which required much heavy lifting, though she never minded. She loved listening to people’s stories and the docks had all sorts of interesting folk coming and going. And she loved to help others, always doing little odd tasks here and there. Locals began spreading the word that if you needed help, just look for the red-headed woman on the docks. One night, as she was about to head home for the evening, a mermaid appeared in the water. The mermaid claimed to have heard of Giselle’s heroic nature and decided that she must be the one destined to wield this sword called the Storm Breaker. Giselle took the sword from the mermaid and vowed to protect all that is naturally good in this world.

Kraven. Tiefling. Oathbreaker. Mercenary Veteran. As a mercenary, Kraven did a lot of bad things in the name of conquest. She looked out for her own interests and betrayed people along the way, even allies. None of it mattered to her, so long as she came out on top. But one day, she was hired to bring in a smuggler alive so her client could have a “talk”. She found where the halfling lived and told him to come outside. He refused. Kraven decided a little fire ought to motivate him, so she set his house on fire. Only she was shocked to discover there was an infant there. She had done terrible things, yes, but to other assholes who deserved it. This was too far. She ran inside, seeing the halfling man dead from severe burns, and recovered the child. Kraven took the baby to a local temple to be looked after, but her client was furious. Not only was his man dead, but his mercenary went in to save a child instead of her target. He placed a bounty on her head and Kraven fled into the night. To make matters worse, now she had all these...feelings. That maybe she had been a bad person before, but it wasn’t too late to change. Her magic even began to change too, her previous oath broken. Now she was lost, caught between her past and her uncertain future.

🏹 RANGER 🏹

Don’t have one who is very developed yet :(

🗡️ ROGUE 🗡️

Arkade Vrago. Tiefling. Inquisitive. Investigator. Worked with the local city watch, solving crimes and catching criminals, before opening his own private investigative business. Arkade wishes to retire peacefully on a beach somewhere, but keeps getting dragged into cases. Grumbly, but secretly nice.

🔮 SORCERER 🔮

Jono. Human. Draconic. Inheritor. Slowly morphing into a dragon, no big deal. Jono is very laid-back and chill about most things, but even he is a big concerned that one day he might not be a human anymore. He has a mysterious amulet in his possession that he is hoping is the key to stopping the progression. Oh, and he kinda accidentally got married to the Fey King’s daughter, so the Feywild’s sort of out to get him. No worries, brah!

🌀 WARLOCK 🌀

Andella “Andy” Wroth-Mooncairn. Half-elf. Raven Queen. Noble. Rich, spoiled, and bratty were the best words to describe Andy. Not that she cared what others thought. She considered herself above everyone else. Growing up in a castle named after you tends to do that. Her parents arranged a marriage for her to a neighboring lord’s son, a real nerd. But Andy had little choice in the matter if she wanted to continue living off mommy and daddy’s money. At the wedding, an undead horde led by a powerful lich attacked. It turned out that Andy’s groom-to-be had stolen a cursed spellbook per his own ambitions, but had neglected to take into consideration that the wizard might not be so much ‘dead’ after all. Before he was ruthlessly ripped apart by zombies, he passed Andy the spellbook and told her to keep it away from the lich. She barely managed to escape the carnage, running out of the castle in her bloody wedding dress and clutching the spellbook to her chest. Having witnessed so much bloodshed, she vowed to personally send every undead abomination straight back to Hell where they belonged. And that’s when a mysterious raven landed in front of her with an interesting proposal...

✨ WIZARD ✨

Mialee Zolerii. Eladrin. Evocation. Acolyte. Attends the most prestigious academy, but couldn’t exactly afford to pay for it herself. So she also works at the school as the beastkeeper’s assistant. Her ex-gf may or may not be a dragon. (Although, in Mialee’s defense, she wasn’t in her dragon form at the time, okay!) Always tries her best, but things still tend to explode around her. Currently on a semester abroad, studying any new creatures she happens to come across in her travels. Will she wrestle any of them? Probably!

Bartok Abbadon. Drow. Invention. Guild Merchant. Bartok knows he grew up in the Underdark. He remembers being a weak child who was picked on constantly until he began to show real promise in his eldritch studies. Then he was sent to Menzoberranzan with a small handful of other promising candidates to work and study in the city’s largest library. But that’s where things start to get a little fuzzy. He knows his memory has been manipulated, but still he cannot fully recall his time at the library. Small flashes of things come to him and then they are gone as quickly as they came. If he tries too hard to grab on to the memory, his nose begins to bleed. So, at some point, he decided to stop trying. Especially because his last clear memory of the Underdark was rather horrifying. The library was on fire, bodies everywhere, and when Bartok looked down at his hands, they were covered in blood. It haunted his nightmares for some time after he fled to the surface. What happened there? What were they all doing there that had to be protected so badly they needed to alter his memories? And, worst of all, what if all that flame and death was his fault? Bartok tries not to think of it now, as he has a shop to run where he sells various herbs and inventions of his own creation. His homunculus familiar, Batty, keeps him company. And that’s that, right? No way his past can come back to haunt him all the way up here...right?

[dreadlock-detective]

All of my 5th ed D&D characters together, by order of appearance: Adi the Paladin (Crimson Crow Campaign), Beatrice the Monk/Cleric, Cirilisa the Wizard, Dindelion the Sorceress, Elenor the Ranger/Wizard, and Adi the Cleric (Curse of Strahd Campaign) (yes that’s A B C D E, and then A again)

My characters tend to have rather large issues that would, if they were left on their own without their respective groups/getting caught up in the campaign, ensure they’d never actually succeed in their goals. As such I’ve really enjoyed distilling each of them down to a single word, an essence of what lays behind their entire psyches. And they’re all bad. Yes, even “Justice��, due to the circumstances~ Ramble about each of them after the cut~

Adi the Paladin (of the Crimson Crows) is a bit of a special case, the only one whose impediment to their success isn’t strictly speaking herself. The child of nobles who collected ancient artifacts, it is said one day they lost themselves to madness. Adi was taken in by her aunt and uncle who raised her the best she could, but as she grew they found she too was prone to bouts of madness and hysteria. One day, when the man they had hired to exercise whatever demons lay upon her mind was found upon the floor, the girl bloodying his face with her fists, she was deemed incurable and quietly shipped away to join a peace-keeping force of ex-criminals and other undesirables known as the Crimson Crows.

She always thought of herself as a hero - a warrior of good and bringer of justice. The problem lays in that she was, originally, a warlock/barbarian of a Great Old One (Nyarlathotep), which warped how she saw the world to fit how she saw herself. For example, if she killed someone, it’s because that person deserved to be killed - if not for the reasons she was attacking them, then for something else. A self proclaimed Hero of the People who’s powers came from something far more likely to destroy the world, manipulating her towards its goals.

She had a rather happy ending, though - some of the other PC’s betrayed her trust and managed to sever her connection to Nyarlathotep, afterward she became a Paladin and through the power of friendship (with a colony of Mind Flayers - its a weird story) she managed to become the hero she always thought she was, ending a war with minimal bloodshed and bringing down an ancient evil.

Beatrice the Monk/Cleric of Death The young Bea, in a desperate attempt to save her clan from a powerful and deceptive mage, ended up selling her soul to a litch, turning her into a pseudo-undead herself. As it turns out, her clan who hunted the undead as abominations and mislead by the mage didn’t take kindly to that story, and she joined the Crimson Crows instead of facing their wrath. Faced with the knowledge that she had become the thing she had sworn to destroy to save those that now cast her out, she lost hope that she could ever reclaim her soul and, even among her new family of misfits, feared they would abandon her as well.

Sadly, she never got an end to her story - she got switched out for Adi when the campaign Adi was originally in was abruptly abandoned. Later on her and her wizard friend (another PC who had left the game) who both were hunting that evil mage found themselves mind-controlled into helping him resurrect an ancient draco-litch. She was saved by Adi & co, but now was worse off than ever, having played a pivotal role in bringing back a terrible undead horror, no matter how unwillingly. If we ever play another campaign in that world, I’d love to give her a proper story.

Cirilisa the Wizard Oh precious Ciri, the littlest Drow~ When a rival house murdered her entire family she became a young murder hobo in the underdark, growing up sickly and frail. Eventually she attempted to get her revenge but only managed to steal and sell some artifact from the family, along with getting a massive scar across her midsection from a blast from the family’s matriarch. Somehow escaping to the surface, her unconscious body was found by scouts of the Crimson Crows, who brought her back to relative health and gave her a new home, where she eventually set herself on becoming a moderately accomplished wizard. Her loss in childhood had deadened her already drow heart, but living among the surface world she saw so many people with so many emotions. She didn’t understand them, but she secretly coveted what they had.

I had planned that she would start to fall in love with the first PC that went out of their way to protect or help her from a serious problem - a plan that was designed to end poorly. The three candidates were a loner dwarf who didn’t want anything to do with anyone else, a were-bear orc who was 100% gay, and a minotaur who was already in a committed relationship. But even though the feelings wouldn’t be returned, she would FEEL things and grow as a character... well...

I didn’t expect that character (the orc) to protect her from drow assassins who nearly managed to kill her... and then THE NEXT NIGHT sacrifice his soul to a revenant of a man he had killed to protect the party. Before Ciri even had a chance to start acknowledging or understanding what she was feeling the object of her affections was dead and buried along the roadside. Instead of love, she grew bitter and angry, desperate to find a way to save the orc’s soul, all without really knowing why. She died before she could - her heart ripped from her chest by a wraith of vampiric spirits in a climatic boss battle. But that group’s leader, a PC vampire named Walter, destroyed the wraith, took it’s title and powers as Blood Lord, and raised her as a vampire. She’s still a ball of piss and vinegar, but she’s in a way found herself in a new family, charging herself with constantly keeping the Blood Lord in check and making sure he never gets too full of himself.

Dindelion the Sorceress If you don’t know about Dindel you haven’t been following me long. A homeless vagabond who hides her natural born ability to heal others for fear it would be exploited, she’s internalized many negative things about herself and rarely trusts herself to make decisions that won’t end in disaster. Add in a mother that disappeared when she was young, a drunkard gambler of a father, and a city decades in decline full of poverty and abuse by those in power and she’s got more than a few trust issues for other folks as well. She also has absolutely no idea how a healthy relationship is supposed to work, and a head full of stories and romance that have absolutely not lined up with her experiences since the campaign started.

Her father, the only constant in her life and the other half of a fairly unhealthy co-dependent relationship, got taken away by essentially the mob for not paying debts and it’s up to her to find some way to pay it off. To her great luck, she ran in to the wandering soldier Vale who, apparently wanting to make up for past sins, agrees to take her along to join a new venture he heard about, leading to the campaign proper. She was actually specifically designed to have too many trust issues to actually get in a relationship with anyone, but between how Vale cares for her and how absolutely shitty she’s found the outside world to be, those issues have actually mutated into something new as their romance has grown. Its... not any healthier a mental state though. I’m excited to see where it goes!

Elenor the Ranger/Wizard Elena was once a promising apprentice wizard, learning the weave with 4 other students. Always feeling a step above the others and not content with how slowly their teacher was progressing them, she devised a plan to work with the others to impress their teacher - to show her they were ready for bigger things. They were going to summon a creature from the planes of hell! Specifically, a Lemure, a relatively harmless blob of a twisted soul. An impressive feat and without much risk from the creature being summoned. Definitely within the capability of someone as great as her.

As sharp chains lashed out from the summoning circle her left arm was torn away. A great beast emerged, tossing her across the room. As she looked up she saw her rival, a young man named Osvaldo, brandishing an axe, standing over her, and looking quite pleased with himself. And the axe came down.

She would come to in a crypt standing near a coffin bearing the family crest of Osvaldo. Her body stiff and her mind cloudy, she slowly realized she had not survived that night at all - she was now a reanimated corpse, but had somehow regained her sense of self. She also found the nearby townspeople did not care enough to distinguish between mindless undead and herself. Eventually she found the place she had once studied - destroyed, some time ago it seems, by that night’s events. Lost and adrift, the life she once knew was over, even her memories were fragmented, but she would forever remember the names of the four who had done this. Osvaldo had convinced them to change the ritual - to summon that creature, and to use it to kill her. She was certain of it. And that hatred kept her going as years of nothingness passed her by. One day she was hired by a tunnel elf, a professed seeker of knowledge, as a guide through the wilderness and though she could not stand him they soon encountered others, mostly strange folk - a tabaxi, a triton, and a snake-like dragonborn in particular - and she stuck around to entertain herself.

Little did she know they were about to be pulled into saving the world from consumption by a forgotten and terrible deity. She thinks their chances aren’t even worth mentioning, but still she cannot allow existence to end before she has wrought what vengeance she can on those that wronged her, and so she will fight with everything she has to keep the world going.

Adi the Cleric of Nyarlathotep As Adi of the Crimson Crows discovered as she worked with the mind flayers, she was not the only Adi. Not even close. Hers was a soul connected to a power outside of time and space and finds itself drawn into worlds over and over, each incarnation as much the same as they are different. Perhaps the Crawling Chaos did not want to repeat what had happened before, maybe it was just twisted curiosity, but this iteration of the girl was born through his direct influence, raised in a town he had visited and driven mad. She was his disciple, and she would spread his teachings across the land.

Through a series of misunderstandings she has found herself in the land of Ravenloft, under the watchful eyes of the vampire Strahd, and in this land she came upon a terrible, bewitched house. A house with paintings of the owners and of a woman bearing a striking resemblance to her. A house where the ghostly children said their littlest sister was named Adi. The child had died in infancy, sacrificed in some dark ritual by its father.

And down in the depths of that place Adi found it was the truth. And there, along the alter, sat a book bound in human skin that called to her. A book of rituals devoted to her god, the Faceless Father. And there, upon the alter, she left the corpse of one of those who had traveled with her, who had brought her there.

She isn’t certain why the Faceless Father has guided her to this land, but she will carry out his will or die trying, though all things considered, perhaps the world would be better off with her in the ground, the cult’s voice silenced

[reflectingchaos]

     okay,   so  I  realize  this  probably  isn’t  even  a  thing  on  Tumblr  and  if  it  is  then  it’s  probably  just  in  groups.   but  whatever!   maybe  a  multi  will  come  along  one  day  thinking,   “gosh,   i’d  love  to  write  a  forgotten realms  muse  but  who?   well,   look  no  further  friends.   below,   you  will  find  a  summary  of  the  best  friends  a  drow  could  ask  for.   they  are  all  super  special  in  their  own  way.

BELWAR  DISSENGULP.           known  as  a  svirfneblin,   or  a  deep  gnome,   Belwar  is  Drizzt’s  first  honest  friend.   his  life  was  saved  by  Drizzt  when  the  gnomes  were  found  by  a  drow  party  and  all  were  slain  but  Belwar.   thanks  to  Driztt,   he  lost  his  hands  instead  of  his  life  and  he  never  let  that  stop  him.   fitted  with  a  hammer  and  a  pickaxe  where  his  hands  had  been,   the  gnome  can  cast  a  few  spells  and  the  new  ‘hands’  make  quite  a  formidable  weapon  to  say  the  least.   he  doesn’t  follow  Drizzt  to  the  surface,   but  he  was  the  first  to  show  Drizzt  genuine  friendship  in  the  Underdark.   something  the  drow  desperately  needed.

BRUENOR  BATTLEHAMMER.           what’s  better  than  a  stereotypical  rough  and  gruff  dwarf?   one  with  a  secret  heart  of  gold  that  he  would  sooner  die  than  confess  to.   but  it’s  true!   beneath  that  thick  dwarven  skull  is  a  deeply  caring  heart  and  it’s  proven  by  his  loyalty  to  Drizzt  and  his  ability  to  see  past  the  drow’s  racial  reputation  to  be  his  friend.   he  pretty  much  has  two  adopted  kids  in  the  series  and  Drizzt  and  Bruenor  have  saved  each  others’  lives  so  many  times  that  it’s  a  wonder  either  of  them  survived  without  each  other.

CATTIE-BRI  BATTLEHAMMER.

          an  auburn-haired  human  girl  raised  by  a  rock  hard  stubborn  dwarf.   so  you  know  she’s  got  fire.   her  mother  died  giving  birth  to  her  and  her  father,   who  had  moved  them  to  Ten  Towns,   was  killed  in  a  goblin  attack  when  she  was  still  extremely  young.   the  attack  was  turned  away  by  a  band  of  dwarves,   and  I’m  sure  you  can  guess  who  one  of  them  was.   the  young  girl  was  found  by  Bruenor  who  decided  to  adopt  the  orphan.   she’s  the  first  one  in  Ten  Towns  to  trust  Drizzt  and  eventually  becomes  his  wife  after  the  author  drags  it  on  for  a  month  of  Sundays.   I  will  go  down  with  this  ship.

MONTOLIO  DEBROUCHEE

          a  highly  skilled  Ranger  of  Mielikki,   Montolio  is  the  one  who  teaches  Drizzt  about  the  surface  world--   it’s  plants,   animals,   cultures,   how  to  survive  the  cold  weather,   and  even  teaches  him  new  fighting  skills.   all  the  while,   he’s  blind.   yep,   blind  but  completely  capable.   he  and  Drizzt  fight  off  an  attack  together  and  the  old  man  can  hold  his  own  just  fine  despite  his  disability.   he  lives  in  a  Grove  that  becomes  eerily  abandoned  after  his  death.   he  can  sense  the  good  in  Drizzt  and  protects  him.

WULFGAR

          a  close  friend  of  Drizzt’s,   Wulfgar  was  a  teenager  when  his  barbarian  tribe  raided  Ten-Towns.   he  was  captured  and  became  an  indentured  servant  to  Bruenor  where  he  spent  five  years  at  the  dwarf’s  forges  and  learned  the  craft  well.   he  also  becomes  close  friends  with  Cattie-bri  and  the  two  share  romantic  instances  various  times  within  the  series  so  a  ship  between  those  two  is  entirely  possible.   after  his  service  to  Bruenor  is  over,   the  dwarf  sends  him  to  learn  to  fight  from  Drizzt.   and  so  the  two  begin  as  teacher  and  student  and  eventually  become  good  friends  along  the  way.

ZAKNAFEIN  DO’URDEN

          this  muse  is  a  little  limited,   but  I  would  give  my  soul  to  whoever  would  write  him  with  me.   he  is  Drizzt’s  father,   as  well  as  the  father  of  one  of  Drizzt’s  sisters.   it  is  hinted  that  his  good  nature  is  somehow  passed  to  his  children,   as  Drizzt  becomes  famed  for  turning  on  his  dark  culture  and  it  is  hinted  that  were  it  not  for  the  strict,   yet  privileged,   lifestyle  of  female  Drow  that  his  full-sister  could  also  have  turned  on  her  culture  had  she  been  so  inclined.   but  more  about  him.   he  was  the  chief  warrior  of  House  Do’Urden  and  for  that  reason  (  and  his  skill  in  bed  &&  love  for  killing  clerics  of  Llolth  )  did  Matron  Malice  keep  him  around  despite  his  blasphemous  behaviour.   he  teaches  Drizzt  to  fight  and  is  the  reason  Drizzt  finds  the  strength  to  turn  his  back  on  the  Underdark  for  good  and  venture  to  the  surface.   someone  please  love  him  with  me,   I'd  give  you  plots  and  threads  galore.

[mallow-vrinn-akkar]

Into Town

It was Mallow's last hurrah, the last time she would get to travel outside the confines of Kiawe's home. It was for the best, making sure that the twins would be safe. Still, she knew it would drive her crazy to not leave, and have poor Cleric Ashwik make the journey out here. She thought about asking Kiawe if they should just move into town for the duration, but the money that would cost was too great. Ashwik had promised he wouldn't mind the journey. He did enjoy nature, and now he got the chance to go on some nice walks.

Tomorrow she would be setting in the house, unable to leave for the next couple of months. It was getting close to time, eight weeks if that, before she delivered. Ashwik was already double checking on them every day. This time, she decided to go check on him.

She turned, kissing Kiawe. He grinned, putting his hand on her belly. "I can't wait for you to be back." he said.

"Then come with us." she said.

He shook his head. "No, I need to get this done. I want to, I do, but there are repairs to be made, and horses to look after." he glanced up at Didan and Goton who shrugged, and quickly went outside.

"They thought you could use more?" she shrugged, looking defeated.

"It's fine." he laughed. "At least now everyone has their own."

"Thank you, Kiawe."

"You take this time," he said, leaning down and kissing her again, "to love your family. Spend time with them. Didan and Goton will be moving on to that encampment soon.

"Its supposed to be like a town." Mallow ran her hand up and down her arm, her nervousness getting to her.

"They'll be fine, Mallow." Kiawe promised, "They'll be just fine."

"I know they should be." she said, "I still worry."

"They'll have to move on eventually, Mallow. They'll always be welcome here, but we also shouldn't try to stop them from living their lives. If it weren't for you leaving the UnderDark, we never would have found one another. Who knows what they'll find. Love, wealth, fame. We need to let them have that."

"Thank you, Kiawe." she said. He kissed her again.

"No need to thank me, MarshMallow. I love you, if there is anything I can do to help you, I'll do it. Even if all that I can do is try to comfort you the best I can."

"Or, make sure that I understand misplaced concern."

"It's not misplaced. I worry for the knuckleheads, too. It's just realizing you have to let people go for them to grow."

"Okay," Mallow pushed him, laughing. " Mr. Philosophical."

"Go, on. Go have fun, MarshMallow. I love you."

"I love you, too." she kissed him again.

The weather was nice. They couldn't wait for night to move in, all the shops in town would be closed. She was going to get clothes for her twins. She and Kiawe had gone to Ashwik, discovering she was having a boy and a girl. Both at the same time. They were so exited. She was hoping that excitement didn't dwindle when the twins came.

Mallow smiled, looking around at her family. She never would have guessed they would have ended up like this. They were all happy, and for the most part, she could thank Kiawe for it. The lightheartedness that had started coming through them all showed. They were relaxed for the first spance of time since she could remember. The town had grown accustom to them, and no longer stopped and glared. The distrust had started to falter. She dared say that, to most, they were now just normal people. Mallow loved that.

The four of them walked into the tailor, who turned, and smiled. It was a genuine smile.

"Mallow, Didan, Goton, Senlok. It is good to see you all again. Is Kiawe not with you?"

"He stayed home. He said he had things he wanted to do, and this way we," she motioned to Senlok and her brothers, "could have a day of it."

"Well, I'll be sure to take care of you. What is it that you were looking for?"

"Well, just looking, really. I'll be having a little boy and girl joining the family soon."

"How much longer until the little ones get to come visit?" he asked, laughing.

Mallow gave a large smile. There was no hiding, no watching your back for immediate fear of assassination. Life Topside was glorious. Even with how unsure people were, and many threats, and a few fights, nothing had ever been too troubling. There was no game to play. Just lives to live.

"Eight weeks." she said.

Kiawe had changed her for the better. That much was sure.

"I cannot wait to meet them when you decide to start showing them off."

"I'll make sure you get to meet them." Mallow promised.

“Do you have names picked out yet?” he asked. 

“Skadi for our girl, and Ares for our boy.” 

“I cannot wait to see them.” he said, still smiling. 

Getting an order in with him, the four turned, and walked out onto the street.

Didan and Goton stopped short, watching someone walking down the street towards them.

"That's one of them." Didan said.

"From the town." Goton clarified.

Mallow, guard up again, turned to watch the impending figure. The man was a cloaked Drow, something the townspeople were quickly viewing as normal. The man was middle aged, a gift to have made it that far from where they were from. He, though, was different. Their town was a place where Drow could go, finding life in different Deities than Lolth. In their town, it was more like Topside, more equal than anything. Mallow could sense her brother’s excitement.

"I'm sorry Ma'am, Sir, but may I borrow these two?" he asked.

Senlok stood straighter, "For what?"

"Senlok, we sent word to them, saying we were going to be out today." Didan said, stepping up as the elder brother, "I wanted to go over things, make sure this was the right choice before we went. We are trying to be responsible with it."

Senlok nodded. "In that case, yes. We will be at the temple if you need us." He stepped closer, uttering a phrase Mallow could not hear. Then, he was off. She smiled at her brothers, kissing their cheeks.

"I love you, be safe." she said, taking off as fast as she could manage after Senlok.

The two entered the temple, and it wasn't long before Ashwik appeared. "This way." he said, as down to business as ever. His eyes scanned the room for a second before he started heading off down the halls.

"Kiawe is home today. He had some things he wanted to do." Mallow explained, though Ashwik had not asked her to. They were friends, and it was the least she could do.

"Well, it can't be helped then." he said. "How are you feeling?"

"Ready to give birth." she laughed.

"Soon you will have two little bundles to take care of." he smiled.

He ran his hands over her stomach, concentrating in the room. Magic swirled around them in a deep green light. He was going over everything carefully, making sure the twins were in the best condition he could hope for.

After about twenty minutes of spells and discussion, he was finally turning to lead them out.

Senlok moved forward, then slid to the ground. Mallow's screams echoed down the hall before the door slammed, and Ashwik was lifting the man onto the bed, telling Mallow to sit down before she puts herself in premature labour. She sat by the bed, letting Askwik work, tears streaming down her face.

Everything had been going so well, and then this? Why? What was going on?

It was an hour before, under Ashwik's surpervision, Senlok awoke. Mallow sat on the edge of the bed, gripping his hand.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"He needs rest." Ashwik said, cutting off Senlok. "He's a proud old man, but he is an old man. Do that, and he will be alright. I'm putting him on bed rest with you. At least for the week, just to make sure. If there is anything else that pops up, a persistent cough, vomiting, anything, just let me know." The man was always so blunt, and brash, not giving time for arguments, and winning those he did get into. 

"I will, immediately." Mallow said, fully planning on riding into town herself if it came to it.

"You make sure Kiawe comes and gets me. Get him home, make him rest." It was like Ashwik had read her mind. She wondered if that was one of his many spells, or if he could read her that well.

"Yes, Sir." Mallow said, bowing her head. Senlok was already standing, not looking happy that someone had been speaking for him. She would take his anger if it meant he would be safe.

[cat-in-the-teapot]

I wish I could put this under a read more but I'm on my phone so if you hate D&D or reading just. Scroll really fast I guess Miettrie Gnome Wild Sorcerer/Bard Basically the gnome of all gnomes personality wise. He's ridiculous and really just wants to have fun. He comes from a long line of hardworking settled gnomes, all who work as theatre people, so he took up barding, like his mother, and his mothers mother, and her mother before her. One key difference, however, was his father. His mother fell in love one day, literally, in one day, with a patron who frequented her family's theatre in the city they were camped in for the month. She had never felt she could build a life with any loner gnome, because the theatre needed so many people to keep it working, but lo and behold... one day, just about one week into their month or so of performances, a handsome stranger rolled into town. He was alone, and he was dark purple. She fell in love. And he did too. They tried their best to make it work. But she realized she was pregnant. Towards the end of their stay, he promised to come with her, he just had to do one thing first. The next morning, she waited for him. He never came. She refused to believe he would abandon her, and stayed. She stayed an entire year, giving birth and raising Miettrie alone, until her troupe returned. And then. The month came. She rejoined her troupe, and everyone rejoiced the coming of a new baby boy, despite his odd looks. He wasn't like his mother, pink and blue, or like his father, dark purple and firey red, but he was monochromatic, with thick, dark black wild hair, and pale pale skin, almost like that of a fair human, but a little more purple. His eyes, like his hair, were a deep black. While this was unusual, her whole family took it in stride, and he was given his great great great great great great grandmother's name, in honor of her passing, and in celebration of a new life. That night, the man returned. Miettrie's mother was stricken. Why hadn't he come to her? Why hadn't he kept his promise? He held her. He revealed his story and his past: he was given life by the spirit of the great forest that enshrined the city, and only through paying back his debt to it could he continue to live. The entire year, he had been trying to free himself of this contract, but in the end, the only way he was able to free himself was to promise to return when he was on his deathbed, and give back his life to the mountains. Overjoyed, they left the city together. But disaster struck. Basically he's touched by wild magic. And cause he's a baby he doesn't get it. And his dad dies saving him. And so they return him to the forest, but it's too late and he's gone, and the forest asks for a substitute: Miettrie. Instead, miettrie doesn't, and says fuck you tree man, and leaves. It's all good, he's a smart baby. He grows up bardic, and his backstory is really inconsistent. Basically he likes music, he likes nature, and he loves people. And playing pranks on people. His motivation is simply to travel, and experience new things. He also likes jewelry ALOT. He kind of jingles when he walks. He's a little chaotic good. Very fickle. Left the troupe because he wanted to try being a sailor. It went poorly, because being a wild sorcerer is not really a good thing on a boat miles and miles from land. Now he wanders around, looking for new things to try, like food, or clothes, or even lovers. He's also pretty tall for a gnome, going on 5 ft! With his hood on, he could pass for a very short human. His nose and eyes make him pretty distinctive though. I think I want to give him a scar somewhere too, but I can't quite decide, because I think it'll come with his backstory. Lukan High Elf Wizard (1st level?)/ Ranger A high-elf, from a high born family, and a not very smart boy. He's very sweet, he's so very sweet, but also he's lost to a duck at checkers, so like, intellect wise, he's just :( His family has had a tradition of attending the same magic school to be educated in the ways of magic, but poor boy fails out. It's very sad, and he's too scared to face his family. So he runs away from his magic school and his magic boyfriend, and goes to be a hermit in the woods to do magic where no one can bother him. But it backfires: he can't do ANY magic without his boyfriend to help him, and he gives up, resigned to a life without class, just a boring guy who lives in the woods. Which, incidentally, is exactly what a ranger is!! So he becomes a ranger on accident. It's very cute. Lukan has a terrible habit of wildly underestimating himself, and while he would do anything to protect those he cares about, he worries about his actual ability to do that. He loves animals, of course, but is scared of most of them, and isn't smart enough to actually be good at knowing stuff about them, like, classroom stuff, but he's So Good at working with them and knowing about them in nature. That goes for plants too. Doing magic gives them anxiety. They also may or may not have a Druid/Driad boyfriend. Leilias Drow Paladin (ancient pact) She's a precious sweetheart darling who was raised by a worm queen, so she's kinda fucked up. As a girl, she was cast out of her colony in the Underdark because of her glowing skin thing that I don't remember the name of. It's not really suited to the underdark, so her colony left her as a sacrifice at the temple of the giant worm queen, who was like, oh man, check out this sweet baby girl, and adopted her. The worm queen is blind, so bioluminescence doesn't bother her, and is ancient, hundreds of thousands of years old, and a wealth of knowledge. Leilias was homeschooled. Leilias is named after the Goddess depicted in the worm shrine as the protector of the underdark from forces that would seek to destroy it, which actually matched up with her pact real nice. She is very shy, and bad at social interaction, namely because of her solo upbringing in a desolate underground labyrinth filled with Jurassic bugs of massive proportions. She's really very down to earth. It's a pun. Get it

[tiamat-zx]

Mending Bridges (Revisited)

Synopsis: Before departing for Whitestone to face the Briarwoods, Vax tries to make amends for angering Keyleth to the point where she refused to speak to him. Keyleth, in the meantime, starts thinking about what may lay ahead. This takes place during Episode 27, “The Path to Whitestone”.

Notes: “The Path to Whitestone” was and still is one of my least favorite episodes for several reasons. Still, I was wondering as to how Vax and Keyleth ended up being on speaking terms again due to his blunder in mentioning the child. So, despite my discomfort, I had to make myself rewatch at least enough to remember a few things. And also, I’d like to believe that Kiki’s Season 2 attire was actually the clothes she had bought in Vasselheim for their infiltration of the Velvet Cabaret.

This is my most recent revision. It’s about twice as long as it once was. I do hope you guys like this new version. Also, if you want to, please leave some feedback on ao3.

ao3 link can be found here.

Everything was going downhill very fast ever since their return from Vasselheim two weeks ago, and there was a very high chance that things would only continue to do so for them.

Vax could only mull over the events that transpired since their return to Greyskull Keep as he lay in his room. Everyone in Vox Machina were greeted with the news that a Lord Sylas Briarwood and a Lady Delilah Briarwood would be attending a feast at the royal palace of Emon. Hearing this news made Percy very nervous and agitated as he had vacated to his workshop to work on a “surprise” for the nobles. But when they inquired with him, they were greeted with a rather depressing story of the human’s upbringing and the fall of his family at the hands of the Briarwoods. Naturally, they all agreed to help him achieve revenge for those who died.

And then on the night of the feast, everything went to shit extremely fast when he tried to spy on the Briarwoods after the fact. Unfortunately, he had gotten caught by the two of them and even nearly died when he attempted to escape their clutches. Vox Machina managed to come to his aid with the help of a white tiefling named Lillith, who happened to be a cousin of Zahra Hydris, whom Vex’ahlia worked with during their Slayer’s Take trials. Despite their efforts, the couple escaped and vacated back to Whitestone, leaving Percy to vent out his anger and rage on not only their carriage driver, but also a group of bounty hunters hells-bent on capturing Lillith.

As if that were not enough, the party was removed from the Tal’Dorei Council for their actions that night despite their attempts at trying to plead their case. And now Percy wanted to take the fight to the Briarwoods themselves by returning home to Whitestone, far up in the Alabaster Sierras. They had a week to prepare themselves best they could, as they had no chance of proving their innocence just waiting in Emon.

It was the night before they decided to leave for Westruun to procure transportation for the mountainous hike. As he lay still on his bed, Vax’s gaze wandered towards the window and looked at the moon in the sky, rubbing the base of his neck where Sylas had bitten him the other night. So many things had happened, and he had been thrust into peril time and time again over the past month alone. He was surprised that he was still alive despite the odds. He worried so much about his life and that of his sister, especially after seeing her get struck by Delilah’s magic. He worried about Percival and the struggles he no doubt had faced five years ago haunting him once more, seeing his family’s killers in the flesh and only just barely keeping himself from shooting them during the proceedings. He worried about everyone in the group, knowing that they were about to go into danger with hardly any chance to rest, feeling as if they were fated to constantly be thrust into danger over and over and over again.

His thoughts then wavered towards what he had seen when he fell in the courtyard outside the palace. He had seen the others, and he had seen Vex’ahlia and how she had grown over the years into the strong, confident woman that she became. He couldn’t be more proud of his twin sister, who had handled the death of their mother and the scorning of their father much better than he thought. She had a strength that Vax wish he had, the strength to not be fazed by anything no matter how dire the circumstances and still come out on top as the exact same person. In fact, if it ever came to it, he would die for her so she could live on.

But in that instant, he also saw Keyleth. He saw her the way he had grown to always see her: beautiful, powerful, and full of grace despite her general awkwardness. His thoughts about her had changed greatly ever since the Underdark. At first he considered her as just another friend, not exactly as close as his sister was to him but close enough. But over time, ever since that one moment where he realized something was wrong with her, he found himself falling in love with her. He never even considered that particular outcome, but after the Underdark, he began to appreciate her much more such as when they were partnered up together for the Slayer’s Take hunt or during the trip to Pyrah for her Aramenté.

He was hoping to eventually find the courage to confess his feelings to her but not pressure her into making a choice right away. But after having angered her due to mentioning the child that she had accidentally killed, despite having good intentions, Vax began to wonder if it was even worth the trouble. It really made him feel depressed when she wouldn’t even talk to him after it happened. In fact, it broke his heart.

He sighed as he reached for the nightstand next to his bed and picked up the flower he plucked from her garden, still lost in his own musings as he stared at it. He was in love with a woman who didn’t even want to hear him out, even if it was for an apology; he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. In fact, there were many conflicting emotions within him, such as fear, anger, and shame. And yet, he knew that her anger was justified considering the hell she had gone through ever since destroying the Dread Emperor, the incident prompting her to leave for her sojourn to the Earth Ashari six months ago.

Vax continued to hold the flower in his hand, thinking things through. He wasn’t sure how he ended up falling in love, especially with someone like Keyleth, but regardless it had happened. He also wasn’t sure what to do since he hadn’t even told Gilmore yet about this. The sorcerer really took a liking to the rogue, and Vax often found Gilmore’s company quite pleasing. Not to mention that Vax trusted the man implicitly enough that he shared all the secret details regarding the Horn of Orcus. And yet, he knew that as much as he loved Gilmore, he couldn’t ignore his newfound feelings for that beautiful druid that started showing up in his dreams night after night.

At some point I should tell him about Kiki, to try to soften the blow. But I really don’t want to break his heart. Gods, why must this be so complicated?

And speaking of Keyleth, is she even interested in me? Hard to tell, especially considering she had a crush on that Kashaw fellow. Do I even matter to her at this point? Is it even worth going to talk to her right now?

Fuck it, I should at least try one more time. If she’s still angry, I suppose that means I have no chance whatsoever.

Sighing once again, Vax placed the flower back on the nightstand, got off his bed, and put on his boots. He then walked to the door and quietly slid past it, closing it silently. He had to at least try to apologize one more time.

Vax then quietly made his way to Keyleth’s door, and his nostrils could barely make out the scent of herbs and incense coming from that direction. He was surprised that she was still awake at this hour. In fact, the door was still slightly ajar, candlelight filtering out into the hall as he could hear her muttering to herself. Vax briefly debated in his head what to do at this point before deciding to just let himself in.

To hell with it, Vax told himself. I need to at least try. I need to not be a coward for once. I can’t just walk away like I always when things end up not going the way I would like.

Gods, this is complicated. Then again, what hasn’t been in my life?

Steeling himself best he could, Vax reached for the door handle to Keyleth’s room. He was ready to bolt at a moment’s notice, but he fought the urge to do so as he gently pushed it open.

He had at least try one more time.

Dressed in her Ashari nightgown, Keyleth was poring over her alchemy book in her room in Greyskull Keep, trying best she could to create potions that could aid the group. But due to her inexperience and only having learned how to be an alchemist recently, many of her efforts were a failure. And she was growing increasingly frustrated with each failed attempt on top of the events of the past two weeks.

In fact, everything was going wrong in so many ways. The Briarwoods had escaped, especially after nearly killing Vax, and they had gotten kicked off the council due to Uriel being charmed. Seeker Assum later told them all that Sylas was responsible due to the nobleman being vampiric in nature and having no problem in addling the sovereign’s and the seeker’s mental states. And she was getting very scared of not just Percy’s well-being but the rest of her companions, especially after seeing Tiberius brutally murder that old woman and showing no remorse for it.

And then there was Vax, who just had to open his damn mouth about the child and comparing that incident with the old woman. Keyleth was still feeling very sore about it, even making a point to outright ignore or brush off anything he had to say. The fucking idiot was so insensitive that he totally deserved a taste of his own medicine. The situation with the roc didn’t help matters, either, as some of the group wanted to kill it and its druid protector. Instead, she put her foot down and, with help from those who didn’t want to deceive or kill them, figured out a peaceful solution for both sides.

Keyleth’s thoughts went back to the confrontation with the Briarwoods. Sylas’s ferocity in combat was something to be feared, having seen him go toe-to-toe with Grog with that rather menacing blade and managing to handle the goliath on equal ground. Delilah was also frighteningly powerful as she was able to neutralize Tiberius and nearly kill Vex with her powerful magic. She had a feeling that their strength was far beyond what Vox Machina was capable of.

But what else are we supposed to do? And what can I do about Vox Machina themselves? Is it even worth it to try to make them understand what they are becoming?

Keyleth let out a long, deep sigh as she lay back in her chair, rubbing her tired eyes. She still couldn’t believe that she was still traveling with such a group of volatile people. Many times in the past she wanted to just leave them all, that they would be nothing but a negative influence. And yet, as the months passed by, she came to see them as being her dearest friends. She also knew that they would do anything for her, much like how she had for them. That fact only served to really confuse Keyleth even more, her desire to leave conflicting with her desire to stay.

And then a memory came to her. A memory of Vax comforting her during one of her more dire moments deep within the Underdark.

“Keyleth, I know you’ve had a hard time. We all have. I know we’re miles below the surface of the world. But we’re together. We are family. And everyone here is here for you as you have been for us. Now I say we camp for the night inside this schmuck’s tent. We stay here, we rest up, sleep on it, and see how we’re all feeling in the morning. We’re here for you, Keyleth. We’ll protect you as you have protected us. You got a family with us.”

“I only wish it were that simple...” Keyleth muttered to herself. And yet, she knew that Vax had a point. She truly considered Vox Machina to be her second family, especially since she had not seen her mother in twenty years. She recalled that Vax never really spoke about his and Vex’s family, other than meeting Syldor when they first arrived in Emon and met his elven wife and child. She then recalled that the interactions between the twins and their father were very stilted and frosty, contempt coming from both sides.

His childhood must have been rough. Not that he’s ever told us anything about it. I do really hope he tells us one day...

Keyleth couldn’t help but smile faintly when it came to thinking about Vax. Out of everyone in the group, despite her anger at him, a part of her still cared deeply about him in particular. They grew close in the past few weeks ever since she came back from Terrah, reaffirming the friendship they shared. He was very supportive of her during their Slayer’s Take trial and even during the journey to Pyrah and the Elemental Plane of Fire. Not to mention that even before then, she started to think about him more and more ever since their escape from Yug’Voril. She wasn’t sure how to process this feeling as it had never happened before. The closest equivalent to this sensation was her rather awkward infatuation with Kashaw.

No way. It can’t be like that... can it? Do I... love him? Maybe. And even if I did, it wouldn’t work out. After all, just the thought of falling in love scares me due to what still lies ahead for me.

Wait, why am I thinking about this?!

Keyleth tried to shake the thought out of her head as she resumed her work on another concoction. However, just like the rest, it was yet another failed creation.

“Gods dammit!” she yelled as she blindly threw the vial at the door, not even looking at or caring about where it was going to end up. But when she heard the shattering of glass against not wood but stone, she looked towards her door. It was standing open, and the vial’s contents were smeared against the stone wall.

What the—

It was then that she realized something else. Just as she had thrown the vial, she could’ve sworn she heard a gasp from the direction of the door and then a thud. Curious, she walked to the open door and began to look out into the hall. Other than Laina and Erwen and any of their guards, no one should really be awake at this time. Everyone needed their sleep before the big hike tomorrow, of course. And after the surprise visit from a couple of creatures after dealing with the roc, Keyleth was far more antsy about there being more of them.

She looked to her right and when she did, she almost wanted to laugh out loud at the unexpected timing. It was Vax’ildan, of course, leaning on the wall and looking down at his boots, avoiding eye contact. She wasn’t sure what exactly he was doing out of his room, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. For all she knew, he would open his mouth and make yet another stupid comment that would make her even angrier.

And yet, she couldn’t help but notice his expression. He seemed rather distant and depressed. In fact, he looked as if he didn’t have a lot of sleep at all, almost matching the kind of expression Percy had been making lately ever since the news about the Briarwoods coming to town. And seeing that same expression on Vax’s face made Keyleth feel a pang of guilt for her own behavior earlier, though she made a conscious effort not to show it. After all, she was still a little pissed at him.

Keyleth straightened up and then said to Vax, “What do you want?”

Vax slowly looked up but didn’t look her in the eye, as if he was ashamed to do so. Keyleth had seen that look before, and that realization made her feel ill. After all, she had made it herself several times before, back home and while she had been traveling for the past year, most notably after she had accidentally killed the child.

She couldn’t bear to look Vox Machina nor the parents of the child in the eye, especially after the boy’s mother asked what had happened to him. And when she was told what had happened, the mother grew furious and lashed out at Keyleth, refusing to hear the druid’s side of the story and pleading to Pike for her son to be brought back over and over again. But it was when Pike sadly told her that she lacked the power to do so that the mother broke down and sobbed.

That particular sight caused Keyleth’s own heart to break, especially since she caused this to happen. She came to realize that the power she was gifted with would carry with it the burden of responsibility, especially if innocent lives were caught in the crossfire in battle, and therefore there would be consequences for her actions if people got hurt. For a time, she believed that she could manage, that she would be able to avoid doing such a thing. And yet at that moment, when the vine she conjured tugged against the Dread Emperor’s chained charge and she heard the sickening snap of that tiny neck, she knew. She knew that she had just taken an innocent life. It was all her fault.

She knew there was no way for her to easily atone for her actions. She was a killer, plain and simple. Despite Vox Machina being there to try to support her, they never truly understood what it felt like for her. So thus the next day before sunrise, she made the choice to just up and leave the group before anyone else woke up, leaving behind only a single written letter explaining where she had gone.

Keyleth knew that it was the cowardly choice, and even then it didn’t help at all considering the difficulties she experienced during her training under Pa’tice. The vision she experienced did not help matters either, which only further shook what feelings of conviction she still had. It made her greatly think about whether or not she was even worthy of becoming the Voice of the Tempest. It also made her wish that her mother had never vanished, since due to that the burden of the Aramenté was suddenly placed on Keyleth’s shoulders. She even silently hated the fact that her own people—even her own father—decided that she had to be the one even though she never wanted the responsibility. Once again, no one ever truly knew or understood her suffering. Not her people, nor Vox Machina, nor anyone else.

But at the same time, she knew that she could not survive out in the world alone. And she still had a kinship with her party, even with her misgivings about them. So when she had finally returned six months later, and the party welcomed her back with open arms, she was such a sobbing mess that Tiberius hugged her tight, the dragonborn relieved that she came back safe and sound.

Having thought all of those things, Keyleth felt that Vax was acting this way because of how she treated him. Another pang of guilt formed within her.

“I, um... I wanted to see how you were doing,” he started to say. And he then glanced at the residue on the wall and said, “Having a bad night yourself, I take it?”

Keyleth let out another deep sigh and replied, “Yeah. Not exactly making a lot of headway in being an alchemist, that’s for sure. I’ve also got a lot on my mind about what’s to come.”

Vax nodded, still not wanting to look her in the eye. And every time he averted his gaze, it only served to make her feel even worse. “Same. Um, I guess that answers my question. I don’t want to, um, keep you from working or trying to get some sleep. So... I’ll just be going now.”

With that, Vax removed himself from the wall and, while still not looking her in the eye, began to walk off with his shoulders slumped. Keyleth looked down at her feet, unsure as to what to do next. She knew that she had to say something, but she wasn’t sure if he’d even stay put due to how she treated him. Indecision was always a strong flaw of hers every time she was faced with a choice.

She still had to try, though.

“Vax, wait.”

She then heard the rogue’s footsteps slowing and then stopping entirely before he could get too far upon hearing her words. Looking up, she could see that his back was facing her, head still drooped down and shoulders still slumped. She got him to stop walking away, but what next?

“If you want to talk, then by all means. Please come inside,” she said as she moved away from the door and waited for Vax to step in. And to her surprise, he walked inside and stood there as she closed the door and, as if on impulse, locked it. Behind her, she could hear him sigh heavily.

Wait, why did I just lock the door? It’s not like I’m planning to do... “that”. This isn’t exactly the right time and place for that. I mean, I don’t even know how he feels about me, nor what I’m supposed to do about it. Sure, I’ve been having dreams about him, but why have I?

Am I... dreaming about him because I am in love? Or is it out of concern?

Why can’t I seem to figure these things out?! It’s not like I can ask Scanlan or Grog about it; they are less about love and more about lust! Maybe Vex? I doubt it. Who knows how she’d react, especially since it’s about her brother?

I mean, Vax and I are only friends... right?

Then again, I can’t help but feel as if he thinks of me as more than that... if that moment was any indication.

Keyleth, lost in her reverie, couldn’t help but think back to a certain moment from back when they were in Vasselheim, waiting for Vex’ahlia’s team to return.

It had been only a few moments after Kashaw had made his abrupt exit. As Thorbir groaned at the sudden and unexpected display of affection and walked off to get himself a drink at one of the many taverns in the cold streets of Vasselheim, the rest of them were brought to another room for lodging.

“This is where you can stay while you wait for your companions to return. I’m sure they will be back quickly,” Murtin Cyndrial had stated, his jovial personality ringing true.

But Vax wasn’t as jovial about it. Instead, he let himself in without a word, not looking anyone in the eye as he crashed onto the bed. Tiberius, grumbling and muttering and complaining as usual, entered the room as well. The overall trial had been rough for all of them, after all.

“T-Thank you, Murtin,” Keyleth replied. “Will you let us know when they come back? Because... Vax gets very agitated if he’s apart from his sister for a long time.”

“Oh, certainly!” the halfling said with a laugh. “Also, I gotta say, that Kash fellow sure knows how to make an impression. Don’t you think so, missy?”

Keyleth’s face turned a scarlet red color, being reminded once again of the grumpy cleric stealing her first kiss, and without warning too. “Y-Yeah, he does.”

“Well, I’ll let you get some sleep. You’ve earned it!” Murtin shouted with nothing but cheer in his voice. He then walked off with a spring in his step, still excited about the news of the successful hunt of the rakshasa .

Keyleth still stood there in the hall as she stared off into space, still dazed about the kiss as her heart raced. This was something completely new to her, something unknown. That Kashaw was certainly something else. She wasn’t sure why she felt such an attraction towards him, as they had only known each other for a few hours. Not to mention that he seemed either disinterested or outright rude about everything she had said and done.

She also couldn’t help but feel as if the kiss felt awkward and weird.

I mean, he’s technically a married man. And up until that point, he didn’t really seem the least bit interested in me. What the hell was that about?

Although... it did feel good, at least a little. I wonder if that’s what it feels like for other girls who receive their first kiss.

“Ah, young love. So fleeting, yet so palpable. It’s truly amazing to witness, especially if it’s you.”

Keyleth jumped a little at the unexpected voice. She turned to where it was coming from, and her nerves were settled immediately. It was Tiberius.

“Wait, what do you mean ‘love’? I-I only just met the guy,” she asked him.

“Oh, did I misunderstand? My sincerest apologies, milady,” Tiberius responded, scratching the back of his scaled head. “Then again, I’ve never really experienced such a thing myself, being a scholarly fellow. It was always reading and research up in Draconia for me.”

“I see... I mean, I can relate. Back home in Zephrah, I had the same kind of upbringing in my preparation for the Aramenté. No time for socializing, no time for fun, no time for... love. So... this is very new to me. Although...”

“’Although’? What’s wrong, Your Highness?” Tiberius asked.

Keyleth hesitated. “It... It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Then out of the corner of her eye, Keyleth then noticed something. Namely, an empty bed where Vax once was.

“Hey, where did Vax go?”

Tiberius looked at where he was earlier and shrugged. “Poor boy. He must still be fretting about Vex. After all, he was very angry at the tiefling woman—”

“Vanessa,” Keyleth interrupted. “She has a name, Tiberius.”

“Sorry,” Tiberius said apologetically. “He was very angry at Vanessa for splitting us all up. And I’ll be frank, I’m just as worried about the others as you and Vax are.”

Keyleth nodded. “Still... I worry about him. I... have my reasons.”

What Keyleth didn’t elaborate on was that the root of her worry stemmed from having Vax on the forefront of her mind for the past two weeks or so ever since the Underdark. She wasn’t really sure if Tiberius would understand, based on his own admission.

“Um... I’m gonna go look for him,” Keyleth told the dragonborn. “Don’t wait for me to go to sleep. I’ll be back soon.”

Tiberius shrugged. “Very well, milady. I need some sleep anyway.”

Then, as soon as Tiberius closed the door behind him, Keyleth made her way through the hallways to the front doors that led out into the Quadroads. Making her way outside, she figured that she’d have a better chance of finding him from above. Focusing, she transformed into a raven and took to the sky. As she flew, she looked all over with her avian eyes. And after about an hour of searching, she could just barely catch the sight of a dark-haired half-elven man skulking in the alleyways.

Vax.

Keyleth flew in for a closer look and then carefully perched herself on his shoulder. Vax was only mildly started until he realized she was there. He then calmed himself down, his body becoming less tense.

“Hello, little birdie. What are you doing out here in the middle of this cold city?” Vax asked her, a faint smile forming on his face.

Keyleth cursed herself that she couldn’t respond with words. One of the many things she was upset about when it came to her shapeshifting abilities. Instead, she edged closer and did her best to brush her feathered body against Vax’s face. His skin felt chilled due to being outside this long.

Vax, you really should come back inside. You’ll freeze to death if you’re not careful.

“Aww, aren’t you really affectionate? Reminds me of Trinket whenever he nuzzles me or Vex. Or even the rest of the group...”

Vax trails off, the smile fading. He then looks up at the night sky, his breath visible due to the cold.

“My sister is out there, quite possibly fighting a dragon right now. I don’t even know if she’s alive or not. Sure, she has some of our companions with her, but that doesn’t exactly ease my worries. As if that wasn’t enough... someone I know had just met someone else. And... I don’t even know how I should react to that.”

Keyleth’s heart sank a little. She knew he was referring to her and Kashaw.

Wait, are you... jealous, Vax? I mean, why would you be jealous? We’re friends.

“I dunno, I’m not even sure how I feel about her,” Vax continued. “She’s an amazing person. She’s powerful and kind, and she may be an awkward and nervous wreck, but I like that about her. I... I don’t know how to process this feeling within me.”

Wait a minute... is he talking about...?

“Oh, who am I kidding?” Vax was still saying. “I’m probably just stressed from what’s been happening lately. Hmph, I never thought that a bird like you would make a great conversation partner.”

Vax took his finger and scratched Keyleth’s raven neck. She closed her eyes and felt a little more content. She wanted to just revert right then and there, but she wasn’t sure how Vax would react. He’d probably be so flustered that he would start avoiding her. Instead, she did her best to motion towards the direction of the guildhall, hoping that Vax would take the hint.

“Oh... Now that you mention it, I should be heading back. I’m only going to make the others worry. You should get going yourself. Don’t you have others to go back to?”

Keyleth did her best to nod in her bird form and then took to the sky once more. As she flew, her mind began to race.

Did... he basically just say he had feelings for me? He wasn’t exactly being direct with his words. Then again, maybe I’m overthinking it.

I still wonder, though.

Trying to focus, she managed to fly back to the guildhall and up through the window leading to their room. Seeing that she made it back before Vax, and that Tiberius was sound asleep (and snoring), Keyleth found herself crawling into bed herself. It was a long day, and it was seemingly going to be a much longer wait.

Three days. That is what the Huntmaster had stated in terms of the duration of the trial. They could easily wait three days.

But then three days became four, and it was not until midday on the fourth day that they finally came back. From there, they traveled to Pyrah and then finished some more business in Vasselheim before returning home... and then things quickly went to hell.

“Um, where do I even start?” Vax asked her, bringing Keyleth out of her reverie. She remembered that she merely asked him to come in for a talk.

Just a talk. Nothing more. At least, I think that is the case.

Sighing, Keyleth turned away from the door and found herself staring  at Vax’s back. Nervously, she reached out, grasped his arm, and pulled it with the intent to make him turn around. And without much restraint, he did so albeit his head was still dropped low.

“You can start by looking at me.”

When he didn’t, she took her hands and placed them on both sides of his face and made it so he could finally look her in the eye. And when he did, she could see something that she was expecting to see: tears falling down his face.

“Vax?”

Silence surrounded the two of them for quite a while. If anything, Vax was always the quiet sort when emotionally burdened, as well as when he was being distant. In fact, he was so quiet that she almost didn’t catch a whispered response from him. It was muttered too low for her to hear.

“Did you say something?” she asked in a quiet, gentle tone.

“I’m sorry.”

Keyleth frowned and tilted her head. “For what?”

Vax’s tears continued to flow down his cheeks, trailing down her hands and along her arms as he no doubt struggled to find the words to say to her. Every passing moment that he stayed silent only further served to depress Keyleth. And then, after a while, he finally said something.

“For making you angry. For being inconsiderate. For just being me.”

It was as if someone had lit a lantern in her head, as hearing those words made her want to cry herself. Deep down, she wanted to punch herself for not even taking into account Vax’s feelings at all. She was just as inconsiderate of them as he was of hers at the time. And that realization only served to make her feel worse. And little by little, her stoic expression started to crack.

“I... I didn’t mean to anger you so much. I didn’t even think of how you would react. I only wanted to tell Tiberius that he was in the wrong when he killed that woman and... out of everyone in our group, I didn’t want to make you angry at me. That’s... something I never want to do. Ever.”

“Vax... shut up,” Keyleth interrupted, not wanting to hear any more. She dropped the façade entirely and pulled Vax in for a tight, strong hug. And even then, she still tried to hold back her tears as she started to run her hand through his hair, trying to calm him down.

“Keyleth?” he asked, his voice quaking.

She shook her head as she couldn’t hold back any longer, the tears now falling down her face. It was her fault that he was acting like this. She caused yet another heart to be broken. Just like the mother of the child. Just like when she ended up reducing Lady Kima to tears when they had their argument in the Underdark.

Why am I cursed to make people cry?

Pulling herself together, she told Vax, “It’s all right. I should be the one to apologize. It’s true that I was angry at you, but I’m more angry at myself for allowing that past mistake to affect me so much.”

Vax nodded as he continued to cry and eventually embraced her just as tight. His embrace was warm and strong, much like how she remembered it when they mourned the loss of the flying carpet during the pursuit of the rakshasa. For that brief moment, all she wanted to do was to hug him and comfort him.

“I suppose we both have a lot to feel sorry for,” Keyleth told him as she still held him tight.

“I suppose we do,” Vax said to her. “I don’t want what happened to ruin our friendship. It means a lot to me. And... I don’t blame you for being angry at me. I was being quite a dumbass.”

Keyleth nodded. “I agree. I don’t want to lose our friendship, either. Not over a mistake like that. It’s rather childish of me to cut ties over such a thing, actually. It’s not something a future leader of the Ashari should do.” She pulled back and looked into Vax’s eyes and said with a surprisingly calm voice, “So... I forgive you.”

At that statement, he gave a faint smile. “Thank you, Kiki. I really appreciate that.”

Keyleth couldn’t help but return his smile with one of her own. Despite that brief feeling of anger and resentment towards Vax over the past week, she couldn’t help but feel grateful that even though she treated him that way, he didn’t hold it against her. Having thought that, something stirred within her, a rather pleasant feeling coursing through her body and warming her heart. It made her smile a little wider, and she didn’t even feel embarrassed about it.

So is it true? Do I... feel that way about him?

Breaking the embrace, and wanting to not dwell on such thoughts, Keyleth then said to Vax, “I know I’ll never get over that feeling of guilt. That’s not going to change. However, I do need to not go into a rage whenever it gets brought up. I know you had good intentions, and it was wrong of me. So... starting tomorrow, we can go back to how things were.”

Vax nodded slowly. “Agreed. It’ll feel good to do that.”

Keyleth nodded back. A thought then came to her as she asked Vax, “Well, since you’re still here, I was wondering if I could have your opinion on something.”

“Yes?” he replied.

Keyleth then walked to her closet and pulled out some familiar-looking clothes: a brown, sleeveless dress with gray leggings and a leather corset, with ruby-encrusted arm bangles and a matching choker. They were the clothes that she had bought in Vasselheim, recently mended and cleaned.

“I was thinking of wearing this tomorrow. I kinda need to break this outfit in some more. What do you think?” she asked as she showed him the dress.

Vax thought about it for a moment and then said, “I think it would look great on you once more. You should wear it.”

Keyleth blushed a little as she placed the bundle of clothes on the table after putting away all of her alchemical tools. “Thank you, Vax. That’s very sweet of you.”

Vax turned his head away, but not before Keyleth herself noticed a blush on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “Well, I’ll see you in the morning, then. Good night, Kiki.”

“Good night, Vax,” she replied, choosing not to show that she noticed him blushing. The rogue then let himself out the door and back into the dark hallways, heading back to his room.

Keyleth closed the door and leaned back against it, feeling a little better after her talk with Vax. It gave her a chance to calm down after her failed alchemy attempts. And besides, she had to admit that seeing Vax blush like that was rather cute.

I still have to wonder. Does he have feelings for me? And do I for him?

Shaking her head, Keyleth made her way to her bed and crawled under the covers. She then allowed herself to fall asleep, and she ended up dreaming of their time in Vasselheim. Specifically, of the time before they infiltrated the Velvet Cabaret when they pretended to be married. It was rather amusing to tell Vex about that later on, but what Keyleth’s dream was focused on was how it felt to be in his presence.

She continued to sleep, oblivious to her door creaking open as Vax peeked through, watching her sleep as if she were the most amazing person in the world. And then, he closed the door and silently went back to his room, a smile forming on his lips.

The next morning, everyone began to gather together as Tiberius prepared his teleportation circle. Vax could notice that everyone was on edge due to the agreement they all made to go to Whitestone today. If they failed, they would no doubt all die. But it was still a risk that had to be taken, for Percy’s sake.

As Tiberius finished his preparations, he noticed Keyleth consciously standing close to him. The two half-elves looked at each other, a silent understanding between them of where they stood now, as Vax felt much more calm and serene after his conversation with her the other night. He truly felt as if he might have a chance to tell her one day, provided they survived their upcoming battle with the Briarwoods.

He heard a rather faint snarl from behind, a quick glance revealing the source to be Vex. He noticed Keyleth shrugging at the ranger when their eyes met, and Vax could only wonder what his twin was thinking. He hadn’t told her either, after all. But perhaps there would be a chance later on. And as Tiberius cast the spell, and the circle flared to life, Vax and Keyleth soon found themselves holding hands as they braced themselves for the inevitable confrontation to come and leaped into the portal together.

They didn’t realize it at the time, but their feelings for each other were quite strong even if they were unsure as to how the other felt. But by the end of their impending adventure in Whitestone, that would change.

[dungeonsnconcepts]

Ram.bli.ngs

I JUST HAD THE BEST IDEA! THEY ARE ALL RELATED! IT GETS COMPLICATED WITH ALL THE RACES I HAVE USED, BUT IT WOULD BE SSSSOOOOO COOOL!!!!

Bryn- full elf, full son of the family

Emblem - Half elf half gnome, half daughter in the family?

Azra - Vedalken (perhaps not related... or adopted? he will live significantly past the end of that campaign, but it is the same campaign as Bryn is in.... so maybe he’s in an alternate timeline, thus no overlap, and no relation)

Grobnak - Half orc half... elf? Raised amongst orcs, but still of the same progeny? Estranged son

Tor'Am No'Kostatin (TANK)- born to elves, but a soul tied to Ao, god of gods, making him a scourge Asimar

Our Matriarch always believed strongly in "spreading her Circle"- the core tenant of her philosophy was that expanding her "Circle" was of key import; this meant expanding her influence, her family, and her power, but family always came first and foremost!

Ellian Cypress

Throughout her life- died age 812 (WICKED OLD even for an elf, thus this character is from AGES before any of my current characters)

High Elf from a hidden group of elves, whose tribal name would translate roughly to "across the sea elves"?

Mastermind Rogue (18 lvls) Wild Sorcerer (1 lvl) Life Cleric (1 lvl) did no significant adventuring

Defining features:

Matriarch of a high elf royal family; often spoken of negatively (behind her back) for having "drow-like tendencies" (there’s a bard's song about her flaying someone for accusing her of having a drow for a father - "[ode to] idiocity 'n the face o'th lady dark-skinned" by Thomas Ericson (impossible, he wasn’t alive back then.... was he?)). She had three sons early in her adulthood, which was near unheard of in their society (as having more than one or two children was strongly frowned upon, with such lifespans as theirs they feared to become too numerous) and refused to name any of them her heir; she had been open that her first daughter would be the heir before she had her first son, but quieted about that claim after the second was born (a mear ten years after the first, scandalous). When her eldest son turned 100, she declared that she would appoint him her heir due to her lack of daughter. Within a year she had the daughter she had always wanted, a fourth child, who she immediately announced to be heir to the family "Circle". This caused some strife (disinheriting her son in favor of her daughter), perhaps a war was fought over it, but it was over a thousand years ago, so memory of the time is not precisely sharp.

Her first son was Byrn (namesake of my character Bryn, whose name is a modernized version of it) who later in life became an outcast and was not heard of again (he was a battlemaster fighter), her second son was Lyre (Leer) who continued his life as a diplomat for a respectable 500 years before assassination due to a political slip up with some of the higher ups in what would eventually become the town of Waterdeep, her last son was Thannis who dedicated his life to being a cleric of the forest (who knows which specific forest god, but one of them). Her daughter, (named something with an S?) was born of the man that Ellian eventually married (her first three children were of unknown fathers).

She was sought out by a Seer when she was only 20 (barely a child by their terms) who told her that she was going to have great success in expanding her circle; this led to her leading a group of elves in rebelion against whatever hierarchy there was in her lands, and being driven across the sea. Thus her being a ruler of a small group, a splinter group.

First daughter "S" is the mother of Bryn, Tor'am, Emblem, and Grobnak. Shes not a slut, but she has 7 children total; she just likes being a family, and that is dificult to do when you live for that long. children keep growing up and leaving, so she has another. and another. and another.

Bryn Cypress

74 Years old

Elf (wood elf on paper... But I’d rather he not be the woodsy type. Maybe I can retcon that somewhat at some point)

War Cleric (eventually also a Paladin?)

Defining features:

I have spent most of my life learning to fight. I became a war-priest of the trinity of war-gods; The Triad, the trimunative, the triumphant trio, the weighted scales-

Ilmater, god of self-sacrifice, pain, battlefield suffering, and the like

Torm God of sportsmanlike conduct, duty, comradery, and the like

Tyr god of justice, fairness, strength of will, and the like

On my first outing as a priest of these gods, my entire company was wiped out by a Lich. I abhor the undead, but I feel true dread when it comes to the sight, or even though, of a lich. That is where I named my hammer though; Jaw-Breaker. turns out it is very effective on skeleton faces (I mean, not particularly more effective there than anywhere else, but still....)

Emblem Eiskiteer (eye skitter)

Birth name Ariette Worsort (War sort; family has a creed of "war sorts out the weak, foolish, and lost")

22 years old

half-gnome (half-human) (need DM permission, it is a variant human, except I’m putting a point into INT (my dump stat) to represent the gnomish heritage, and exchanging 5ft of movement for darkvision(can only move 25ft))

Rogue (thief? Swashy?) / Trickster Cleric

Defining features:

She is a 3'9" wisp of a being; weighing a measly 68Lbs.

With has no recollection of her history; wiped during the planeswalk that brought her here (although she is not necessarily a planeswalker herself; she may have just been tossed across the blind eternities, or the multiverse, by something that she cannot remember.).... wherever "here" is.

Alas but for that she has a well hidden agenda to steal all secrets she can find (and upon discovering the clerical magic of her trickster-hood, all secrets became vulnerable to her). She has the skills to back it up; being a rogue, she is capable in a wide assortment of situations, and as a trickster cleric she can capitalize on her roguish abilities by confounding her foes with some capabilities that seem almost preternatural.... because they are.

Also, her accent is not her fault; you try being raised among the rank and file of.... wait, was that the edge of a memory?

Azra Baushone

108 years old (will live to 500 natural years)

Mirrodonian Vedalken (4 arms, blue, no nose, Squidward)

Wild Sorcerer

Defining Traits:

East Indian Cultural appropriation. So he’s a bit of a dick, likes rules, as long as they can be used in his favor, and is vastly intelligent. Worked as a researcher on transdimensional energies.

His magic is not stable in this world. whatever this world is.

Grobnak

36 years old (recently aged 20 years; is now evidently 56 years old, greying hair, deep lines on his face, muscles that should be bulging sometimes cause him discomfort or grief)

Half-Orc (and very, very, orcy)

Fighter. Then Fighter Barbarian. Now ooze-boy Barbarian claw-wielding fighter.

Defining features:

Ugh. Was very inclined towards punching; hoped to become a monk of some sort (despite a distinct lack of both training and monk-like skills).

Forgets that now, as he had his mind re-written by an illithid; now he has claws, and likes to go nuts with them (entering some sort of battle fury, which he never used to do...)

And was recently attached to an ooze of some sort- it lives in his body, makes him do things he cannot control. Also gives him a bunch of fancy abilities.

Only realized he was going mad when the ooze ate the madness out of his head. The ooze liked the taste of his thoughts, because of the madness. That made him mighty uncomfortable.

Would have been identified as a large, intimidating, green beast. Liked to run in and punch things, even recklessly and at the cost of combat effectiveness (because "punching things to death is badass"). Then some illithid got ahold of his head (at the behest of a dragon he did not trust who the rest of the group seemed to like?); and at that, during a very tumultuous time in his life (he’d been passed out drunk for a month then woke up to a city under siege by the lady who brought him into the underdark who then proceeded to quickly murder all my friends). He’s had a rough time reconciling all the lost memories, half memories, and implanted memories since then. He was just getting almost used to his new arms (maybe new? he didn't recall having claws before) when this ooze got inside him, and messed with his head some more. It took his battle rage (which he was not accustomed to yet) and turned it into something... horrific? powerful, monstrous....hungry?...

He also had his brain drained during the last session; he went literally brain dead for a bit.

Maybe adventuring isn’t for him. he seems to be afraid of all the bad things lately. but this could lead to a new character trait- He just fuckin runs at things hoping they might bring his end, the end of the monster he has become.

Tor'Am No'Kostatin

150 years old (middle aged)

Scourge Asimar (born an elf, appears to be kinda half elven?)

Life Cleric (1st lvl) / Paladin (2-5 lvls)

Defining Traits:

What’s the best way to max your AC? maybe she always uses a shield, and has resplendent plate armor she is very proud of? that leaves the AC at 20. add to that the shield spell (+5 on react), and the shield of faith spell (+2 AC, concentration), meaning a base AC of 22 in combat, and if hit, can up it to 27. add to that the highest possible hit points (+5 per level, so 12 at lvl 1, 24 lvl 2, 37 lvl 3, 48 lvl 4, 63 lvl 5, add tough at lvl 5 to get +12, so 75 at lvl 5? 90 at lvl 6? 107 lvl 7, 120 lvl 8, 136 lvl 9, 150 lvl 10, 163 lvl 11, 178 lvl 12, 195 lvl 13, 209 lvl 14, 223 lvl 15, 236 lvl 16, 250 lvl 17, 261 lvl 18, 275 lvl 19, 290 cap hp with no mods after 5th lvl tough)

Knows how to lay on hands, as well as cure wounds, and has the Asimar trait for healing,  Doesn’t bother smiting as she rarely hits (+1 to hit with +3 proficiency?)

Hides her Asimar nature. will only possibly reveal it at the later half of the campaign. may also be leaning towards hiding some of her other traits