#one piece but it’s just a big DnD game

[one-idea]

Marineford goes from extremely tragic to hilarious if you think of it like a DnD complain.

Ace’s player and Luffy’s player are actual brothers.

Ace started playing in late high school / freshman year of collage his first campaign was with the spade pirates but the group fell apart because the other players got job/ went to different schools / just life.

But Ace loved his character and wanted to keep playing. His friend, who played Masked Deuce, wanted to keep playing as well but wanted his character to be more combated focused. So he created the character of Marcos. (Both doctors and first mates, both friends with Ace) They got some new friends and kept playing in the same world just with a new crew

Whitebeard’s player is definitely Marco’s players actual dad. They need another player and Whitebeard loves his son and was like “I’ll play!” He either knows nothing about the game or has been playing since the 80’s and is the most knowledgeable person at the table. There is no in between.

The DM is probably Shanks or Rayleigh. I like to think it’s Shanks and his level 20 character he’s had for years just pops up occasionally to solve problem that the party needs help with.

Anyhow Luffy has heard Ace talk about DnD for years but he doesn’t have any friends to play with. So when he goes to college it’s like his number one goal.

Make friends,

make friends play DnD.

(We will talk about the Strawhats chaos later)

So everything’s going great. Ace visited Luffy and joined in on a few of their sessions. Still plays Ace, he loves this character, he’s played him for like four years now. But he gets to know Luffy’s friends and joins them for a bit in Alabasta.

He goes back to his campaign and tells the whole group about Luffy (he has been for years but now he can talk about Luffy’s complain) and everyone wants him to bring Luffy around to play with them.

But then tragedy. The whitebeards have to disband, most of them are graduating, Marco’s player is going to med school it’s just going to be a long time before they can all sit down and play again.

So they decided to go out with a bang!

The Dm has Ace get captured and they plan this elaborate jail break for the party. But it just so happens Luffy is going to be on break at the same time as their last few sessions. And wouldn’t it be great if he joined them!

So the Dm (they are Dming both games god bless them) has the strawhats split up (they are all going on break and it’s a fun story reason for why they all won’t be together) then he pulls Luffy aside and is like, how do you feel about playing with your brother’s group? Luffy’s pumped he’s never been so excited.

So Luffy does all of impel down. Ace is there cheering him on and having fun role play at the same time. His friend Jinbei had wanted to try playing for a while so they gave him a character card and him and Luffy escaped Jail together.

But then we get to the actual Marineford season. It last for hours. There’s combat. There’s roll play. What none of the players knew, was that Whitebeard had approached the Dm about his character dying in combat protecting his kids. (He wanted this to be a memorable session for his son and his friends, they all cried, they loved it)

But then Ace get caught up in it all (this was not planed) and ends up getting his character killed. The table is in shock. There is no way that just happened!

Luffy is sobbing. His brother just sacrificed the character he had played for four years to save his character. He knows how much Ace means to his brother. He’s an actual reck. He had loved Ace to.

Ace’s player is upset, he did love that character, but it’s part of the game. It happens. He’s more upset about how hard Luffy’s taking it.

After the session the two brothers are hanging out. Luffy is apologizing for getting Ace killed and his brother, who’s played for years, and wants to make his brother laugh, says no worries want to help me make a new character?

So they spend the break writing a new character and working them into Ace and Luffy’s back story.

Later when the strawhats are all back together (breaking the news to them that Ace’s character had died was wild!) they are playing and making their way to Dressrosa. A new friend, Law, has joined them. And he is being so serious about his character’s serious back story.

Then Ace’s player roles in like “can I join for a session or two?” All the Strawhats are thrilled, they had a great time playing with him during the Alabasta arc. The Dm says sure and asks about his character.

The two brother’s just smirk at each other and the player introduces his new character: Sabo

They explain the back story, this is Luffy’s OTHER big brother. The strawhats are dying. Law is over them, this is serious! The Dm is just exasperated “you don’t have the Mera Mera fruit.” He’s trying to drive home that this is a different character. Ace/Sabo’s player agrees and they start playing.

Except the Dm loves to troll and brings in the Mera Mera fruit. And everyone already knows what’s about to happen.

Sabo eats the fruit and his player yells “thank god” throws Sabo character sheet to the side. And before anyone can ask why he pulls back out Ace’s character sheet crosses off Ace’s name and writes Sabo next to it (he also raises his intelligence stat)

Character name: Ace Sabo

“I’m back baby!”

I just love that anytime he pops in him and Luffy just say the most ridiculous things about their back stories.

“Remember how Ace had a tattoo of his name spelled wrong to show that he’s not book smart. Well that was a lie. He did it to represent Ace, Sabo, Crybaby, and Edward Newgate.” Ace/Sabo’s player says with Luffy nodding aggressively besides him.

Whitebeard player find out. Finds it all hilarious and is flattered Ace/Sabo’s player brought his character into their nonsense.

Every now and then Marco and Ace/Sabo will come play at the same time and Marco always ends up calling Sabo Ace for the whole session.

[sntoot]

in the spirit of the new games horse twink, i twinkified emets horse too (feat. a reference pic for vibes and close ups in case the image viewer on mobile is still being stupid)

[sparksfromthefire]

shout out to the people who validate me when im ranting and raving about my dnd campaigns. i apparently have so much to be a bitch about and need to be meaner in 2023

[notrapsplease]

Werebear Halsin Headcanon

I have seen a couple other posts going around about werebear Halsin and wanted to make my own with some of my thoughts/evidence because I have been a werebear truther since I first saw the beefy elf daddy.

This doesn't really have spoilers in it, but I do touch on a couple plot points from the game. Fair warning! I also pull a lot from D&D itself, specifically 5th edition since that's what BG3 is built on.

This ended up being long, so I split it into a few different categories, they are in no particular order:

Quite large for an elf

We all know, Halsin is big. Large even. In D&D, elves are described as being slender and slight. Even if they are athletic they are not muscular and are lighter than other races of the same size (as in a 5'5" human will weigh more than a 5'5" elf). They are a little shorter than humans on average.

This puts Halsin well outside the usual elf physiology. When this is addressed in game, Halsin says perhaps he has some orc ancestry or "conventional wisdom is too narrow about what someone can or cannot be" (beautiful sentiment Halsin, you're still big).

Being a werebear offers a simple explanation for his unusual size. Werebear in D&D are described as being large and muscular, even in their humanoid form.

It's a "Wildshape"

Sure buddy.

Halsin's bear form is explained away as one of his druid wildshapes, but there are a couple things that don't line up.

First is the UI itself. Halsin’s bear form is separate from wildshape. It’s in the general abilities section not the class features. This might be just for programming reasons, but I still think it’s interesting.

Second and more incriminating, Halsin stays in bear form for too long. ACT 1 Spoilers: When you find Halsin in the Goblin Camp, the Goblins don't know he's a dude, they just think he's a bear. Even if in the stories timeline you're supposed to reach him the same day as when he was kidnapped, that's still a long time to maintain a wildshape. As per DND 5e rules: "You can stay in a beast shape for a number of hours equal to half your druid level (rounded down)."

So even if Halsin is STARTING as a max BG3 level druid at level 12, he should only maintain wildshape for 6 hours. Even as a Circle of the Moon druid, the time doesn't increase.

"I...lost the run of myself"

Related to the idea that Halsin's bear form is a wildshape, I need to touch on the parts of the game that indicate Halsin can lose control of his bear form.

My main piece of evidence here is that wildshape in D&D has no indication that you lose any control of your impulses. In fact, wildshape describes the opposite: "Your game statistics are replaced by the statistics of the beast, but you retain your alignment, personality, and Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma scores."

The fact you retain your mental stats mean you are in total control. There is no mental difference between a druid in wildshape and a druid in their humanoid form. To be in wildshape is a CHOICE the druid makes.

This is in contrast to spells like Polymorph which indicate that you lose your mental stats AS WELL as your physical ones: "The target's game statistics, including mental ability scores, are replaced by the statistics of the chosen beast. It retains its alignment and personality."

I bring that up just to showcase that D&D does have that distinction, if wildshape was meant to be something that you could lose control of, or let the beast take over, they would have written it that way.

ACT 3 spoilers: This idea that he can be made to lose control is also hinted at if Orin kidnaps him from your camp. Orin's dialogue from the kidnapped victim usually indicates a deep-seated fear the victim has, or their worst case scenario. Having kidnapped Halsin describe himself losing control indicates to me that it's his biggest fear. Which makes sense as a werebear, as a druid…not so much.

In contrast to wildshape, which is a voluntary choice the druid makes, being a werebear is a curse. Halsin is obviously in good control of his werebear self (I discuss this later on), but it is still a curse and can affect him negatively, especially in impulse and instinct.

Alignment: Neutral Good

Now I've got to talk about the werebear curse a little more. And D&D lycanthropy in general.

When someone is afflicted with the curse and resists it, they maintain their normal alignment but struggle to contain the beast. If an afflicted person chooses to accept the beast they gain more control over their bestial form, but lose their alignment to the alignment of the kind of lycanthrope they are.

Both Halsin and the canon D&D werebear are Neutral Good. Which means Werebear Halsin is in alignment with his bestial side, offering some manner of control over his transformations.

Only you can prevent shadow curses.

Werebear are described as being lone hermits who guard their territories fiercely, protecting their habitat, and the flora and the fauna from any threat. Sounds like a werebear might get really obsessive trying to rid his territory of, say, a Shadow curse.

Halsin and Thaniel's relationship makes a lot more sense if Halsin is a werebear. They met when Halsin was a child, so Halsin wouldn't have been a druid yet. In D&D druids are a learned class, more like clerics. Certainly Halsin could been a child in touch with nature, but why did Thaniel single him out?

If Halsin was a werebear though, he would have already had a natural desire to protect the land, the land being personified as Thaniel.

The werebear curse is described in D&D as usually being passed on voluntarily, as in a werebear chooses who they want to bite, either a companion or an apprentice. Werefolk curses also pass through bloodlines (as in you can be born a werefolk). The general consensus is if you are born a werefolk you will naturally align with the curse's alignment so you will innately be in more control then a bitten werefolk. We already know Halsin is Neutral Good, like werebears usually are.

This is a more headcanon-y part, but I think Halsin’s family were probably all werebear, or at least one of his parents was and from a lineage that had a history protecting the land Halsin grew up on. Knowing that Halsin's family all passed away, this could also indicate why Thaniel singled him out, maybe Halsin was the last in the werebear lineage that had chosen to defend the land Thaniel personified.

Either way, Halsin and the werebear align in the desire to protect natural spaces, and Halsin's obsession with the shadow curse could stem from that innate desire.

This isn't my first time recruiting a werefolk druid

This is meta evidence, but I'm including it. In BG2 there is a druid named Cernd and he’s a werewolf! What does this have to do with Halsin? Not a lot, but it shows that having a companion who is a werewolf is established in the universe. Cernd also establishes that being a druid helps to control a werecreature curse. Cernd isn’t feral and has greater control over his werewolfism because of his abilities as a druid. Also Cernd has magic items that are from High Forest. If that sounds familiar, it's where Halsin says his family is buried. idk the connection but it's interesting.

Final thoughts

I think that's all?? I also want to talk about why I think the Werebear curse wasn't brought up in game.

One of the other posts I saw suggested that the reason it’s not brought up in game is Halsin doesn’t know he's a werebear. I get that, I can totally see that, but I don’t think that does Halsin justice. Halsin may be a beefy boy, but he isn't oblivious. There is no way Halsin has lived for 350 years and hasn’t realized he’s a werebear. 350 years is a long time not to bite anyone.

I think the more likely explanation in game is simply that it never comes up. Halsin is in control (mostly) and not worried about it. He is also not used to having people who care for him (this is a huge part of his characterization in game), and probably has had to keep the fact that he is a werebear relatively secret throughout his life.

From a meta perspective, I think it was cut for time and content. We KNOW that a lot of his content was cut already (Sorrow, anyone?). There is also the fact that originally one of the other origin characters was going to be a werewolf, so they may have decided to ease back on Halsin being a werebear so she would be more unique. Then she ceased to exist anyway. Personally I think they should have included some dialogue about it somewhere, especially after deciding not to have the werewolf companion. I genuinely can’t FATHOM that werebear Halsin wasn’t the plan all along, regardless of if they decided to cut it. Alright I'm done. Werebear believers unite!

[lovelylivewirez]

BAR FIGHT BAR FIGHT BAR FIGHT!!!!

My piece for @sthbigbang, based on @bitttertrees' fic, Castles and Creepy Creatures!

Check out @hel-helly, @dragonofthedepths, and @madcatscookiejar's pieces for this fic too, as well as everyone else's work for the event!

Designs + rambles under the cut!

I designed each characters' in-game outfits! You'll see them in everyone else's pieces as well :]

First up, Sonic's a bard! His outfit is simple enough, more for practicality than anything. I wanted to add just the tiniest bit of flair with his earings though, as well as keeping a hint of his out-of-game appearance with some sports tape/bandages on his legs. The design of his lute is kind of meant to invoke swirling winds.

Knux is a barbarian! His outfit is mostly inspired by typical DnD barbarian designs + a bit of Karlach from Baldur's Gate 3 (never played it, but our writer sent me her design for inspo). His great axe is mostly based on Sir Gawain's twin blades from Sonic and the Black Knight!

Amy's a paladin! Her armour is heavily based on the Paladin Amy skin from Sonic Forces Speed Battle and Sonic Dash, though a bit simplified and altered to seem more practical. Her hammer is a simplified version of the one from the skin as well.

And lastly, Sticks is a warlock! Her outfit is meant to look like something she quickly put together for the sake of looking like a warlock for the game. Her staff is just a prop she found, and you can see her regular clothes under her cloak!

I had a great time working with everyone and I hope to participate in future Big Bangs! (Perhaps... as a writer? Nah jk... unless...?)

[psychhound]

ttrpgs in the classroom (part 8)

oh boy have i not made one of these posts in ,,, like a year. grad school is crazy yall. lmao. but. i wanted to share what we do for our analysis unit now that we've hit it this semester!!

other games used in the unit:

we are but worms & graves for funerals

the assignment:

write an essay of approximately 1000 words doing a literary analysis of some aspect of a game, first forming an inquiry question, then looking in the text for evidence, then coming up with an argument about a deeper meaning of the text. the second draft of the assignment can either be an expanded essay, or a multimodal piece of the student's choosing. (the other option for this essay is to do a rhetorical analysis of an argumentative text about gaming)

the games:

[ID: a powerpoint slide titled choose your fighter game (the word fighter is crossed out, so it reads choose your game). it shows five ttrpg titles, with a short description of each, and an icon to represent them. the background is a light orange sky and green grass in a video game like art style. there is a fake game menu bar on the bottom. the games in the slide are functionally described below. end ID]

when we made war upon the slumbering woods by richard kelly @sprintingowl

a collaborate journey into the magical woods ... to destroy it

the treasure at the end of this dungeon is an escape from this dungeon and we will never escape from this dungeon by riverhouse games @riverhousegames

a lyric game about a never-ending dungeon and those stuck there

kenzie's project by sasha winter @stargazersasha

a Weird Academia horror game for three players

i love you, alive girl by anna anthropy

a 1-page game about writing love letters under surveillance

drifters by gila rpgs

a Weird West game of gunslingers and their guns

past semesters game options:

a dragon game by chris bissette cozy town by rae nedjadi @temporalhiccup

the process:

in the powerpoint introducing the games, i have a more thorough description of each one, and then three examples of inquiry questions that they could use as jumping off points to do their analysis on. the inquiry questions ask things like, what moral stance might this game align itself with, what other stories is this game in dialogue with and to what effect, what does this game have to say about the current state of our society? the students can use these inquiry questions or not, theyre only meant to be examples

the results:

this is definitely the most challenging project for my students, but i think that challenge is good for them! i've had really mixed results, with the most common issue i run into just being surface level analysis. they are, however, 18 and have never done anything like this before (for the vast majority of my students) so a lot of my feedback is just pushing them further and trying to get them to say something interesting. i really love a dragon game and cozy town, but i found they didnt have enough context of ttrpgs and dnd/pf to really Get why a dragon game was interesting, so i replaced it with escape from this dungeon since thats got some more meat for them like voicey rules and characters. and im a big fan of nedjadi's games and wanted to give my students something more cute and fun, but they struggled to find much to read into or say about it that wasnt very surface level. escape from this dungeon and ilu, alive girl are new games this semester so we will see how those go over!!

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Silly Games for Silly People

Okay so I asked for some ideas for the big boy, and in particular Summoned!König. I got some great ideas from @callofdreams and so I hope they enjoy this! I am definitely taking more of their ideas for this series, and so we might have a few of Summoned!König playing some board games. I didn't play many board games as a kid, but I do have fun writing this. I am still taking ideas for Summoned!König, so please let me know any ideas you have!

CW: none

Wordcount: 1.4k

Art from This Post

Story below the cut

Silly Games for Silly People

You glared at the eldritch monstrosity across the table, your breath baited as your hands tightened together. He glared back at you, arctic blue eyes mere slits behind his dark hood. He leaned in close, analyzing your every move. You did just the same.

“Just roll the dice, König!” you finally snapped.

“And how do I know this is not mortal trickery?” König scoffed, “you truly believe that I am unaware of your inner machinations? That I am not leagues ahead of you in every possible way? You cannot possibly begin to compete with the likes of me.”

“Oh yeah? You really think you’re all that and a bag of chips, don’t ya?” you grabbed the dice and shoved them into his talons.

“Have you never heard of the concept of ‘patience’?” König snorted as he shook his palm.

“Have you heard the concept of ‘sore loser’?” you retorted.

König raised an eyebrow.

“It means you’re being a bitch because you’re losing,” you explained with a smug smile.

König bristled and tossed the dice. He glanced over the numbers, promptly slamming his fist on the table with enough force to shake all the pieces of the game.

“Oh yeah, look who’s all high and mighty now, huh?” you grinned as he slid his token back over to one corner of the board.

“Petulant worm,” he muttered under his breath as he leaned back into the folding chair that was only barely supporting his weight.

“I think you just don’t wanna admit that I’m better than you,” you snickered as you finished another lap of the board and collected your cash.

“I could eviscerate you,” König huffed, “and yet you mock me over some mindless board game, the only way you could possibly even try to leverage any power over me.”

“I think you’re just mad I’m better,” you gave him a cheshire grin.

You grabbed the dice and rolled them out on the table. The dice rolled a clean five and a four, just enough to get you to that final spot you wanted.

“Alright, hand over Pennsylvania Avenue,” you held out a waiting hand.

König grumbled bitterly, but thankfully he passed over the square of cardboard with a disgruntled flick of his wrist.

“Wow,” you laughed as you tucked the squares down in front of you,” you’re actually upset about this, aren’t you?”

“I am not upset by some inferior construction of human hands,” König sniffed, “I am merely astounded by the arrogance you exude.”

“Arrogance?” you scoffed, “au contraire, my friend! I think I’m creaming you this game.”

König glared at you from behind his mask. You were fairly certain that he wanted to strangle you that moment. You were only more and more excited by how upset he was.

König silently rolled the dice on his side of the table. The both of you hissed when one red die rolled over the edge of the table.

“Cocked,” you called out as you grabbed it back.

When you brought it back to König, he seemed positively peeved by you.

“What?” you handed the dice back to him,

“That was a six,” he huffed, “I needed a six to get out of jail.”

“Okay but it rolled off the table,” you pointed out, “when a die hits something on the table or rolls off it, it’s cocked and you need to reroll it.”

“And who taught you that inane ruling?” König drummed his claws against the laminated wood table.

“I dunno,” you shrugged as you sat back down, “it’s just something my DnD group taught me.”

“DnD?” König perked up, “what game is that?”

“Uh…” you looked down at the monopoly board and back up at your eldritch partner, “okay so, we’re struggling trying to play Monopoly, you’re not ready for DnD.”

“I could just read a mortal’s mind and get a good grasp,” König countered.

“Okay but, like, that would be their version of DnD,” you explained, “DnD is different for everyone. And you are not ready for DnD yet.”

König looked back down at the Monopoly board with disdain, “I want to move on from this one.”

“So are you admitting defeat?” you grinned.

“I would never deign to do such a thing, Summoner,” König snorted, “I am simply stating an opinion. Is that such a unfathomable concept?”

“Well, when you’re complaining about Monopoly, it’s kinda funny,” you pointed out.

König grumbled under his breath as he rolled the other die, blatantly ignoring whatever you wanted to say.

“Hey look! A six!” you cheered as the die flopped onto the center of the board.

“Finally!” König exclaimed as he slumped back into his chair with a groan.

“Hey hey hey watch it with the weight there, big guy,” you snapped, “I don’t wanna have to pay for another chair.”

“Did they actually deduct the past one from your pay?” König eased himself up off the backrest again.

“Yes!?” you laughed, “they took out all of them!”

At the very least, König had the decency to look sheepish about the matter as he steepled his fingers together on the table, “I see.”

“You see? Yeah I sure saw it coming out of my paystub!” you laughed.

König cringed into himself, but politely moved on to ask, “Well, who’s turn is it?”

“Um…” you looked down at the table, “I actually don’t remember. You do, don’t you?”

“I see no reason to try and clarify,” König’s eyes glinted with amusement.

You, on the other hand, were as far removed from any sense of amusement as you could have possibly been.

“No seriously, König, who’s turn is it?” you asked again.

“Why should it matter?” König shrugged, “is this not a simple game?”

“Yeah but, like, I don’t wanna be rude and take your turn or anything,” you tried to reason with him, but he was persistent. After a bit of back and forth, you finally relented. König was content to lean onto the table as you tried to get him to budge, but as it was, trying to get an avatar of chaos to play by the rules was next to impossible. Instead, you had to be creative.

“Alright, let’s play rock paper scissors to see who’s turn it is,” you determined.

“Rock paper scissors?” König tilted his head like a cat, “tell me, what is that?”

“It’s a game where you kinda, I dunno,” you patted your fist against your open palm, “you make your hand either a rock,” you held up a fist, “a pair of scissors,” you extended two fingers, “or paper,” you held out your palm. You extended your fist and held it up, “you say ‘Rock, paper, scissors,’ and the next time you put your fist on your palm you make the sign you want. Rock beats scissors, scissors beats paper, paper beats rock. Whoever wins gets the next turn. Wanna try?”

König held up one taloned hand and watched the lamp light glint off his black iridescent scales, then locked eyes with you, “It sounds rather simple. I think I can manage a round.”

And so, you both extended a fist and chanted, “Rock, paper, scissors!” and extended your hand.

You let your fist drop in horror.

“König that’s not what you’re meant to do.”

König frowned, “Aren’t I meant to make my fist look like the object?”

“König you’re meant to do the hand sign. Not… Not that,” you cringed as you heard his bones snap back into place.

“I apologize.”

“Wanna try again?”

“Seeing as my first attempt left much to be desired, I see a great need for another,” König mused.

“Alright!”

You chanted again and extended your fist. König, on the other hand, held out an open palm.

You glared at him and thinned your lips into a line, “Alright, best two out of three.”

“Vas!?” König scoffed, “are you telling me that we need to play again?”

“Just to be sure!” you huffed, eying the red and white dice hungrily.

König clucked his tongue and made a trill that sounded like bubbles rushing to the surface, but he held out his fist again.

“Go ahead Summoner, see how well this works out for you.”

You learned quickly that trying to win a game of chance against an avatar of chaos was, sadly, not as easy as you hoped.

Konig Dump

Alternate Universe Stories

[steddiewithachance]

Will You Still Need Me?

Summary: Steve Harrington is avoiding telling his professional-musician-boyfriend, Eddie, that he's going deaf because he's worried about what will happen when he does.

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Or Read on AO3

June 13, 1992: A month later

Steve startles awake when he hears something fall on the other side of the apartment. The bed’s empty, he notices. That's disappointing. Steve brushes a hand across Eddie’s side of the bed to feel how cold it is, to check how long Eddie’s been up for, but he pauses when he feels a piece of paper where his boyfriend should be. Did Eddie leave a note? That goof.

Steve snatches it off the pillow and holds it over his face.

Steve, 

I was going to recite to you this big long monologue of all the reasons I love you and all the ways you’re important to me, but maybe it’s better if you read them. Don’t want you to miss a single syllable of my devotion to you, Sweetness. So I made a long cheesy trail of notes for you to follow, don’t make fun of me for it.

Yours Always,

Teddy

Steve is still half asleep so it takes him another groggy read-through to understand what he’s looking at. 

He sits up and does indeed see a trail of little pink notes, photographs, and rose petals twisting around the bedroom, under the door, and presumably down the hall. And Steve’s heart is pounding because, well he doesn’t want to get his hopes up or anything, but this sappy romantic gesture sounds like a precursor to something bigger. He’s frozen in place, too afraid to move. He eventually scoots off the bed and picks up the first note. 

‘I love you for engaging in my interests even though I wouldn’t blame you for not caring.’ It’s paired with an old photo of a DND game with the kids. Eddie’s DMing with Steve on his lap. 

The next few: ‘I love you for always trying to make little kids in shopping carts smile when we pass them at the store.’ and ‘I love how you can tell if I wasn’t in the shower long enough to condition my hair to your high standards so you make me get back in and do it right. Sometimes I take quick showers just so you’ll lay into me for it.’

The notes and photos are a lot more random than Steve had anticipated. ‘I love the way you will patiently explain the rules of various sports to me even when it’s been seven years of watching games together and I still don’t get it.’ There’s a photo near that note that was taken by Robin of the time Steve and Eddie swapped clothes at a sleepover. Eddie’s posing in Steve’s letterman jacket and tiny gym shorts and Steve is giggling in the background dressed in leather and denim. 

Steve gets to the door and realizes none of the notes have mentioned music or anything related to Eddie’s shows at all. Steve wonders if it was a conscious decision. Wonders if Eddie was being sensitive about Steve’s hearing problem. He swings the door open to see the trail continue all the way down the hall and around the corner. He huffs and keeps reading. There are notes about being a good “mom”, one about Eddie cherishing the nights they cook together. There’s a note about Steve’s smile, what it felt like to decorate their first apartment together, how Eddie loves that both of them have taken to calling Wayne “Pops”, but none about music. When Steve finally rounds the corner he sees Eddie sitting on the couch nervously.

“This was actually a terrible idea because I had to listen to you slowly shuffle down the hallway reading my notes. My anxiety is at an all-time high!” Eddie announces dramatically and Steve laughs. 

On the coffee table in front of him, there’s a big bouquet of flowers and a basket full of snacks and skin/hair care products that Steve loves. This is all a fucking lot. Positive attention makes Steve’s skin crawl. Eddie pats the couch and Steve slowly ambles over. He sits down and proceeds to not know what to do with himself.

“Stevie,” Eddie digs into his pocket and sets a little green velvet box on Steve’s thigh. 

Oh boy. 

“Obviously we can’t do anything legal, but I still want you to know that I wanna be yours forever. A tangible promise of loyalty. Is that okay?” 

Steve covers his face. He doesn’t know how people handle being proposed to in public. It’s mortifying enough in private. All he can do is nod. He feels Eddie prop the little box open. Inside is a golden ring, patterned with fancy flourishes. It reminds Steve of ornate picture frames in art galleries. He likes it a lot. Steve holds out his left hand.

Eddie beams, slips the ring on, and looks like he’s relieved it fits.

“Mwahaha. You’re mine now.” Eddie proclaims with the tone he uses to voice villains when he plays DND. Then he grabs Steve’s left hand and pushes the middle and ring finger down while pulling out the thumb, pointer, and pinky. Steve’s pinky finger barely stays up on its own but Eddie gives him a coy smile.

“This means ‘I love you’ in sign language.” 

And that’s the first expression Steve learns in ASL.

[drewthelocalnerd]

So I wanna talk about DND! Namely, this one time where I accidentally killed a planet 😅

So it was early in my nerdy career, I was just starting out, local comic shop game nights, playing a Wizard in Rime of the Frostmaiden and having an absolute great time. Early on in the game I’d encountered fragments of a metal called Chardalyn, causing my Wizard to become cursed, so disadvantaged rolls, random effects from my spells, whatever the DM could think of that would inconvenience me. So I got that taken care of ASAP, made a note of it on my character sheet, and moved on to party business.

Only thing was, EXCLUSIVELY my character encountered the metal. The rest of the party canonically had no idea what it was or what it did. You’d think that’d be fine right, nobody else got cursed so what’s the big deal? Well the big fuckin deal was that later on in the campaign, the party encountered a MASSIVE dragon construct made from, you guessed it, Chardalyn. It was burning down towns in Icewind Dale, so naturally the party raced to take it down. Myself, being in character, hung back in the first razed town to offer medical services to the survivors, so I wasn’t there for the big fight.

Can you guess what the first thing they did after beating the dragon was? I don’t blame them for it, I’d have done the exact same thing if I didn’t know. Dragon equipment is every adventurer’s dream! So naturally, they gathered up metric tons of the stuff and took it to the nearest town to be processed into items. Skip forward a bit, the whole town is cursed, and spreading the curse like zombies to the rest of Ten Towns. By the time the ONLY other party member made it back to me to team back up in the last town left, all of Ten Towns had been turned into cursed metal wielding zombies.

We had maybe 3 days before the horde made its way to town and either killed us all or turned us, so we got to work. I spent the first day using magic to board up the town, built a deep moat and a wall made of earth around the town, day two was spent trying to figure out a plan to get our party members back. Day 3 was when shit started going off the rails.

See, Rime of the FrostMaiden came with this set of cards, to help with backstory, an easier way to give player characters a reason to be that far north in the world. Mine was the ‘Old Flame’ card. It says that a player can name one NPC that they can see and set that character to be an old significant other, maybe an ex or something, but the fun part is that they have to be amicable to you and it’s waaay easier to get them to help you. So I waited until the most powerful Sorceress was in my line of sight, then threw down the Old Flame card like I just won big at poker in Vegas. The DM actually started cussing me out while laughing, cuz now the lvl20 caster basically owed me a freebie, so I bartered for use of their Wish spell. I myself was lvl5, so I figured I’d struck gold. I was single handedly going to save the day, save the campaign, save the party!

“I wish all the pieces of that chardalyn dragon are right in front of me”. For half an hour, while the other players got to do their thing for the session while I made all the preparations in the background for the big comeback. Finally it was time, and all I had to do was say the words.

Well that’s where I fucked up, and I fucked up bad

What I had to say was: “I wish all the pieces of that chardalyn dragon are right in front of me”.

What I actually said was: “I wish every piece of chardalyn was right in front of me.”

Not that different right? Welp.

Level 9 spells warp reality on a good day. Wish…hot damn, that set off fireworks when it gets fucked up. The DM looked at me with such joy in their eyes, a little pay back for the old flame I guess.

“You make your wish, and everything chardalyn from everywhere appears 20 feet in front of you t of you.”

Dungeons and Dragons works in a multiverse people. Ton of different planes and realms all over the place. You know what they all got? CHARDALYN.

A billion billion tons of cursed metal crater the earth in front of me, along with dozens upon dozens of CR LVL 40 chardalyn monsters swarming all over the place. The town is instantly flattened, everyone dead, total party wipe. The only reason I didn’t die immediately is cuz my wizard had a Robe of Stars, so when I realized I’d screwed the pooch I split to the Astral Plane. The rest of the planet, not so much. Whole world got razed to the ground in one giant hellstorm.

Needless to say that was the end of that campaign and I wasn’t allowed to make wishes again. There was a sign in my local game shop for a while that said “don’t let this man have lvl9 spells” with a picture of my face on it. Still haven’t finished that campaign yet.

Good times

[strawberrypinky]

fire and ice. [gortash x tav] - part 2 [the waiting game]

Enver was no stranger to playing the long game, so long as he knew he would win with absolute certainty and any risk could be mitigated or forfeited altogether. Elodie Liardon was one such prize, and while he had yet to win her, he knew it was only a matter of time until she would be entirely, unequivocally his.

If only because it had been decreed by powers beyond their comprehension.

A/N: Chapter two here we go baby! Sorry for this taking a while. I was in Paris for the Olympic Games and then unfortunately got really sick when I came back, lol. Anywho. We are absolutely getting deeper into headcanon territory, so let me just say that there are no specifications for Banite marriages (to my knowledge), but there is a lot of material on Bane, his church, clergy and dogma. The wonderful lore compendium made by @y-rhywbeth2 was an absolute godsend for this (alongside the Forgotten Realms Wiki), so shoutout and thank you for the incredible work you've done compiling so much information over all the DnD editions etc.!  Additionally, I found some Bane dogma online which is also referenced at certain points in this. Just giving credit where it's due. Lord knows I couldn't come up with all of this on my own if I tried, lol. I'm just playing around with the canon information and uh... potentially making Enver as psychotically Banite as I can. Thank you to everyone who is supporting this story! Your support, however big or small, means the absolute world to me ❤️ On we go with uhm... general Enver, Bane and Elodie shenanigans, I guess.  Aka this is yet another reminder that Enver is, in fact, a piece of shit in this and no - Elodie nor I can fix him. As always, this story is also available on Archive of Our Own. Word Count: 7.2k CW: Mentions of prostitution.

Shoutout to my personal cheerleaders @legacygirlingreen and @gufu-vire. Ily gals ❤️

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine

Enver had rarely made the mistake of underestimating people, for in his line of work, that was as treacherous as it was deadly.

Each step was one of measured precision and calculated contingency, allowing none, least of all himself, to falter on the path to greatness. He could not, would not, fail to fulfil his destiny. At times, people were displeased with his enthusiasm - alarmed even at the lengths he would willingly tread to reach his goals. To Enver, it was simply another marker of his god-given preeminence. There was morbid satisfaction in being victorious, no matter the price, and he was hardly capable of feeling guilt. His effrontery was congruous with his rancour, and Enver revelled in landing on top. He had worked tirelessly for years upon years, ruthlessly and ambitiously disposed of those who stood in his way and reeducated and availed of those who yet served as a means to his end. His sense for people had aided him more times than he possibly cared to admit, and while Enver firmly believed none measured up to his genius and vision, he wasn't fool enough to disregard the few who did present with the potential to be equal to himself. To him, it was far more preferable to have a formidable ally than it was to have a formidable adversary, even if his Lord often helmed his hand in affairs such as this. Bane had not steered Enver wrong a single time, strengthening him as his own malevolence fuelled his Lord and, in turn, fuelled him.

His alliance with the Bhaalspawn was one such alliance, though he nearly came to appreciate the Child of Murder on his own terms, even without the tentative and strained relationship between his Lord and the Lord of Murder looming above their Chosen's own. Enver would never fall to the folly of believing the sorcerer to be his friend (not that he believed in friendship anyway), for the scion of Bhaal was not born but created for nothing but annihilation, but their Masters once had a near consanguineous relationship, and if Bane saw value in his now sworn foes spawn, Enver would not undermine him. If anything, the Bhaalspawn, for all their uninhibited murderous urges, was a masterful weapon if cards were played right, and if Enver appreciated anything, it was usefulness. He was still, but a servant to his dread Lord, and in his divine quest for ultimate tyranny, winning was everything as natural as oppression. And while Enver would ultimately need to shatter and thwart all those beneath him, he would utilise the aid of those he and his Lord deemed worthy in the meantime.

One such worthy person, it seemed, was a certain half-elven maiden who had not only intrigued him but Bane himself, too. When Elodie had first graced the gentility of Baldur's Gate upon her debut in society, Enver had made the grave mistake of underestimating her as she parleyed with Duke Portyr, ostensibly oblivious to the gazes of volubly obtuse spinsters and the prurient ogling of men and yet she had intrigued him, if only because she was bewitchingly alluring. When Enver danced with her, he expeditiously realised she wasn't quite as clueless as she had perhaps pretended to be. In truth, the young woman was not clueless at all. She had surprised him with a curious amount of inquisitiveness and acuity, and by the end, he had not only decided she would look delightful, embraced by his Lord, but that he wanted more.

By their second meeting in High Hall and the rather convenient reveal of her parentage, she had also intrigued his Lord. While Enver was far above frivolities such as love and desire, he almost felt giddy when Bane spoke to him a mere day after their brief meeting near the ducal offices.

"I am tyranny. I am hate. I am fear. And you, my Chosen, carry out my divine will on earth. For how it is in the Barrens of Doom and Despair, it shall be in your world. You shall rise above and crush my enemies beneath your boots and conquer the weak as is your place. Marry the Liardon girl. Make her submit as a husband should, for you are the head of her, and I am the Tyrant of you. Carry out my unholy will, and you will be partners in this life and the next. She will carry beacons of your tyranny, and in your matrimony, my might shall guide you and your brood."

Enver had always known that if he were to marry, it would be of a person of Bane's choosing. It was the way matrimony has been handled in his Lord's church ever since it first established itself. Marriage was holy, but love held no place in them when all they served as were means to strengthen Bane and his divine will. And while Enver had known a select few of his Brothers and Sisters in faith to marry of their own choosing, he held no such interest himself as love was a frivolity he would not indulge in, lest of all it rendered him weak and assailable - things he had promised himself to never be. And yet he was entirely pleased when Bane had decreed he should marry Elodie Liardon, for the young woman was not only beautiful, but her wit was undeniably useful.

He liked her. Enjoyed her presence, even.

It was far more than he could ask for, really, as his Lord could have chosen any bride for him, and yet he chose the one Enver might have picked himself if he were capable of love. A rare display of generosity, yet he would never dare question it and instead reverently thanked his Lord for allowing a woman such as her to be his.

He spent a few days weighing his options. Enver knew her father was no votary of his (as Elodie had also aptly realised), and it was unlikely he would voluntarily agree to a marriage between himself and the girl, which left him with three options: ruin the girl for any suitor but himself (he quickly disregarded this; her social status was far too valuable), dispose of Duke Liardon (a feasible option, though not very prudent given the state of affairs) or finally, ensure the girl would not want to marry anyone but him. It was a speculative game at best, but it would buy him time to gather more information on the Liardon family and if he could make the girl believe in some sort of illusion of love in the meantime, all the better.

He spent a near tenday vigilantly preparing for the most opportune moment to arise to get her alone. Or at the very least, without her father around. Enver had met Lady Liardon once a long time ago, but he remembered she was far more agreeable than her husband, and if he was adept at anything, it was swooning wealthy women. His inferiors had been tasked with observing the family. One of the Iron Consuls (Enver did not care which) had gathered that Elodie savoured the gardenia bushes of the private grounds of her residence, which obviously meant Enver held a large bouquet of the white eyesores when he knocked on the door of the Liardon estate the day Duke Liardon was conveniently 'held up' in the Ducal Offices.

A butler had shown him inside, the lavishly grand estate remarkably tasteful, if reeking of age-old affluence. High ceilings with elaborate crown mouldings and endless shades of pastel and white - an expansive and open space stretched before him as he strode along the entry hall, adorned with a myriad of elaborate artwork and invaluable objet-d'arts. It was precisely what Enver had expected: A grandiose setting, much unlike the meagre abode he grew up in until his parents pawned him off to a devil, where he spent the better part of his life feeling as if there was a constricting and stifling noose around his neck as he drowned in the echos of chaos.

"The Lady of the House will be with you shortly," the butler announced as he took his leave and Enver was not even afforded a second of correcting him. He wasn't there for Lady Selise Liardon, but he supposed making a good impression on her wasn't a lost cause.

The aforementioned woman did join him rather promptly, strolling into the drawing room with laissez-faire as she regarded Enver with a polite smile. He regarded her intently, noticing her eyes were as calculating as Elodie's own, the colour shimmering in the sunlight. They were the only pretty thing about her, really. The woman was otherwise not a sight to behold, with a narrow chin and wide cheekbones, entirely out of balance, and ghastly pale skin, which Enver presumed was once tan given the sheer amount of wrinkles that already had been etched into her face. He knew she wasn't that old, younger than his parents, but time had not been particularly kind to her. He silently hoped his soon-to-be wife would age far more gracefully, though she seemed to have inherited her father's elven refinement instead.

Still, Enver offered a polite bow as the woman approached him.

"Sir Gortash," Selise Liardon nodded. "I wasn't expecting any visitors today. My husband will be back a bit later than usual, though you are welcome to wait for him if you'd like?"

"Thank you, Lady Liardon. But I am here to call on your daughter," Enver cleared his throat, a sickly, smarmy voice carrying his words.

"Elodie?" the woman gasped, surprise written on her face.

Unless you have another, Enver nearly rolled his eyes. "Yes. I do hope she is available? I understand if she were otherwise occupied."

"No, no," the Liardon matriarch shook her head, a broad smile on her face. "Of course she is available, just - Bertram!"

The butler from before stepped forward.

"Would you please fetch Elodie? She should be in the library."

The man nodded and left without another word, leaving Enver alone with Elodie's mother as he waited for the actual reason behind his visit. He noted with pleasant surprise that the matriarch was positively beaming, eyeing the bouquet of wretched gardenias in his hands and observing him with near childish delight.

"Forgive me for being bold, but I simply must ask," she nearly giggled. "But are you looking to court my daughter?"

Enver wasn't entirely sure if the woman was jesting or simply daft, though he hardly expected a man like Thamior Liardon to marry someone stupid - much less a human. And yet, the longer Enver stood there in his estate, the more he wondered what the man had seen in his wife. Perhaps she had other, more carnal qualities, he surmised, before deigning to answer her intrepid question. Bane offer him strength.

"I am," he confirmed with a confident smirk. "Your daughter was simply captivating the night of the Breaking, and I have been unable to forget the dance we shared."

He was aware he was laying it on disgustingly thick, yet it seemed to have the intended effect; the woman was nearly bouncing with delight.

"I had hoped she would at least dance with one gentleman," the woman swooned. "How wonderful to see my efforts were not in vain."

"Your efforts?" Enver carefully prodded. He was aware that each step around the gentility had to be far more carefully curated than any step around the proles - they often did not take kindly to snooping. Any information he pried from there were often thinly veiled beneath half-truths or mistakenly told over too many glasses of wine.

"Oh," the woman waved him off. "I needed to positively beg for Elodie to even attend the festivities, especially since I had been unable to. She hasn't been very keen to attend these things."

"I would not have been able to tell," Enver tilted his head. "She seemed to enjoy herself when I found her parlaying with Duke Portyr."

"Probably chewing his ear off about our travels," Selise shook her head. "I was happy to indulge her in her youth, but it is time she fulfils her duties here, in Baldur's Gate. Nevertheless, I am quite happy to hear she danced with at least one gentleman. I was starting to doubt my abilities to raise a proper lady when callers had all denied dancing with her."

Callers? Enver was torn between jealousy and eudemonia. It hadn't been surprising to hear she received visits from men — she was disarmingly beautiful. And yet she was also his. His girl. His. Even with the lack of a betrothal, it was a given that Elodie Liardon belonged to him, as if she had no other value and no life outside of his embrace. It had been divinely sworn and decided by powers beyond their comprehension. If that could not be considered ownership, then what could? And while Enver knew he yet had no claim on her heart — he barely knew the girl! — he didn’t relish the idea of anyone else having it either.

"She is a wonderful dancer," Enver offered, hoping to appease the woman and calm his own envy. "And an even better conversationalist."

"She's quite something, isn't she?" the woman's eyes twinkled mischievously, and Enver almost glimpsed his future's betrothed in them. "I am happy to hear it nonetheless. Most of her visitors haven't enjoyed her wits."

Of course they hadn't; Enver wanted to strangle her where she stood. No one but him could ever hope to measure up to her, much less deserve her. It was no surprise to him they were unable to appreciate her mind.

"I find her refreshing," he only cryptically said. It wasn't a lie, but it was a vast understatement.

"You must be the only one. I swear, that girl is going to chase off one suitor at a time. Too bad Ulder sent his son away; otherwise, I might have been planning a wedding by now."

Enver clenched his jaw, though Selise did not seem to take notice. He remembered the young Ravengard heir, Wilfred or William, or whatever his name was. The boy was, if Enver recalled correctly, Elodie's age and as the son of a Duke perhaps an obvious choice, but luckily for Enver, Ulder Ravengard had sent his son away just a year or two before. However, the reasons remained unknown to him. It was a good thing, really. Enver remembered the boy as an even weaker version of his father.

"I was not aware Elodie was spoken for."

"Oh, by the Morninglords' grace - she isn't. I keep wishing for it. I am not getting younger, and after suffering from Wilting, my priorities regarding her have shifted," Selise Liardon sighed almost wistfully, a faraway look in her eyes. "Truthfully, I don't know how many years I have left. The illness took a lot from me, and I hope to spend my remaining years caring for some grandchildren. May Lathander bless her with more than he did me."

Enver's mind was positively reeling. This visit was already working out splendidly for him. He hadn't been aware that Selise Liardon had suffered from wilting disease, though it would certainly explain why she looked rather hideous - the illness was rather horrid. More importantly, however, she was in a hurry to marry off her only child, which he would most assuredly use to his advantage against Thamior Liardon. It wasn't a secret that the man listened to his wife more often than he did not, and if Enver could sway Selise and Elodie into fulfilling his destiny, the two would easily help persuade the patriarch of the rest.

"I'm sure the gods will be most gracious," Enver only smiled knowingly.

The woman of the hour entered the room, exasperation written on her face. Enver mustered Elodie, dressed far more homey than when he had last seen her in the ducal offices - a pale rose dress, simple though he could venture to guess it was still of fine material - and internally sighed with disapproval and indignation. Lathander's colours; and far too rustic of a dress to be worn by a woman such as herself. Enver made a note to himself to ensure Figaro would be tasked with providing her with a new wardrobe upon their marriage. Blacks, emeralds and delicate embellishments would be far more suitable - he would not have his wife dress like a lowly slave.

She did not take note of Enver, another misstep, really - he would fix her priorities - and instead glanced at her mother with a disapproving glint.

"If you have another suitor waiting, send him away. I've no interest in playing your matchmaking games, let alone parlaying with anyone in the barouche."

Her mother only laughed, though Enver almost detected nervousness beneath the mirthful sound as her eyes flitted between Enver and Elodie, a slightly disapproving glance in her eyes.

"Now, now, Elodie. Not in front of guests," she chastised her. "Besides, I have heard you danced with this one."

The girl finally took note of Enver, and it was the first time Enver could read the surprise on her face, and he liked it. "Gortash?"

"It is good to see you, Lady Elodie," Enver announced, taking slow but measured steps before handing over the flowers with an oily smirk on his face. "Forgive me for not calling on you sooner. My businesses kept me more occupied than I had hoped for."

While Enver could glance Selise Liardon swooning at the corner of his eyes, Elodie only stared at him dumbfounded and wide-eyed, flowers held awkwardly. "I hadn't expected you at all," she finally voiced.

"Well, that makes this an even sweet surprise, doesn't it?" Selise interjected, hastening towards her daughter. "And he brought you your favourite flowers."

"Yes," Elodie dragged the word slowly, her eyes suspicious as she held Enver's gaze. The befuddlement slowly ebbed away, the characteristic sifting gaze Enver had come to know of her replacing her wide eyes. She was trying to make sense of him, he bemusedly realised. It was another reminder of her exquisiteness - a rarity among second-class citizens posing as nobility who might have been decently literate but not clever. As far as Enver was concerned, the nobility of Baldur's Gate was a shapeless mass of fortunate yet barbaric creatures that hovered on the periphery of his consciousness - there, but most assuredly beneath him. Yet, if there had ever been an exception to the rule, it was Elodie Liardon.

“Why don’t you take a stroll in the garden with Bertram? I’ll have the chef prepare some tea in the meantime,” Selise offered, and before Elodie could object (her face certainly showed displeasure), Enver took her hand and pulled her away. 

Enver took a single glance at the gardens and immediately hated them.

To any ordinary person, they might have been stunning; embroidered parterre and arabesque gardens that resembled a palatial park far more than they did a garden. The ground fell away on every side from a terrace adorned with ornamental basins, statues, bronze groups, lush flowers, and bushes, creating an almost exotic and fragrant play in front of them. They began to stroll along a broad avenue centred on the grass of a green carpet, flanked by rows of large trees as perfectly manicured lawns draped down to what Enver presumed was a small pond. The olfactory notes of peach, jasmine, citrus, and what Enver presumed to be roses assaulted his senses, and he loathed them. It was so very… titillating. There was an overwhelming sense of renewal and happiness in the air, as if Lathander himself blessed this space. Perhaps he did, Enver grimaced. No matter, his gardens were far more spartan, and he preferred them that way. 

They strolled in silence, the vexing butler no more than five steps behind them, and while Enver had expected unnecessary pomp and circumstance, it was astonishingly foreign to pretend to court a woman with little more intention than fucking her and extorting her family, and he did not appreciate how out of control he felt. Enver knew how to falsely woo a woman, yet only a few minutes into this charade, and he knew he hated it. The irritating sunshine of late spring, the nauseatingly fragrant flowers and the birds yakking nonstop - he simply loathed it, and he feared it had barely even begun. Enver could only pray to Bane that the woman was worth it.

When he glanced to his right, Elodie seemed to revel in the sun, contently absorbing the feeling of the sunny rays on her skin and breathing in the fresh air of spring. She was beautiful in the light, Enver noted. Not something that could be said about every noblewoman, most of which concealed their hideous faces beneath the dim lights of the night and face paint. And still there was a hint of something feral beneath it all, and Enver wondered if it was her nature or her calling.

“Were you really surprised I called on you?” Enver broke the silence as they strolled along.

“Yes,” she admitted. “It seems that was a mistake.”

“Care to enlighten me?”

She averted her gaze from the path in front of them, a respectable distance between them now as she looked at him. “You don’t court women, Gortash,” she eventually answered. “I would be surprised if you ever even desired marriage at all. I’d wager whichever God you worship has asked you to marry.”

Enver quickly deflected, not yet willing to engage in the conversation of worship just yet. "You don't seem to look for marriage either if your mother is to be believed."

He watched as the young woman rolled her eyes, an uncharacteristic display of defiance and indignation amidst her carefully constructed poise. "And become a broodmare to some idiotic Upper City gentleman who probably can't tell his left foot from his right? Thank you, but no."

"I'm not sure all of them are idiotic."

"Perhaps not," Elodie acknowledged. "But I have no desire to marry them just the same."

This was going to be much more complex than he had thought; Enver ground his teeth. He contemplated his options, annoyed she wouldn't simply submit in her evident unwillingness to be tamed. Finally someone he could break, someone who wouldn't submit simply because he demanded it. She was viciously feral beneath the nobility, and Enver was ever aroused by it.

"Sometimes our fates are decided by powers higher than ourselves. It would be foolish to deny the path to fulfilling one’s destiny," he commented.

She laughed - a mocking sound and nothing like the melodic tone he had heard the night of the Breaking. "I tread where I please. I don't care what fate my mother or God or being thinks is my destiny."

"So you don't want to marry at all?"

"I'm not sure," Elodie shrugged. "Perhaps someday."

The first time Enver had asked for Elodie Liardon's hand was mere weeks after their first 'official' date.

Naturally, he disregarded Elodie's irascibility and continued to 'court' her to convince both her and Selise (mostly Selise, if he were honest) of the value of a more official union. To him, it was more of a formality than anything else - utterly humdrum and entirely useless. But he complied, enduring endless promenades in that godforsaken garden, tea in the salon and eventually, ice cream dates in the Upper City. Elodie had begrudgingly partaken, her ire barely concealed beneath a pleasant smile and venomous remarks. She was unwilling to submit to the game she had become a pawn in, and with each passing hour, Enver dreamt of the day she would finally submit - a dream sweeter than the conquest of a thousand kingdoms. In another lifetime, he would have long taken her apart and fucked her senseless, but unfortunately, he had to play the long game in this one.

It was maddening at times, because while she could feign innocence all she liked, the girl was hardly unaware of her effect on men and seemed to take vindictive pleasure in pushing his buttons. She wanted him to break, to back down, just as much as he wanted her to submit. During one of their more official outings in the Upper City, she wore a dress so scandalously tight that Enver had almost entirely gleaned her body shape beneath. And while neither her chest nor her ass was particularly large, the swell of her breasts and the delicate arch of her back were alluring enough for him to nearly break. If he were a lesser, weaker man, he likely would have.

Alas, he was still a man, and until Elodie was his in a more official manner, he'd have to make do with finding release elsewhere, lest he squander his tedious work of appealing to her family. The Lower City was full of lowly whores waiting to serve men like him. Perhaps at one point in his life, he'd have pitied them - fucking for money was hardly a pleasurable affair - but alas, he knew cards could be played well enough to escape an endless cycle of transactional sex, and if the whores of Sharess' Caress were fucked brainless it wasn't his place to 'fix' them. They made their bed and would have to lie in it. The brothel reeked of vice and corruption, and the dregs of the Gate's society gathered there in all their rottenness. Charlatans and purloiners (many of which worked for him) rubbed shoulders with scarcely concealed and sleazy nobles, old roués and men like Enver; flourishing underworld types, notorious for things best not spoken of mingled with other speculators, whores and frauds and pimps.

A drow had tickled Enver's fancy - the woman small and slight, though far more voluptuous than his soon-to-be wife. She was pretty enough, even if she would have been hardly worth a second glance outside the tawdry meat market of a place he had entered. Her body, while graceful and smooth, hardly aroused any desire in him. He imagined another entity entirely beneath him, with skin more white and hair that shimmered silver and a voice as sweet as a lullaby, begging Bane to let Enver fill her up.

The whore, whose name Enver had forgotten as soon as he had paid for her services, almost looked offended when the name 'Elodie' spilt from his lips in place of hers, but a single look silenced her before she could begin to speak. Pathetic, he thought, before he left the chamber, knowing Elodie would have never submitted that easily.

He dreamt of what she would be like as he sat in Thamior Liardon's office, waiting for him to graciously appear after he had declined several meetings with Enver.

He imagined she'd be furious and untamed, unlike the wealthy Lords and Ladies he'd deceived in his earlier days who craved gentle touches and slow thrusts. He'd fuck her like a brute, over and over again, until nothing but "Enver" spilled from her lips as she fell apart. Maybe he'd lock her in his bedroom like a bird in a gilded cage and spend the rest of his days in her cunt. Would that anger Bane? Or would his Lord be pleased he conquered her?

"I must say, I wasn't sure when I could expect you, Gortash."

The deep timbre of Thamior Liardon's voice pulled Enver out of his delirium, and the elven man finally appeared in his office. He looked bored, almost a perfected mask of stoicism, though Enver could detect a hint of pique beneath.

"I would have come sooner," Enver divulged. "Your steward was less than accommodating, though."

"How... vexing," Thamior said, though his tone betrayed him. Enver knew he thought his presence far more vexing than an insolent steward would ever be.

Enver rose from his seat, turning to face Thamior Liardon fully, who refused to move far from the door. "You know what I have come here for."

"Of course," Thamior nodded. "You have only been publicly parading my daughter around and beguiling my wife while you've been at it."

"I have been nothing but proper," Enver chuckled, pleased that his efforts had caused the Duke to be irate. "After all, I want to make your daughter my wife. Not my whore."

Thamior was quiet then, his face stoic as he walked to his desk. He kept his back turned to Enver, gazing outside his office window. He didn't even look back when he spoke again.

"Na Kwast Wahir Athu Kyene Wekht Unarihe," he uttered in his native tongue. Perhaps Enver should have picked up the elven language - it seems the Liardon family clung to it still.

"As far as I am concerned, business is usually conducted in a common language," Enver clicked his tongue.

"Business," Thamior chuckled, turning back to Enver with a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Is that what my daughter is to you? A transaction?"

"Of course not," Enver denied. She was more than that to him; above all, she was his divine duty. "But a marriage of this scale needs to be discussed. I can hardly do that in elvish."

"Did Raphael not teach you?" Thamior smirked teasingly. "Why he tends to appreciate languages. I almost expected more."

If Enver were a weaker man, he would have cleaved the elf in half for his mockery. The smirk on the Duke's face certainly suggested he felt as if he had won a match of chess the two men were playing, but Enver only laughed. Perhaps once, he would have felt hurt over his past, but now, he only felt burning hate. What once had been prey had turned into a predator who had little reservations about arranging someone's demise. If Thamior Liardon wasn't paramount to the Gate, Enver would have entertained decapitating him, yet while his moral compass swung madly without direction, Enver was above sowing political chaos so long as he didn't have a precise strategy to take the man's place for himself.

"Raphael taught me plenty. But thank you for your concern," Enver mocked in return. "Scared my wits aren't up to your standards?"

"I know better than to question your intelligence, Gortash," Thamior rolled his eyes. "You are a plethora of things, but you aren't stupid."

"Observant," Enver commented coolly. He knew the man didn't mean it as a compliment. "But I'm not here to discuss my genius. I'm here to discuss your daughter."

The man glared at him for a second, sitting down in his grand chair. "Go on then," he nodded. "Make your case."

"I want to marry her, plain and simple," Enver said sharply. "If you expect me to serenade you with romantic soliloquies, you'll wait forever."

"Such a flirt," Thamior chuckled darkly. "Typically, these meetings serve as a way to prove one's worth, not one's love."

"There are few in this city who match my wealth. I hardly think it's necessary to boast." Enver was slowly losing his patience. In the depths of his wretchedly vile soul, he knew what the answer was going to be, and he didn't appreciate it one bit. All his hard work of enduring dates right down the gutter.

"Oh yes. Money you have so honourably earned through your law-abiding business ventures," Thamior's voice was dripped with venomous sarcasm.

"Spare me the false righteousness, Duke Liardon," Enver spat. "For someone who practically lived in a devil's arse, you have little to show for it now."

"Is that so?" Thamior smirked triumphantly. "Unlike you, I have a seat on the Council of Four."

"An inherited seat," Enver corrected him coolly.

"Be that as it may," Thamior waved him off. "My answer is no. You may have my wife under your spell, but I'm not allowing you to marry my only child."

"And why not?" Enver countered like a petulant child. "Your wife is clearly deteriorating and wants grandchildren. I am the only one Elodie has even entertained for more than one meeting. The only one even asking to marry her.

"I would rather choke on Raphael's cock than let my daughter marry you," the Duke stood from his seat. "I don't care what you've made of yourself after your miraculous escape from the Hells, but you are, and always will be, the filthy son of a cobbler."

Five years on, Enver had lost count of his endless meetings with Thamior Liardon and the sheer amounts of "No's" he had thrown in his face.

It was a tiresome game, but he continued to play it, even if he knew the Duke would never willingly turn the "No" into a "Yes" . Enver was no stranger to playing the long game, so long as he knew he would win with absolute certainty and any risk could be mitigated or forfeited altogether. Elodie Liardon was one such prize, and while he had yet to win her, he knew it was only a matter of time until she would be entirely, unequivocally his. If only because it had been decreed by powers beyond their comprehension.

She belonged to him. Years of enduring dates and dances at grand soirées and festivals had at least ensured that the people of the Gate knew better than to try and lay claim to what he owned - because he did own her. As the years went on, the admirers dwindled in numbers until they ceased altogether, and nobody but him was left to dance with her and parade her around the Gate. Enver was well aware that her father was furious, but there was little he could do because while men enjoyed a challenge, people knew better than to challenge Enver Gortash.

The last man who tried had ended as a sacrifice in the Temple of Bhaal. At least Enver thought he did - his now former Bhaalspawn associate had only left a finger behind.

Enver's grip around his cup tightened visibly before lifting it and finishing it in one go. It wasn't exactly a show of decorum, much less at yet another soiree of Duke Portyr, but with how close he was getting to finally fulfilling his destiny and how intoxicated the patriars around him were, he doubted they even noticed his anger. The men and women of the Gate were scarcely astute without alcohol lingering in their veins, and their ceaseless inebriation rendered them even more foolish than Enver had ever thought possible. Between their haughtiness and perpetual idiocy, it was a miracle if they ever noticed anything beyond their visages and grand estates until their self-immolation came to haunt them with crises so grand a hero would have to come along to fix it all. Soon enough, the monstrous armies of The Absolute would threaten their livelihoods, and his Steel Watch would miraculously save them all. Soon enough, Enver would be the very first Archduke of Baldur's Gate, signifying the beginning of his destined draconian rule. Soon enough, Thamior Liardon would have no choice but to give Enver his blessing, whether by choice or psionic compulsion, and everything Enver had tirelessly worked for would finally be his.

Of course, there was a trifling matter of ridding himself of an invulnerable General and an incestuous half-breed Bhaalspawn, the latter of which was an unforeseen challenge he had not come to expect. It angered him far more than it should have; Orin was like a petulant child, desperately grappling for Bhaal's favour yet understanding little of what was asked of her. And while she was an efficient killer by all accounts, her sheer presence was underwhelming and not nearly as imposing as Bhaal's creation had been. To him, she was nothing more than a mad dog, much unlike her 'brother', who was lethally intelligent beyond his slaughtering legacy. Orin would be an easier kill - Enver should have been thankful. And yet his body was filled with near-manic rage as the rancorous void where his heart should be tightened in his chest. All because the Bhaalspawn had failed.

Just when success seemed certain, Enver was forced to restructure years of plans he had made. Plans which had only worked because of the Bhaalspawn. He was no fool to believe he could have stolen the damned crown from Mephistopheles himself, let alone subdued the brain, if it hadn't been for the Bhaalspawn. Where Bhaal's progeny seemed invincible, Orin was a treacherous and epicene replacement, hardly worthy of being Bhaal's Chosen or Enver's co-conspirator, often falling into a feral sort of rage. It would please Enver to see her suffer - to watch as she died painfully and screaming at his hand, even if such tasks were usually beneath his station. But the thought of yet another taking her place and putting him at a disadvantage for a third time reigned his range in. While he was endlessly furious over the Bhaalspawn's failure, he himself could not afford to fail. Unfortunately, he would need to make an alliance with Orin work. Temporarily, at least —

"You seem unusually pensive tonight," the sweet cadence of Elodie's voice pulled him from his inertia.

Enver turned around, staring into the inquisitive eyes of his destined wife. She had grown much in five years - her silvery hair was longer than it had been at nineteen, and her features had sharpened into an uncanny elegance that made her look more ethereal than Enver had ever anticipated. She had always been beautiful, but maturity suited her well. She looked drained, a little perspiration above her brow. Had she been there all night?

"Good evening, Elodie," he cleared his throat. "I wasn't aware you were attending this... soiree."

She tilted her head in question, a hint of disbelief gracing her features as her brow furrowed and she stepped closer. "Are you alright?" There was no warmth behind the question, but she did seem to be curious. "I'm sure my mother mentioned me attending after you came over for a stroll last tenday. It's unlike you to forget."

"Careful, Elodie," Enver chuckled darkly, "One might start to believe you want me to seek you out." He did, of course. Her submission was the sweetest victory, but Enver would never tell her that.

"Perhaps I do," she shrugged before pushing past him and reaching for a cup of wine herself. "I have no desire to marry you. But I do enjoy talking to you. Your mind appeals to me, Gortash. It resembles my own, except you happen to be insane."

"You think I'm insane?" Enver's voice miraculously betrayed none of his ire.

"Perhaps," she grinned mischievously, her distinctive feral glint sparkling in her eyes before her expression turned sombre again as she regarded him inquisitively. "Still. You seem distracted tonight."

Enver waved her off. It was unsettling how well she had always been able to read him. "Simply some unfortunate... setbacks in one of my promising endeavours."

"Oh?" She took a sip of her wine. "Care to tell me more?"

"What is it to you?" Enver raised his brow in suspicion. He could recount the occasions when she explicitly asked him about his endeavours on one hand. Usually, she would simply argue with him - not that he minded.

She shrugged her shoulders, a teasing lilt to her voice now. "I'm bored and my father won't leave until he's spoken to every noble attending. Entertain me."

Enver's grip on his chalice tightened once more, frustration and ire filling his being as he contemplated her demands. It was not in his nature to entertain people, much less give into the demands of anyone but his Lord. If she were his wife, he would have promptly corrected her demanding attitude - perhaps shoving his cock down her throat would have shut her up sufficiently.

"There is not much to tell," he eventually pressed out. "My partner in this endeavour failed and left me to pick up the pieces with his unreliable successor."

"Ah," Elodie let out. "Failed how?"

"He was murdered by his sister," Enver uttered nonchalantly, reaching for a new cup of wine as he heard Elodie gasp, her eyes bulging out of her skull. With how intelligent and worldly she had been, it was easy enough to forget she was likely kept far from the realities of the ecosystem that was murder in the Gate.

"That is terrible," she muttered.

"Terrible for my personal affairs, yes," Enver grumbled. "I'm sure the world isn't going to miss him." He was quite confident of that fact - nobody in their right mind would miss a Bhaalspawn.

Elodie pouted, a pensive look on her face. "Aren't you missing him?"

"No," Enver said. "He's dead. There's no point in mourning him. He was utterly mad, and I didn't care for him beyond our mutual partnership."

"Perhaps you might still... toast to him?" Elodie offered carefully. Enver was sure she meant well, but it was downright absurd to him.

"Toast? To what?"

"Hm..." she mulled it over for a second before lifting her chalice with a small smile. "O gurth, cuil."

"I don't speak elvish," Enver lamented. Five years of frolicking with a half-elven woman, and the only phrase he had picked up was "Tanar'ri", which Elodie had graciously translated after one of her maids uttered the phrase under her breath.

"From death, life," Elodie mused. "It's a common Lathanderian saying. There is a renewal in death - a certain peace. If he really was insane, he's likely found more peace in death than he ever knew when he was alive."

"Peace?” Enver scoffed. “I should hope not."

“Y-you... don’t want him to find peace?”

“No," Enver shook his head, the same manic rage he had felt bubbling beneath the surface once more. "Not for a single second. I hope the fucker is suffering eternally for failing me. May he never find peace."  

He then raised his chalice in a toast, downing the wine in a single go as if hoping it would drown his fury and mania, not even seeing the sheer disbelief and incredulity on Elodie's face. He panted as he set his chalice down, the alcohol a welcome warmth as it spread throughout his body, and his grip tightened impossibly, his entire body rigid.

“I’m sure you cared very little for him, if only enough to curse him to eternal torment for the crime of dying by his sisters' barbarity," Elodie mumbled silently before placing her hand on his. Enver could feel his hand loosen, the warmth of her own skin almost scalding on his own as he swallowed a deep breath. Had he really been that cold?

"Take care, Enver." Her hand left his again, her warmth disappearing as quickly as it had come, and he felt a strange hollowness fill his chest as he ached for that same kind and comforting warmth to return to him.

Too late did he notice she had called him by his name for the first time, and before he could question her, Elodie's body had disappeared into the sea of people, and Enver was left a little more hollow than he'd been before.

[topbanana-art]

Finally making an OC info post- by no means is this all of them, just ones that are most active and/or live in my head rent free.

First up- Rhys (DnD 5e - Rime of the Frostmaiden)

20 years Old, Half Orc, Half Elf (sweet baby angel) , He/Him

Fighter- Echo Knight

Absolute Ray of Sunshine; Rhys is from Icewind Dale; more specifically the Nomadic Reghed Tribe of the Elk.

He's unfamiliar with the outside world and even includes settlements in his own country

He's a Himbo basically a big dog.

This campaign lead him to leaving his tribe for the first time after an unfortunate accident which turned him into a small 'painted child' and searching for his missing sister. (both these are sorted now!)

*Rhys found an old oil painting of this child, blacked out and next thing he knew he was that small elf child. Her skin and clothing having the texture of painted canvas, and bleeds paint.

For a good chunk of the campaign he was just a totally normal elf- whose shadow didn't match with the body

---

Dhalas (DnD 5e Annalor)

36 Years Old, They/Him, Triton

Drunken Master Monk

Chill surfer dude vibes

Part of a travelling circus, They're a balancing act

Extremely laid back, Dhalas talks like they fight- dancing around, seemingly without rhyme or reason and occasionally clumsy.

---

Foxglove (BG3)

138 Years old (tweaked her age a lil), She/They, Drow

Arcane Trickster Rogue

Guild Artisan Background- Locksmith & Apprentice Finesmith

Chill and sassy, that Tav who talks their way out of shit.

Skews Towards Chaotic Good

Presents Androgynous most of the time

Must lockpick everything- she's not actually super interested what's inside, she just wants to see the workmanship of the locks and trashtalk how bad they are.

Yeah she's smooching the vampire. (and Halsin)

Naturally cares for others, even at the cost of her own wellbeing.

Has a Phobia of anything touching/going near her eyes- so the start of the game is A Time for Fox.

---

Arslan Dhoro (FFXIV)

21 Years Old (as of ARR), He/Them

Xaela AuRa

Dragoon - White Mage Main (All healer classes tbh)

Stoic, Resting Angry Face Himbo

He struggles to show emotion but he's just pretty shy and cautious about opening up to others.

From the Azim Steppe, he left in his early teens with his father after the death of his mother, to explore the world beyond the Steppe.

His Father Died in his late teens, attacked in Coerthas thinking he and Arslan were Dravanians.

He's extremely soft and protective for the Scions/his friends

---

Shiv (DnD 5e Saltmarsh- campaign completed)

Awful, terrible lesbian

68 years old, She/Her, Halfling

Celestial Warlock - Unicorn Patron w/ a Baby Phoenix familiar, Toby

A piece of shit. Is an absolute asshole and wont let you know she cares.

Lowkey magical girl

Ex-smuggler, who's patron is literally 'I can fix her', 'she can be a better person'. Part of the 'Beyond Skeletons' Pirate crew, she's the medic of the crew.

---

Pymmyr Tathnel (DnD 5e)

Pym

85 Years Old, He/They, Drow

Gloomstalker Ranger

Emotional Support Blink Dog, Princess Liquorice

This boy is scared all the time

Doesn't talk much, but speaks in a soft voice

Has disordered 'Sleeping' and Eating :)

His plague mask has tinted lenses to help ease the strain with how bright the surface is

I wont tell too much about them as a lot of their info is spoilers to other players. But this sad Drow just rocks up in my head on the regular.

---

Erebus (Anima Beyond Fantasy)

AKA- My first TTRPG character! circa 2011-2 I think???

Real name Sho Yoshimitsu

22 Years Old, He/Him

Duk'Zarist Nephilim

Assassin

Textbook 'strong silent and intimidating hot man'

But basically a big soft boy if you break past the mile thick ice

Tragic backstory™ , used to using his body for the job

He really enjoys cooking!

Also hopelessly in love with a small soft summoner, Caelum (the one hugging him), They're RedxBlue gays

---

I think I'll leave it there for now!

I may add more later, I hope it was interesting?? and I'm still pretty shy with yelling this much about my characters haha.

Thanks for reading if you made it this far! 💜

[ace-malarky]

intro post 2024

sup lads, it's been like two years and I figured the pinned post probably needed updating

wait it has almost exactly been two years that's hilarious

Anyway. some things haven't changed. Name's still Ace, no matter what I write on the notes I send to my old library

I'm always up for tag games and random asks!! throw 'em my way as you like :3

pronouns are in flux! predominantly they/them, sometimes it, occasionally he. It varies on the bit, but you probably can't go wrong tbh

we're - we're going to say early 30s. it's not wrong and it's better than this being outdated in a little over three weeks when it all changes once again

no I did not plan this, no I can't do a basic formal outline, I have to ramble. what did you think i wrote for.

Other Places I Can Be Found include twitter & instagram under more or less the same username

~~~

Writing Focuses!

Everything is fantasy, everything is queer. Excerpts can be found under Writing Pieces

I'm largely jumping around between vaguely connected scenes and character work right now, but there's definitely a pattern!

mainly;

Soul of the Party - when a series of mysterious thefts sweep across town in the weeks before the annual tournament, Solaris is removed from the duelling tournament to avoid bringing attention to his cousin's family. Instead, he and his cousin and a band of Feral Mages investigate on their own and find a plot targetting one thief from Off-World (ft. four separate magic types, light crime, sword fights, mistaken (secret) identity, curiosity almost killing the cat)

Shapeshifter WIP - when things start getting tense between neighbouring countries, Syn volunteers to slip across the border and pass information back in an attempt to avert the looming war. They may have underestimated how hard it was going to be to go back when no one recognises them and their own best friend hates them (ft. pining, friends-to-lovers of the star crossed variety, hand wavy world building, questionable morality, questionable spying techniques, A Certain Level of Dumbassery, some Fucked Up Shapeshifting)

Dumb of Ass, Snake of Tits - a DnD story of a dragonborn monk who leaves their monastery to see the world, ends up with a Morally Dubious Courtesan for a travelling companion, gets cursed (twice), has a slight corruption arc, but somehow still comes out better than they started and with a boyfriend to boot (ft. travelling, fights, the unwillingness to wear a shirt in camp and making that everyone else's problem, other uses for bras when you don't have tits, revenge, What Sharp Teeth You Have, unquestioning kindness until it isn't kind, overthinking but eventually manage to communicate about it, slight pining, one vaguely horny dragon)

@dorksndisasters for the not-technically-dnd campaign that I run! The full first draft of the first arc is up there and I am currently editing to make it less stilted and transcriby

and, you know, the usual. Fair Folk, Superheroes, Pirates, Time Travel, WereCreatures, Winged Folk, Storytellers, Dragons, Vampires, Curses, Even More DnD. All of the WIPS can be found on this page and some of them are in this definitely out of date post here

I'm always up for answering questions about any of them, even if some haven't been touched in literal years. They're still growing mould somewhere in there. Branching out in ways I didn't conceive of.

~~~

World Building

also a big ol' thing here, the main tag is world building but that isn't just my stuff in there, it's also a lot of reblogs

largely centered around the Mist Worlds which is where most of my WIPs are set. There is an Overview post, a Magic post, a bit on the Mist Itself, and also the Worlds (and a page where this is collated)

some bits are incredibly handwavy and made up on the fly, other bits I have been thinking Too Much about for Too Long

~~~

Characters

Oh boy we got 'em. Occasionally can be found via rambles on Sundays under the tag So It Ends

Syn and Maverick are competing for blorbo of the year right now and if a wip or specific characters aren't mentioned, these are probably who I'll answer ask games for

Syn - a distractable and mischievous shapeshifter who volunteers to be a spy because "pretending to be someone else is what I do" no we're not going to unpack that right now. they/them, big fan of antlers. also goes by Val or Lance

Maverick - a frost dragonborn who's a little bit naive to the ways of the world and prefers to assume the best of people if they can. Likes to help, doesn't question as much as they should. Not quite an "everything happens for a reason" mentality, but certainly thinks that they got what they deserved at points. they/them, has been known to act without thinking on a number of occasions

[bleongambetta]

Heroic Sacrifice and The Warlord (BL-G Hack)

I saw a post yesterday from @drakeanddice about Blaze of Glory mechanics in tabletop games and was going to just show him what I'm doing for that in (the still obnoxiously named) The BL-G Hack, but then realized it could maybe be a post of my own.

Let's talk mechanics for heroic sacrifice.

Okay, maybe I lied, we're going to talk briefly about WHY mechanics for heroic sacrifice make sense for a game. This is still going to be mostly me dumping over a box of toys, a quick glance at planned mechanics, but I want to ground it a little bit first.

Why would a player want to have a heroic sacrifice moment?

Thematic Payoff: Fantasy fiction is full of moments of a character (especially one who has broken oaths and bonds) sacrificing themselves for the good of the many. We want to see a someone who we didn't think could live up to being a hero doing it.

Strategic Goal Reaching: Setting up a heroic sacrifice will often allow a momentary contract between the GM and the player; I really want X to happen, so much so that I'm willing to give up my character. In exchange, will you give us the cool thing? Yeah, nice.

Character Shuffling: Players don't always want to stick with one character or may have an RL reason that they need to change. This lets them not just fade away.

Kicking Up Drama: In a lot of games (lookin' at you dnd) combat can be lengthy and cumbersome for players that want dramatic play. This shortcuts combat (usually) in order to hit that drama.

With these goals in mind, an ability that does heroic sacrifice needs to be redemptive (it makes the character feel heroic even if they have not been previously), effective (it succeeds at a task), lethal (it definitely kills them), and big (the moment feels important).

The BL-G Hack's Approach

As discussed elsewhere the BL-G hack is a class based DnD-like that uses PbtA inspired abilities and has a focus on World Map play in a West Marches style.

If that sentence didn't make sense, don't worry, it's a game where you do fantasy stuff.

Characters in the BL-G hack will be able to gain Abilities through leveling up, circumstances, equipment, etc, and some of those will be Heroic Sacrifice moves. One of the classes that gets one of these abilities is The Tactician.

The Tactician is based on using martial prowess and tactical knowledge to improve your party's fighting and provides an inroad to the Map Phase. It's based on the 4th edition Warlord pretty explicitly, though it's exchanged martial healing for troop movement in a way that I think will be fun. Here is the Tactician's Heroic Sacrifice Move.

Sheath the Sword: When all is bleak and you take position at a choke point, you may give up your life to hold the position for as long as your allies need to escape to safety. You have a moment to speak with them, confessing your weaknesses and sharing your love for them. You battle long, until the ground is slick with blood and the bodies have stacked before you, weakening the enemy and ensuring that pursuit is delayed long enough to give your allies a true advantage. The spot you died becomes a Landmark where future heroes can use this ability at will.

Notice how this move is aimed to handle those four pieces:

Redemptive: You confess your weaknesses, a fitting redemption for a class that is about not showing weakness.

Effective: It definitively allows your allies to escape to safety from a bad situation. It specifically weakens and delays the pursuit.

Lethal: There's no roll, you die.

Big: Your sacrifice is so noble and awesome that the Map is permanently changed.

When a player picks this ability, they are letting the GM know that they want to have one of these moments and they are setting themselves up for it. It lets the GM know that they can kick up the danger, somebody has an out and they'll want to use it when the moment is right.

Not all classes will get Heroic Sacrifices (multiclassing is SUPER supported and I don't want the classes to feel same-y), but others will include magically pulling down a building onto yourself to destroy a major villain, healing those around you and creating a healing garden around your grave, and writing your soul into a song that can later be played to strengthen your friends.

Roadmap

Work on The BL-G Hack continues to slowly roll on according to my whims and lunch breaks. The actual PDF of it is probably a little bit off, but I'm hoping to have an accessible, playable version available soon. Being honest, Deadly Kobold Racing is going to come out before this in all likelihood, but BL-G Hack should be close behind.

If you'd like to get it as soon as possible, consider backing my Patreon where I'll be doing an announcement post with a link soon! There'll be an itch page too, but it'll need to be more final before that.

When it does come out, maybe I'll have a Heroic Sacrifice contest and add a Dramatic Location to honor whoever manages to pull one of these off first.

Additional Edits:

Thiago makes such a such a good point! I've got two concepts that I think could handle this well to make it a little bit more tempting to take one of these possibly hard-to-pull off abilities.

I might take a look at adding an additional smaller rolling benefit onto these moves. Probably in a way that builds up their reasons for making the move! If I do that, I'll need to make sure that it's not too hugely impactful on it's own; I want it to be a little cherry on top, not a reason on it's own to get the move.

Also, free Abilities are DEFINITELY going to be a thing! My intention is that Abilities are given out like candy, look to Compendium Classes from Dungeon World for some idea of what I'm talking about. You hit a trigger, you get an ability, you have future level up options!

[mynqzo]

Sorry if this is a strange question but what are your DND characters up to now? I have to say I grew a bit attached to your OCS & games and it's been a while since you mentioned anything about it (I think? I haven't been online much djdjdjsk) and obviously it's fine if you don't wanna share! Love your art btw!! Hope you're having a great day

oh em gee thank you for asking about them theyve been running around my mind recently ouggh

to not make this post a novel lemme do small summary, so essentially-

mersi is in the shadowfell right now with the party because he (stupidly a while ago) made a raven queen deal to find the missing pieces of a powerful magical violin that he did find but refused to give over so he lied about not finding, little does he know if he does not fulfill the raven queens promise he is at risk of losing his most intimate memories so to not do that he and the party went to Avernus to get sand from the river Styx to give to the raven queen as a gift in exchange for her not taking mersi's memories (ehehe)

micah and the party were previously down in an undergrown cathedral that worshipped micah's god ichthus, and fyi micah is the king of a kingdom that no longer exists because it lost a war and then was destroyed and sunk down in the ocean yada yada. they discovered some mysteries, went back up and partook in a festival that was all about fist fighting each other and now are on their way to board a ship (not theirs) to go to the capital of notos (the place they are right now) to find a guy

isofka and the gang have made it to the feywild (well prismeer to be specific) aka just landed in the last session and is now ready to go and find their missing belongings, but also isofka is having marital problems?? (crowd gasp) (btw if u didn't know isofka is engaged to dumonte one of the other pc's and also has a thing with oscar whos also another pc, a whole polyamorous thing essentially). he wants to find his missing lover who was taken and is locked away in prismeer and also uh survive the epic highs and lows of interpersonal drama

vasils mini campain ended with the party making it out of the bad place (tm) like the shadowfell but different and fought a big dragon which was cool, this was a while ago so err memories are a bit egh right now but he is having a religious crisis as we speak since he decided to abandon his goddess (goddess of rot and decay and he is a plague genasi u get the whole thang) so yea

grim is having a great (not) time as the gang plan to go to the otherworld aka the world of fey, because that means he is that much closer to encountering his old evil boss that had him imprisoned for 200 years its a whole thing. he has a powerful ancient artifact which is an bracelet with an eye that contains a guy in it who talks to him, its a whole thing you get it. and uh the fear of being captured and having your freedom stripped away plagues him! also he has a kind-of-boyfriend named aaron

[senualothbrok]

Hi friend!

I'm bored at work too!

Few questions for you (answer whichever ones you want)

What made you start playing BG3?

What is your favourite ever piece of fanfic? (doesn't have to be BG3, mine is a Sherlock one from like a million years ago)

What is your favourite colour?

What are your top 3 favourite films?

MY FRIEND THANK YOU FOR THESE AMAZING QUESTIONS <3 <3 <3 <3

What made you start playing BG3?

My hubby actually played it first and told me that I would love it. I had two start stop attempts to get into it but got flummoxed by the DnD combat mechanics and how to actually play the game (LMAO a true noob). But once I got into it, and realised it was very much in the vein of Dragon Age/Mass Effect/The Witcher 3, I became absolutely obsessed. And now I've lost my life to Gale Dekarios. It's hilarious because I now know a ridiculous amount of minutiae about the game and am on my fourth playthrough, and my husband doesn't even remember Mystra's name.

2. What is your favourite ever piece of fanfic? (doesn't have to be BG3, mine is a Sherlock one from like a million years ago)

I know this is awful for a writer but I don't read much - both because of some fatigue/focus issues but also because for a while I really struggled with toxic comparison. When I read other fics, I found that it made me really self-loathing and would really adversely affect my own creativity. I do feel guilty about this and I know there is some amazing stuff out there - sorry to all my fellow writers, I'm working on it.

An absolutely phenomenal fic I was reading before I stopped is @bludazey's Hellish Rebuke . It's an Ascended Astarion x OC fic, and the writing is exceptional.

I also love all of @tumbleweed-run's smut. She inspired me to start writing smut of my own!

I am also going to give a big shout out to my bestie @practicallydeadinside-blog and her epic God!Gale saga Ambition's Folly. I love her OCs, the relationship dynamics between all the characters, how she writes comfort, and the tragedy of God!Gale generally. Her writing just keeps getting better and better, and I am incredibly proud to call her a friend.

3. What is your favourite colour?

Turquoise.

4. What are your top 3 favourite films?

Arrival, Annihilation and Ex Machina. I watch these films again and again and never get bored of them.

@sorceresssundries I'd be interested in your answers to these questions as well! <3

[retropobor]

I feel strongly as if I should make some original content on this blog, but I don't have any as of late, so I'm just gonna throw my thoughts out here relating to the blog (consider this a weather update)

to get things out of the way, I have decided to work on a little pixel art project which should be out sooner or later. And by little I mean its canvas is the exact same size as my previous largest single piece pixel art project: the mantis dragon

and this thing is ancient (for those of you who want a good dating system for my art, the lack of outlines means that this thing's pretty damn old, this one specifically dating back to a little over a year ago, although I just added the signature so it can't get stolen)

That aside the other main topic I wanted to touch on is the little side of the deltaverse I kinda found myself in. It feels like a lot of stuff is going on, but who am I to say. One big shot I know barely anything about took a break indefinitely then returned, only for another big shot, and good friend of mine @mrchaosman to also take a break (I cannot stress enough I wish you the best and care for you, mate). There was a massive tournament put on by @grimmdeltarune (RIP Mie, neither gone nor forgotten [I was happy to participate in it nonetheless]) and probably so many other things that went under my radar. It's just all interesting to watch. I've always been fascinated by ecosystems, either natural or human, but that's a separate tangent. Right now I feel like I exist on some sort of outer rim of the system, but I want to be more central. Maybe not Winterer, l0cal_hooligan or whatever other big shot you want to name central/famous, but just more of a somebody than I am right now. Issues are

1: I only have parallels to bring to the table, and considering I barely can even produce content (better yet well thought out content) for it, Idk if that's enough

2: I don't know how much attention I can (or really want to) give Deltarune. The game means a lot to me, don't get me wrong, but when you have the steam library of alexandria, a full on dnd campaign, and

it kinda cuts down on the amount of attention you can give to deltarune

3: I don't know how. It's been forever since I've actually made a friend, and like half the friends I currently have are born out of coincidence (granted half my friend group is my dnd group, and how I got them is an entire story and a half, but my point still stands even when not counting my dnd group), and I don't know how to start a conversation. If I can get into a conversation, I'm flawless, but starting one is a whole different topic.

Last but not least the datapack. I still want to work on it, but working on the next "session" (I feel as though adventure would better fit it due to its sheer size) for my dnd campaign has taken up just about all my time. Once I finish up with it, I should have plenty of free time to do some more work. No clue what I'll make but I know I want to make something.

Anyways yeah, those are some of my disjointed thoughts piled into this nonsensical tangent of a post. Thanks for reading through.