#ravenloft humor

[demiplanardemagogue]

A slightly vintage Strahd von Zarovich look, from his famous "Blue Pirate" period. Sadly, this look never quite took off.

[spicyspell]

It’s a start?

(this is a remake of a doodle I did about a year ago)

[demiplanardemagogue]

BREAKING NEWS: Azalin thinks Lowellyn Dachine is scary enough to go as for Halloween! That must me he's proud of his son! Good to see they're reconciling!

We liches have built in costumes - either regular wizard or horrifying undead, depending on which face we normally show the locals.

That said, instead of using illusions, I'm going as the demiplanes discount grim reaper - Lowellyn Dachine or 'Death' as he refers to himself...I think a cheap black cloak and fake, plastic scythe will make me look just like him!

[curseofthebloodcountess]

One of the underrated changes I've made to my Barovia, just because it fits some of the themes and narrative better, is with Ez and Van Richten. He's still her mentor and foster father figure, but instead of Van RIchten being secretly racist and leaving Ez behind because he is cursed, it's more heartbreaking. Van Richten is dying in my game. He doesn't want Ez to have to witness it (or, worse, die with him). His stint as Rictavio is a coping mechanism that is not working and his goal is to kill Strahd or die trying.

Ez just found him again and she's hoping he'll reconsider sentencing himself to death like some martyr. She doesn't want him to reconsider killing Strahd. She just wants him to not throw himself at Death (in Barovia, no less!). She wants to be included in the greatest hunt Van Richten has undertaken. There is a heartbreaking drama unfolding between them.

And it's all background noise. Rictavio traded his horse for information on Castle Ravenloft with the warlock (who has a celebrity crush on Rictavio). He just offered to arm the party's fight against Strahd. Ez took the ranger aside and said, "Hey... he means well, but he will be reckless. Coming from me, that means something."

Except... coming from her, it means nothing because as much as she likes and wants to support the party, they hate her for stealing a horse from Arrigal's camp. They don't like Arrigal, either, but Arrigal and the ranger were formerly business associates, so saving Ez's life had a financial cost. More to it, the cleric hates Ez for "embarrassing his family's name" or something. I do not understand my player's logic there, but Alistor generally hates most people so it doesn't shock me.

Sometimes I think about party roles. Theo, our warlock, is definitely the heart of the party. She certainly is the one who wants to make connections with NPCs the most.

I just don't get it with Ez. Ez saved Victor Vallakovich from Castle Ravenloft, and the entire party's lives from pissed-off druids in the woods this past session and it didn't move the needle. Maybe her stint as "Rictavio's Lovely Assistant" will be humorous enough (or productive enough) to impress them. If not, I'm going to have to reevaluate. She doesn't show up often or in every life-or-death scenario. The two times she has shown up were to first give the prophecy to the ranger (who is a replacement for a dead bard PC) and reunite Victor with the party after a teleportation circle went wrong, and second because Van Richten promised the party a ride home from Castle Ravenloft. It made more sense to send Ez than Van Richten, who wouldn't have been able to resist a vampire hunt.

My GF said she wished Alistor (her cleric) liked Ez better because it seems like a fun little drama and that she wishes everyone had insight checked the NPCs more. I agree but I don't know what to do about it. I know what plot beats to hit with my players that they generally enjoy. I have not cracked the code on NPCs. And it's weird because they adored Ez last game!

I think one of the things I'm going to try to do is pare down the number of NPC allies they take with them to Krezk and Immol. Right now, they have Ireena, Ismark, Victor, Stella, and Doru. Stella died and was brought back by Theo during the druid fight. At other times, they've traveled a little with Godfrey and the revenants, the Durst Siblings, and they have plans to travel with Patrina Velikov. I guess they don't really need more NPC allies but like... wild choices, I think.

And I still have NPCs to finish designing for Krezk and Immol.

I'm not mad about it. The game is going really well and we're having a great time. I'm just stumped! The party wants to spend a day or three in Vallaki before shipping out west to search for prophesied items. I have to have Immol ready for them! I'll probably try posting more here as I prepare!

[spiritsession-arch]

Independent DnD oc

Google Doc Spotify Pinterest

Bio and Rules under cut

Sideblog, follows back from @murderreign!

**Icon border by sibylsource

-

Name: Alasdair Greives

Age: 30

Height: 6'4"

Gender: Nonbinary (They/He) (AFAB, but please don’t have your muse know this by default)

Personality: A very animated person with a macabre sense of humor. Can be rather quick to anger and highly defensive when certain nerves are pressed. Doesn’t react well to flirting.

Class: College of Spirits Bard

Species: Dhampir/Satyr

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Strength: 8

Dexterity: 18

Constitution: 13

Intelligence: 12

Wisdom: 11

Charisma: 19

**This character has the Dark Gift from the Ravenloft expansion called Gathering Whispers

You are haunted by spiritual beings, whether the souls of the departed or entities from another plane. Their voices endlessly whisper, taunt, or cajole, sometimes rising to unearthly howls. Only you can perceive the spirits, unless you allow them to speak through you. The spirits are intangible and invisible; anyone who can see invisible creatures sees only fleeting glimpses of these spirits as they haunt you.

Spirit Whispers. You learn the Message cantrip if you don’t already know it, and require no components to cast it. When you cast the spell, the messages are delivered by one of your whispering spirits rather than you or the target’s voice. Your spellcasting ability for this spell is Intelligence, Wisdom, or Charisma (your choice when you gain this Dark Gift).Sudden Cacophony. When you are hit by an attack roll, you can use your reaction to channel your haunting spirits, letting their voices howl through you. If the attacker isn’t deafened, add your proficiency bonus to your AC against that attack, potentially causing it to miss. Once this trait causes an attack to miss, you can’t use the trait again until you finish a long rest.Voices from Beyond. Immediately after you make an attack roll, an ability check, or a saving throw and roll a 1 on the d20, the haunting voices grow too loud to ignore. Roll on the Voices from Beyond table to determine the effect of these voices. Once one of these effects occurs, none of these haunting voices manifest again until you finish a short or long rest.

-

This character will involve themes of child neglect, transphobia, sexual assault mentions, fantasy racism (toward dhampirs), references to mental illness in a derogatory manner (only mentioned due to backstory reasons)

The scorned child of a small forest village, their early years were plagued with heartache and emotional neglect. After disappearing into the woods under mysterious circumstances, only to return completely unharmed two weeks later… with claims of being able to speak with the dead the child was promptly outcasted by the rest of the village.

For the remainder of their youth, they were the subject of isolation, bullying and worse from local villagers young and old.

No matter how many times they pleaded with their mother for protection, help, advice, anything, all she would tell them is that ‘if they wanted it to stop then they just needed to shut up and act normal for once’.

During the years since their disappearance, they’d made no attempt to hide their newfound ‘gift’, finding the idea of being able to gain wisdom or even help those who have passed fascinating. The other villagers… clearly didn’t feel the same.

As time moved on Alasdair grew resentful of the villagers, as well as their mother. They began to cling onto their gift, doubling down and convincing themself that they’d been given this gift for a reason. They were chosen for a specific duty, to record and preserve the stories of the dead.

They left the village, and began a journey as a traveling poet, writing down the stories that spirits would tell them and turning them into poetry to share with the world.

-

▍ ❝   RULE ONE. Crossover friendly; I prefer rping with fandoms i’m familiar with, but i’m open to those i’m not as well. You’ll just have to excuse me for any mistakes since I won’t be too familiar with your muse or their world.

▍ ❝   RULE TWO. Multiverse/Multiship; All relationships will take place in different verses.

▍ ❝   RULE THREE. Do not force ship; Do not try to force your muse on mine and do not get upset if I happen to say no to your ship. Not every ship is going to work, that’s just how it is.

▍ ❝   RULE FOUR. Mun is 25+; Due to the nature of this character, I will ONLY interact with those that are also 18+.

▍ ❝   RULE FIVE. No godmodding; I control my character, you control yours. Do not have your muse auto-hit mine, or narrate anything happening to my character without discussing it with me first. It’s really quite infuriating and can leading to a lot of things happening to my character that my character should have reasonably been able to get out of or would be generally ooc.

▍ ❝   RULE SIX. I am generally pretty quick with replies. I usually respond within 3 days, a week at most. If I take longer then that it means i’m probably busy with other blogs and haven’t checked in. Feel free to send in message if i’ve gone a week without replying and you see me still being active. I might have missed your reply or ask somehow.

▍ ❝   RULE SEVEN. Triggers; Due to the nature of Alasdair's backstory there will be prominent themes of Death, Ghosts, Violence, mentions of SA, PTSD, Mentions of Transphobia, Suicidal Ideology, and more.

[ocelot-art]

Rahadin Headcanons

I've been working on a Curse of Strahd fanfiction for a while now. In case anyone is looking for character inspiration for their own campaign or just want a fanfic lore dump, here's the amalgamation I've amassed over the past 2 years!

Spoilers under the cut.

Identity: cisgender, he/him. Demisexual (VERY rare attraction), demiromantic

Age: 465. He was banished by the dusk elves when he was 30 and spent 5 years as a wanderer (and often a beggar on the outskirts of the town Bellemeade) before King Barov recruited him

Equipment (Changed from module): Rahadin's deathly choir is connected to his cursed scimitar. The blade became cursed when he drove it through his own mother's heart when killing the dusk elves. The ability activates when Rahadin is not in control of his emotions; over time, he's mastered this ability and can control when it activates. He also wields a bow (I refuse to let the lad use DARTS), and wears studded leather armor atop a doublet. As he gets cold easily, he wears a fur-lined cloak with hood to protect his ears

Personality: Loyalty above all else. Rahadin will remain stone-faced through any comment/insult unless it offends Strahd's honor, in which he will attack if the issue is pushed. The only exception is sexual comments, in which he will try and quickly excuse himself from the situation red-faced. He has no sense of humor and his attempts at jokes often fall flat. (Those points in charisma are solely for intimidation and diplomacy.) He avoids discussing his own feelings and will rarely disclose his thoughts on matters unless Strahd is specifically seeking his consult

Hobbies: Rahadin loves botany, and his office is filled with plant-related books. He used to be a prolific gardener before he was banished by the dusk elves. In the early years, he would tend to the gardens of Castle Ravenloft. Before his turning, Strahd had instructed Rahadin to prepare and tend to a rose garden dedicated to Queen Ravenovia, and it would become his pride and joy - until Strahd had it destroyed in his grief upon his mother's passing. After Strahd chided him for wasting time on such a useless hobby, Rahadin pretty much stopped gardening and allowed the gardens to run wild. He still grows his own poisons for his weapons in the chapel garden

Skills: Despite seeing most animals as dirty (and preferring to ride spectral steeds for this reason), he is a skilled horseman. He’s also a skilled tactician, and has a way with extracting information from (or punishing) prisoners. Strahd is happy to delegate torture to his chamberlain and sees it as a reward for his loyalty. On the other hand, Rahadin is painfully bad at physical labor and crafts.

Relationships: Rahadin despises most of Strahd's consorts, but he usually keeps his thoughts to himself so as to not annoy Strahd. He enjoys taunting Escher with stories of how Strahd has locked previous consorts in the catacombs when he grew bored of them. Otherwise, he sees Escher as an attention-starved puppy and is constantly annoyed by Escher trying to start conversations with him. Strahd, knowing that Rahadin cannot stand Escher, takes great joy in sending the two out together on missions. Ludmilla and Rahadin respect one another and are on friendly terms. He respects her loyalty and calm counsel and sees her as the main source of wisdom besides himself in the castle. He and Anastrasya are not on good terms; with an overly polite facade masking an insulting interior, she never shies from throwing thinly veiled insults his way. The most feral of the consorts in his opinion, Volenta is primarily ignored by him.

Rahadin once fancied Ludmilla before she was turned, and had begun the process of courting her. Strahd, concerned that a spouse would distract Rahadin from his duties as chamberlain and decrease his loyalty, interjected himself. Being the more charming of the two, Strahd wooed Ludmilla and turned her. This upset Rahadin, but he would never question the will of his master.

Religion: While he no longer fully worships the elven pantheon (Corellon, etc.), he still has a reverence for nature and elven lore (particularly the stories behind constellations)

Diet: Vegetarian, like most dusk elves

Strahd: He's wary of and has plenty of snide remarks for anyone that shows the slightest romantic interest in Strahd, believing that they are only interested in him for his power/wealth. He believes that he is the only one that truly appreciates Strahd for who he is. He is always looking out for his master in this regard, which annoys Strahd greatly.

Valuing his loyalty, Strahd gave Rahadin his word that he would never bite him after he became a vampire.

Taught Strahd Elvish when Strahd was a young man

He is unaware that Strahd is the one that killed Sergei. Instead, he still believes it was by the hand of an assassin/one of Leo Dilisnya's men that Sergei died. Rahadin will brush off any related comments from PCs as hearsay and attack if the issue is pushed.

Shippy stuff: Rahadin developed feelings for Strahd when the both of them were still young men. When Strahd became a vampire, it crushed Rahadin to see the way it changed the man he loved. His personality had changed, and although the dread lord would never admit it, Rahadin could tell that Strahd was miserable. Knowing that Strahd would never return his feelings, he's kept them secret for over 400 years. Although he has not made it known, Strahd is aware that his chamberlain has feelings for him and will use it to his advantage if necessary.

He is a sadist and, in later years, a masochist

[emmfairy]

Howdy! When I posted my drawing of Strahd's dreadful little polycule, I mentioned that I would later post the backstories of each bride as I am intending to present them in my CoS campaign.

I do still intend to do this-- and I have written out Ludmilla and Anastrasya's! Though I haven't written Escher's out just yet, I did fuck around and write a journal entry from Strahd about the night he meets Escher in the backstory I've outlined in my brain.

Basically, my hc is that the main reason Strahd keeps Escher around is because Escher very closely resembles Alek Gwilym.

Anyway-- I haven't written fanfiction in a long while, but I am posting this anyway. Please enjoy this very brief memoir entry that hopefully emulates my favorite pathetic little man.

TW for mentions of violence, and what is a very obviously toxic/abusive dynamic between Strahd and his consorts below the cut.

---------------------------------‐-------------‐--------------

The candles, wax ever pooling in their iron sconces, flickered as Ludmilla, once permitted, entered the study. She moved quietly and gracefully, like she always had, with her head bowed slightly. Though I quite enjoyed her proclivity for deference, I found her presence irksome this night. Thrice now, my eldest consort had interrupted my business. 

I did not bother lifting my head from the tome my nose was currently buried in; only when I had finished the passage I was studying did I mark my page and look up to meet her steady gaze. Patiently, she stood, her expression emotionless as she awaited my permission to speak. 

“What is it now, Ludmilla,” I finally sighed, already knowing the cause for her impertinent knocking on my door. With a clenched jaw did I listen to her request my presence in the dining hall again. 

It was with great effort that I held back my flare of temper; I had made it quite clear already that I had no interest in meeting the mortal plaything she had found in the Village. Was it not enough that I permitted her to toy with the whiffet as she pleased? 

She did not flinch when I snapped the tome shut and rose abruptly from my seat. It was not until I stalked toward her that I saw the slight tremor of fear in her eyes. Her trepidation did little to quell my frustration– she knew that it would be unwise to make her request of me a third time, yet she did it anyway. 

“In all your centuries here, Ludmilla,” I began, keeping my voice cool despite my growing anger, “I have never known you to be so nettlesome.” 

That made her flinch. Good, I thought.

She opened her mouth to speak, but halted abruptly, as I held up one gloved hand. A wise choice, that. I would concede to her query, not out of curiosity, but for the purpose of correcting her uncharacteristically impudent behavior. 

“I will humor you, dearest, if only to cease your foolish interruptions,” I reached out, taking her chin in between my thumb and index fingers, “and perhaps if the boy’s flavor is pleasing enough, you shall only be staring at the lid of your coffin for half a century.” 

With a flourish, I strode past her and into the hall; she had the good sense to follow at a distance. 

In tense silence did we walk the rotting halls of the Keep. The halls of Ravenloft had long since lost their luster, though it bothered me little. I had no need for the tapestries and stonework I stalked past to be in any pristine condition; much like the young man awaiting my arrival in the dining hall, any mortal eyes viewing the once grand frescoes were not long for this world, anyway. I had every intention of slaughtering the young man in front of my consort.

An amusing thought, that, but not enough to stamp out my vexation with Ludmilla. It was unlike her to be insistent on irritating me– I expected such behavior from the likes of her sister, Anastrasya, but never from her. Never from judicious, obedient Ludmilla. I would be disappointed to seal her in her tomb later. 

A quick, precise flick of my hand flung the ornate doors of the dining hall open. I scanned the room quickly, noting with no surprise that Anastrasya was involved in this irksome state of affairs. My second consort almost neglected to stand and bow her head as I entered– having been leaning half out of her seat and listening to the mortal man sitting adjacent to her with a woefully smitten expression on her pretty face. Once Anastrasya had remembered her manners and acknowledge my presence, my gaze left her to fall upon the object of her and Ludmilla’s fascination

I was quite familiar and unburdened by the presence of ghostly apparitions– plenty of spectres were trapped within Ravenloft, many of whom I was responsible for becoming spirits in the first place. The face that this young man resembled stopped me in my tracks; were I not already dead, my heart would most certainly have stopped, for his vision was like that of a ghost I had long since forgotten. 

His hair– a halo of spun gold– was longer and hung curlier than the man I remembered, but the boy’s nose came to the exact sharp point that his had, lifetimes past. A sly, charming smile spread across his long face, crinkling his gray eyes. 

For an instant, I had been transported to a centuries old Ravenloft– a Ravenloft that was bustling with the living, rather than the undead creatures that aimlessly roamed its corridors now. I could see him, with the exact same grin, making eyes at a servant girl with those silvery irises. 

The young man’s edges were softer– his body more slight, his face clean shaven and somewhat cherubic, but in every other way it was like staring into a living portrait of Alek Gwilym. 

I had every intention of slaughtering the young man before I entered the dining hall. 

‘Didn’t have to, my lord.’

I already knew what this boy would look like, with a fountain of his own lifeblood pouring forth from his throat— for I’d dared to take that lifeblood centuries ago. 

‘I’d have helped you…this did not have to be.’ 

Godsdamn it. 

‘Should have let me die on the mountain….’ 

‘Alek–’

I shook myself from the memory, and fixed my gaze expectantly at Ludmilla, who now stood beside Anastrasya. 

“My lord,” Lumilla gestured to the young man, “this is Escher Belasco.” 

At that, the phantom of the man who came closest to fulfilling a role as my friend, rose from his seat to bow. 

“It is an honor to meet you, Lord Strahd,” Escher purred with a voice disturbingly similar to the slain commander’s. 

With measured composure, I motioned for Escher to step forward. He did. I looked him over, as though appraising the young man. He was clearly not trained in battle, as Alek had been; Escher, despite his polished appearance, was obviously starved. 

A peasant, with the face of long dead armsman and the air of a prince. 

“Come,” I turned, indicating for him to follow, “we shall be more comfortable elsewhere, Escher. I should like to get to know the gentleman who has captivated my consorts so thoroughly.”

----------

Notes;

Anyway. If this sucks, oh well. I had fun writing from Strahd's perspective. Let me know if you liked it or, if necessary, politely request that I never write fanfiction again.

In any event, thank you for reading it!

[spiritsession]

Independent DnD oc

Google Doc Spotify Pinterest IC Backstory drabble

Bio and Rules under cut

Blogroll: @murderreign, @speculor, @fellbless

**Icon border by sibylsource

Name: Alasdair Greives

Age: 30

Height: 6'4"

Gender: Nonbinary (They/He) (AFAB, but please don’t have your muse know this by default)

Personality: A very animated person with a macabre sense of humor. Can be rather quick to anger and highly defensive when certain nerves are pressed. Doesn’t react well to flirting.

Class: College of Spirits Bard

Species: Dhampir/Satyr

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Strength: 8

Dexterity: 18

Constitution: 13

Intelligence: 12

Wisdom: 11

Charisma: 19

**This character has the Dark Gift from the Ravenloft expansion called Gathering Whispers

You are haunted by spiritual beings, whether the souls of the departed or entities from another plane. Their voices endlessly whisper, taunt, or cajole, sometimes rising to unearthly howls. Only you can perceive the spirits, unless you allow them to speak through you. The spirits are intangible and invisible; anyone who can see invisible creatures sees only fleeting glimpses of these spirits as they haunt you.

Spirit Whispers. You learn the Message cantrip if you don’t already know it, and require no components to cast it. When you cast the spell, the messages are delivered by one of your whispering spirits rather than you or the target’s voice. Your spellcasting ability for this spell is Intelligence, Wisdom, or Charisma (your choice when you gain this Dark Gift).Sudden Cacophony. When you are hit by an attack roll, you can use your reaction to channel your haunting spirits, letting their voices howl through you. If the attacker isn’t deafened, add your proficiency bonus to your AC against that attack, potentially causing it to miss. Once this trait causes an attack to miss, you can’t use the trait again until you finish a long rest.Voices from Beyond. Immediately after you make an attack roll, an ability check, or a saving throw and roll a 1 on the d20, the haunting voices grow too loud to ignore. Roll on the Voices from Beyond table to determine the effect of these voices. Once one of these effects occurs, none of these haunting voices manifest again until you finish a short or long rest.

-

This character will involve themes of child neglect, transphobia, sexual assault mentions, fantasy racism (toward dhampirs), references to mental illness in a derogatory manner (only mentioned due to backstory reasons)

The scorned child of a small forest village, their early years were plagued with heartache and emotional neglect. After disappearing into the woods under mysterious circumstances, only to return completely unharmed two weeks later… with claims of being able to speak with the dead the child was promptly outcasted by the rest of the village.

For the remainder of their youth, they were the subject of isolation, bullying and worse from local villagers young and old.

No matter how many times they pleaded with their mother for protection, help, advice, anything, all she would tell them is that ‘if they wanted it to stop then they just needed to shut up and act normal for once’.

During the years since their disappearance, they’d made no attempt to hide their newfound ‘gift’, finding the idea of being able to gain wisdom or even help those who have passed fascinating. The other villagers… clearly didn’t feel the same.

As time moved on Alasdair grew resentful of the villagers, as well as their mother. They began to cling onto their gift, doubling down and convincing themself that they’d been given this gift for a reason. They were chosen for a specific duty, to record and preserve the stories of the dead.

They left the village, and began a journey as a traveling poet, writing down the stories that spirits would tell them and turning them into poetry to share with the world.

-

▍ ❝   RULE ONE. Crossover friendly; I prefer rping with fandoms i’m familiar with, but i’m open to those i’m not as well. You’ll just have to excuse me for any mistakes since I won’t be too familiar with your muse or their world.

▍ ❝   RULE TWO. Multiverse/Multiship; All relationships will take place in different verses.

▍ ❝   RULE THREE. Do not force ship; Do not try to force your muse on mine and do not get upset if I happen to say no to your ship. Not every ship is going to work, that’s just how it is.

▍ ❝   RULE FOUR. Mun is 25+; Due to the nature of this character, I will ONLY interact with those that are also 18+.

▍ ❝   RULE FIVE. No godmodding; I control my character, you control yours. Do not have your muse auto-hit mine, or narrate anything happening to my character without discussing it with me first. It’s really quite infuriating and can leading to a lot of things happening to my character that my character should have reasonably been able to get out of or would be generally ooc.

▍ ❝   RULE SIX. I am generally pretty quick with replies. I usually respond within 3 days, a week at most. If I take longer then that it means i’m probably busy with other blogs and haven’t checked in. Feel free to send in message if i’ve gone a week without replying and you see me still being active. I might have missed your reply or ask somehow.

▍ ❝   RULE SEVEN. Triggers; Due to the nature of Alasdair's backstory there will be prominent themes of Death, Ghosts, Violence, mentions of SA, PTSD, Mentions of Transphobia, Suicidal Ideology, and more.

[ratsetflummi]

i love your tags of 'idk where i found them' cuz i sound like a feral/stray simp and that makes me insanely happy nJAKDNSKJDx

i follow u cuz i love your memes and your sense of humor and your aesthetics is on point and also im NOT biased about the mutual strahd/ravenloft stuff (ok i am but still) NJDKASNKJD!! 🧡🧡🧡

i'm now picturing it as me picking you up off the ground like a cool rock i found

aaahhh, that's the best review i've gotten so far, thank you! 🧡 i might be more preoccupied with posting about drow these days, but i still love my stupid little vampire!

[syrips]

drawing this in between my other drawing sessions cuz i want lovely self indulgent stuff mixed in

gonna put pc and custom world stuff in a separate post

[demiplanardemagogue]

Despite quite a divided Azalin market, these costumes nonetheless sold very well this year. Guess the popularity of this costume must be solid as a rock.

[saribrum]

Hello! My name is Sara (she/her) and I'm a 30yr old professional animator, illustrator, and all around nerd!

Welcome to my chaos~

I post art mostly about my dnd campaigns and reblog A LOT of random stuff over on my side blog @sariblog which is where I am the most active with every day activity.

Thank you for visiting my page, feel free to reach out and explore my work~

My Ask Box Is Open~ | My Art Tag | Ravenloft Campaign | Fabled Few Campaign | My Characters | Friends Art | Instagram | TikTok | Twitter | Cara

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WARNING: This blog may contain dark themes and humor. Read at your own risk~

©Disclaimer: You do not have permission to repost, copy, or edit my art work. All characters belong to their rightful owners, I only own the art.

Thanks for hanging out!

[svartalfhild]

Half-Empty

Rating: M, to be safe

Genre: Fantasy, Angst, Humor

Words: 2,696

Summary: Vrae Zilivna, bard and secret Ravenloft escapee, has been working at a tavern and cabaret for a couple of weeks now. She's starting to get into the swing of things, but the swing is chaotic, and her grief will not do her the courtesy of sitting in the sidelines until her shift is over.

Content Warnings: discussion of sex work, brief blood/gore, PTSD

A/N: This is a small story that details a moment in the life of my DnD character, a drow bard who is from Ravenloft, but escapes to the Prime Material Plane for our campaign. This story takes place during the campaign.

Previous Stories: The Oracle and the Officer, (Un)bearable, Shattered, The Mirror is in the Eye of the Muse, Cold, For the Dead We Revel, For the Living We Mourn, Dreaming in the Dark and Waking in the Light, The Nightmaven, Vespera Dignitatis, From the Mists

~ ~ ~

The end of the week was a busy time for the tavern and cabaret known as The Deep Chalice, and as such, Vrae was expected to be working.  She hadn’t been employed there for long, only two weeks now, but she was learning the way of things quickly enough.  The regulars and her colleagues alike were all about as strange as she would expect of a place like this; it was why she’d come here in the first place: to be among her fellow freaks and outcasts.

The owner, Madam Grimella, ran a tight ship, but she wasn’t unkind and she certainly looked after everyone.  She was a human of middle age with long black hair silvering at the sides that was always arranged in some elaborate style, and she perpetually had a red silk shawl draped on her shoulders or around her elbows, no matter what else she was wearing.  She had a flair for the dramatic, even in the more mundane moments of the day, as if she would die if she were ever a little too normal about life.

Several of her employees were cut from the same cloth in one fashion or another, one of the better examples being a dancer named Excitement, who was a bright red tiefling with hair in a darker shade and big golden eyes that seemed to flicker ever so slightly as if backlit by flames.  Her horns were long and angular and a pair of fangs showed themselves whenever she smiled, which was often.  She was a bubbly, talkative sort with an irrepressible zest for life, and Vrae didn’t really understand her, but she was an excellent performer, and that was all that mattered at the end of the day.  Vrae was in need of reliable coworkers, not friends.  She was cordial, amicable even, but always emotionally distant with her new circle of acquaintances.  When she got attached to people, it always resulted in death and destruction, so she wasn’t keen to make such mistakes again.

While this was sometimes challenging with the staff, it was quite easily done with the customers, even the regulars.  It was effortless for her to give them everything and nothing.  She could bare her soul in a song, bare her skin in a dance, and still be a complete mystery to her audience, as if they were looking at her through the keyhole of her boudoir.  They could see her beauty, but they would never see the skeletons in her closet.

Tonight was a night when she was asked to dance, since the scheduled headliner, a young human woman named Helinna, was under the weather.  Vrae asked the tiefling lute player, Drefor, to play something dark, and she went about her business dazzling the tavern goers with a scarf dance using a sheer black cloth and a little prestidigitation.  Even the scatterbrained wizard who was usually ranting about obscure arcane theory in the corner stopped and watched when his younger friend nudged him.  She completed the performance by putting out every candle in the room just as she struck a particularly tantalizing pose.  Being underground, this meant it was pitch black to all but those with darkvision, and when she returned the light, she was gone from the stage.  There was an eruption of applause that she enjoyed from behind a curtain before slipping backstage and around so she could make her way to the darker end of the bar in peace once the next act began.  Staeran, the burly human barkeep, already had a mead waiting for her when she arrived.

“Lady Wispcaller?” she heard a young man address her only a few minutes later, and she looked around to see the wizard’s friend.  She’d seen this man around here a couple of times before.  She recalled his name was Setric.  He was a willowy, square-faced fellow with floppy blond hair, tailored blue robes, and the confident air of a rich boy who fancied himself a rebel because he dared to study the arcane and spent time in the city’s seedy underbelly.  He was an open book to her, and not one she was interested in reading.  His cards, however…

“Yes?” she responded, pulling a tarokka card seemingly from thin air as she turned to him.  The Trader.  She smiled wryly to herself and returned the card to her deck in the same manner in which she’d summoned it.

“I was wondering if you had any prior arrangements for the evening?”  It was a classy way to ask what he really wanted to know, and she could tell he thought his conventional looks and proper manner would get him somewhere with someone like her.  She wondered what he would say if he knew she used to assassinate rich men like him in their beds.

“I don’t.”

“Then I wondered if I might…”  Setric reached for her waist, and she slid from his grasp.

“You can’t afford me,” she told him firmly, and he frowned.

“Surely you can see that I’m more than capable of paying handsomely.”  He gestured to himself, confirming her suspicions about his ego.

“Oh, I’m well aware of your deep pockets, and that should tell you exactly how dreadfully unaffordable I am, especially when you’re not very good at keeping an eye on your purse.”  Vrae held up his fat coinpurse, filled with probably more money than she’d make in a month, and offered it to him as he gaped at her.  “You might want to learn the rules of the street a little better before you start trying to play in it.  Now, I suggest you find a girl in your price range or go back to your friend.  I’m sure Edvard is dying to tell you about the importance of the sun and moon in transmutation magic or some such thing.”  With this, she shooed the stunned young mage away and finished her mead.

In truth, there probably wasn’t a single soul in this world she’d allow into her bed, whether it be for profit or pleasure.  She knew she could easily make a lot of money if she did, but something in her felt weary at the thought.  She didn’t want to touch or be touched anymore, even for a practical purpose.  Unconsciously, she pulled her silk wrap more tightly around herself and crossed her arms.  She touched the small silver locket that hung from her neck on a black leather cord.  She always felt so exposed wearing it in the open, as she had to when she did burlesque, but she was careful to choose costumes that would make it look more like an accessory than a treasured item.  No one had yet dared to ask about it, but she had a few well-prepared lies for anyone who might.  A sensible person would just take the damn thing off, but the idea felt profoundly wrong to her, almost as if it had a curse upon it, compelling her to keep it on, and in a way, it did.  She had loved and lost the man who had given it to her, but she felt forever bound to him, and this locket was the physical manifestation of that.

“Vrae!”  At the sound of Madam Grimella calling her name, she let go of her locket and quickly turned around to see her employer hurrying over to her, looking a little concerned about something.  “Vrae, dear, there you are.”  The woman came right up to her and leaned in close to whisper.  “Could you run out and fetch a healer?  Excitement’s hurt her ankle rather badly and we simply cannot have two dancers down this weekend.”

“Oh, there’s no need for that.  I think I have enough energy left today to help her myself,” Vrae replied with a dismissive wave, and Grimella frowned at her.

“Help her yourself?  How?”

“With magic, of course.”  Vrae gave her a sly smile before sweeping past her and heading on up the stairs to the room kept by her cheerful tiefling colleague.  She found Excitement sitting up on her bed, clutching her left leg and looking distressed.  “Hello, Excitement.  I heard your ankle’s gotten into a spot of trouble.”

“Oh!  Vrae!  Don’t you worry about me.  Madam G. sent for a healer.”  The poor woman put on a brave face, but she was clearly in pain.

“I’m your healer.”

“What?”  Excitement gave a giggle as she said this, as if she were unsure whether to be amused or not, and Vrae carefully sat down beside her.

“May I?” the bard asked, reaching for her colleague’s leg, and when Excitement gave a hesitant nod, she gently cradled her heel and began to hum a haunting tune, almost like a dark lullaby, delivered with a reassuring smile.  Her patient stared at her in bewilderment, which slowly turned into joy.

“Oh, I feel much better!” she exclaimed when the song ended.  “How did you do that?”

“Music is a powerful thing, d’anthe.  Especially if you know how to make the universe listen.”  Vrae set aside Excitement’s leg and primly folded her hands in her lap.  “You should be ready to dance again once the stiffness is gone.”  At this, the tiefling leapt forward and threw her arms around Vrae in a big hug.

“Thank you!  You’re the best!”

Vrae froze and her breath hitched.  Memories of Shaena Pencroft, her best friend, flashed violently through her mind.  Shaena, riding piggyback and whooping as Vrae ran down the beaches of Vradlock when they were teenagers.  Shaena, wrapping a blanket around her as she trembled after a brutal encounter with the constabulary.  Shaena, helping her up from the mud in the rain with the secret police in pursuit.  Shaena, lying dead on a stable floor in a pool of blood that gushed from her open throat.

“I’m not!”  Vrae reflexively pushed Excitement away.

“Oh, no!  Did I hurt you?”  Excitement touched the base of one of her horns self-consciously.

“No.  No, I…I’m not…I’m just not…good.  Please don’t give me more credit than I deserve.”

“Don’t be silly.  You’re a healer, and healers are always good people,” Excitement stated sweetly, and Vrae gave her a sad smile for her naïveté.

“I wish that were so.  But all the same, please don’t…hug me.”  Something finally clicked for Excitement at these words and her eyes widened.

“Oh!  Oh, I get it now.  You don’t like being touched.  Sorry about that.  My mama always says I get too carried away.  Is there a reason, or…?”  The question was a bit nosey, but Vrae was accustomed enough to her chatty nature by now to recognize it as well-meaning.

“Yes, but that is a story even this bard will not tell.”  She would let Excitement draw whatever conclusions she liked from that cryptic statement.  Excitement nodded and pulled her knees up to her chest to rest her chin on them.

“But you must have some juicy stories you can tell.  What about that locket?”  By the gods, this girl had a preternatural gift for innocently asking about the worst things.  Thankfully, Vrae was quite ready for this kind of inquiry.

“This?  This is merely a gift from an admirer that I thought pretty enough to keep.  No, I can do you much better than that, but if you want a delicious secret, you must first tell me one of your own,” she challenged with a playful smirk, and Excitement’s golden eyes lit up with interest.

“Alright, what do you wanna know?”

“Tell me, who is your favourite client?  You don’t need to give anymore detail than you’re comfortable with, of course.”

“Oh, that’s easy.  There’s this mage fella who comes in about once a month.  He’s a tiefling like me.  Gray with just the loveliest silver eyes.  He’s as serious as a funeral, but he’s very sweet to me.  Look at what he gave me!”  Excitement leapt up and went to her vanity to retrieve a bottle and a small tin, which bore ornate labels that declared them horn oil and horn wax respectively.  “I complained about my horns chipping, so he gave me these.  What a sweetheart!”  The products were magical too; Vrae sensed the abjuration magic in them.  Excitement would probably never know just how expensive this stuff was.

“Yes, I can certainly see why you like him,” Vrae replied with a wistful smile, absently brushing her fingers over her locket.

“Now your turn.”  Excitement flopped onto her stomach and rested her chin in her hands, eagerly awaiting her prize.

“Very well.  Many years ago, I journeyed to a beautiful kingdom that lay beside a lake of steam.  While I was there, I attended a lavish ball hosted by the royal family and tasted sweeter nectars there than you could ever imagine.  I was of course there to perform at the behest of the court, and when I sang for them and their guests, the crown prince fell madly in love with me.”  Excitement gasped in delight at this.

“What happened?”

“He asked me to dance, but I was not going to allow someone who had so much to have something from me for free.  I told him I would give him his dance if he would promise to teach me the dance of swords.”

“Ooh!”  There was a pause as a look of confusion came over Excitement’s face.  “What’s the dance of swords?”

“Fencing, darling.  Swordplay.”

“Oh, right.  Well, what’d he say?”

“He agreed to my terms.  He was a renowned swordsman, you see, and he thought it an easy enough task, but I proved to be a difficult student.  He would tell you it was because I was too brash, but in truth, I was just very distracting to him.”  Excitement giggled and kicked her feet at this.  “It took time and determination, but I learned the sword, and departed the kingdom soon thereafter, because the rest of the royal family did not approve of the attention their heir paid me.”

“Why?  There’s no harm in looking.”

“Maybe not, but here ‘attention’ means more than looking,” Vrae explained, and Excitement appeared to knock this around in her brain for a moment with minimal success.

“Oh, sex!” she burst out eventually.  It wasn’t exactly what Vrae had been going for, but she chose to roll with it.  “But I thought you-?”

“This was long before all of that.”

“Oh, wow.  So you could have been a princess?”

“I don’t think I was ever really in danger of that,” Vrae answered with a wry laugh, and her coworker looked disappointed.

“Would you have said yes if he’d asked?”

“Maybe.”  This seemed enough for Excitement, and she gave a small squeal of delight, kicking her feet some more.

“What’s going on up here?  If everyone’s alright now, there’s work to be done and distressingly few people to do it,” came the voice of Madam Grimella as she suddenly swept into the room, a few of her carefully arranged locks of hair hanging out of place.  Vrae immediately sat up straighter, but Excitement just gave a cheerful, fanged grin.

“Hey, Madam G.!  Don’t you worry; Vrae fixed me right up.  I’ll be back down in a minute.”

“What needs doing, ma’am?” Vrae asked.

“I need you to play the tune for Jesticles’ act.  Drefor has to help him with some sort of trick he’s planning.”  This news was not at all welcome, but Vrae didn’t let it show on her face.  Instead, she dutifully got up and made to return with their employer.

“Alright, see you later then, Excitement.  I have to go watch a clown strip.”

“Have fun!”  Vrae did not respond to this, as she did not trust herself to hide her contempt for the idea.

It was times like these that she was glad she had started to pick up mercenary work during the day.  Sure, clearing bats out of basements and harassing unethical wizards could be a bother, especially when she had to share the pay with a bunch of strange holy people and a manic kender, but there was more dignity in it than assisting Jesticles Mortimer in whatever fool thing he was planning to do on stage next.

[metalhead-brainrot]

[Album of the day] Weeping Coffin - F.B.I.

Ravenloft, USA // 2022 // Grime Stone Records

[Genres] blackened skate punk

[Themes] I'm nostalgic about gothic horror strip malls of my youth

[FFO] dungeon synth/black metal, Abysmal Specter, D.R.I. with corpse paint, vampire anything/everything

[Thoughts] I don't have a ton to say about this particular release, just that I fucking love it. Both ds/bm and skate punk give me nostalgia for my mallrat youth, their union is something I wouldn't have considered but feels so right.

Abysmal Specter is the ghoul behind Weeping Coffin and about a dozen other projects, including: Bloody Keep, Curta'n Wall, and ds/bm CLASSIC Old Nick* (vox). He is an incredibly prolific musician and one of the bigger names in the contemporary dungeon synth scene. And for good reason: everything AS puts out is creative dungeon synth music. Whether it's raw black metal, punk, ambient dungeon synth, or ds/bm, Abysmal Specter's music is full of humor.** They're mostly solo projects, but you can always count on AS to throw you something catchy and twice-cooked in aesthetic.

This feels as good a time as any to talk about Grime Stone Records, one of my favorite independent record labels, considering they host all of Abysmal Specter's music.*** GSR does an impeccable job curating all things ds/bm, simply stated.**** I subscribed to the label on Bandcamp about 2.5 years ago, so for $3/month I get all their releases; usually GSR strives for 3 releases/month, so that comes out to about $1/album, which I know will be an excellent indie pick. Consider subscribing to GSR***** and other Bandcamp labels, it's the best way to sustainably support indie music. At the very least, consider "Following" a label on Bandcamp to get notified of their new releases.

If you like any of the music on here, feel free to add to the conversation. I'd love to chat about Abysmal Specter, GSR, or anything else I've mentioned.

o()xxxx[:::::::::::::::::> o()xxxx[:::::::::::::::::> o()xxxx[:::::::::::::::::>

* Did you know that the guitarist for Old Nick, Sentencer, is Abysmal Specter's sister?

** And usually vampires, like all good black metal.

*** In my head AS is the one who operates GSR, but I don't know if I simply made that up as head canon.

**** What follows is an unabridged list of my favorite releases on the label, many of them recent.

Jacc - Cathartic Sorrow and Jacc - Melancholic Bliss; just really solid black metal that dropped on the label recently.

THEE KHAI AEHM - Samhainia! and THEE KHAI AEHM - Parrier; black metal stylings with garage punk and fuzz rock ends. Really interesting, I haven't heard anything like this before.

Piyakdu - Visionnes ov Naeku the'e Plowmanne; might look ridiculous on first blush, but this dungeon synth release is objectively high art. From the Bandcamp page: "The album seeks to view the contemporary Bharari lore under the 14th century Middle-English lens of theological allegory, dream-vision, and pastoral lyricism, all the while presenting a cohesive sonic journey tying these elements of the past and of the present together. The tunes are ripe with summertime nostalgia and visions of a time long forgotten."

Dungeon Crawler - Gotta Go Dungeon Crawling; blackened chiptune, the official 2023 soundtrack to getting really high and turning on your PS2. "Blackned Nintendocore Manifesto" is maybe my favorite mosh track of the year. Only wish it were longer so I didn't have to keep hitting play.

Curta'n Wall - Siege Ubsessed!; yes, I already linked to this album, but what can I say: I'm siege ubsessed (I even bought the shirt). Some silly ds/bm to bring home the wanton destruction of the medieval era. FFO: Renaissance Festivals, Monty Python.

Dein​ó​ssa​û​ros - Tyrannosaurids; some people are going to write off this release, but I think it's high art. Black metal is all about rejecting colonial structures and reverting to primitivism; this album captures the savage spirit of black metal through realistic dinosaur audio. Best served with a psychoactive; my preferred are amanita muscara mushroom chocolates.

Zhmach - Karyta Dzieda Platona; raw black metal with above-average production and avant-garde interests. I really liked Zhmach's first release, and I feel like Karyta Dzieda Platona is a true hidden gem. An truly uninhibited exploration of synth music.

SPECTRAL SPECTRUM - Strange Souls Vol. 1; a candlelit ritual from a dusty tome summoned the catchiest black'n'roll ever found, a genre that is best when it doesn't take itself too seriously. You'll listen to this and write me off as a fucking idiot, but I only grow in power every time you sing the chorus to "Haunted Wood" (it's a black metal multi-level marketing scheme, call it a bmlm).

***** I have no fucking idea where the subscription page went for GSR and it's driving me mad. You could always try contacting them.

[cat-cosplay]

You think the Domains of Dread are disturbing?

Try being trapped in a Domain of Waiting to be Fed!

[artsyarcane]

Ravenloft headcanons:

Both Rudolph and Erasmus van Richten are really good at trick shots. (It’s a skill that comes in handy surprisingly often.)

Alanik had a habit of pacing the room while in deep thought. This habit resulted in wearing pathways in the floor. Being wheelchair bound did not stop this habit.

Ez has terrible taste in romantic partners.

The only things Strahd is still capable of feeling genuine affection for are his nightmare and the bats that hang out in his castle.

Azalin Rex is a giant troll and was allowed by the dark powers to escape Darkon because he only ever wants to fuck with people and doesn’t actually do anything truely “evil”… anymore.

Alanik gets super excited when people try to kill him. It’s his favorite part of working a case because it’s an indicator that he’s close to the truth. He’s always deeply disappointed when it doesn’t happen. Arthur is usually terrified by his excitement but has slowly become accustomed to it.

Erasmus (as a ghost) enjoys making his loved ones laugh and it always confuses the hell out of his father.

Erasmus has a suspiciously fey-like affinity with animals. When he was alive, he’d befriended a flock of ravens. He even kept one as a pet. A one-eyed “hell bird” named Hades who had a habit of biting Rudolph for no particular reason. After Erasmus died, Hades stayed with Rudolph for almost 20 years before dying of natural causes.

Rudolph makes dad jokes. He actually has a rather dry sense of humor and is surprisingly funny if you can get him to open up.

If Erasmus is resurrected, Gennifer and Laurie smother him with an almost embarrassing amount of affection though he isn’t shy about reminding them that their “little cousin” is roughly 20 years older than they are. They do not care.

When the detective duo first started their relationship, it was Alanik who made the first move (spurred by Erasmus), causing Ez to lose a bet with Rudolph. Later Arthur proposed using a puzzle box.

Ez and Erasmus both have a massive sweet tooth.

Arthur has in-depth conversations with the corpses he autopsies and sometimes even tries to involve Alanik in said conversations. Alanik finds this practice entirely bizarre but deeply insightful.

(Part 2)