#red wayfarer

[sombritas-des]

Nadir

[loustica-lucia]

DATV — Alba de Riva's Outfits Sheet

The Hearth of Antiva, his Lighthouse outfit: I think it's in character that he can also wear it to battle.

The Carmine Crow, his recruitment/base outfit: A personalised version of "Plumage of the Mad Crow".

Alba's Warmth, the Deluxe Edition outfit/elven inspired. AKA the only time he doesn't have a bood window lmao

Roaming Wayfarer, an Orlesian-inspired theatrical outfit.

Harmony in Red, a music and dove inspired outfit for parties at the local taverns.

Graceful Respite, his "Chantry/Templar" ending outfit.

Ebony's Riddance, his "Crows ending" ending outfit.

Poll & Process:

[redwayfarers]

I will not ask you where you came from I will not ask you, neither should you Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips We should just kiss like real people do

i am still on the floor over this cassmel kiss i got from @sunshinemage ;;; tysm rory, you are once again a WIZARD and i will stare at this forever and cherish it

[specificpollsaboutbooks]

F/F Couples

Round 1

Red and Blue :

"this book is so good."

[thefamilyeldritchabomination]

After a long wait because new phones seem to throw tantrums at my presence, I can finally present the two boogers in real life! I am just so thrilled with how they came out (As well as their Autumn/Winter outfits) I hope everyone enjoys how Ernest and Dorian came out while I work on the next chapter and the comic I just started posting on my main account X3

[indiiglow]

Oh my god this video might just singlehandedly plunge me straight back into RDR2

[charrchan]

I did a little cover of Wayfaring Stranger with my flute (*^▽^*) (pls ignore the spelling mistake in the thumbnail lol)

[bluebellowl]

Someone's uncredited gay mermaid shipping art on Pinterest sparked a little rp AU

----------- Emmet is a mermaid/siren, luring sailors with graceful dances and shimmering white scales. No sailor can resist. none but one.

Aiden Wayfare, in this AU, is still a sailor, a captain with his own ship. Said ship just so happens to fall victim to the lure of a group of sirens. Men and women alike are captivated by the songs and displays the beautiful creatures offer, some jump overboard and are torn apart in moments.

All sailors are affected—but one. Aiden is demi and not interested, which frustrates Emmet to hell.

The next storm the ship battles goes catastrophic as there's a crew missing. Captain Aiden gets swept overboard and is now shipwrecked. This gives Emmet a chance to figure out why tf this particular human remained unaffected by his lure.

--

I thought about giving them a train appearance like their canon design has, so I was playing around in the last image there using the german ICE, a fast white train with red markings, as reference

[mufos-photo-album]

My personal concept of what Wayfarers (from hit TGC game Journey) look like under their cloaks. Canonically they have these funny undetailed legs, but for sake of incorporation into the Mufopiriverse™️, they get arms too.

Different individuals may have different upperbody clothing styles, but I remain pretty staunch on the pants, as to preserve some of the original shape language of Wayfarers as they are seen in-game (when you do see their legs). The same goes for the deep red coloration of the clothes, which are intended to blend into the shadows of the cape. This is hopefully not to distract from the Wayfarers' main features: their billowing cape, and the little feets they have poking out from under it.

If I had the time, I would also draw an Ancestor/Spirit (Sky:CotL) standing next to this Wayfarer. In older concepts of mine, a Wayfarer is a head taller than your average Spirit, though I may bump that up to two heads once I get around to drawing it.

The Wayfarer I drew is quite spindly once you remove their clothes. This is intentional, because I kinda want Wayfarers to look a bit alien compared to humans/Spirits.

[idrellegames]

Since I've been getting a few more asks about Episode 3—no I'm not hiding it from anyone, no it's not going to be released for the public any time soon, and yes, it is being worked on, and yes it is getting closer to being finished!

The majority of it is available to play as an alpha demo on my Patreon, although what currently playable is locked to specific Episode 2 endings.

My quarterly roadmaps are posted both here and on itch.io, and have all the updates about what's going on with Episode 3 and where I am currently am in development (Q1 report is here, Q2 report here!).

Episode 3 is the finale of Act 1. There are a lot of choices, a lot of decisions that will impact the future of your playthrough and your Wayfarer's journey. Many of your decisions from Episode 2 will come back to haunt you (in a good way or a bad way) in Episode 3. This episode is going to change everything, and the game and your Wayfarer will not be the same afterwards.

Finally, Episode 3 is the length of a full IF game due to its complexity. There is a reason why it is taking so long to develop. I know folks are impatient for more, but Wayfarer's episode structure is more like installments in a long-running series than chapters of a book. It takes time to pull off something like this, and I promise it will be worth the wait!

Green parts are playable and in the alpha build; blue is completed but not coded (and therefore are not in the alpha); yellow is in the drafting process; red is not started. word count is cumulative for all variations/routes/paths; single playthroughs will vary greatly in length depending on choices made.

I am very close to the end now, but it is very difficult to accurately estimate how long it will take me to finish. I know some people are angry about this, I know some people are disappointed and frustrated because the game is in-development and not a finished product. I know some people think I died and fell off the map or abandoned the project because it hasn't had a public update in a very long time (I didn't, I've always been here, working away).

I don't like releasing content before it's ready. I also don't like releasing episodes in bite-sized pieces even if it means more regular updates. I don't think that would make the game very enjoyable, and it also would make it buggier, with more time spent fixing stuff that I would have normally caught in the editing phase if I finished more things before coding.

I am well aware that Wayfarer is extremely ambitious in its scale, and I am going to live up to how ambitious it is. Ambition takes time, and also sometimes life hits hard. When you're a solo developer, no one else can pick up the slack if you get sick or have a family crisis or need to take time off, so you are going to perpetually be behind schedule.

(And no, other episodes are not going to be as long or as complicated as Episode 3!)

So, at this point I can't say when Episode 3 is being released. Only that it will be!

[duckprintspress]

18 Recommendations for National Science Fiction Day!

Today, January 2nd, is National Science Fiction Day. To celebrate, we asked DPP contributors what their favorite queer sci-fi reads are and we ended up with a list 18 awesome books! Recommendations made by Sebastian Marie, Shadaras, Mikki Madison, Sanne, Nina Waters, Shannon, Alex, Dei Walker, and an anonymous contributor.

An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon

Aether Beyond the Binary Anthology

A Memory Called Empire (Teixcalaan series) by Arkady Martine

Unconquerable Sun (The Sun Chronicles series) by Kate Elliott

Firebreak by Nicole Kornher-Stace

The Genesis of Misery by Neon Yang

Empress of Forever by Max Gladstone

All Systems Red (The Murderbot Diaries series) by Martha Wells

A Closed and Common Orbit (Wayfarers series) by Becky Chambers

The Darkness Outside Us by Eliot Schrefer

Little Mushroom by Yi Shi Si Zhou

Project Nought by Chelsey Furedi

On a Sunbeam by Tillie Walden

The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. Le Guin

This Is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar & Max Gladstone

Ocean’s Echo (Winter’s Orbit series) by Everina Maxwell

Seven of Infinities by Aliette de Bodard

The Archive Undying (The Downworld Sequence series) by Emma Mieko Candon

What are your favorite queer sci-fi books?

This is the third time we’ve done a rec list for National Sci-Fi Day! You can check out the 2023 list here and the 2024 list here!

You can find these and more queer sci-fi book we love on our Goodreads sci-fi book shelf.

See anything you like? Buy it through the Duck Prints Press Bookshop.org affiliate shop.

Need a place to chat about your favorite books? Join us in our Book Lover’s Discord server!

[outerbankies]

the pool scene was SOOOO new light summer coded like right at the start ☀️ he comes to bring her her morning coffee and she’s like hmmmm can’t you just stay here and quit ur job pls!!!! and you know for a split second he’s considering it

OOPS!

new light: summer love

new light masterlist

a/n: also takes care of (caressing inner thigh then slowly leaning in to trail kisses) from the prompt celly! wahoooooo

You’re just about to doze off beside your parents’ pool, Gretchen stretched out on the chaise lounge beside you while Margot lazes on a raft in the pool, the thick July humidity and the shade of the gigantic oak trees covered in Spanish moss enough to lull you into a cat nap.

But your parents’ dog Wilbur, who’d taken refuge under your chair, scrambles out from under and bolts through the back garden and toward the house, causing the three of you to investigate the intrusion on your otherwise perfect, post-workout pool day.

“Ladies,” Rafe greets, emerging from rows of hydrangea bushes dressed in his business casual. You place a hand over your eyes to block the sun and see him better in his powder blue button-up, navy-patterned tie faltering in the slight breeze. He makes a beeline once he spots you, setting what he’d been carrying down on the unoccupied lounge to your other side: a cardboard tray of three iced coffees from your favorite shop in town, the one you happen to know is so out of the way if he left from his dad’s office.

You hadn’t even expected to see him today, the scheduling gods against you both, but here he is taking a seat right beside you on your own chaise, leaning over you just close enough you catch his cologne, before he pulls his wayfarers off and places them on top of his head.

“Hi,” he says, leaning down for a kiss. He lets it linger, or maybe you do, still a bit stunned to see him here right now. 

“Hi,” you finally answer, taking his face in your hands the red of your nails a contrast to his cheeks. “What are you doing here, Rafe?”

He shrugs, eyes flickering down to your lips, where you’d just reapplied your Laneige, before he steals another kiss. “Wanted to see you. How was pilates?”

“Spin,” you correct, still dazed, even as you feel your chair move when your dog dives back under it. “It was good. Still waiting for you to join us like you promised you would.”

“And I will,” he promises again, with another shrug. “Before the end of the summer.”

“Sorry to ruin your nooner, Cameron!” comes Margot’s voice from the pool. Gretchen and Rafe both laugh but you just groan, hiding your face in your hands as he twists toward her to make his reply, his tongue just as quick.

“All good, Margs. Brought you a coffee, if you wanna act a little more grateful,” he says, tilting his head toward the drink carrier.

Gretchen gasps as she sits up, up until this point laid back and watching you two with a sickly fond look, “Me too?”

“Of course,” Rafe replies. “I know Y/n/n is a fiend, but these aren’t all for her.”

She pats his shoulder, squealing on her way to pick up her drink, taking Margot’s too and walking toward the other side of the pool where the other girl floats, chancing a wink back at you as she leaves earshot. 

“I’m covered in tanning oil,” you say in warning, concerned for his pastel shirt and what Ward will say if he comes back from lunch covered in oily splotches, as you feel him sink further into your side.

“I’m very aware of what you are and aren’t covered in right now,” he murmurs. Rafe seems completely indifferent to all the places your bodies touch, giving you a once-over.

You make hands at the last drink in the carrier, humming in satisfaction when he hands it over and it tastes exactly how you thought it would. “You on lunch?”

He nods. “Didn’t realize I wouldn’t get to see you tonight, so.”

“I know,” you sigh. “I’m sorry I got the days mixed up, but the Boneyard should still be fun.”

You had an overnight babysitting gig a few neighborhoods over that you thought wasn’t until tomorrow, putting a bit of a wrench in the dinner plans you made with your boyfriend before you were supposed to ride with your friends to a bonfire.

You’d let him know as soon as you confirmed with the kid’s parents this morning, to which Rafe had replied a long (and dramatic) chain of sad faces. 

“It’s okay, baby. Might stay in anyway,” he says, kissing your cheek, then hiding his face there for a second. His lips brush the shell of your ear, “especially if there’s any possible way you sneak me into the Truitts’ tonight.”

When he pulls away to smirk at you, you grasp onto his tie, keeping him close to your face. “You’re not down.”

Rafe swallows, and you hate the way your eyes track the movement of his throat. “It would be worth the awkward run-in with Mrs. Truitt at the Island Club.”

“You can barely handle sneaking in here,” you say, your head tilting toward your bedroom window, which Rafe takes a second to look at wistfully, probably reminiscing on the times he’s nearly broken an ankle scaling the trellis for it this summer. “You jump every time you hear a creak in the night, thinking it’s my dad about to drag you out by your ears.”

“There are a lot of creaks at night,” he defends.

“Old house,” you challenge, releasing him and stretching your arms up over your head, settling down further into the chaise. “You should be used to it by now.”

The hand he’d been resting on your knee cap trails just slightly down your inner thigh. “I’ll never be used to this.”

You sigh, pressing our legs together, which budges his hand out from the area it’d been exploring. But Rafe’s touch doesn’t stray far, the metal on his ring finger resting on your outer thigh instead, his thumb stroking.

“You’re teasing me,” you warn.

His thumb hooks into the string of your bathing suit bottoms. “Oh, I’m teasing you?”

“Sure you can’t quit your job?”

“Be our coffee boy forever,” Margot calls.

“We tip!” Gretchen tacks on.

“Well with an offer like that…” he murmurs only for you to hear, suddenly as privy as you to the fact that your friends are probably listening in on as much as they possibly can. 

He still leans in for another kiss though, a few pecks trailing from your lips, over your jaw and down to where the strap of your bathing suit top rests over your neck, his face coming back to hover over yours as his eyes slowly open again. “Dinner tomorrow instead?”

You nod readily. “Dinner tomorrow. I’ll be free by the afternoon. I could come meet you in town? By the office?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, I’ll come get you, sweetheart.”

You beam, pleased you already know when you’ll next see him again, even if it is over 24 hours from now. You couldn’t help it and neither could he; much to the chagrin of your parents and friends, the two of you were inseparable this summer. “Okay. And have fun tonight if you do go, alright?”

He shakes his head, collapsing back into you, his face hidden in your neck again.

“Nooo,” he whines. “On the real, if I did come to the Truitts—”

“Alright,” you laugh, getting your hands under his shoulders to push him away. “I’m pretty sure your lunch is over.” 

“Over when I say it is,” he says, not going without a few more kisses, one somehow ending up on your shoulder, right over a mark you’d had to cover up with clothes and concealer ever since he left it there. But he eventually does let you breathe, leaving a hand on your cheek while he checks the watch on his other wrist. “You’re right though. Shit.”

“Mhm,” you say, nodding into his palm. “Have a good rest of your day. I’m happy you came by.”

He kisses your forehead before finally standing again, readjusting his tie, looking down at it and then back to you. “I’m happy, too. How do I look?”

“Oh my god, fine, Rafe. Get outta here!” Margot shouts.

Over the sound of Gretchen’s laughter, you nod in assurance at him. “You look good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He just barely avoids a splash of water from the girls as he makes his way back inside, causing you to laugh around the straw of your drink, which you’d barely gotten to try. Rafe looks back from the hydrangeas as he puts his sunglasses back on, shaking his head with a grin splitting his face.

You don’t know how you’ll last ’til tomorrow.

[spearmaster-fanclub]

slugclothes the full series + The Wayfarer (aka Nomads Jones)

worldbuilding shenaniganery under the cut

outer expanse is mostly light, breathable woven cloth and some metal accents and such. the hat keeps the sun out of the eyes and the sash that holds the ensemble together also usually holds up carrying drums carried across the back. loose cloth is usually draped across one hip and can be used as a bag. the metal bracers and cloth hand covers protect the hands and wrists from thorns, sap, etc.

chimney canopy/sky islands is mostly warm leathers and hides meant to keep them warm. the eyewear protects from the direct sunlight and the prongs are meant to resemble a vulture mask to ward off wild lizards. the leather wraps on the hands, feet, and tail are meant to protect extremities from the cold, from blisters/abrasions while climbing, and from lizard bites (as they have a close symbiotic relationship with climbing and leaping lizards that help them navigate in exchange for food and shelter.) the king vulture harpoon slung across the back is a javelin with wire or rope attached, which is usually used for hunting or for creating a climbable line in a pinch (as it usually has a smaller stake on the other end to secure to the ground or can simply be tied in a slip knot around a secure fixture)

farm arrays slugs are heavily influenced by ancient culture and what nomads and monks coming from subterranean bring back as well as the large population of scavengers they share their home with. Their clothes do a lot to shield them from the sun while moving around in the long, flat plains, and the broad shields they wear on their backs and tails detach to allow them to escape from predators and are often decorated with icons of local mythical figures that are believed to ward off predators from the air when turned skyward

Shoreline slugs wear pretty little clothing to keep themselves light while swimming and navigating narrow underwater passages. They carry similar drums to outer expanse slugs, scavenged from moon bits. They revere lttm as a deity, coming from their oral history of when she was still standing and their colonies lived in her shadow, and often wear red or blue gemstones/pearls on their foreheads to show their dedication. The oldest members of the colonies there have the mark of communication, a remnant of when moon was still well enough to give it

Garbage wastes slugs (I call them scrapcats) live in an area that is dangerous from all angles, be it disease, conflict, or predators and their clothing is designed with these threats in mind at all times. The metal spikes fashioned onto tough leathers deter predators and would-be opponents both. They carry small cloth packs and saddlebags to carry things they find to use in their craftsmanship (which they’re well-known for) and pearls and trinkets to offer to the local scavengers to keep their terse peace. The cloth around the mouth, nose, and gills is to protect them from contaminated water and airborne rot spores and is usually light and breathable but prevents most larger contaminants from getting into their fragile insides

Nomads are a mixed bag of whatever they can trade for. Nomads often lead scarce lives with very few belongings- most can fit their entire lives into a cloth bag and a small metal hip drum. They tend to prefer warm leathers and practical items like back shields, hats, bags/drums, weapons, and knives over aesthetics like masks, necklaces, or embroidery. Most nomads are sparsely decorated and carry food and clean water everywhere they go, as to not disturb the local colony wherever they’re living- the most valuable things most nomads carry are a few blank pearls they use to pay tolls

[shares-a-vest]

Prompt: Lifeguard (Discord Drabble)

"What ever could be the matter, my dearest companion?"

Eddie huffs and folds his arms. He can hear Robin's shit-eating grin behind him. Buckley is practically breathing down his neck, probably relishing in his bristling demeanour as he looks out over the chaos of Hawkins Public Pool on a hot summer's day.

When he discovered that his new boyfriend – Steve Harrington, The Hair, The Myth, The Legend himself – would resume his old position as head lifeguard at the local pool, Eddie figured it would be a lot different to this.

Steve's glistening suntanned skin. Eddie lathering up all that musculature with copious amounts of sunblock. That hairy chest heaving with exertion. His boyfriend acting like the real hero he is. That Speedo, stuffed full from every angle, plump ass to girthy –

"You are so pathetic," Robin laughs, playfully slapping Eddie on his (light lobster-red) shoulder as she comes into view.

"Shut up," he hisses, more at the sting of his skin – even if he did use an absurd amount of sunblock on himself.

"No need to flash those sad doe eyes at me," Robin chuckles, "How about I buy you an ice cream for your troubles?"

Eddie hums as he looks up at Steve, perched like a King on the lifeguard tower at the far end of the pool.

"I guess I could sit by Rapunzel's Tower and deep-throat a popsicle..."

"Maybe not that," Robin grimaces but links their arms nonetheless, "I have a much better idea. Come on, I think we'd better move our towels into the shade."

Eddie follows along, ignoring Robin's tone and her clear gawking at the colour of his shoulders. Instead, he watches Steve, enamoured now as his boyfriend peers over the top of his Wayfarers to look down at a bunch of dweebs causing a ruckus with excessive splashing. They are clearly bothering a mother wading with her kid at the shallow end and Steve shuffles forward in his seat.

Eddie gulps as he thinks – nay, hopes – that Steve's teeny-tiny red Speedo is riding up a little.

Steve readies his whistle and Eddie grins. He loves it when Steve gets all bossy.

He licks his lips as he conjures up ways to maybe get Steve to use that whistle on him.

But he doesn't get time to think up any kind of scheme because, in a flash, Eddie feels water splashing against his feet. Upon realising he is indeed a mere inch from the edge of the pool, Eddie turns, only to catch a glimpse of Robin's wicked smile.

And then he is falling.

The last thing Eddie hears before he falls into the pool is Robin's delighted shrieks calling for Steve's heroics.

[powdermelonkeg]

Gale of Waterdeep assorted headcanons: 2

Headcanons 1 here, Tower layout here

He overshares when he's drunk. It's a good look into how his brain works, but he has a 50/50 chance of putting his foot in his mouth

He has a handful of custom spells, one of those being an illusory campsite. Gale's Minor Mirage, he calls it. You're welcome!

The stitch scar on his neck is from being held at knifepoint by a particularly opportunistic thief. Said thief got hit with a lightning bolt

His spellbook is beautifully scripted to the untrained eye, but contains additional notes written in invisible ink. He presents himself as neat and tidy, but his real scribblings are anything but

While inflicted with the Netherese Orb, his blood leaves rashes on other people wherever it touches. Not severe ones, but it doesn't feel pleasant. Like a mild sunburn

Quothe (the raven familiar) is his. It's named that because it loves to listen to Gale read literature (and occasionally recite lines where he leaves off)

He owns a fancy lanceboard set; it was a housewarming gift from his parents when he first got his tower

When he was little, he used to wear a ribbon as a headband to pull his hair back with, and a cape. His hair was fluffy and fell to his chin

His favorite color is blue, but he thinks he looks more refined in purple. His mother thinks he looks most dashing in red

His favorite hobby is helping Tara adapt spells with somatic components for tressym use

His first staff was a Sun Staff, gifted to him by Elminster

His most recent staff was a Staff of Power

Both of these, he had to consume. It was a very, very hard choice to make

Other things he's had to destroy that he cared for dearly:

Emerald Pen (left over from days at the academy; worse that it wasn't worth it, as it didn't give him more than a few hours)

Chromatic Rose (given by a lover upon breakup)

Duplicitous Manuscript (The Art of the Night is one of these)

Needle of Mending (kept it on his person after the thief incident)

Wand of Enemy Detection (carried it with him on excursions with Tara)

Wayfarer's Boots (his favorite travel pair)

Arcane Grimoire (one of his first found artifacts, copied a few spells from it into his own book)

Candle of Invocation (a gift from Mystra)

Crystal Ball of Telepathy (Tara used it more than he did; her little paws can't cast Sending)

Songbird Sage's Signet (wore it everywhere, only used in a pinch; he misses the weight of it and rubs his finger occasionally)

Crown of Whirling Comets (wore it to the Blackstaff annual balls, partly to show off)

The 6th level spell Program Illusion is what appears during his Death Protocol. As it needs to be tied to an area within 30 feet of where it's assigned, it's what his briefs are enchanted with. His reasoning is that he'd always have them, and no one would take them off him while dead

When he's panicked, he burns through the magical item he fed the Orb with faster. That's why he puts such a weight on keeping calm

The reason you have 2 days to resurrect him before exploding, and why he can still live for a bit if you don't give him an item immediately, is because without careful management, it consumes HIM. He has 2 days worth of magic to his person

He doesn't like to turn people down outright. To him, the gentlemanly thing to do is to go on a first date to indulge whomever asked. He's had a lot of first dates

He's been accused of using Enchantment as to why he's so dashing once or twice. It absolutely stoked his ego around his looks

Quipper fish and hundur sauce is the dish he's most proud of, but his favorite is a good slow roast

He'll make illusory ceilings for dates with starry skies and auroras. Maybe floating candles if he's feeling fancy. Yes that extends to the bedroom

If left to his own devices, he will relax in a bath for HOURS. Tara thinks he falls asleep in there (she can't prove anything)

Before the orb, he and his mother had a pseudo-competitive exchange of cookware. They'd take turns making the most ELABORATE dishes in the same fancy glass pan, and send it back and forth trying to outdo each other. Whenever one showed up with the pan, it would always be with a healthy seasoning of smug satisfaction and sweet compliments about the last meal

He likes picnics on the beach. If you show him shells and things he'll happily tell you where they came from

He always dresses just a smidge too warmly for the weather

He can sleep just about anywhere, and frequently does in his tower. It's not good for his back. When Tara finds him, she always tugs a blanket over him

His family symbol is a crescent moon setting in the water

Bonus Tara headcanon: her opal collar is her spellcasting focus

[cambion-companion]

could I request for you to write an scenario in which Raphael does not die to Tav nor their party, but in an other similarly humiliating circumstances, and Tav when learning about this desperately goes to save Raphael from his father by bargaining with Mephistopheles? (hilariously in a very sad way, I assume this, is the only moment that Mephistopheles would ever "value" Raphael's life, but then again that is devils for you) and Raphael's confusion at the whole thing, someone taking a terrible bargain to save him, just… because they… like him…??? (bonus points, if Tav still has a crown to willingly give Raphael XD)

It's beat up Raphael hours huh? (also Korilla will be fine)

Hi there love. This turned from a drabble into a oneshot haha

Have fun running to Cania to pick up your wayfaring devil!

Raphael x reader (gn)

Korilla had come to you.

Broker and bruised, battered and bloody. Her long curly hair matted with mud and dried viscous.

“Help him.”  Her first words, rasped from a throat raw from screams.

“Korilla!”  You caught her weight as her knees buckled, lowering her gently to the ground.  The Dwarven woman wasn’t your friend by any means, but she had been your ally.  “Who needs my help?”  You couldn’t fathom who she might be referring to.

Surely it wasn’t Raphael. It couldn’t possibly be the enigmatic, self-assured cambion.

Korilla’s answering rasp dispelled any doubt. “My master.”

A fog of shock settled over your mind, your hands loosening around Korilla’s shaking form.  She whispered the truth into your ear, her bruised lips trailing her blood onto your clammy skin. With fading voice Korilla told of the attack, Raphael’s demise and his imminent doom.

“Portal. Diabolist.  Cania.”  Korilla’s breaths grew short as she fought valiantly once more against the oncoming black.

“Hold on, Korilla.  You’re going to be okay.”

“Save him.” She said again, her eyes slowly glossing over as the life left her broken body.

You cursed.  The warlock’s last actions had been to find you in a desperate hope you’d help Raphael before he was consumed by his father.  His father who just so happened to be an archdevil. Mephistopheles.

“Little shit could’ve mentioned that.”  You grimaced, lowering Korilla’s body to rest upon the cold earth.

You stood, pinching the bridge of your nose as your thoughts whirled and clashed. Not only had the attackers killed Raphael, but they had also looted his house, stealing the Orphic hammer and the only hope you’d had of defeating the Elder Brain.

“Damn it.”  You returned to your companions with the news. “Looks like we’re taking a rescue party to hell.”

“Who’s the damsel in distress?”  Astarion asked, tilting his head as his red eyes flickered over your blood-flecked form.

“Raphael.”

The plan was to use as much stealth as possible. The vaults of Mephisto had been broken into not long ago, according to Raphael, so it was possible.  A direct confrontation with the archdevil himself was out of the question.  

The diabolist in Baldur’s Gate took some convincing, but in the end you were able to push enough gold across the counter to seal the deal.  

“Very well.  Though I warn you, you’ll not return alive or with your souls intact.”

“Yes, yes.”  You waved the woman off, her visage reminding you of Korilla. “Believe me, I’ve heard it all before.”  Your eyes scanned the musky shop. Do you have anything that will locate a specific fiend?”

With a Locate Creature spell scroll ready in your bag you watched as the diabolist created for you a portal. Ice crystals immediately crusted on the edge of the black abyss, the wind coming from the portal nearly freezing your shoes to the floor.

“Quickly, and remember the disguises!”  She ushered you and your party through, the frigid darkness enveloping you with a grim finality.

Through cold halls you’d snuck, invisible fingers cold as death scraping along your back and through your hair as you passed beneath torches of blue flame.

Time lost all meaning here.  Your eyes began to play tricks on you. The only thing keeping your mind focused was the spell lighting the edge of your vision with a warm glow, growing brighter as you hurried to where Raphael was being held.

An age, or an hour had passed.

The wrought iron door, so cold to the touch it burned, swung noiselessly inward, admitting you to an octagonal shaped room. On the far wall you saw him, his form dark, chained by one wrist to the wall.

“Raphael.”  You hissed, unexplainable relief flooding your frozen veins when his head moved in response.  

Your companions waited by the open doorway, keeping watch from the shadows.  You snuck as quickly as you could to where Raphael was restrained. His glowing eyes looking down upon you with consternation before recognition slowly dawned across his sharp features.

You held up a hand, silencing him as he opened his mouth. Movement could be heard from outside the prison room. You were running out of time.

“Can you get us out of here if I free you?”  You hissed, still keenly aware of the nature of the devil.

Raphael nodded, his tail moving to and fro in agitation.  Something about his vitality seemed to be missing, you had never imagined seeing him in such a state.  It was unsettling.

The matter of removing the singular shackle proved to be more challenging than you’d thought.  Astarion’s lockpicking skills proved futile.

“It’s a magical seal.”  Raphael breathed, his voice low yet sharp with anger born of desperation. “Now’s not the time to play the fool.”

You gave him a severe look which he matched right back at you, his eyes sparking flame.

You raised a hand to the ice-covered metal, about to dispel the magic surrounding the lock. “You owe me a favor.  A big one.  I don’t know yet what I will ask of you, but you will deliver. Understood?”

Raphael’s gaze scorched you for a moment, it was clear he was furious with his current predicament. But he had no choice, and both of you knew it.

He nodded curtly.

You cast your spell.

Raphael’s wrist broke free with the sharp sound of metal splintering. His hand closed tight around your arm, the dungeons of Mephisto melted away as you and your companions were yanked unceremoniously back to the material plane.

At least, your companions were.  Deposited non-gently upon the hard ground of your camp.

Raphael kept hold of you.  Taking you back to the foyer of his house. The house which still lay in semi ruin from its previous sacking.

He was angry.  Each step he took crackled fire and promise of swift vengeance.

“Raphael…”  You said hesitantly, following him down into the dining hall.  “Raphael, Korilla-”

“Is dead.”  Under the glow of firelight, you could properly see the state he was in. You winced when he turned to face you. “I know. Though not as dead as those who dared pillage my home, the fools.”

“Do you know who?”  You remained wary as you watched him conjure an armchair and sink down into it.

Raphael ignored your question, he issued orders in the abrasive Infernal tongue, seemingly into thin air.  His fingers clicked and a spark of flame licked around them.  Unseen servants began bustling around, clearing the debris and wreckage.  Setting the House of Hope back in order.

Raphael leveled his gaze upon you.  His expression was not unkind, it was calculating.  He had underestimated you and overestimated himself.  Not a mistake he’d make again.

“Why?”  No flowery words, no ado.

“I still need the hammer.”  You had the response prepared, having known the question was coming.

“You could have hunted down the thieves without my help.”  Raphael narrowed his hellfire eyes. “Why come to my aid?”

“Korilla asked me to.  It was her dying wish.”  You fidgeted under his piercing presence. “Besides, you’re a useful ally.  I still need your help to save the world.”

Raphael arched a brow, unconvinced. “Half-truths are still considered lies, dear.  But there are matters I must attend to.”  He stood, restless.  

“Will your father come for you again once he realizes you’re gone.”  The question came before you could stop yourself.

“Concerned for me?”  Raphael appraised you, a knowing tilt to his head. “No.  He will not.”

You didn’t argue, Raphael was clearly on edge, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

You rubbed circles against your aching temple. “Well, seems we have some thieves to track down.  A hammer to retrieve.”

Raphael looked as though he was biting back a sharp retort.  He chewed on his words, looking you over. “Yes.”  He growled, infernal fire flickering off his form. “You may watch as I peel their souls from the writhing mortal flesh.”

In an unexpected move, Raphael strode to you and took your hand, placing a kiss to your knuckles. His breath hot on your still chilled skin. “You may even assist me, if you so desire.”  He straightened.

That was as close to a “thank you” as you were going to get.

You set your jaw grimly. “When do we start?”