#session 15

[shortkingsvsbarovia]

session 15

[gohar-adventures]

The Eye of the Beholder

Harambe is speaking with everyone in the Dragon Skull Manor very early in the morning, following the Gralhund Villa bloodbath.

No one trusts this man, who was previously in the service of the Gralhunds. Hollycover proposes Zone of Truth to discuss more. Everyone except Argan and -3- is under the spell's effects.

"Duke Gralhund asked me to spare them from a horrible death, at the hands of someone much meaner than I am."

Assad: "The kids as well?"

Harambe nodded, shameful, and explained that he came to the manor running from the City Guard. He left as they were arriving to the villa and mentions coming across one of our enemies(?). He pulled out a black parchment.

Holly unrolled the parchment, and written in silver ink:

Xander recognized materiel to mean a magical reagent because of his background.

Given the drow who attacked in the villa, I recognized the J as Jarlaxle, the leader of the mercenary band Bregan D'aerthe.

Holly: "Will you attack us?"

Harambe: "Are you asking me if I have honor? I haven't drawn my sword, have I?"

Xander seems to have taken quite the liking to Harambe and was flirting aggressively, as he does.

Some aggressive knocking at the door interrupts the conversation. Xander goes upstairs with Harambe to show him the rooms and hide.

Assad opened the door and spots Mirt walking back toward his carriage.

"Finally! Come on! The guard is coming!"

I yelled loudly that we were going on a field trip. All of us together! Xander brought down Harambe.

Mirt stared at Harambe and shook his head at all of us. "How did you mess this up so badly?"

"A story for later," demurred -3-.

All of us rushed into the carriage with whatever we could grab on short notice. Assad forgot his rune scroll that he'd been studying, and Holly forgot her armbands.

Mirt erased our tracks from the snowy ground and got in the carriage, still shaking his head. "You brought the smoking gun with you."

As we left the alley, we saw 2 carriages head toward the manor from the East. Barnabas Blastwind and Saeth Cromley from the City Guard step out of the carriages.

Mirt's driver was taking us on a circumventing route to wherever we were going, so I showed the note from Jarlaxle to Mirt.

Poor Mirt looked even more tired but mentioned that he was aware of the location, near the shore. It burned down from an explosion a year ago, though.

Xander missed an Arcana check for more information.

The entire ride, Harambe's eyes were on Mirt and his hand never strayed far from the hilt of his sword. Upon seeing that Mirt knew a bit about the drow, though, he brought a stone out of his pocket, saying "The drow also had this."

Xander was getting ready to cast Identify on it, but Mirt asked him to hold off.

Leaving the carriage we see a humble house with lights on inside and a bench outside. Someone keeping a lookout despite the snow looks up at Mirt and remains at ease.

Nat 20 to figure out where we are.

Despite all the twists and turns, I could tell we were somewhere north in the Trades Ward, near the City of the Dead and the Hospice of St. Laupsenn.

It was about 7 AM now and there was an older lady waiting inside the house with some breakfast for 6 people. She hadn't accounted for Harambe (and neither had we).

I sat down for coffee, while others took food. Mirt stood still for a second. "So, Xanathar, the Zhentarim and now Jarlaxle... Ugh."

Xander identified the stone Harambe had found as a Sending Stone, though he made Harambe hold the stone for the entire 10 minutes that the casting took, and kept flirting with him after.

Mirt: "Stay here for a while. If you need to leave, tell Mrs. White to find the backdoor."

Mrs. White: "If you need anything else, I'll be upstairs."

Assad mentioned that a lead box could prevent a Sending Stone from being traced and Xander asked whether Mrs. White could find one for us.

After a few hours, there was a knock on the door and Mrs. White, who hadn't made a peep since going upstairs after promising to look into the box came down to check on the door. She brought back a rectangular box wrapped in cloth and the newspaper.

I picked up the newspaper. There were reports of the Gralhund Villa bloodbath and how even the children had been murdered. The article warned that the Guard believed the perpetrators were still at large and that citizens should remain home at night. I passed the paper over to -3- after reading.

-3- looked over at Holly. "Why are we running?"

Holly mentioned we could get a lot of people in trouble, but -3- was not convinced. Why were we following what Mirt said? We hadn't done anything wrong.

Argan tried explaining that we had broken quite a few laws going into the villa and attacking people even if we hadn't started the fight, but I guess it's hard enough explaining illogical laws to people, let alone a construct.

Using Felix, we sent out a note to the kids to let them know we'll be away from the manor for a while and I snuck in a note for Nat: We're near the City of the Dead.

Felix came back just fine after a while, but without any messages.

2 days go by, with Mrs. White only coming down for meals and to answer the door. The food is fine.

The next newspaper mentioned that the City Guard had been cracking down on the Zhentarim and that those responsible for the bloodbath would be apprehended soon.

After not hearing anything for a few days, we were starting to get restless. Xander sent out a message to Mirt using a paper bird and sent Felix to trail it. He came back too soon, though, telling Xander that some nice gentlemen offered him treats and played with him.

-3- (in Undercommon, at Holly): "I hope we don't have to kill Mrs. White."

The group sent me to have a look at Mrs. White's room. Xander cast invisibility on me and called down Mrs. White. Argan distracted her with singing while I picked the lock to go into the room.

It was pitch black inside and there was a smell of lilacs. The windows were boarded up but everything else looked pretty normal. The bed seemed odd and looking under it, there was a maroon stain on the floor.

Doing one last pass around the room, I found a stone similar to the Sending Stone Harambe had brought and a dagger inside the pillow. Leaving the dagger and straightening up the room, I got out and locked the door.

I waited in our room for a while, but no one came up, so carefully went downstairs and got Xander, whispering we should meet up in the bathroom.

Mrs. White asked where I was while Xander was in the bathroom and Argan mentioned I should be in the room. She went back upstairs saying something about "being done here."

Xander put the 2 stones in the lead box. We all booked it out of there, grabbing our things, and just leaving through the front door. Although the lookout was very confused to see us go, he didn't stop us. We saw him heading inside as we left.

We agreed to meet up in 2 hours at the Hospice of St. Laupsenn. I stopped by the City of the Dead to check if the kids were around, but nothing interesting happened.

I passed a newspaper boy calling out that the City Guard got the Zhentarim on the way to meet with the rest.

Mother Margot greeted -3- and Holly and told Holly they had not had anything to do with what had been going out. No fights had broken out in the city and no one had sought sanctuary, but the river had supposedly run red with blood.

-3- told the group we shouldn't stay here for too long.

Argan, Xander, and Assad head toward the market to try and get some information by using the Sending Stones. Xander figured out they were not connected to each other, but they both connected to the same stone.

Argan turned himself invisible and flew up to one of the roofs. Activating the stone, he mentioned "They got away. What do I do now?"

Jarlaxle responded, saying he could see Argan's companions and the boys lost all their ability to be chill. Argan left the stone with Xander and scurried back to the Hospice to get the rest of us.

In the hospice, -3- and Holly went downstairs to help with the patients and see if they could get more information as to what had been happening over the past few days. I posted up in the main room to keep an eye on folks who came and went.

A nurse who Holly did not recognize had been staring at -3- and Holly so she went up to her to find out more. She was very nervous and asked to speak in front of Mother Margat. The three of them go speak to her and she takes them to Father Giuseppe's old rooms.

The nurse, Sylvia, mentioned that there had been 2 fellows that had come in the week before with an eye tattoo and that the nurses had taken care of them even though they were pretty scary. She had overheard them talking about something strange in the South Ward: a Sweets Shop with an eye theme.

Sylvia used to work in the South Ward before and had seen a few people who went into the shop and never came out. But there were screams.

We met up in the Dripping Dagger where Xander investigated the Stone of Golorr. It will need all 3 eyes to work properly, but something might happen with just the 1 eye that we have.

Xander attuned to the Stone and the aboleth growled and insulted him.

Xander: "What are you?"

The aboleth showed him a floating city, a vault, lots of people. Death all around, falling, feeling lost for hundreds of years. Being found again, in Waterdeep. A face: lord Dagult Neverember. A psychic burst, then nothing.

Xander could tell that there is missing information, but the aboleth is not purposefully hiding anything. "What do you want?"

"Freedom." The aboleth granted Xander the Light and Darkness spells, calling them a gift.

When asked, "How can we help?" the aboleth showed Xander a barrage of images: a man burying silver in the yard of a tavern somewhere in Waterdeep, a group of cultists performing a ritual to create a hell cyst, different races invading each other.

Suddenly Xander saw an old woman with very small glasses who seemed to be looking directly at him, speaking: "Oh, you're back. Good to have you back. I made money off you once. I'll do it again."

Xander felt unsafe and broke the connection. It seems like the Stone has the power to make everyone or a very large group of people forget a piece of information. We can't use it to find the other eyes.

We arranged for Argan to send a message to Three Strings when he went to his shift in the Yawning Portal: "Thanks for your hospitality. Unfortunately, there was something wrong with the room and we had to go."

The owner of the shitty tavern where we stayed knocked on the door at 3 AM, letting -3- know that there was a visitor. -3-, Holly, and I went downstairs to find a teenage boy who said he had a message from the harp and handed -3- a harper pin.

"That was not the plan. I hope you're safe. Mrs. White is dead. I'm sorry we were compromised."

It looks like Mrs. White's body was hidden under the floorboards and that's what caused the stain.

-3- hands the pin back to the boy and sends him back with a message: "Send word when it's safe to go home."

That same night, Xander dreams of his past and remembers him. He misses him. He's within reach.

[evildeadfan102]

I played Saints Row (2022 Remake) Session 15.

[babybluesquid]

Session 15, Never Mind the Murder!

Our Players this Week:

Hog 112, they/them, Weapon Thaumaturge, skirmisher warforged, the leader of the inquisitives agency and founding member, tends toward practicality and following a command structure.

Vestige, they/them, Bones Oracle, warforged placed into a human body, a healer and the agency’s fleshborn face, remains on the periphery with an individualistic streak.

Strategy, it/its, Empiricist Investigator, officer warforged, an old model who’s seen much action and uses the tactics they learned back during the war now under Sharn.

Mage, they/them, Universalist Wizard, living wand warforged, a young forged who was built after the Mourning, looking to find their place in the world.

Carmine, she/her, War Priest, infantry warforged, a forged who converted to the Blood of Vol and extensively modified her own body to fit a Seeker ideal.

——————

There’s another matter to attend to. Khyberlurk had a pouch of a hundred Galifars. While under Jhaala’s eye, Carmine splits it six ways, making change from the agency treasury. It’s not an even split, she gives the remaining four Crowns to Hog. With that situated, it’s decided that everyone can go shopping for more gear. The sleuths will handle Khyberlurk’s body later.

Hog takes the agency to a shop they know, A&A&A. It’s an arms, armor, and runes shop and smithy in the Cogs run by three warforged, Armament, Aegis, and Ardent. The three of them are the same model, but with different modifications they’ve incorporated since the war. Armament is equipped with an armblade and integrated shield, along with red painted lines along his faceplate and armor. He’s forging a shortsword. Ardent has been modified to have six fingers to a hand, some of them serving as scribers, chisels, and shapers. She works carefully, carving a rune into a knife-handle with a fingertip. Aegis has been replated entirely in adamantine and they have the faint outline of a hidden compartment on their chest. As they’re the only of the three not actively engaged in creation, they approach the inquisitives.

“Hello! You must be the new sleuths. Hog, Vestige, and I don’t know the rest of you. What would you like to buy? We have armor, weapons, and Ardent can carve runes into your equipment.” Carmine introduces herself and asks for some handwraps. Aegis has a pair made of a fire wire mesh and some plates with runes carved in them, explaining they were an experimental piece and difficult to manufacture. She elects to buy them, but since she can’t cover the full cost Hog chips in the rest. They also buy come caltrops, figuring it should come in handy sometime.

With that done, it’s on to a shop without a name. Hog leads the inquisitives there, explaining on the way that it’s a magic shop on the downlow. It’s got two changelings, called Witch and Watcher, and a warforged named Cocktail as proprietors. Coming through a nondescript door, they’re there.

Inside, Watcher’s in the form of a tall human woman, Southern Brel. Witch appears planetouched, with a Qbarran hat and a sleeved coat. Each of them wears a small medallion, like a seven-petaled flower, the same one Hog wears. In the back, Cocktail is tinkering with an alchemical mixture. As it suddenly gives off a puff of purple smoke, they mutter, “oh, that wasn’t supposed to happen.” Witch approaches Hog and strikes up a conversation, offering various little trinkets and potions. Hog pauses at one, an opal. Witch explains that it distracts an opponent in combat, allowing for an opening in their defenses. “It would be ideal for Samanta,” Strategy states. Hog notes it down. The associates buy a retrieval prism, a healing potion, three potions of expeditious retreat, and a feather token for each sleuth.

Next, Vestige shows the way to an unmarked little hole-in-the-wall, one of the “legitimate salvage” outfits that sprung up like weeds after the Day of Mourning. As the sleuths enter, they’re greeted by a racket as the proprietor sweeps his merchandise onto the floor. The orc behind the counter starts smiling like a Jorasco.

“Why, Hello, and, ah, welcome to Freaky Tarlik’s Kettle Fried Spider, Authentic Food for the Authentic-” Vestige steps out from the group. “Tarlik.” The man’s expression melts and reforms into a much more natural one of gleeful greed. “Customers!” He begins picking up items from the floor and placing them back on the counter. First among them is a fine suit and top hat in perfect condition. Mage’s eyes start to glitter.

“Oh, what’s this?” “This suit will never get dirty or wrinkled, no matter what you do to it. No matter what.” “How much does it cost?” “Fifty-five Galifars.” Mage looks around for a sympathetic face. There are none to be found.

Meanwhile, Hog looks at their shopping list. One, spyglass. Two, mirror (medusas). Three, Ten Foot Pole, circled three times. “Have you got a spyglass?” Tarlik smiles even wider. “Of course!” He begins pulling down canvas hangings covering up shelves upon shelves of cheap jewelry, personal items, questionable tools, and rusty swords. Then he finds the spyglass. The example on offer is a good Cyran officer’s model, and selling for five galifars, a steal. It goes to Strategy.

Next, Hog spots a mirror. Silver-backed glass and filigreed pewter, it stands out among the shelves of trash. “How much is this?” “One galifar.” Vestige speaks. “The owner of this mirror is dead.” “Are you trying to sell me a haunted mirror?” Hog says. Tarlik’s grin threatens to split his face in half. “One galifar.” “Did you say that mirror is haunted? You should buy it,” Mage adds. “See?” says Tarlik. Hog buys the mirror for one galifar.

Finally, Hog asks for a ten-foot pole, like the Wayfinders use. Tarlik pulls a pole out from behind a shelf, knocking several items onto the floor in the process. “Have you got one that splits into segments?” Hog asks. “What would you ever need that for?” “Sometimes I need to walk through a door.” “This pole has length markings on it,” Strategy observes. “That’s not even a ten-foot pole, that’s a ruler!” “How else will you know it’s ten feet?” “That’s it!” Hog says. “Dol Dorn, I’m taking my business to Clifftop.” They march out of the shop, and with all their business concluded, the rest of the party follows.

Mage then pipes up, they know a nice shop in Everbright called The Discerning Mage. It may be higher up in the city, but its prices are fair and they want to buy some spells. Since it’s on the way to Clifftop anyway, the party heads up and watches Mage purchase scrolls of Hydraulic Push and Pestform. This endeavor utterly bankrupts the wizard, but they assure the inquisitives that these spells are worthy investments. On to Clifftop, where Hog finally finds a fold-a-pole while Vestige purchases the only thing on their list, a disguise kit.

Back at the agency, Hog approaches Carmine. “I shouldn’t have taken you on,” they bluntly remark. Carm’s eyes seem to flash redder, “you shouldn’t have? Who would’ve been there to take that blow from Khyberlurk? One of your other teammates. Khyber, I think it was my hymn that made them flee in the first place. Not to say that the others didn’t help, but I think you’re undercutting my value here.” “That’s not what I meant. Carmine, I think you’ve more than shown your value as a soldier, but you don’t seem comfortable in that role. I’ve met people like you, or like Dandy, people who after the war don’t wanna pick up a sword again.” Carmine seethes, “and I’ve met people who couldn’t drop that sword. And I’ve seen the paths they’ve gone down. And I will never go down that path. And I can pick up a sword just fine, thank you. However, what you did was an execution, a soldier’s execution. I do not-”

Carmine stops, sighs deeply and unclenches her fists, “you need a quiet soldier, and that’s what I’ll be from now on. Obviously you do not want my input but I will say I joined up with you because I wanted to spread my message. This is my pilgrimage and I-” “This is not your pilgrimage,” Hog says firmly, “this is my organization.” “Yes, I signed on to this because I wanted to help people,” Carm tries to explain, “so I could help spread my message. I will put the needs of the agency first, I can promise you that. I would never do anything to compromise you. I would not have suggested to let Khyberlurk go if I did not believe they would hold up their end of the bargain, being beneficial to us.” “But that’s not really the issue here, is it. It’s not just a question of strategy, you don’t think like that.” “Then you had an issue with me not wanting him brutally murdered? We had the option to at least put them- we could’ve done anything else. We could have submitted them to the Cannith, or-” “And the authorities would’ve given Khyberlurk a swift execution, or else let them go and that would’ve been the deadliest option of all.”

“Hog,” Carm sighs, “I acted hastily as I was frustrated with Khyberlurk’s position when I pushed you, but you recommended a soldier’s execution. I don’t think that’s the way to go and I think your line of thinking was rather… I do not think this had to be another war. I think we could’ve at least temporarily come up with a peaceful solution rather than bloodshed. Khyberlurk was obviously a tool for this higher up, Aggregate. I don’t know… I don’t know the solution but I know the one that you made I was not comfortable with. But I will still follow you till the end and go with any decision you make. You can trust that I won’t be a problem in the future.”

Hog collects themselves, “well then. Thank you for voicing your disagreement, and like I told you in the Red Hammer, we can still use someone like you.” “I would love to stick around, seeing as you need a bit of wisdom, I would say,” realizing the insult, she backpedals, “or just an alternative perspective. I did have thoughts of leaving, I won’t lie, but this is what I expected going out into a war torn world after my study.” Hog crosses their arms, “you’ve said enough, Carmine. If you need to say more, say it to Strategy, Samanta, or Vestige. I don’t need to hear any more.” “Got it, boss,” Carmine sighs and trudges back to the reception to help Jhaala with paperwork.

It’s time. Nobody comments on it when Hog collects Strategy and the two go down to Khyber’s Gate. Or when they return and Shadowblack leaves with Khyberlurk’s body. The agency is utterly devoid of conversation in the interim, till finally he returns and breaks the heavy silence. “We got it done,” he confirms, “the story should hold, probably.” Vestige pulls him aside, replying in a low tone, “so, it’s done. How are you?” “I certainly could be better… this should not have happened.” As Shadowblack talks, though, he begins to shake, belying his underlying turmoil, “for the last couple of years, I’ve always thought of Khyberlurk as one of my closest friends, following the same principles as I. I didn’t realize that wasn’t the case anymore.” He pauses, collecting himself and returning to a more neutral tone, “infinitely tragic to see a warforged die for this.”

The silence then becomes a wall between the two, before Vestige breaks through it, “I’m sorry. I did what I could.” They cringe at that human voice coming from them, quivering and weak. Vestige forces their tone to become stronger, angrier, “we’re going to take down Aggregate. He will pay for this, I promise.”

Taking Vestige’s lead, Shadowblack’s response is firm as well, “that’s our primary goal. We can’t let Aggregate do any more harm to the warforged here, Blade or not. We all deserve better.” “Agreed. He’s a corrupting influence that must be stopped. Let’s face him together, brother.” “Of course.” “Will you be sticking around the agency, once this is done?” “Once Aggregate’s down, I might stay around, might find something else. I might even rejoin with the Blades or go back to the Mournland.” Vestige nods, “someone’s got to let the Lord of Blades know what Aggregate’s been up to.” “Perhaps I could send a message now and get assistance to deal with Aggregate from higher up.” Vestige doesn’t pause, “I’m worried Aggregate could intercept you on the way. That’s too dangerous. We should wait till he’s dealt with.” “Sure, it’s a long way and Aggregate probably has allies on the way to the Mournland. I’ll stay here until this business is dealt with. Aggregate is going to pay,” Shadowblack replies.

Vestige clenches their teeth and the hilt of their dagger. “He’s going to die.”

Just then, there’s knocking at the agency’s front door. Halt’s voice calls through, “I have a very important tip for the agency!” “One second!” Mage calls. They stand up a broom and command it to clean, turning to Hog for approval. Hog just stares at them till they rush to open the door. Halt ducks to enter the doorway, talking before it’s even shut behind him, “this is about the Jack-in-Irons case. I think something’s wrong. Medani’s been more uncooperative, the Houses seem to not want use to solve it. So, if you want, I’ll help you on my time off.” Hog looks surprised, “you want this case to be solved off the books?” Halt nods seriously, “off the books is as well as on them. I just wanna see this through.”

——————

Notables:

Armament, he/him, a weaponsmith and proprietor of A&A&A.

Ardent, she/her, a runesmith and proprietor of A&A&A.

Aegis, they/them, an armorsmith and proprietor of A&A&A.

Tarlik, he/him, an orc man and the proprietor of a Mournland salvage store in the Cogs.

Shadowblack, he/him, now excised from the Blades and with no more family by make, he works alongside the agency and his brother in ideology, Vestige.

Halt, he/they, warforged wandslinger and swordsman, captain of a squad within the Blackened Book. Seems to have a particular interest in Jack-in-Irons

[kaytypestar]

so I just had a bit of an insane d&d session

this'll include some spoilers for Curse of Strahd, at least a modified version of that campaign

end of the previous session we were captured by Volenta (a sort of assassin rogue in this campaign) and her very shadow-themed crew (shadow sorcerer, way of shadow monk, etc). notably one of our party members managed to escape this with her ring of invisibility, so while we were jailed up between sessions, she was out with an npc ally learning what she could to rescue us.

this session, we break out of our dungeon jail cells somewhere in the basement of Castle Ravenloft and fight our way out so we can retrieve our gear and escape; our other party member joins us along the way here, and our wizard sleeps blissfully through it all (player couldn't make it on short notice, so his character was just a sleepy boi today). along the way I find a rusty dagger, which is a surprise tool that will help us (me) later.

along our path we run into a magical pit of fire with colourful gemstones around it, which a nearby poem explains will teleport us to a location based on which gem we toss into the fire. the party's bloodhunter gleefully tosses the gem promising a place of "lore" and teleports himself to Strahd's study, where he tragically dies because, y'know, never split the party. to be fair though he did make the best he could of the situation he found himself in.

while he's gone, though, we run into Volenta and some of her crew again. for the second time in as many sessions, my rogue is downed by this enemy.

when my character is revived a round later, I enter a dark-power-empowered form (a level 19 version of my current character than I have access to from a deal with a dark power, long story [we're level 6 so this is a big boost]). my next few rounds are just me chasing after Volenta, armed only with an old rusty dagger and a murderous gleam in my eye.

highlights of my rogue-on-rogue fight are me saying "measure your breath, Volenta, for it is limited" after obliterating one of her allies in front of her, and "told you so" when I killed her a couple rounds later

(this post is rambly as hell and really mostly for me, but if you got something out of it, I'm glad)

[m1ssunderstanding]

Thinking deeply about PID for the first time ever just for the sake of this fic, and one indisputable roadblock for that theory is George Harrison. Some truthers say the boys decided the cover-up was actually the best way to honor Paul's memory. Um. Do you really think George Harrison is putting himself through one more hour of fame hell for the memory of his junior high bus buddy? No. But maybe George didn't know, says truther. Again. Impossible. Is Billy Shears going to smell like home? I didn't think so. John and Ringo, especially a grieving John and Ringo, can be talked into anything. But grieving George is different. Do you think for one second George would let some random boss him around and condescend to him? No. If anyone other than Paul had acted like that, George would've made them crash their car. You can rationalize the psycho boyfriend or the alcoholic older cousin. You can't make the little brother make sense.

[alleyesony0u]

evbo wakes up in pvp civilization remembering only three things — his name, his age, and his birthday. he knows it’s some… vague date. he tries to keep track of his days in his home. he is turning fifteen in a few months, after all. wouldn’t want to miss the big one five.

he tries to keep track of the days in his cell too. markings scraped on the walls that tell him time has passed. too much time. one day he wakes up with a horrible feeling of dread deep in his gut. like a black hole. when he goes to mark the day on the wall, it takes him a moment to register the fact that it’s his birthday. congrats kid. you’re fifteen now. do you like chocolate or vanilla? buttercream or fondant? a year from now you can get that car you wanted. for now, how about that exciting new video game or a pair of new kicks?

happy birthday, kid. they’re opening up the door now with shiny blades and prayers. or shiny blades and looks of cruel glee. do you really think they care? do you think when your blood stains the crevices of all the tiny markings on your wall they look at it and think, happy birthday kid, you’re fifteen?

happy birthday, kid. you’re still waking up with a gasp and a new scar, morphing into all the old ones on your skin. that pillow is comfortable, maybe you lay there for a while and dream. not the best present in the world but it’s better than nothing, no?

happy birthday, kid. the guard coming to collect you is the better one, even with all his sneers and insults. he leads you to the red gate and wishes you luck and when you turn to look at him and say “it’s my birthday today. i’m fifteen.” his mask will slip and he will look upon the wobbly kneed calf in horror as the stone door grinds shut behind you.

happy birthday, kid. you’ve died again and the guard coming to collect you is the worse one. he shoves you forward and his patience is tick tick ticking. you could tell him it’s your birthday today, but that wouldn’t change much. birthdays don’t divert destinies.

happy birthday, kid. you’re sitting in your own gore but you’ve managed to snatch a flint and steel at one of your respawns and a twig from one of the trees you pass by on your way down. you light the twig with the flame and it is warm. and it is light. and your cell is so very cold and dark. you close your eyes and make a wish. or two. or three. i want to save tabi. i want to go home. i don’t want to die.

you blow out your makeshift candle and the cell is cold and dark again. not for long though, because the door opens again and your blood spatters on the walls and floors. again. happy birthday, kid. you’re fifteen. remember what you were born for.

and as the day dwindles to its close, a man adorning a golden crown, dressed in yellow opens the door. he says, “fifteen, huh?”

and you ask, “you know my birthday?”

and he says, “of course i do. it’s just practical.”

[ijju]

30 min lighting studies each; featuring my old FFXV ps4 photos :]

[proxythe]

shinjiro had 2 people on the spectrum advising him at all times

[applestruda]

In autumn life Canon shouldn't your eye be gone?

Since Phil's is.

Not necessarily. In the game I was the one continuing to get shot and caused us to get blinded in that eye. Phil afterwards independently plucked his blinded eye out, I didn't.

[bernard-the-rabbit]

No new art bc im drowning in deadlines but! May I present u my Curse Of Strahd Cleric? And a doodle of my party? 🥺🤲

[heybiji]

I love your art style, ESPECIALLY your DnD art! I wanna give your scarred elf boi a big ol hug! Never has a drow ever made me wanna play the race as much as your art of Dandelion!

oh, he could certainly use a hug lately, please do please do.

and FOLLOW THE DROW DREAM!! just don't be a donut like I was and have them in disguise for 60-something sessions while you are desperate to draw and share art of them but CAN'T

[silusvesuius]

[tropicalcontinental]

Still thinking about that CL16 +TMA crossover thing (spurred by @blinkycravesviolence's post and the discussion that happened on the discord 💥💥💥)

[c1trvs]

Wip

[ilikecarsandlike4people]

45 min (spliced) speedpaint, sped up 16x, flash warning Just kind of wanted to get back to digital painting, but didn't want to think about it too hard so went in without a sketch like I sometimes do with trad paintings. Final result under the cut, very much a rough colour study, don't look too hard at the glasses.