#sharns least wanted

[allseeingpeach]

Im the worst thing that ever happened to her I love her

[littleturtlecultist]

*smoking cigar* sigh. here’s the height difference yuri you asked for, boss.

[beholdingslut]

collages for my gunslinger in our two year long eberron campaign & all the places she went

[zezran]

on sunday our wonderful eberron campaign dm'd by @nickandros finished after two years!

i will miss my silly little lightning witch turned deathmaiden who learned some hard truths about the world she lived in and i will also dearly miss the party, even as they are scattered to the far corners of khorvaire

it's been a wild ride and an absolute privilege to play in a game with such incredible players and such an outstanding dm

art by the amazing @al-norton (left, mid campaign) and @emiliaoknes (right, end of campaign)

[nickandros]

so. our 2 year and three month long campaign ended last night. which means i get to post the final playlists for the two most co-dependent capitalist siblings in all of khorvaire.

now we're enemies : a playlist for frederick d'orien, the late head of house orien, the richest man in khorvaire.

your mom called : a playlist for hazel d'orien, the master artificer, the pride and joy of her house.

much love to my beloved players. i hope you enjoyed the campaign as much as i did.

[thehitchikerdude]

In a tribute to the absolutely beautiful and heartbreaking Eberron campaign of 101 sessions (run for well over 2 years by the brilliant @nickandros!!!) which ended this Sunday, here are my wee dudes from it.

Pipes on the left by @6000-piezas and Sali on the right by @nuclearloop, who I thank so much for your fantastic takes on them.

They both had an odd first encounter with the whole party, with Pipes crawling out in front of them from a locked cabinet in a bar that had been raided the night before, while Sali cracked out of an icicle he had been frozen in decades prior.

Pipes was an initially cowardly little Warforged bard with a loud heart and much louder set of bagpipes right next to said heart. He made friends with these strangers, going with them on boats, trekking through snow, and fighting dragons and birds alike. Pipes helped his friends, now known as the Heroes of the North, get back to their present at the cost of his own life.

Sali, on the other hand, was a tiefling warlock, a former professor of astronomy and exiled conscientious objector who had tried messing around with time and paid for it immensely. When the Heroes corrected his and his comrades' mistakes, he was pulled along in the chronomantic wake alongside his Overlord patron. He found the present to be full of new friends, a new patron, and Tusk, the love of his new life. After yet another exile, the group called themselves Sharn's Least Wanted.

But by the end of the campaign Sali and Tusk had died fighting the main villain (and new husband of one of their friends), with only Sali choosing to come back to life when given the chance. After he and a few of the now-scattered group cremated Tusk and spread their ashes, Sali left the Material Plane and set himself up in a library full of all the universe's knowledge. It's a starkly lonely place, with just words on pages, the occasional dream, and memories to remind Sali of his friends, who he visits every decade or so when that realm gets close enough to the Material Plane.

Pipes and Sali both loved their friends even after the end and both of them ended up disconnected from their loved ones by time, space, and death. But while Sali lost his partner and lived on, Pipes got to reunite with one of his best friends in the afterlife.

I think that Tusk and Pipes now party hard and play loud in whatever awaits after death, and wait patiently for the rest of Sharn's Least Wanted to join them. But please, please don't be hasty about joining. Their friends should do all the living they need to first.

[casspurrjoybell-29]

Frayed Ties - Chapter 13 - Part 3

*Warning Adult Content*

"What Lynna said, back at the river, about what you aspire to as a Companion..."

Danya stiffened and absentmindedly squeezed Simon's hand, which was still in his lap.

This topic was still uncomfortable to him.

"Is that really what you want, or wanted or... I don't know."

Danya let out a long breath.

"It's like an arranged marriage, I suppose. You don't get a choice but that doesn't mean you can't be pleased with the outcome or disappointed when the partner you've been assigned doesn't care for you. You had no obligation to me but you were still supposed to be mine, in a way. But you weren't."

"I think I understand. Or... I'm starting to, at least. I'm sorry for anything I've done to hurt you."

"It's okay," Danya said. "I don't think there was a way for you to not hurt me."

"I hope you can have a life here. Whatever kind you want."

Danya smiled sadly.

"None of us get everything we want, do we? But... I have hope. I've never really had that before. For now, that's enough."

A couple of hours later Noni returned with Lynna, Sharn and a mage who looked to be not much older than Danya following behind her.

This was the first male mage Danya had seen in this little settlement,and the only one other than Lynna who was not a Soldier.

It was something Danya hadn't really noticed with Lynna because he wasn't as used to girls but she and this new mage held themselves differently from other slaves Danya had known.

The Soldiers did too of course, they were Soldiers but Lynna and this young man had a kind of confidence Danya didn't expect from any slave not bred for fighting.

They didn't subconsciously try to make themselves smaller and less conspicuous like Danya did.

The new mage looked between Simon and Danya, the slightest hint of a smile on his lips.

He didn't resonate hostility like many of the other mages here did.

"This is Delton," Noni said. "He'll be concealing Danya's tattoo for you."

"Illusion magic," Delton explained as he knelt down next to Danya.

"Let's see it, then."

Danya tugged down the collar of his robe to reveal the tattoo.

"Will this cover it permanently, then?" Simon asked.

"Oh, no. You've got like..." Delton made a thinking face. "About an hour. Should be plenty of time to get there and get through the inspection, though."

"Ah," Simon said. "There's no way to permanently hide it with illusion magic?"

"Well, I mean, I couldn't."

Delton's fingers lightly brushed over Danya's tattoo.

"I can hold an illusion on myself as long as I'm awake, though, so Danya might be able to learn to do it himself if he has a knack for that sort of thing. Not really the kind of thing that's worth it unless something about your appearance really bothers you, though."

"It's fine," Danya said, his eyes firmly planted on the ground in front of him. "I wouldn't mind learning some illusion magic if you're willing to teach me, but the tattoo... it's fine."

Delton brightened up.

"Yeah, I'd love to see what you can do some time. Soldiers and Companions tend to have fairly rigid skill sets but I bet being a mix gives you a bit more flexibility."

Danya shrugged.

"Or simply makes me substandard at being either."

"That's the problem with breeding for something."

Delton's fingers felt unusually warm where they touched Danya now.

"It creates failure points. It doesn't matter how useful you could be, if you're not this exact thing, well, you've failed. The end."

"I suppose," Danya said carefully. "I do perform better at the magical aspects of being a Companion than my peers. Which is not so much better when compared to a standard which would prefer I not be quite that powerful but outside of that it can hardly be seen as a fault. I'm very good at mending things. I even have some skill with healing wounds."

Delton pulled back to look at Danya.

"Wow, see, now that's rare. That's special. Those kinds of talents have been largely lost since the war."

Danya shrugged self consciously.

"I'm not very good at it. I just... if we're talking about usefulness, it's a deviation that can't objectively be considered a fault."

"Well yeah, no, of course."

Delton leant in again and got back to work.

"Lynna and I, we went to the same training facility. We roomed together pretty much the whole time we were there. This was a place that bought all the smart kids, the ones with special talents, from slave farms."

"They allowed mixed gender rooming?"

A silence fell that lasted long enough for Danya to realise he'd stumbled into an uncomfortable topic.

It was Lynna who finally answered.

It wasn't a concern in our case."

"Yeah," Delton said uncomfortably. "Anyway, uh, yeah. So, they'd actually go and ask which were the kids who caused them the most trouble. Those were typically the ones they wanted and they'd get them at a discount. So... I guess we have a bit of a different perspective on these things."

"So they taught you proper skills depending on your talents?" Danya asked.

"Was that as nice as it sounds?" Lynna took hold of Danya's wrist and pressed the chip device against it until it beeped and the screen flashed.

"It was nicer than most get."

Delton nodded.

"I went from being scolded for messing with illusion stuff to be trained specifically for it. We had things far better than most. I think, though, that makes us more aware of how bad things are elsewhere. Or no... more sensitive to it. Others probably have more knowledge about all that but those who are down in the thick of it tend to see things differently. Being treated poorly becomes normal."

"Not that we've never been treated poorly," Lynna added. "But, I think, we've been treated well enough that we came to expect kindness. When you live like that, mistreatment becomes something that demands response rather than something you simply live with."

Delton smiled.

"Escaping to live in the woods wasn't quite what I expected when I came crying to you but I can't complain. I should have known you'd go above and beyond."

Simon turned to Noni, who had settled herself back into her chair to watch them.

"So, what's the plan here?"

She leant forward and rested her elbows on her knees.

"We'll supply you with fake papers for Danya, which Lynna has already overridden his chip to match. We'll escort you to the facility and then hang back while you and Danya enter. You'll go in, say you want to sell him, and then they will examine him and complete the sale."

Simon turned to Sharn.

"I want my knife back."

"You won't need to be armed for this," Noni told him.

Simon scoffed.

"Are you really so sure? Have any of you been through this before?"

Noni nodded in Danya's direction.

"Danya has."

Simon shook his head.

"Danya hasn't. Danya has been sold as an expensive, valued slave. He will be worth very little to these people and they will believe he's worth next to nothing to me. Are you really certain the guards won't decide to give him a kick in the ribs because he's too slow to obey, or he looks at them wrong, or just because they want to?"

Noni pressed her lips together and let out a long breath through her nose.

She gestured to Sharn with a flick of her fingers.

"Give him his knife back."

"Aw, boo," Sharn said but she handed it over.

Simon gave the knife a quick glance over, then tucked it happily back into place inside his jacket.

"Anyway, Danya," Noni continued. "Once you're inside, you'll need to explain to the mages what's going on and convince them to cooperate. That shouldn't be too difficult, given their circumstances."

Danya made a face.

He didn't like to contradict an authority figure but...

"I'm not so certain of that. Most of the boys I grew up with would have taken death over rebellion."

She inclined her head to him respectfully.

"A fair point. These slaves will likely be cheaper and not so well groomed but it's far from out of the question for them to resist. If anyone reveals you to the guards or it looks like someone is about to get hurt, scream as loud as you can. We'll be close enough to hear you and we'll come immediately."

"Don't be afraid to defend yourself if you need to, either," Simon added.

"Of course," Noni agreed.

"Anyway, assuming all goes to plan, we'll attack around midnight. Danya, when you hear the commotion start, I want you to lead the other slaves into a back corner of the holding room and wait with them until we come to get you. We have the element of surprise and far superior numbers, so we're expecting a quick and one sided battle."

"All done," Delton said, and Danya looked down to see bare skin where his tattoo had once been.

Having a tiny bit of someone else's magic clinging to his skin felt odd, warm and tingly but the sensation was subtle enough that he suspected he would hardly notice it once he had other things distracting him.

"Then it's time we get going," Noni said as she stood from her chair. "Come."

[ameasureofseperation]

Kal is very sweet. He's kind and quick to laugh and he takes joy in most things. Buttercup knows he's been around Salvation for a while now, but their paths never quite crossed before. And now that they have-

Buttercup's not sure how to define it. They kiss and they smile at each other and he offers to buy her drinks at the inn, and not just the alcoholic ones. They're both Scavengers and they have jobs to do, but the whole town is working on recovering from the attack so it's not exactly like there's too many people looking to venture back out into the Grey any time soon.

So she has time to just be about town, and run into him when he's around.

Even when he's busy he always seems happy when she runs into him.

She's not sure what word she should use in her head to describe him. He's not a 'teammate' or a 'co-worker', but 'friend' doesn't seem to fit quite right either. 

He’s handsome. And strong. He can actually hold her up with just one arm (it’s not a skill unique to him, but it’s very appealing all the same). He brings her things. He gives her little trinkets, like the ones she wears on her necklaces. Odd claws and bobbles and shiny rocks and even flowers. Somehow he found flowers somewhere around Salvation. And then he gave them to her.

It’s not like he needs to do any of that. She’s not an expensive date, nor has she ever been the type to play hard-to-get. 

If anything, she’s usually been the one having to sweeten the deal. To pay extra for service, to promise that she’d leave out the backdoor, or that she’d be gone again on a ship the next morning.

The more she thinks about it, the less she’s sure of what to make of this thing with Kal.

He calls her beautiful one night, when the lanterns have burned low around the tavern. She doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He carries on with what he was saying about the building he’s being paid to help haul lumber to for repairs. 

That word sits in her gut, heavy and not mixing well with her ale.

Beautiful.

Oh, she thinks, he’s lying. He's been lying.

And it hurts, but it makes more sense to her. She’s not sure what his game is, she’s willing to keep sleeping with him as long as he’s game for it. But maybe… maybe he likes the sound of the lie too. 

There’s not a lot of young women in Salvation, even less that socialize with many people outside of their teams and contacts. It makes sense that he’d want to be fucking a beautiful woman. So it makes sense he’d want to say it as much as he’d want her to hear it.

This thing with him has a clearer shape to her now. And that settles something in her.

It settles like a knife in the chest, but it settles.

Sarge and the rest start talking about going to Sharn and Buttercup jumps at the idea. They want to go to get some up-tight fucks to look at the fucking trouble magnet oracle thing-a-ma-jig, but she finds she doesn’t even care. For the first time since the war ended, she finds the prospect of leaving Salvation a lot more appealing than staying.

She tells Kal that her team is leaving. He seems sad, and tells her as much, but also wishes her good fortune and success. 

They sleep together for the last time that night. And when she gets up to leave the next morning, he asks her for a lock of her hair. To put it in a locket. To keep a piece of her close. If she doesn’t mind, of course.

She says yes.

It feels like that knife in her chest twists. Her hair’s not normal, but it’s also probably the least monstrous part of her. Plenty of other folk have oddly colored hair. She thinks of it later, when they are already on the train heading away from the ever-present wall of the Grey.

If he had asked for a scale- or a tooth or a claw, hell even the tip of a horn- it probably wouldn’t have hurt so much. Yes, pulling or cutting off a scale would have physically hurt, but then she wouldn’t be sitting there feeling like her whole chest has been hollowed out.

As the landscape zips by the windows of the lightning rail car, she wonders how long it will take Kal to find someone else to call beautiful.

And she wonders if he'll actually mean it.

[skarabrae-stone]

Cheery would 100% march in the parade. She'd get Nobby to go with her, but Nobby would be completely oblivious as to why (he assumed she just wants company).

Moist von lipwig would have pride-themed stamps made; these would inevitably have some kind of issue, which would create some outrage and ultimately make the stamps more valuable as collectors' items.

I don't get the impression that Ankh Morpork ever had anti-sodomy or crossdressing laws, so I don't think the queer community's history with the police would be the same as it is in the real world. Especially because Cheery Littlebottom literally started the Dwarf trans/feminism movement as an officer of the Watch, with the Watch's support.

Dibbler would totally sell pride flags with the wrong colors (and then insist it was the "new, updated version" if anyone questioned him)

The nobility are all scandalized, meanwhile the Seamstresses Guild has a float in the parade

Adora Belle Dearheart is deeply involved with at least one queer organization and is one of the main organizers of the Pride festival, but refuses to answer any questions about why

Ridcully decides the wizards should be involved, and Ponder Stibbons should make a float and organize the refreshments for them to eat while riding on the float. Ridcully's concept of allyship is loudly saying, "Well done, that man!" and pointing at anyone he thinks is exhibiting particularly queer behavior.

Madam Sharn and Pepe release a whole new line of Pride-themed chainmail

Bengo Macarona is embraced as a gay icon

Reg Shoe decides the main pride event is too corporate, and organizes an alternative pride parade for the same time and place; this immediately gets subsumed by the main pride event. Some Omnians show up to Pride to protest and Reg is delighted to have someone to fight with.

now im imagining what pride events in ankh morpork are like

[chorister83]

Welcome to Nerath

This is just me shouting into the ether about my homebrew setting, mostly just so I get stuff jotted down somewhere and also for anyone who might want to mine it for inspiration. In 4e D&D, Nerath is the civilization that fell relatively recently to create the “Points of Light” base setting. In my world (creatively named Arth *long* after we’d been playing in it for a while), the Nerathi Confederacy is one of the major nations of the world, a collection of city-states that united after centuries of internecine warfare after the fall of Bael Turath and Arkhosia. They are: - Highmark: The capital and most cosmopolitan city, Highmark is a mining town and industrial powerhouse. (Highmark is kind of the New York/Sharn/Coruscant hub, at least for Nerath) - Grimfar: Grimfar is a primarily dwarven city and the breadbasket of Nerath. (Grimfar is kind of quietly powerful, in that folks tend to think of the dwarves as bumpkin farmers, but they *also* have kind of a mafioso feel in that they control whether people eat or not) - Issenvik: Issenvik used to be a pirate haven, and maintains a steadfastly nautical focus, but has shifted towards more mercantile concerns over the years. (Issenvik still has a major piratical/viking feel to it, and bragging is a *very* common Issenvik pasttime) - Thantopolis: The city of the dead, the necropolis of Thantopolis is ruled by its unliving citizen class, while the living flourish under the protection of their legions. (I tend to find undead fascinating, and Thantopolis is very much influenced by the Scarred Lands setting’s Hollowfaust. It has a kind of Greek/Roman feel to it, in part because the oldest undead hold to more ancient fashions and ways of thinking) - Aethrennar: The fey city of Aethrennar is itself a work of art, crafted over the years by numerous eladrin and gnome artisans. It exists simultaneously in the mortal plane and the Feywild. (This is basically the party town of Nerath. :) ) - Vanilorra: Hidden in a deep forest in the center of the continent, the elven warriors of Vanilorra are staunch traditionalists and steadfast protectors of the wild places of the world. (We jokingly referred to the elves of Vanilorra as “hillbilly samurai”, and it’s not far off) - Yondon: Yondon is a trading city and religious site for the nomadic halfling tribes of the southern part of Nerath. It varies wildly in size depending upon the migration of the tribes. (It has kind of a frontier/Wild West sort of feel to it, mixed with some Vaes Dothrak) - Mythragal: The floating city of Mythragal is built on an earthmote (flying chunk of rock), and is home to the finest mages in Nerath. It is also the mortal plane home of the goddess Ioun, though she very rarely involves herself in mortal affairs. These were the original eight cities. Over the course of the first campaign a ninth city was reclaimed, and two more introduced that would eventually be brought into the nation. - Nachtur: The goblinoid city of Nachtur had been lost to demons due to the machinations of the other cities at the founding of Nerath, but the goblins were able eventually to reclaim their homeland. - Shom: The extraplanar city of Shom was held in temporal stasis from before the Change, but was brought to Arth through the efforts of a group of adventurers as part of the cleansing of Nachtur. - Mag Tureah: The Underdark city of Mag Tureah was long thought a myth until its fomorian rulers staged an invasion of Nerath. Nerath was eventually able to counterattack and topple the fomorian king, inducting the city into Nerath with a ruling council of formerly enslaved cyclopses and fey.

[lake-arrius-caverns]

Nerevarine Rising

Chapter 7: Awakening

oops im seeing about changing my upload day to friday but yesterday i totally forgot abt it so lmao

summary After a successful assignment, Fahjoth is glad to be given a few days off and learns a little about his duties from Caius. The twins plan a trip to Vivec City for some exploration.

content warnings none

tag list @boulderfall-cave , @padomaicocean (lmk if you’d like to be added!)

read under the cut or on AO3, cheers 👍

:: First :: || << Previous << || >> Next >> || :: Masterpost ::

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Flouncing through the front door of Cosades’ tiny house, Fahjoth couldn’t wipe the grin off his face as he brandished the scrolls of parchment with glee. 

“I got them!” he cried, ecstatic. “The notes from Sharn gra-Muzgob! I got them!”

Cosades looked up from his supper with one brow raised, but by no means did he look on with disapproval. “And not a scratch on you,” he remarked, holding out a hand to receive the scrolls as Fahjoth passed them over. “I knew it wouldn’t be long before you found your feet. Well done, Novice.” 

“Well, I had help—” Fahjoth started, unwilling to take all the credit for his achievement, but Cosades didn’t seem to be listening anyway. He unfurled the scrolls and silence fell as he pored over them, a thoughtful look on his face as he examined the scrawling, loopy handwriting. Fahjoth took a seat at the table and waited, wondering what his next assignment was to be. At least Ribyna was on standby back at the South Wall Cornerclub, and for that, Fahjoth was grateful. 

“Well, Fahjoth,” Cosades started, rolling up the parchments once again and turning to face Fahjoth with the beginnings of a smile, “I’m promoting you to Blades Apprentice. You deserve it after the hard work you’ve put into all your duties.” 

Fahjoth’s heart began to soar with excitement. “Apprentice?” he repeated, awestruck. “Thank you, sir! So, uhh... what will I be expected to do now?” 

“Nothing too different, I assure you. It’s mostly a recognition thing, to be perfectly honest,” Cosades answered. He got to his feet, beginning to pace around the room in deep thought and occasionally stopping to check a book or scrap of paper, cross referencing several stacks of notes. Fahjoth wondered how he was able to keep track of it all. “Now, I'd like some time to think how this all fits in with the Emperor's plans for you. So if you'd like to get in a little freelance adventuring, go ahead. But whenever you're ready, I'll have new orders for you."

“Oh... alright.” The news came as a welcome surprise for sure. Fahjoth had to admit, he was glad to have a few days of downtime at last. It would be a good opportunity for him and Ribyna to do some exploring; she had mentioned wanting to visit Vivec City at some point, perhaps now they could finally go. 

But there was one thing that he had been growing more and more curious about; the subject of all his errands, the very reason he had been putting his life on the line in exchange for whatever information Cosades wanted. He knew nothing about any of it, and the burning desire to ask, to learn exactly why it was so important, could not be quashed. Maybe now was the time. 

“Sir?” he questioned, biting his lip with uncertainty. Cosades stared fixedly at Fahjoth, indicating that he was listening, and so Fahjoth continued — albeit with some hesitation. “Could you explain the... things that I’ve been getting information about? The, uh, the Sixth House and the Nev... Nevera... Neraver—“

“The Nerevarine,” Cosades finished for him, and Fahjoth nodded. “Of course. I forget that you can’t read well. We’ll start with the Sixth House.” 

Fahjoth shuffled in his seat, getting himself comfortable and listening with rapt attention as Cosades began to speak. “There isn’t much to say about the Sixth House cult just yet. A trusted informant of mine says they're a secret cult associated with some strange events recently. More importantly, my informant thinks these recent disturbances are related in some way to the Nerevarine Prophecies."

“And what are the—?”

“I’m getting to that part, Apprentice. One thing at a time. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but there’s been some attacks recently attributed to sleeper agents of this cult. Have you heard anything about them?”

Fahjoth shook his head. “No sir.” 

“There've been several attacks recently, and these Sleepers all say the same thing. ‘Serve your Lord, Dagoth Ur. The Sixth House is risen, and Dagoth is its glory.’”

A shiver suddenly tore through Fahjoth’s ribs, catching him by surprise. Why did that name sound so familiar? There was no distinct emotional response attached to hearing it, but the hairs on Fahjoth’s arms continued to stand on end, giving him prominent goosebumps. 

“Keep an eye out, and if you see anything suspicious, let me know.” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Alright, now for the Nerevarine.” Cosades rejoined Fahjoth at the table and took a swig of something from an open bottle before continuing. “The Ashlanders—“ 

“The what?”

“The Ashlanders— by the divines, Vetharys...”

Fahjoth grimaced, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Sorry...”

“No, it’s alright,” Cosades sighed. “I just thought you would’ve heard about them by now. I don't know much about them. Most people say they‘re murderous savages. But most people are idiots. I know they hate the settled Dunmer almost as much as they hate Westerners. I don't think their tribes tend to be particularly welcoming to outlanders, so watch yourself if you’re ever wandering in the Ashlands.” 

Fahjoth nodded, remaining quiet to let Cosades go on. 

“The Ashlanders pass down their customs and history in the form of poetic verses. Among the things they preserve in verse are the dreams and prophetic visions of their wise women, in particular the verses that foretell the coming of the Nerevarine. And before you ask,” Cosades added, seeing that Fahjoth was about to speak again, “some Dunmer believe that an orphan and outcast, a youth born on a certain day to uncertain parents, will one day unite all the tribes of the Dunmer, drive out the invaders of Morrowind, and reestablish the ancient laws and customs of the Dark Elven nations. They call this orphan and outcast the ‘Nerevarine’, and say they will be a reincarnation of the long-dead Dunmer General and First Councilor, Lord Indoril Nerevar. But... I don't know much else about it. That's why I'm sending you to find out.” 

Fahjoth nodded, fascinated by the sudden bombardment of information he was receiving. “And... it’s relevant to stuff that’s happening now? These cult attacks and whatnot? That’s why we’re investigating it?”

There was a split second where Fahjoth thought that Cosades may have paused, his stern grey eyes locked on Fahjoth’s own, but then came a perfectly normal response, leaving him wondering if he’d simply imagined it. 

“Correct.” 

Armed with this knowledge, Fahjoth suddenly felt inspired. So this was what all his top-secret missions had really been about. He still had no idea why he’d been pulled out of prison to join this endeavour specifically, but he no longer felt as much of a need to question it. This was his chance to make a difference, to do some real good in the world; it strengthened his resolve and he silently vowed to give it his all, regardless of how many errands he would end up having to run. 

“Alright. Thanks, sir.” Fahjoth rose to his feet, figuring he should go and find Ribyna and tell her the news, but Cosades leaned back in his chair and stared at him with such a dour look in his eyes that Fahjoth faltered.

“Don’t forget, Vetharys — always pay attention to what’s going on around you. You’re an agent of the Blades; information is our specialty,” he advised. “And never let your guard down. I don’t ever want to find you being sent back to me in a box.” 

Fahjoth cringed, feeling distinctly like he was being told off for the sheer amount of ignorance he had so openly displayed. Well, he had to learn somehow, didn't he? “Yes, sir… thank you, sir.” 

And with that he bade farewell to Cosades for now, scurrying out of the house before he could be admonished further, and made a beeline straight for the South Wall Cornerclub. Just as he rounded the corner and descended the short flight of stone steps between buildings, he found himself face-to-face with a familiar dark-haired figure, and coincidentally just the person he was looking for. 

“Ribyna!” he called, grinning as he got his sibling’s attention seconds before she stepped into the cornerclub. “Thought I’d find you here.”

“‘Sup, Fahji?” Ribyna turned away from the doorway and gave Fahjoth the usual hug of greeting. “You look happy. Has something happened?”

“I got a promotion!” he exclaimed without hesitation, eager to share the news. “And I got a few days off, too. I was thinking maybe we could do something.”

“Ah, well done, bro!” Ribyna congratulated him with a grin. “Yeah, I’m good for a few days. What did you have in mind?”

“Well, I thought maybe we could go to Vivec City? If you still wanted to go there, that is.”

For the second time that night, Fahjoth thought he detected a fleeting look of hesitation on the face of someone he was speaking to. This time it was Ribyna, who appeared almost apprehensive as soon as Fahjoth had mentioned going to Vivec City; but then her response was as casual as ever, leaving Fahjoth even more befuddled and debating with himself over whether he was just seeing things.

Maybe I’m just tired, he mused to himself. 

“Yeah, sounds good. D’you wanna leave now or tomorrow?” Ribyna asked. “If you like, I can go see how much the silt strider bloke charges.”

“Well, it’s getting on a bit, but…” Fahjoth paused, looking upwards and searching for the position of the sun, which was already past its highest point in the sky. He estimated that they had a few hours of daylight left, so ignoring the little voice of caution in his head, he made his decision. 

“Yeah, why not? Let’s go tonight. Could be fun to stay overnight in the big city!” Fahjoth enthused, and Ribyna nodded. 

“Alright! I’ll go find out how much a one way trip costs,” Ribyna said. “Start heading over towards the silt strider and I’ll meet you there!” And with that she tore off, racing over the bridge in the middle of town and zipping up the stairs to speak with the caravaner. 

With a quiet chuckle, Fahjoth shook his head and began to meander at a far more relaxed pace after his twin, passing by one of the townsfolk as he stepped off the bridge. He dipped his head and smiled in casual greeting, but the Dunmer gripped his wrist with such force that Fahjoth gasped in shock. 

He leaned in, his face mere inches from Fahjoth’s own, and Fahjoth could see only too clearly his strangely blank, vacant expression. His eyes, though unfocused, were glaring at Fahjoth with such a scorching intensity that he almost broke out into a sweat, his heart hammering rhythmically in his chest like a trapped sparrow, fast and fearful. 

And then he spoke, his voice gravelly and harsh, the sound of crumbling charcoal over burning ashes. 

“Beneath Red Mountain, Lord Dagoth sleeps. But when he wakes, we all shall rise, and the dust will blow away. Serve your Lord, Dagoth Ur. The Sixth House is risen, and Dagoth is its glory.”

Momentarily frozen, Fahjoth’s senses eventually returned to him and his first instinct was to yank his wrist free of the Dunmer’s grip, panting as if he had just run a marathon. The Dunmer jerked as Fahjoth tore free, and then within seconds, the blank look on his face melted away and he cleared his throat, glancing around as if confused. He then regarded Fahjoth with a perfectly normal, albeit rather sleepy stare. 

“What do you think of our city, outlander?” he asked mildly, but before Fahjoth could even think of a response, a voice calling his name caught his attention. 

“Fahji! C’mon, hurry up!”

His mouth dry, Fahjoth wheeled around and dashed after Ribyna, not stopping until he had caught up with his twin. Ribyna looked irate as she immediately began a short rant. 

“I’m not paying for that bloody silt strider. It’s a ripoff! And if we’re gonna stay in Vivec overnight, gods know how much the rooms are gonna set us back, too. Come on, we’ll walk instead—” She paused and frowned as she finally took in Fahjoth’s appearance, while he tried to calm himself down in the meantime. 

“What the fuck’s the matter with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” With a shake of her head, Ribyna corrected herself, “Actually, you weren’t even this pale when we did see a ghost. Did something happen?”

“A— a Dunmer,” Fahjoth began, his gaze rapidly flicking from left to right, half-expecting an attack to come out of nowhere. “A Dunmer stopped me and... and said a thing...” 

However, as he took in Ribyna’s attentive expression, he realised with a heart-wrenching disappointment that there was no way he would be able to explain any of it to her. Not without going into detail about the missions that Cosades had given him, which he had been strictly forbidden to do. He could lie, omit some elements of the truth, but then what would be the point in that? His voice trailed off into silence, leaving him awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. After a few seconds, Ribyna spoke up again. 

“Did he threaten you?” she asked, very seriously. “D’you want me to find this bastard and have a word?”

“No!” Fahjoth replied hastily. With reluctance, he took a deep breath and tried to swallow his anxieties, his gaze wandering down to his wrist as he rubbed it. There was no visible blemish, but somehow, he felt his wrist burning fiercely where the Dunmer had grabbed him. “It’s fine. It was probably nothing. Let’s just go to Vivec,” he added, “I could do with the walk, I think.”

It was clear from her expression that Ribyna didn’t believe him, but his tone of voice made it very clear that to question him further would only exacerbate the issue, and Ribyna relented. “Alright,” she said eventually. “But if you’ve got a problem, you can talk to me, okay?” 

“Yeah... I know. Thanks, Beebs.” Though he wanted nothing more than to confide in his twin, Fahjoth regretfully held back. He was alive, and that was the main thing; telling Cosades could wait until he got back. In his shaken state, he found it far too overwhelming to think about right now anyway, and so the two departed from Balmora and embarked on the considerable journey southwards to Vivec City.

[allseeingpeach]

I love fandoms with like exactly 7 people in them

[silva-vinandi]

Basics:

Name: Vynania d’Lyrandar Birthday: June 29th Star Sign: Cancer Voice Claim: (tba) Theme: “Taking Over Me” - Evanescence Class: Paladin lvl 7 (Oath of the Open Sea) Race: Half Elf Height: 5′6″ Weight: 124lbs Age: 22 Gender: Female Sexuality: Demi-Romantic, Demi-Sexual Relationship status: Single Family: Eris d’Lyrandar (Mother, unknown), Trenton d’Lyrandar (Father, Unknown), Estoria d’Lyrandar (older sister, unknown), Dantian d’Lyrandar (Uncle) Moral Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Stats:

STR - 13 (+1) DEX - 8 (-1) CON - 15 (+2) INT - 11 (+0) WIS - 8 (-1) CHA - 18 (+4)

Proficiencies:

Wisdom Save +1 Charisma Save +6

Athletics +3 Insight +1 Perception +1 Persuasion +6

Passive Wisdom (Perception) 11

Languages & perks:

Common, Elvish, Celestial Proficient in Navigators Tools Proficient in Water Vehicles (also including air ships) Carries the Mark of Storm

Physical Notes:

Vynania has long blonde hair that she usually keeps tied up into a loose, low hanging bun. Her eyes are a dark, stormy blue color.

Her Mark of Storm usually manifests on her right arm.

Mental Notes:

To many, Vynania usually comes across as an emotionally stunted person, who harbors a violent temper.

Vynania keeps herself at arm’s length from others, which attributes to her distant nature. Despite this, she still cares greatly for her family, and her friends can still depend on her when they need her.

History: 

Four Years Ago...

Four years from the start of her journey, Vynania was an 18 year old girl with dreams of sailing the open seas and skies of Khorvaire. She lived in Seaside, one of the Southern-most cities of Cyre, and her hometown had once been a popular tropical vacation spot for many, even during the Last War.

On the Day of Mourning, when much of Cyre was covered in a deadly mist, Vynania just barely managed to escape via boat into the Kraken Bay. However the shockwave of the event still reached the waters, and sent her boat crashing into the oncoming storm. She woke up alone just north of Pylas Maradal, an elven city to the SouthEast of Seaside.

Much of the next four years was spent in Pylas Maradal, where Vynania worked at the shipyard that had been established by the Lyrandar family. Once she earned enough money, she set sail to the West to Sharn so that she could hopefully meet up with her Uncle, Dantian d’Lyrandar.

Present Time...

Instead of meeting with her Uncle, Vynania instead met a group of adventurers in the Clifftop Guild, where she is now taking on jobs. The rest of her team consists of the following:

Bastion, Warforged Paladin     Not the brightest of the bunch, but he makes for a powerful and intimidating ally. He seems to be currently piecing together his forgotten past.

Shazer, Gnome Bard (MIA)    A former soldier from the Zilargo army, turned con-man. He’s got a way with words, but often makes questionable decisions. Recently, the group discovered that Shazer had been forging false treasure maps and selling them to unsuspecting, fresh adventurers. He has been the cause of several dozen reckless deaths. Now, he roams the Mournland after killing an innocent woman, and subsequently leaving the group after being branded by Bastion.

Selroe, Gnome Rogue     A woman who took to spy work in order to make money to help support her family. Currently goes by “Baul” as an alias, a name of which she stole to gain access to the Clifftop guild.

Kiera, Tiefling Bloodhunter     A quirky character, Kiera is very far from home and it shows. Likes to experiment with her powers. However, she is definitely much smarter than she looks.

Alistair, a Human Cleric     A resident of Sharn, and a former worker at a local orphanage. He has a heart of gold and urges the group to do good deeds. Though even he must learn that nothing is black and white.

Jacob, Human Gunslinger    Having just recently met, Vynania knows little of this strange man. Though they have a similar goal now: Hunt Shazer. After learning what their former comrade did prior to their meeting, she wants to see him pay for his crimes. Jacob wishes the same.

Hawth, Drow Bard    A mysterious and dark-clothed man, easily mistaken for a thief or a rogue. He speaks little and Vynania trusts him even less so. Thus far he has yet to prove himself trustworthy. At least they have a similar personality..

Misc:

Verses:

Main Verse - Born in the city of Seaside on the southern bay of Cyre, Vynania lived a life of excitement from day one. She learned quickly from her father about the art of sailing both sea and sky and dreamed of owning her own ship one day. This all came to a halt when she was 18 years of age, on the Day of Mourning. 

Her home destroyed and having barely survived the encounter by some miracle, she spent the subsequent four years working to earn enough money to travel to Sharn and begin her adventure to find her missing family...

FFXIV Verse - Vynania found that her life was made for the sea from the day she was born. Being a child borne of an Elezen mother and Hyur father, her existence was not going to be welcomed in Ishgard. So, her family turned to Limsa Lominsa to make their home. Growing up around pirates and the like, Vynania took quickly to learning the trade of sailing.

When the Calamity struck, her parents were on the sea. Their boat never returned from its trip. Mourning and bitter, Vynania sails to Ul’dah, unable to stay in her childhood home. There, she learns the trade of the gladiators, and while her temper runs hot and the sea beckons her, she has turned her life around and vows to always protect those who cannot protect themselves.

[beholdingslut]

tonight our eberron campaign of two and a bit years and 101 sessions ended which means saying goodbye to my beautiful gunslinger soliloquy. she ended the campaign with most of her friends no longer her friend because she married the big bad right before he took a bullet to the temple and left her his empire to inherit. she was the most lethal little firecracker and she loved her city so much she became its prophet and it moved through her. i couldn’t have asked for a more sweeping and heartbreaking story for her and her party and all the things they encountered along the way — communist revolution! the personification of nuclear decay (if she was a girl)! trapping a leviathan in an aquarium the size of a district! three separate romantic partners of sol’s dying! goodbye and i love you to my most insane babygirl keep girlbossing it up and looking hot. thank you endlessly to my beloved dm nick and art credit to @wolfenly

[zezran]

yesterday's d&d session moodboard

[nickandros]

what if arcane magic in d&d was non renewable. what if magic was sustained by the corpse of divinity, a whalefall of a dragon. what if it was hurtling towards a bright and unbearable future that sucked life from any divinity that sprung forward. babe wake up, what do you think about psionic fission.