#there's a few other words name things like spelling armor as armour

[partsonapizza]

nothing funnier than knowing neopets has made me spell certain things the uk way

[exploring-in-space]

Summary: Robert, an aspiring journalist, lands an interview with England’s budding band, Armour. Aaron is the band’s guitarist and songwriter, and the attraction between them is immediate. A one night stand quickly becomes something more, and leads to a tumultuous relationship throughout the years.

Tags: Alternate universe, drug use, overdose, make ups and break ups, angst with a happy ending

For @some-mad-lunge, truly one of the most talented authors in this fandom. I took the alternate universe and angst with a happy ending tropes and ran with this. This ended up being longer than I had anticipated, but I really hope you enjoy this! xxx 

Thank you @robronengagementgiftexchange for organizing!

Robert hates his job with a burning passion. He dreams of reporting news that truly matters. When he first stepped foot at uni, bright-eyed and full of hope, he knew what kind of news he wanted to report, news worth risking your life for. 

His mother, Sarah, was one of the hardest hitting journalists of her time - following the story where it took her. That passion eventually led to her downfall when she got trapped in a crumbling building. But the story had to be told and she pushed past every person and barrier to tell it. Robert used to wonder why her passion for journalism meant more to her than her own life. But then he would remember the evenings when she would tuck him in and tell stories of her life as a news breaking journalist. Robert had always worshipped the ground she walked on and hearing her stories made him want nothing more than to follow her footsteps.

Robert’s career was first buoyed by both being the son of Sarah and his own merit. He started writing for his university’s newspaper and had a job offer for a local paper upon graduating. Things were progressing smoothly and predictably for Robert up until he got hired by White News. White News is one of the newest but leading news publications across the country. Robert got hired to do fact checking and minor researching with the promise of moving on to ground coverage. He was headquartered in London, moving on up in the journalism world, hoping he was making his mother proud.

But Robert, being the man he was, couldn’t help himself when he met Chrissie. He wined and dined her, slept with her, fell in love with her, proposed to her, and cheated on her by a year's end. Lawrence repaid that kindness by sticking Robert in the music section of the news - the section of news Robert had the least passion or knowledge about.

It’s why Robert’s at some divey nightclub in the west end watching England’s hottest new band, Armor. Not the most creative name, if Robert was honest, but they have gotten big in the past couple of months and have slated to be a household name soon. Robert did his due diligence in listening to their music and reading about the members - there’s four of them: a singer, Adam, guitarist, Aaron, bassist, Ellis, and drummer, Matty.

Adam commands the room with high energy, knows exactly how to work a crowd. The way he steps into the crowd and everyone clammors to hold onto him as he sings a song atop everyone is something Robert had never seen before. As impressive as Adam is with his energy, Robert’s eyes are on Aaron, who looks like he would rather be anywhere but on that stage.

Watching him is the most captivating thing he’s ever seen.

The crowd goes completely mad when they perform their last song. Armour is kind enough not to make them work hard for the encore. They’re walking back onto the stage shortly after all the screaming and perform three more songs. Matty tosses his drumsticks into the crowd when they play their final song and Robert has to smile at the way the crowd goes crazy. 

Everyone seems to filter out of the club pretty quickly after the end of the show. A couple of people putter around for a bit, and Robert jumps off his barstool to meet the band in the backroom.

Security recognize Robert’s badge and let him through with no fuss. He knocks at the door, and is striding into the back room before Ellis can register who it is knocking.

"Nice show, boys," Robert says when he comes into the 

"You Sugden?" Adam asks, eyeing Robert up and down. 

Robert lifts his press badge and dangles it up and down for a few seconds with a confident smirk, “Mind if I ask you a coupla questions?”

Robert is old-school and brings a recorder and flips it on as he interviews each member individually. He likes to break them up in his interviews because he feels he gets to suss out the dynamics of the bands that way. At the end of each interview, he asks each of them to give him a quick summary of the band in five words or less.

As he interviews each member, they flit about the room for a bit before leaving. Aaron is the last one, and Robert did that on purpose. He had been watching Aaron out the corner of his eye the entire time he’d been in the room. Aaron fidgeted a lot throughout the time, picked at his skin, got up and paced for a bit. It was like he couldn’t sit still while Robert spoke to the others.

When it’s finally Aaron’s turn, Robert goes and sits down next to Aaron, who had folded his legs underneath him on a battered couch. 

“And you? Want to give me a summary of the band in five words or less?” Robert asks, giving him his most winning smile. 

Up close, Robert notes the way bits of Aaron’s hair is curled, most likely from sweating when he was on stage. Something about that thought makes Robert swallow. Aaron is studying Robert’s face for a bit, and the intensity in his gaze makes everything else around them seem to disappear. At this moment, only he and Aaron matter. Eventually, Aaron breaks the spell by giving a half disinterested shrug.

“Nah, I’m sure your arrogant ass will think of something,” Aaron’s voice is soft and enticing. 

“Oh, so you’ve noticed my ass?” Robert can’t help but flirting, it’s hard not to when in the presence of such a fit bloke.

“Smooth. Teach you that in journalism school?”

“Only once I graduated,” Robert is quick to say back. Aaron just rolls his eyes, but in an indulgent way.

“What do you want from me that you didn’t get from everybody else?” Aaron asks.

“You’re the songwriter, right? Why don’t we talk about the composition of your songs?” Robert suggests and he can’t help but feel smug about the way Aaron’s eyebrows shoot up. The silver lining to Robert’s jobs is that growing up, Robert learned to play the piano. He understands classical music and music theory and tries to keep his articles related to the fundamentals of music theory and how bands incorporate it. It’s made him surprisingly popular for someone who hates their job.

They speak music theory for a bit, and Aaron gets really animated and excited as he breaks down some of his favorite songs. It’s more than Robert thought he would get out from the closed off guitarist. But it’s thrilling, and Robert knows he needs to spend more time with Aaron.

“What do you say to going out sometime?” Robert dares to ask, once the interview finds its natural end. It’s just the two of them left in the room and he can’t resist asking Aaron out. He grins and waves his recorder in Aaron’s face, “I’ll even leave my recorder at home.”

“Ask out all the band members you interview, do you?” Aaron asks, chewing on his lip trying to hide the smile that’s fighting onto his face.

“Only the grumpy fit ones.”

Aaron doesn’t so much as roll his eyes as he looks past Robert’s shoulder for a moment before looking at Robert, “You’ve got cheek.”

“My finest quality,” Robert declares confidently. He takes a step closer into Aaron’s space and can smell the faint smell of sweat and clean laundry. “So?”

Aaron shakes his head, but finally allows the fighting smile to dance on his face, “Sure, let’s go.”

“What, right now?”

“Think you’ll fall asleep, old man?” Aaron’s quips are just as quick as Robert’s.

Robert takes a moment to deliberately check Aaron out. Running his eyes up and down, before he’s smirking, “As if.”

There’s not much open when they finally leave the night club. There’s a chip stand where a lot of people who had been out drinking are lining up in front of. It’s good enough for the pair of them to queue as well and get some of their own. Aaron gets some with curry sauce but Robert is boring and simply gets ketchup with his.

They walk down the streets, talking about each other and eating their chips. Robert tells Aaron about how he got into this field despite not loving it. Aaron tells Robert how he wrote his first song when he was fifteen but it wasn’t until he met Adam that he got to compose more songs that were meaningful. But he tells Robert of his fears that they’re riding a fad wave and people will forget them soon enough.

“Sometimes, it feels a little like everything we’ve done has been by accident. And one day, everyone is going to know it. That we’re not good,” Aaron confesses softly, munching on one of his chips.

Imposter syndrome. Robert is familiar with it more than he cares to admit, especially given who his mother was. He doesn’t want to say it, in case he’s off the mark or offends Aaron.

“Well for what it’s worth, I think you’re good. And I’ve been to hundreds of concerts to interview bands,” Robert tries to encourage with a soft smile. It seems to work - Aaron smiles back and steps closer to Robert.

“You know how to make a fella feel special,” Aaron says, swaying in place. Robert can’t help but mimic his movement.  “You don’t strike me as a person who loves good music, especially rock ‘n roll music.”

“Oh yeah? And what do I strike you as?” Robert prompts.

“Like someone who would get his heart broken from rock ‘n roll,” Aaron says and there’s something piercing and intimate that Robert didn’t think he could feel, especially by someone who barely knows him. But Aaron doesn’t give Robert a chance to say anything back, already moving onto another topic.

“I think I have some beer at my place, if ya fancy something to chase those chips,” Aaron quirks a quick smile, and that soul searing moment evaporates when Robert understands what Aaron is implying.

“Yeah? Might have to take you up on that,” Robert says, but neither one of them are any delusions that they’re going to go back to Aaron’s for beers. Aaron proves that when he pulls Robert into a heated kiss. They kiss in the middle of the sidewalk, oblivious to anything around them. 

Aaron is pulling Robert by the hand, and tugging him towards his flat, which is ‘just a few blocks away’. They probably would’ve gotten there quicker, but they keep stopping to kiss or grope each other like they’re some kind of teenagers.

By the time they get to Aaron’s flat, Robert is delirious with want. Yet he still takes a moment to take in Aaron’s flat. It’s a loft - there’s a spiral staircase that leads up to the bedroom. The loft is painted in cool dark colors and it feels so impersonal to the person Robert has spent a few hours with.

“Interesting choice of decorations,” Robert remarks calmly despite how wired up he feels.

“Did you come here to critique my decor, or did you come here to fuck?” Aaron asks with a huff. 

“Can’t a bloke do both?”

“You’re lucky you’re fit, I would’ve chucked you out a long time ago,” Aaron says with an indulgent smile. Robert has a response on the tip of his tongue, but Aaron doesn’t let him say it because he gives Robert a toe curling kiss. 

They’re shucking clothes as they kiss and try to get up to Aaron’s bedroom. The bedroom isn’t enclosed - the staircase leads them straight into the bedroom loft. Robert lands on his back and Aaron follows, giving frantic kisses that miss Robert’s lips most of the time, but neither seem to care.

Afterward, Aaron is rolling off of Robert and they lay next to each other and they just silently try to catch their breaths. Robert is thinking about how they should probably clean up, but he’s also thinking he needs at least one more performance. Just as Robert is fantasizing about what they can get up to next, Aaron rolls to face Robert and grabs his arm.

“Those things I told you earlier, that’s off the record,” Aaron says rather urgently.

“Of course it is,” Robert says back, slightly offended. He lightens the mood by leaning in and kissing Aaron deeply, “I’ll even leave out the part of what a good shag you are.”

“Fuck off,” Aaron laughs, curling into Robert.

“Give me a few minutes,” Robert murmurs, flipping Aaron on his back and this time climbing atop him.

*

Robert wakes with a slight start in the middle of the night. Aaron’s not in bed next to him when he wakes, making Robert panic for a bit. He wonders if this was Aaron’s way of kicking him out. There’s noise coming from downstairs, piquing Robert’s curiosity.

He goes down the spiral stairs and finds that it’s Aaron who is making the noise. He’s sitting on his couch, holding an acoustic guitar. He’s still shirtless from earlier, but he threw on some pants. As he strums the guitar strings, his eyes are closed and he rocks his head backward and forward, trying to find the right note.

He feels like he’s intruding on something intimate, which is absurd given what they were up to only a few hours earlier. But Robert stands back, just watching as Aaron has his eyes closed, trying to find the right chord on the guitar. He hums a couple of times and then bends over to write something down.

Robert must have made a noise, or Aaron might have just felt him standing at the foot of the stairs. But he opens his eyes, and when he spies Robert, he smiles and beckons Robert to come.

“Come here,” Aaron says softly with a smile. The smile feels tacky and it doesn’t reach his eyes, but Robert comes over without a word.

“What are you doing?” Robert asks when he reaches Aaron. Aaron’s got half scrawled music notes on a notepad, some crossed out, others are circled. There’s a large stain of liquid on the bottom corner, making some of the other written notes bleed together. 

“Mapping the stars,” Aaron mumbles, and this should have been an indication then that there was something amiss with Aaron. Instead, Robert brings a hand up and trails a finger down Aaron’s spine. Aaron leans into Robert’s touch and continues to strum out chords and notes that only make sense in Aaron’s head.

“Come on, let’s go back to bed, spaceboy,” Robert coaxes gently, curling his fingers around Aaron’s left wrist - the arm that holds the neck of the guitar. Eventually, Aaron relents and they go back up the stairs, kissing and laughing against each other. It’s the most meaningful one night stand Robert’s ever had and he’s not sure what to make of it all.

The next morning, Robert wakes to a cup of coffee streaming in front of his face, Aaron’s eyes are bright and alert despite Robert feeling like death.

“What if I prefer a brew like a proper Englishman?” Robert asks, taking the coffee and inhaling it. It’s not the best roast he’s smelled before, but beggars can’t be choosers, he’s gasping for caffeine. 

“You’re not a proper anything,” Aaron teases, settling himself back into bed next to Robert. They cuddle against each other as Robert takes sips of the coffee. He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Aaron to kick him out. But strangely, it never happens. 

After Robert finishes his cup, they trade coffee-laced kisses as they tumble and fumble against each other. The morning is spent as hedonistically as possible, and Aaron is the most gracious host, as he wraps his mouth around Robert and he’s writhing and shouting Aaron’s name. It’s the only name he ever wants to say. 

They are both slow to end this morning, but eventually Robert’s stomach starts to growl quite loudly, causing Aaron to laugh into Robert’s stomach, “Let’s get some food in you.”

Aaron is pathetic at cooking, Robert learns. His idea of ‘food’ is just some toast and another cup of coffee. Robert’s stomach is growling too much to be picky on the menu so he helps himself to the toast and slathers the jam that Aaron put out. Aaron doesn’t really eat - he picks at the toast and takes a few bites, but his hunger is nothing compared to Robert’s. 

Robert reluctantly starts to get ready after finishing his toast. He drags his heels getting the rest of his clothes on and even when he walks to Aaron’s front door. Aaron watches on with an amused smile the entire time. Robert realizes he’s being mad, if he wants to see Aaron again, then dammit, he’s going to see him again.

“When can I see you again?” Robert asks, turning around to face Aaron instead of leaving. 

“Who says I want to see ya again?” Aaron asks with a teasing smile, but before Robert can be too disappointed, Aaron pulls him into a kiss. “You know where I live.”

Robert smiles and can’t help but steal another kiss. Which leads to another and another, until Aaron is dragging Robert back upstairs.

Eventually, Robert leaves with Aaron’s phone number, a top notch orgasm, and a spring in his step. He gets home and with a flash of creativity he’s not felt in months, Robert writes the article about the band. 

*

Robert learns about Aaron’s drug use by accident. They had been texting each other constantly, flirting, talking about what they were up to, the article which everyone in the band loved. Finally, after a week of not seeing each other, they agree to meet up at Aaron’s flat. Robert had been banging on about his cooking abilities and Aaron had finally had enough and challenged him to cook him something that would impress him.

The front door is ajar when Robert gets to the flat. He thinks it’s probably just Aaron being courteous, since Robert arrives carrying brown paper groceries bags for tonight’s dinner. Robert doesn’t think when he waltzes into the flat and sees Aaron knocking back a pill.

“Headache?” Robert asks stupidly, setting his bags down. But the way Aaron scrambles to put the container away clues him in that something a little more sinister is at play. “Aaron?”

“It’s nothing. Just- ah...some, you know...speed,” Aaron says after opening and closing his mouth a few times. The blase way he speaks makes Robert feel like he’s in some delusion, where talking about drugs is just so cavalier. 

“Amphetamine?” Robert is floored by Aaron. He feels stupid and naive.

“Don’t be so surprised. It’s rock ‘n roll, innit?” Aaron’s flippancy makes something turn unpleasantly in his stomach. 

Robert thinks about what Aaron had told him the first night they met, about how rock and roll would break his heart.

“Hang on, have you been on these the whole time I’ve known ya?” Robert demands. When Aaron gives a brief shrug, the pieces start slotting together. Robert doesn’t know too much about amphetamine, but some of the strange behavior Robert hadn’t thought much of start to make sense. The fact Aaron was up in the middle of the night and energetic in the morning, why he didn’t eat much breakfast.

“Is that going to be a problem?” Aaron bluntly asks, crossing his arms, almost defensively.

Robert tells himself it probably should be a problem. But...despite the fact drugs may have contributed to their time together, Robert really likes Aaron. He doesn’t want to cut this off and spend time wondering what could have been. Plus, it’s not like Robert doesn’t have his own self-destructive behavior.

“No, not a problem. Can I ask you questions about it, though?” Robert, ever the journalist, can’t help but ask. Aaron seems to deflate, as if he had been expecting Robert to cut his losses and leave. He hangs his head and breath in and out for a moment before looking up at Robert and giving a minute nod. 

Robert decides to play it cool by starting to cook their dinner as he asks his questions. That way it feels less like an interrogation and more like two people still trying to get to know each other.

“How long have you been on them?” Robert asks as he chops some bell peppers.

“Since I ran away from home.” The statement surprises Robert, but instead of opening that can of worms, he just nods and starts to season the cut vegetables.

“Why do you do it?”

“It helps clears me brain. Sometimes, all this shit clogs it up and I just...need to focus. Write music and think of nothing else.”

It’s the imposter syndrome rearing its head again. Insecurities and doubt are no stranger to Robert and he can feel them radiating out of Aaron. It’s most likely the stuff Aaron wants to clear.

“Also, it doesn’t hurt when I’m up on stage performing,” Aaron adds, breaking Robert’s thoughts.

“Does anyone else in the band do it?”

“No, but they know I do,” Aaron says, gulping slighting. As if this was the admission that would break Robert and end this conversation. It doesn’t. But it does annoy Robert. He’s come to be protective of Aaron and knowing his bandmates don’t do anything to stop Aaron enrages Robert.

“I don’t do it often. I’m-I’m not an addict,” Aaron declares, and it’s filled with a defensive tone. 

“Okay,” Robert just shrugs and tosses the bell peppers into an oiled pan to sear them.

“Okay?” Aaron repeats, his voicing growing louder over the sizzling vegetables.

“I’m not your keeper, Aaron. Your answers work for me. I want to continue this, if you want,” Robert tries to act blase, not like his heart is hammering in his chest.

“Yeah, I do,” Aaron answers softly and they exchange tentative smiles. It doesn’t take Robert much longer to finish up their dinner and they sit at Aaron’s table laughing and swapping stories about inane things that happened during the week they hadn’t seen each other. As if they hadn’t been speaking to each other constantly throughout the week.

Robert thinks the discussion of Aaron’s drug usage is over for the evening. That is, until later in the evening, Aaron looks at Robert with such urgency. 

“People don’t stay with me, when they find out,” Aaron tells Robert after they finish putting the dishes away and they’re settled on Aaron’s couch. Aaron has his head in Robert’s lap when he makes his confession.

“Well don’t worry,” Robert threads his fingers in Aaron’s hair, “You’re going to be stuck with me for awhile.”

Maybe it's too soon to say something like that when they've only known each other a week. Maybe it's dumb to say something like that when Aaron has a minor drug problem. But the way Aaron just smiles and closes his eyes after Robert's declaration, makes Robert hope that maybe Aaron feels the same as him. 

Robert doesn’t want to think such stupid thoughts, but he thinks he could probably fall in love with Aaron.

*

Okay.

So Robert is an optimist. At least when it comes to his and Aaron’s budding relationship. He tells himself that the occasional drug use isn’t going to ruin their relationship. Because Aaron is right: he doesn’t use very often. He had been coming down from a leg of concerts and needed to withdraw in a way that wouldn’t hurt him. Since then, Aaron doesn’t use it very often and they start to spend more and more time together. It starts to feel, for the first time ever, that Robert was meant to be in a relationship. He’s much too much of a romantic and poet, and can’t help but start to refer to their relationship as the raining romantic spring. Aaron laughs in his face when Robert tells him of the nickname, calling him a soft lad but the smile on his face is a dead giveaway.

Mornings when Aaron is clean, Robert puts his piano talents to use as he plays piano chords on Aaron’s back and Aaron tries to guess the chord by humming it. Then they’ll talk late into the morning until it’s time to eat. Aaron is like a vacuum whenever he’s clean, the way he cleans food up. And Robert won’t lie, he prefers this version of Aaron than when he tosses back a few pills.

The times when there’s substance pumping in Aaron’s blood, he’s still soft and loving to Robert but there’s an urgency to everything. Quick fucks, quick kisses, quick everything. When Aaron’s high, Robert just wants to shake Aaron and tell him he doesn’t need that garbage. He’s talented enough without it.

Aaron rarely does indulge in the drugs. Tells Robert he only uses it when he’s inspired to write music and he wants to get it all out of his head before it escapes him. Robert is helpless to do anything about it, but it feels like enabling Aaron.

Unfortunately, as the spring starts to blossom into summer, it starts to feel less like an occasional drug use and more of a growing problem. Their soft mornings of playing the chord guessing game starts to happen less and less. Robert watches and feels more helpless than ever before, it makes his fingers itch for a pen so he can try to get his thoughts out of his head and onto paper.

He learns from Adam, Matty and Ellis that they’ve tried many times to get Aaron to stop, but no one has ever been able to convince Aaron to get off the pills. 

Rainy romantic spring only lasts a few weeks more before Robert can’t stand idly anymore.

“You don’t need this junk!” Robert shouts, throwing the capsules at the wall. Aaron is high and he quickly jumps up to start picking up the mess. It’s more because he always needs to occupy his hands when he’s high than him being an addict, but Robert can’t help but twist the knife by taunting Aaron, “Look at ya! You’re pathetic, can’t afford to lose a single pill. It’s pathetic!”

“I’m not addicted!” Aaron shouts back. “If you can’t handle my creativity, then maybe you need to clear out. I’m not going to compromise who I am for a good fuck.”

The words feel like a slap to the face. They’ve never put words to their relationship but Robert has always fellt it more than the pair of them fucking. He thought Aaron felt the same.

“Look,” Aaron pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut, “We’re going back on tour next month. Maybe we should give ourselves a break and revisit us when I get back.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Aaron. If you want to end this, just say it. I’m not going to be some pathetic groupie holding out on hope you’ll give me attention,” Robert grabs his keys and storms out of Aaron’s flat.

He buys himself cheap bourbon that night, ignores the multiple texts from Aaron and passes out listening to Armour’s music.

*

Rainy spring dries out and the next period of Robert’s life is a hot and lonely summer. He ends up being a groupie from afar, despite what he had told Aaron. He reads about every concert they perform, and the reviews from other journalists. He tells himself it’s just research in case he has to write a follow-up article. 

His article about Armour is his most popular by far. The personable aspect he added was different than his other ones and it even gets Vic calling him and shouting at him.

“You met Armour?” She shrieks down the phone, making Robert pull his phone away from his ear. “And you didn’t tell me!”

“I’ve met a lot of bands,” Robert tries to play it off like it doesn’t matter. Even though his heart is racing and he misses Aaron more than he’ll ever admit.

“I don’t care about other bands. I want to know more about Armour! Everyone in the band is so fit. What are they like?” Vic’s voice sounds dreamy.

“I think they’re a bunch of prats. You’re best not meeting any of them,” Robert says and he knows he’s being unfair. It’s not like they sit idly by while watching Aaron do drugs. But he can’t help but feel bitter that they get to enjoy their fame and money while Aaron destroys himself. 

His conversation with Vic doesn’t last much longer, her disappointment palpable after Robert’s bitter comment.

Robert watches an interview Armour has with some local news station later in the week - he only has access to the station because he’s doing research, okay? - and Robert stews in his resentment as he sees Aaron’s pupils are dilated and he’s shaking his leg up and down. Someone could chalk it up to nerves, but Robert knows Aaron.

He hates that despite their break up, it’s not enough to convince Aaron to stop. Robert shuts the tv off before he does something stupid like call him.

*

Summer continues to be a hot and lonely season and fall comes blowing in sooner than Robert would’ve liked. Armour’s summer tour comes to an end, and Robert turns his phone off for a week, trying not to be tempted. 

He dives head first in his articles, writing them in a fervor he had never felt like doing before. He hasn’t had any interview gigs lately, but he writes reviews on albums and peppers in his commentary of music theory in it. These articles start to become more and more popular, and even Lawrence remarks on Robert’s newfound drive and success.

“Good work, Sugden,” Lawrence frowns as he says it, as if he was not expecting himself to compliment Robert of all people. Robert wants nothing more than to gloat in Lawrence’s face but decides to take the higher road and just nod.

Robert eventually breaks and turns his phone on one evening, but he places it face down and goes to sleep so he doesn’t look at any of the notifications that he might have missed whilst it was turned off.

Of course, it’s tonight of all nights that his phone wakes him in the middle of the night. He squints his eyes and sees that it’s Aaron who’s calling at ungodly hours. 

“Robert,” Aaron’s voice is slurred and faraway. It wakes Robert up instantly.

“Where are you?” Robert starts pulling on a shirt and panicking, thinking there’s probably something so very wrong.

“Outside your flat, let me in,” Aaron gruffly says and hangs up. The initial panic that lined Robert’s blood turns to annoyance as he stalks out his room and flings the front door open.

Aaron...is nothing short of a mess. His eyes are lit up and glazed over, and there’s bags under his eyes. 

“Fuck, Aaron. When was the last time you slept?” Robert exclaims, pulling Aaron through his door.

“Dunno, a week ago?” Aaron guesses. His voice sounds distant and it worries Robert. He leaves Aaron to get some water and prays that it’s enough to get that shit out of his system. 

Aaron had moved to one of Robert’s windows when he gets back.

“I still want to map the stars,” Aaron gazes out the window, squinting at the light polluted London sky. As if he even has a chance of seeing stars. 

Robert touches his back softly, and Aaron turns around to bury his head into Robert's shoulder. 

“Oh yeah? And why is that?” Robert decides to humor Aaron, despite it all. He hands the glass of water to Aaron and Aaron takes a couple of sips of it. It’s a small victory.

“So I can give them to you,” Aaron mumbles into the cup. Robert pauses, heart clenching in the most painful way. 

“I only want them when you’re clean,” Robert tells Aaron firmly.

“I’ve just...missed you so much. I won’t...I won’t choose the drugs over you again,” Aaron promises and maybe he’s daft, but Robert actually believes him.

*

It lasts for about two weeks, Aaron being a perfect charming boyfriend (they defined their relationship the morning after Aaron’s unannounced visit). But of course, despite Aaron’s reassurance, the fact of the matter is, he’s addicted to the amphetamine, and he slowly crawls back to it.

The self-destruction relationship becomes a toxic pattern. They fight. They break up. Aaron promises he won’t put the drugs above Robert. They make up. Aaron starts back into his addiction.

The issue of their break ups is always Aaron’s consumption of drugs. He’s started to dabble a little in coke and Robert wants to shake Aaron until he’s silly. Aaron never seems to understand what the problem is. Complains that it’s his life and he can do whatever the fuck he wants.

Robert knows he should cut his losses and just leave Aaron for good. Even Vic, when she first found out they were dating was ecstatic, has started to resent the holding pattern Aaron has put Robert in with his refusal to quit. 

He starts to forget what Aaron is like without poison in his blood. He doesn’t remember those soft mornings when they played music together. Everything starts to feel like ash in Robert’s mouth, but he just can’t stop. He loves Aaron.

Two years into this madness of breaking up and going straight back into each other’s arms, they have the ugliest fight. It’s the anniversary of Sarah’s passing and Aaron doesn’t show up to her grave despite telling Robert he’d be there. When Robert finds him, he’s in his flat, half-passed out and watching Top Gear.

Robert starts shouting and Aaron shouts back and it’s all downhill from there. There is not one constructive thing about their fight - they yell for the sake of yelling and Robert storms out of Aaron’s flat, believing he will never see Aaron again.

And he doesn’t.

For two weeks, Aaron doesn’t ring him and Robert feels relieved that maybe he’s finally out of this cycle. But the part of him that loves Aaron also worries that something bad may have happened to Aaron.

Robert gets his answer on a chilly evening, when some unknown number is calling him.

“Robert Sugden?” An unfamiliar voice asks as soon as Robert answers.

“This is he.”

“We have you down as Aaron Dingle’s emergency contact. We’ve brought him in for a suspected cocaine overdose,” The man’s voice continues, but it’s just white noise. The thing Robert feared the most has come to fruition and he’s glued to his seat. The man tells Robert which hospital Aaron’s at, but he can’t find the motivation to get up and go.

It’s Robert’s fault. He let Aaron’s addiction get worse and worse and did nothing to even try to help. They both have been so selfish, but Robert is the worst. Aaron has a problem and Robert just made it about himself without even trying to understand Aaron’s addiction.

He gets up and he’s filled with so much anger at himself and he throws an old mug to the wall, ceramic shattering everywhere as he shouts. He falls to the ground and he can’t help but start crying. Cries for Aaron, whose stomach is probably getting pumped at this moment. Cries for himself, all the heartbreak he’s felt for almost three years that they’ve known each other. He cries for a good while before he realizes how foolish he’s being. He has to get to the hospital now.

Robert hadn’t realized how much time he wasted feeling numb, but it’s well into three am and there’s no traffic to stop him from getting there in record time.

The nurse’s station directs him to Aaron’s room, and he’s not surprised to see security standing outside the door. Most likely to stave the blood sucking paparazzi. They nod at each other but Robert can feel some sort of judgement from the security guard when he goes into Aaron’s room.

There’s beeping noise from the ekg, but it’s steady and regular. Aaron is actually awake when Robert comes in. When he notices Robert, he sits up straighter in the bed.

“I’m so happy you’re alive,” Robert breathes out when he reaches the edge of the bed.

Aaron briefly smiles before frowning, “Dunno know why I’m even here. It wasn’t any more than I had before.”

The dismissive way he says makes Robert’s blood boil, “You could have died tonight and you don’t know why you’re here? You’re going to kill yourself one of these days. Is that what you want?” Robert exclaims. “Don’t you care about your life? Your bandmates?...Us?” Robert dares to curl his hand around Aaron’s hand.

“No one is asking you to stick around. This is your chance to run a mile,” Aaron whispers and it breaks Robert’s heart all over again.

“What makes you think I’d want to?”

Aaron looks away, pulling his arm out of Robert’s loose grip. “Where were ya before you got here?”

The question hangs in the air uncomfortably, almost as if Aaron knew of Robert’s reluctance to come here. Robert moves between his feet a bit, and tries to figure out what Aaron is getting out, “Does it matter? I’m here now.”

Aaron still doesn’t look at Robert, his face flushing as he adamantly stares at the blank wall. Suddenly, Robert realizes what Aaron was trying to imply, “Aaron...I wasn’t with anyone. I was working.”

“At four am?” Aaron scoffs.

“Isn’t that how you and I met?” Robert tries to remind himself the paranoia is just a side effect to Aaron’s detox, but he still can’t help but feel hurt that Aaron doesn’t trust him. He’s been nothing but loyal to Aaron these three years.

Aaron doesn’t say anything, just shifts in the bed miserably and they sit in tense silence afterwards. Robert thinks of their rainy romantic spring, when silences were comfortable and there was trust between them. 

“I miss you, Aaron,” Robert ventures to say. He feels like he might be skating on thin ice, but decides to say, “I guess you were right. Rock and roll broke my heart.”

Aaron closes his eyes and of course tears fall out when he does that. “I was going to map the stars for you.”

Robert’s heart aches in a way he had never felt before. It feels as if his heart is literally breaking right now. Aaron has his hands crossed over his stomach and Robert aches to touch him again. He feels like there’s a million miles between them right now and it hurts Robert. It hurts that Aaron thinks this is the end.

“Why can’t you still?” Robert whispers, and it feels like he’s at his most vulnerable asking this. “Why can’t you get better and map them?”

“I never wanted this...to hurt ya,” Aaron says brokenly. “I’m sorry I ruined your mum’s anniversary.”

“You didn’t,” Robert is quick to reassure, placing his hand atop Aaron’s, despite their fight. “I just want you to get better.”

“I want to get better, too,” Aaron whispers, and it’s the first time he’s ever voiced it. They’re both crying and smiling, perhaps the most joy they’ve felt around each other in months. Somehow, maybe because Aaron is quasi-famous, no one comes to kick Robert out of the room. 

They spend the night cuddling and crying against each other, Robert keeping vigil by Aaron’s bed as he falls asleep. And in the morning, a nurse comes to take Aaron. Robert probably smells rank and his morning breath even worse, but he doesn’t care as he pulls Aaron into a tight hug and they sway against each other for a while. 

Eventually the nurse clears her throat and she begins to usher Aaron out of the room. 

To healing, finally.

*

A year and a half after Aaron goes into rehab, Robert publishes a Pulitzer winning article about the reality of family members who have someone who suffers from a drug addiction. Robert uses his own personal experiences but never names Aaron by name, even though most of the media know who he’s talking about, despite all the precautions they tried, the media of course learns of Aaron’s stint at rehab. But Robert doesn’t just write about his own experiences, he also also interviews other people who have been in the same position as him.

He’d like to think Sarah is absolutely proud of him for finally carving his name in the literary world.

Aaron and Armour release their most highly anticipated album ever, Milky Way. The album elevates the band into near stardom as everyone goes crazy for the songs and especially the lyrics. They’re nominated for a BRIT music award and Aaron invites Robert. 

They don’t win, but Robert holds Aaron’s hand the entire time and his heart sings more than he could have ever imagined. Aaron has been clean for a year, after six months in rehab, and he’s not looked back once. If possible, their love for each other grows stronger and Robert starts looking into buying engagement rings.

Robert never would have thought in a million years that going into an interview he would meet the love of his life. There had been bumps along the way, but watching Aaron grow out of the shackles of his drug abuse was almost worth it.

There’s glitz and performers and everyone is looking at the stage, but Robert just watches Aaron. So grateful that he’s alive and they’re here. He could watch Aaron for the rest of his life.

“What?” Aaron whispers as some artist is thanking people.

“Nothing. I just love you,” Robert says, squeezing Aaron’s hand. 

Aaron rolls his eyes but actually leans his head on Robert’s shoulder, “I love you too.”

“Good, now shut up. Taylor Swift is about to perform,” Robert teases and sneaks a quick kiss to Aaron’s temple.

The rings he had finally decided to buy sit comfortably in Robert’s pocket. He’ll ask Aaron tonight, after they go home and it’s just the two of them. Because when it’s just the pair of them, they’re unstoppable. 

[kleeboy]

okay im deleting and reposting this because i put a swear word in the tags and it wasnt even showing up in searches for my personal, and i don’t trust the mobile editor to fix my problems but its time 4 me to make a post

Here's what I’ve got for a Thunderbirds D&D AU! I'm not gonna get into numbers and stats and levels because I do that enough when I play normal d&d and I'm gay and tired. Also, there’s probably gonna be a touch of rule bending not only to reconcile d&d with the Thunderbirds canon but just to boost the fun factor a bit. It’s not like we’re setting up a playable campaign so it doesn’t really matter as long as we’re not making it unrecognisable as part of the d&dverse. At that point, you might as well just call it a fantasy AU (still lit tho lmao). This is mostly TOS based but I’ll add some notes on TAG stuff now and then in italics because I’m here to provide. It’s hefty, so everything's under the cut. Hopefully comprehensible.

IR (presumably going by some other name but we’ll just stick with that for sake of ease) is still a rescue organisation - it operates on a somewhat smaller scale but access to magic means it’s got a pretty big reach for typical d&d technology. It’s centred around an ancient deity that few people have heard of and even fewer worship. There’s only one known temple dedicated to said deity and it had been abandoned for a long time before they found it, so it’s currently being restored - if rather agonizingly slowly. Anyway, IR is deity-based because nothing screams “fight for a cause” like paladins! They’re paladins, mostly, is what I’m saying.

Jeff is likely an ex-adventurer, probably a paladin but I’m seriously considering cleric just for interest’s sake so sue me, I love clerics. His party did some pretty cool stuff back in the day, and adventuring pays well as long as you don’t die, so he’s pretty well off. He left the party and settled down in one place when Scott was born, and the rest of them presumably disbanded and went about their own lives eventually. Or maybe they’re still out there causing a ruckus. Who knows. Pretty easy to just say “and he’s not there anymore” for TAG, rationalise his disappearance as you please. Either way, at some point he decided to start an organisation that would make saving lives a bit more structured than the usual “Let's hope a squad of adventurers stumbles on our predicament” that people have been relying on.

Scott is a Battle Master archetype fighter who multiclassed into paladin. Battle Master provides the most appropriate mechanics for a field leader, and also seems like the sort of thing Scott would have been doing previous to IR. He’s the least proficient spellcaster of the group if only by virtue of his class, but access to paladin magic gives his fighting an extra kick which, along with the Battle Master maneuvers, makes him pretty damn dangerous with a sword. It also means he can cast Find Steed, and because said steed’s form can go beyond normal when permitted by the DM and we’re making the rules here I’m giving him a pegasus, which is about the fastest flying mount you could get as far as the monster manual goes. A roc would just be too much. Very VERY cool. But too much.

Virgil is a College of Lore bard into paladin. When it comes to support classes, nothing beats a College of Lore bard for versatility. He’s got the range, darling. Slap an arsenal of magic items on that and you’re well on your way to the d&d equivalent of Thunderbird 2. He has some good offensive spells and weapon training but mostly works to keep others from getting hurt. With a high constitution, the Tough feat, good armour and a shield he pretty much becomes a mobile wall to be put between danger and anyone who can’t take too many hits. Find Steed again lets me give him something interesting to ride, and what better than an owlbear. A big one. Not quite as appropriate stat-wise as the pegasus for Scott but when it comes to aesthetics I’m yet to find something as good as a bear-shaped and -sized owl.

John is predominantly a Divination wizard, with a low paladin level - two maximum - giving him access to a lot of powerful magic but leaving him, how do you say, squishy. Divination is gameplay-wise pretty underwhelming, with not many spells to its name, but for someone whose job is centred around keeping an eye on things, the ability to see very far away and receive premonitions is gonna be useful. The system by which distress calls are sent is giving me some concept trouble but when it comes to receiving it’s as easy as a focus with some capability to project images and sound, gear already necessary to cast Scrying. So, as in canon, rather than going out on missions (at least for the most part), it’s John’s job to keep tabs on incoming signals and active operations. This is all based in the previously mentioned temple - out of the way enough to let me call it a T5 equivalent. He also has the secondary job of making sure nothing else tries to take up residence in the decrepit building. They had to clear it of goblins the first time. As far as Eos goes I don’t have room for all my thoughts (so many) but let’s call her a sentient magic item. Additionally, TAG John probs gets a level or two in cleric.

Gordon is a paladin into druid, Circle of the Land (Coast). He and Alan didn't have any previous class levels before becoming paladins. Neither of his classes give any bonuses for it beyond proficiency for paladins but nobody can stop me from making his primary weapon a longbow, plus the Sharpshooter feat is helpful. Coast druid is the only subclass of any d&d class that has a specific focus on water and what could go wrong if we let him turn into animals? It also has some good circle spells, when he gets to that point. He’d probably have a lot of fun with Mirror Image. There was probably an incident that catalysed his becoming a druid, I'd like to think it's the equivalent of the boat crash just placed on a different point in the timeline. Might get into it at a later date.

Alan is just pure paladin, it's all he's really had time to do with his life so far beyond being a kid and growing up, y'know? I’ll get a little into the subclass here, all of IR’s 3rd level or higher paladins take Oath of Devotion. From the PHB: “These paladins meet the ideal of the knight in shining armor, acting with honor in pursuit of justice and the greater good.” Devotion’s core tenets are honesty, courage, compassion, honor, and duty. Also their Channel Divinity: Sacred Weapon is just really cool. Who doesn’t like glowing stuff, man. Alan's got some more powerful paladin abilities than any of his brothers but probably has the lowest total level regardless. Giving him the Athlete feat, which lets him jump and climb a lot easier, feels appropriate. He snuck a griffon home when it was a baby, and is trying to train it. It's not very well behaved and causes a ruckus when it gets bored but he adores it. One day it’ll make a phenomenal companion. For now, it will continue to attempt to eat his fingers.

Brains is an artificer! Love that class. Artificers, rather than casting spells (though they can do that), make magic items. The artificer class is from Unearthed Arcana and a lot of the mechanics can be hit or miss, it’s been revised many times by lots of different people. But when it comes to the basic idea, it’s the obvious choice for Brains. The less common a magic item, the longer it takes and harder it is to make. The higher level an artificer the more, and more powerful, their creations are. Pretty simple. Also pretty much every version of artificer you come across has some sort of option for a mechanical companion so there’s MAX for you.

Tin-Tin is also an artificer, with a few levels in paladin for good measure. Her time is split between making and repairing gear and going out on missions, and when on call is incredibly useful for lightning fixes and is incredibly creative when it comes to the ways magic items (and nonmagic items) can be used to get out of predicaments. This is the character who constantly has Inspiration. Kayo is an Assassin archetype rogue into paladin. Assassins do… a lot of damage. If you know much about d&d rules (I don’t expect you to), the only thing scarier than a bard, stat wise, is a rogue. +10 to stealth is pretty easy to get by 5th level, combine that with Sneak Attack and Assassinate and you can deal up to 26 damage in one hit with a dagger alone. I said I wouldn’t do any maths but I lied.

Penny doesn’t necessarily have any class levels, though rogue would be appropriate. She falls more under the NPC umbrella, somewhere between Noble and Spy, perhaps? NPCs have a lot less restrictions when it comes to what they can and can’t do laterally, but it’s harder to make them powerful without assigning a class. I also think it’d be really neat to use the fantasy setting to make her nonhuman. High elf would be fitting and cool, but she’d also make a fantastic tiefling. Though, like, call me biased, everyone would make a fantastic tiefling.

I think that’s all I’ve got to say on the matter right now. I have a lot more specific details that I’ll get to eventually but this post is more of a jumping off point listing some options for anyone else who might want to mess around with a d&d AU but doesn’t know where to start. Pick out things you like, ditch things you don’t, add whatever sounds cool, and honestly? Congratulations on getting through this whole thing. This post is kind of in shambles. And thanks! I love taking any excuse to pore over these books.

Shoot me an ask or something if anything’s too incomprehensible or there’s something up with the formatting. Later, skaters.

[thetradeway]

Session 21: 28 Nov 2020

What were we doing? Oh right, looking for Raeph. He’s NOT Tarragon’s boyfriend, GODDDDD. We are headed toward Eihshara, in the High Forest. We take a long rest, phew!

Melaina and Gunna lead the charge, as Gunna has been making maps and Melaina is from here. Apparently Ahleqs is still blue, and will be until he either sneezes or the Remove Curse spell is cast on him. (Nope - the beard of feathers lasts until he sneezes. He has not done so.) 

We reach the High Forest. We spend the day walking through it; any gathering done in here yields an extra 1 of whatever you’re gathering as the forest is so rich. Gunna asks Tarragon if she can keep an eye out for a certain sort of hallucinogenic mushrooms; she agrees.

As we eat, Tarragon hears something scrabbling; it doesn’t sound like an animal. She goes to investigate. She can’t see anything but goes back to the group. We continue on but quietly; Melaina climbs a tree and has a look - she sees a giant owl with a small figure on the back. It is watching us, but hasn’t seen Melaina. It’s circling around under the canopy of the giant trees. She shouts: “WHO ARE YOU, WHAT ARE YOU DOING”, makes a performance check and rolls a 3.

The figure still doesn’t seem to notice her. We decide to make ourselves known; no point the thing hunting us if we know it’s there.

The owl alights - there is a gnome on its back. Tarragon: ‘Eyyyy!’ His name is Fidget. 

He nods at us, but seems wary of Kessler. (Mina isn’t here yet.) Melaina tells her to stop swearing and put her clothes back on. He doesn’t want to see her Muppet Babies tattoo. (That’s canon now.) We all start singing the only bit of the Muppet Babies theme we can remember; the bit that goes “Muppet Babies”.

We’re going the right way toward Eihshara, continue on up the Unicorn Run for a few more days. Fidget gives Tarragon a little mechanical bug. He says to follow the green lights and the mechanical bug will lead us to Fidget’s town, and we can resupply if Tarragon will vouch for Kessler (gnomes don’t generally trust goblins). It’s enchanted to be hidden, as gnomish settlements tend to be.

Mina arrives and Kessler promises to be on her best behaviour; she even sets her armour to stealth mode so it’s less scary to look at.

Tarragon starts to spot some green lights in the trees. We follow them until we arrive at a clearing with a river. The village materialises in front of us. Fidget and his owl approach and welcome us to Finkletoog.

Ahleqs asks if there’s a tavern, as he quite fancies either a ploughman’s or scampi and chips. Definitely not a pickled egg in a packet of crisps though. (The smell still haunts Matthew in his nightmares.)

Ahleqs has a thought and goes off to check if everything’s blue; he comes back and is quiet for a bit.

Ahleqs and Melaina; ale and pie of the day, Kessler: ale, pie and chips, Gunna: ale and meat cheese and bread no salad. Totally zero salad, not even a garnish. Tarragon promises to pass on his request, and remove the garnish if it is ignored. She has a vegetable pie.

We sit outside to eat as the bigjobs won’t fit. We look around and see a lot of shops including a tinkerer’s shop. The gnomes are polite but they all give Kessler wary looks. Nobody is rude, however. She smiles and waves whenever she catches someone’s eye; the smiles are warily returned.

Some of us get rations from the inn. Tarragon doesn’t intend to, until Ahleqs comes back out with some potato salad in his; she goes in and buys two days’ worth. Gunna buys us all drinks in our first chance to make merry since the misery house, to thank us all for stopping him from being dead.

These gnomes know how to drink; a regular ale is regular sized. Gunna says he may get another round in. Ahleqs and Tarragon go to the tinkerer’s to buy potions. The shopkeeper comes out to greet us since Ahleqs won’t fit.

Tarragon buys a couple of vials of anti-toxin; Ahleqs has to pass a persuasion check to get his healing potions for the same price offered to Tarragon. (lol.)

Kessler wants to buy some Greater healing potions, but they are 250gp each so she gets some regulars instead.

Gideon arrives and does a massive burp.

Melaina asks to buy 10 Regular Healing Potions for 300 gold and rolls 18 Persuasion. Woohoo! Gunna pitches in 100, as does Kessler. We all pitch in to cover the rest.

Melaina buys some arrows and haggles over them. (Apparently she is this group’s Vex’ahlia. Somewhere, Laura Bailey approves.)

Kessler buys some silvered arrows.

As we go to leave, Fidget tells Tarragon she can keep the bug in case we ever come back.

Follow Unicorn Run NE to halfling village Halfstone Coppice. Follow river toward mountains and we will reach Eihshara.

Kessler asks Tarragon as we leave if she did okay; Tarragon tells her that yes she did and that she’s proud of her. Kessler immediately ruins it by trying to bite Gideon. Ahleqs has named his donkey Clarence, and doesn’t care if it’s a boy or a girl.

Tarragon forages and Gunna hunts a deer and is successful, possibly only because Tarragon casts Entangle on Ahleqs to keep him from crashing around the forest and scaring all the animals. The deer is large enough that there is food for the meat eaters and some over to smoke and add to his rations. Tarragon finds enough berries that she can add some to her rations as well. She doesn’t find any of Gunna’s mushrooms though. Ahleqs is still Entangled when she arrives back to drop the spell, having accepted his fate.

Kessler sets up her alarm spell and takes first watch, which passes uneventfully. She wakes Tarragon politely, and everyone is pleased. Nothing concerning on watch 2; Tarragon spots some fey creatures, but nothing threatening. Melaina is next, and gets advantage on Perception as she’s on her home ground. Again, nothing threatening.

We set off the next morning and follow the river. In the afternoon, we see what we assume is the halfling village. Ahleqs announces that his bum hurts; he’s got saddle sores.

Melaina and Tarragon see tiny figures (halflings) running into the houses and shutting the doors and others chasing them with weapons. They are goblins. Gasp!

Kessler mentions spit-roasting; well, that’s twenty minutes of arsing about right there. We pull ourselves together and rush toward the peril.

Gideon sees some of the halflings through a window; they look more rough and ready than the halflings we’re used to seeing in the cities. More feral.

Kessler goes first; she shouts in Goblin and asks to speak to their leader. It asks why she’s with us; she tells it that we work for her. It indicates Gideon and says that goblins never work with (mountain scum? Or something). Gideon’s ears prick up even though he doesn’t speak goblin; it’s as if someone’s called him that before.

Kessler offers to help the goblins. (Oh fuck.) Nat 20 on persuasion. It says it will take her to its leader if she agrees to tie up Gideon; she refuses. She wants it to bring the leader here; dirty 20. The goblin agrees to go and speak to his boss. She has successfully Karen’ed the situation. Gunna follows Kessler’s lead as instructed, speaking pidgin goblin and doing a gross dance.

She asks us not to attack unless they do; Gideon (OOC) screams “FIREBALL!!!”

Popcorn holds an attack; Tarragon hears a female voice asking for help in gnomish in her head (Are these halflings Ghostwise?), and holds Entangle for any evidence that the goblins are attacking the halflings. Gideon shuffles his feet in the dirt, waiting for something to happen.

A bloodied and injured boar comes running up to Kessler - it bites her. Tarragon hears the voice in her head again - but it seems to be coming from the boar. Huh?

Ahleqs casts Mage Armor. Melaina readies her longbow for if the tide turns and it becomes apparent that we are fighting.

One of the goblins shoots at the boar. This is all very confusing. Joe’s audio drops out, but the boar transforms into a female figure - a tiny, raggedy, red headed halfling. Druids, then? Also possibly ghostwise? (How did I not think of Druids… honestly.)

Gunna peers through a window to see a little halfling couple cowering. In his head he hears the girl begging for help; she says the goblins are slavers. That might change things. Gunna thinks really hard with his mind, using all of his magical psychic northman-ness (of which he has none), “I’m gonna help you, we’ll protect you, there’s a plan I’m pretty sure, just hide, hide and we’ll make sure that you’re not dead”. He stands guard by the door until he realises it’s a window, then edges a little closer to the door, making his presence known. He readies an attack if the goblins try to enter the building. However, the warg and its rider are already scratching at the door. He does a thousand-yard Paddington stare at it. He adjusts his triggering condition - if the door breaks, he will attack. He tells Kessler that he hates her plan.

(Ed has been making mead; it turns out that it’s a little stronger than he thought it was. He apologises in advance.)

The goblin returns and says that the boss won’t come and speak to us unless Kessler’s ‘servants’ are restrained. Kessler shoots a lightning bolt at it. And the fight begins in earnest!

Tarragon goes bear and eats a goblin; Kessler is offended so she spits the bits out. Gideon roasts three more with a Scorching Ray. There’s a lot of drunken rambling; Gideon considers fragging Kessler - ‘it’ll be just like Vietnam, no-one will notice’.

Ahleqs casts Eldritch Blast with ToC and natty 20’s it. He maximises the damage of the next spell  - “MR. PICKLES, WITNESS ME!!!!”

Melaina hides and shoots a warg with sharpshooter and hits. 26 damage and kills it. Woohoo!

The warg reconsiders its life choices as it dies; says a few words to its mum and passes with gratitude. The last few months, his heart hasn’t been in it.

Gunna wants to kill a goblin with another goblin; he decides to attack with a longsword instead. 12 hits, but just. He chops it in half, spraying the yellow flowers in the window box with icky green blood. He roars in triumph.

Bear-Tarragon moves south and finds an ogre with a fortification strapped to it, and a bunch of goblins hanging out of that. Well, that’ll be fun for next week!

Gideon Chill-Touches a goblin. it takes 2 necrotic damage.

AHLEQS DOES MAX DAMAGE ON HIS NEXT ATTACK but Duncan is away next weekend and can’t play. Saturday? Saturday? Everyone else good for Saturday? Right, good. Duncan hands Ahleqs’s reins to Matthew.

[welp-here-i-write]

Town of Salem Shenanigans (Not Red on Whitestone, My Apologies)

Preface: @ceridium and I were playing Town of Salem, naming ourselves Kima (me) and Allura (@ceridium). I got the role of Retributionist, so we acted it out in character. And then she had to leave mid-game, and things got...interesting (and by interesting I mean heart-breaking). So we decided to write it. Kima’s POV is written by me, and Allura’s is written by @ceridium.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lady Kima of Vord -

I hate those idiots sometimes. I have been working too hard with Allie in Emon recently ever since the fall of the Chroma Conclave, and yet here Vox Machina has decided that they “deserve a vacation”. Newsflash, you awful people, heroes don’t get “vacations”. Vacations are for people who can afford to take vacations and not run the risk of the world falling while they’re away. People who don’t run the risk of, oh say, just for an example, going for a small trip to the City of Brass and the Fire Plane for some fancy shit, then coming back and realizing almost the entire group of people that they had massed were being wiped out and my girlfriend had been rendered a fate worse than death.

But don’t worry. That totally didn’t happen. Ever. At all. AT. ALL. Anywho, the adventuring party seemed to deem it fit to go relax in the Feywild due to Percy’s almost forgetting about it and Keyleth’s ever-growing childlike curiosity. Yet, of course they found a massacred town within the Feywild and separate letters mentioning the locations of similarly fated towns should no one intervene. And, of course, they decided that they wanted to continue to relax and sent the locations to myself, Allie, Gilmore, Cassandra and a few other names I didn’t recognize. So now instead of assisting Emon, me and Allie are heading to a small town within the last few floating islands of Draconia. We scried upon it, yet came to no visual at all. So now Allie is forced to merely teleport with the exact address and location in mind.

As she begins to prepare her spell components, her eyes begin to glow with mystical arcane energy. And I can’t help but stare. In this one moment, Allie has never been more beautiful. She has never been more fantastically surrounded by her perfect blue arcane energies or more perfectly framed by the circle around her. I love her. So much. Thank Bahamut for everything that has occurred for us to be together again. She means everything to me. I feel the ring that still resides within a pocket in my armour. The ring that Percy helped me obtain from the best artisan in the planes. Synokier or Cenokir or something like that. It was imbued with a magic energy by Gilmore that should protect her in a time of need and is connected to an identical one that I have begun wearing on my finger. The one on my finger supposedly could even bring Allie back if need be, as long as she is wearing it.

I still can’t believe Vox Machina. We were going to head to the forest nearby Emon, to an old clearing that we used to relax in and eat lunch. And we were going to reminisce about the older days with Drake and -. The others. About how much simpler everything seemed to be. And I was going to propose. But, I guess I could wait until after this run, as it should just take a few days, and be a simple search and destroy. I’ve waited this long.

Allie’s eyes clear and she looks at me. “You ready? I think I found a good spot with basic arcane searching.” Her eyes are still a bright blue, a tad of arcane energy still staying within her eyes. And her smile - it always catches me off guard. It’s gorgeous.

“Yeah.” I reply. She takes my hand and I feel the flux of magic course through me, now familiar with as many times as we’ve had to travel recently. It’s so exhilarating. We suddenly disappear from the Prime Material Plane, Allie’s hand the only anchor to anything as everything goes black and we then land on our feet, meeting the hard ground as we both fall to our knees. I get up and look around, realizing that we are standing on a rather small floating island. The grass is green and completely covers the island, and a ring of houses, what I assume is the town, is in the center of the island. A cobblestone path extends from each house and into the central area, where an elevated platform sits. Allie stands up, hand on her head.

“Kima, I don’t feel quite right. This feels much too like the Ziggurat in Whitestone. I can’t seem to summon any of my magical energies. I’m sorry.”

I look to her, trying to meet her kind and worrying eyes with reassuring ones. “It’s ok. Let’s go investigate that town, eh?” I wink at her and start trudging along towards the small area, looking behind as Allura starts to follow. Man, I really do love her.

<<<<<<<< Break 1 >>>>>>>>

Allura

I continue to try and cast minor spells, but the arcane energy fizzles from my fingertips before it can have any effect. That certainly makes things more difficult. I look to Kima, who I can tell is doing her best to keep her tough, unbreakable demeanor, though a slight bit of something else comes through. She covers it up by puffing up her chest, and throwing her Holy Avenger behind her shoulder. It’s adorable when she does that. She tromps along towards the odd little town ahead, and I follow behind. She looks back occasionally, and quickly puts her vision forward again with an almost guilty look.

From what we know, this place has had strange reports of conflicts between its residents. No one has been able to leave, or at least not alive. The magic in the area is immense. As we enter the town, a resident, dressed in very odd black and white garments, directs us to two adjacent homes where Kima and I could stay. The resident does this without an introduction, and without asking who we were. Very strange.

‘“I don’t like the look of this place, Allie..” Kima mumbles, keeping a firm hand on her Holy Avenger.

“Me neither. But until we figure out what’s going on, it’s probably best to just play along.” She nods. The sun sets oddly quickly across the horizon, and we retreat into our separate homes. As I turn to get into bed, I see a dark, shadowy figure dart across the room. I try to prepare a spell, with no effect. The figure rushes across again, and I feel a painful burning in my head as my vision flashes white, and I feel myself hit the floor before it flashes to black.

-----------------------------------

“Allie, wake up!” A strange voice meets my ears as I’m shaken awake. My eyes shoot open as I see a small armored woman standing over me. She hugs me tightly.

“Oh, you’re alright! I found you in the middle of the floor, and I was worried something happened to you.” The woman says, relieved about something.

“Wha- Where am I?” I ask.

“What do you mean? We’re in this weird town Vox Machina sent us to.”

“Who’s Vox Machina?” The woman’s face drops.

“Oh no. No no no. What’s your name?” I try my hardest to remember, but I can’t.

“I don’t know.” She takes a second to gather her thoughts.

“Just…just stay close to me, ok?” The woman helps me up from the floor. She looks devastated.

“Who are you?”

“My name- my name is Kima. Yours is Allura, but I call you A-Allie.” She chokes up a bit.

“That is a nice name. Did I do something, Kima? You look upset.”

“No. It’s nothing,” Her sadness is instantly replaced with toughness. She takes my hand and leads me outside, into a town with a ring of houses around a central platform. I study Kima’s face as she leads me. Dark complexion, a large scar across her eye, and the look of a badass. I can feel a tugging familiarity in the back of my head, but I can’t make the connection. Kima. The more I study her face, the more I realize just how stunning she is. The way she holds herself, her strength, her attitude….it’s incredibly impressive. I don’t remember who she is, but I already know I’m in love with her. Hopefully I can still make her happy.

The other people in this town are standing on the edge of the circle surrounding the central platform, and yelling at each other furiously. In one of the spots where a person would be standing lays a body with a smoking wound in its forehead.

“He did it! I KNOW he did!” One man shouts.

“You’re just trying to get him killed!” Another yells. One person shoves another up to the central platform.

“Hey, what the hell?! I’m innocent, you guys!” The person, a woman, yells.

“Sure you are! Guilty!” Half of the whole town echoes that last word in sync. It’s unnerving. Someone hops up to the platform, and Kima and I watch in horror as they fasten a noose around the woman’s neck and hang her in front of the whole town. Kima pulls me in a little closer. Suddenly, the whole town retreats to their homes in perfect synchronization, and we do our best to play along. We both open windows on the side of our houses and lean out to talk to each other.

“You saw that, right? They hung that woman!”

“I know. It was horrifying.”

“We need to get out of here. This is more Vox Machina’s line of work.” Her expression told me that wasn’t the real reason she wanted to get out of here. Either way, this place seemed like it could get dangerous for the both of us really quickly. I go to sleep, careful to keep my eyes open as long as possible before allowing myself to pass out.

<<<<<<<< Break 2 >>>>>>>>

Kima

I sit alone in my room, the silence dragging on for what feels like hours. Allie is sitting in the adjoining room, last I saw her with a confused look upon her face. A continual confusion. I still have no idea what’s wrong with her, and I don’t dare risk the ring, just in case it may not work. I can only use it once, and I’ll be damned if I try using it when it wouldn’t even apply to this situation. But still, the thought lingers in my head. The idea that the love of my life sits completely unaware of what is going on, hoping to one day remember or be of use tears my heart to shreds. I feel my resolve slowly start to crack as that thought strikes me. I can’t help but to let a few tears loose. It’s too much.

Allie, the most perfect being I’ve ever met, rendered useless yet again. I love her too much and could never stand to live without her. As I continue to reflect on the night, I find my eyelids getting heavier and heavier, not responding to my resistance as sleep takes hold of me.

I wake up, feeling as though only seconds have gone by, yet as I look out the window, I see the sun out and grab Allie as I see everyone begin to walk out of their homes. We both quickly run out, me leaving my armour and Holy Avenger within the room. While standing and witnessing the looks from everyone as they see two more dead bodies, I see Allie’s eyes suddenly widen.

Where once her eyes were dull, almost glazed over, they are now filled with intelligence and I see the same sharp wit return. She looks to me with sudden recognition, and while the others begin to shout at each other, she runs to me and grasps me around the waist, giving me the largest hug that I’ve had in a long while. There are tears in her eyes, and I feel the searing wetness within my own begin to take form.

“I love you.” She whispers. I look back, feeling a surge of emotions take over me. I look back at her, tears steadily streaming down my face.

“I love you too, and I swear to any deity that is listening, if you ever. And I mean ever. Do that to me again Vysoren, I will fucking kill you.” I can’t keep a straight face, instead my eyes simply continue to cry and my voice breaks. Then her eyes widen as she looks at two people whispering. Her mouth moves with the one’s speaking almost simultaneously. “Um, Allie, you ok there?”

She turns to me and shakes her head. “Um, yes. That certainly was new. It seems that I have regained some of my magical abilities, but only the ability to hear other’s secret conversations.” The group continues to argue when a man, different from the previous one yells something inaudible.

I observe the rest of this town as they mutter their agreements and another man shouts out, “Burn the bitch then, eh?!” I look at the woman he is pointing towards, her small and innocent looking form cowering in fear. I am about to speak out for her when I feel something indescribable stop me. I let them bring her up to the dias and yet again, we hear the screaming of the agreement, “GUILTY!”

I almost feel a tear shed at the innocent life, when I realize that as she is tied to a stake, she screams out a single phrase, her innocent demeanor now gone. “I would’ve watched you all burn!” She releases as suddenly the flames catch her body. Her screams echo through the night and I turn and walk away, towards the home, not noticing that Allura’s eyes widened as her mouth continued to move, my name escaping her lips, along with the words “kill” and “tonight”.

<<<<<<<< Break 3 >>>>>>>>

Allura

“The bitch is finally dead. We’re gonna kill Kima tonight, got it?” The words echo through my mind. They thought they wouldn’t be heard. What am I going to do? I pace around my room. My magic is extremely limited here. I don’t believe I can teleport us out, and none of my damaging spells are functioning properly. I was lucky to overhear the plans in the first place.

My mind fills with images. Of Kima falling to one of these people’s strange weapons. Of her eyes rolling back into her head. Of her body covered in blood. Of her watching me with a look of disappointment. The thoughts alone nearly bring me to tears. I can’t let that happen. Whatever it takes. I won’t let that happen.

I shake my head. Think of a plan. Maybe I can find one of their weapons. Their weapons. They resemble the ones that Percival has, but are much more advanced. I’ve never seen Percival’s weapon take someone down with one charge before, but these weapons can. It’s much more terrifying. After thinking it over, and finding no suitable solution, I start to hear footsteps from outside..

Oh, gods. Being brave is more Kima’s forte than mine. But I have to try. I leap from my window and through hers as the assailants burst through her door. I spot a grin on Kima’s face as she draws her Holy Avenger. The townsperson raises their weapon. Kima’s grin turns to horror as I use all of my strength to shove her to the floor in the corner of the room.

“Allie!-”

BANG!

The weapon fires, a flash of fire-like light bursting from the front as I feel immense pain course through my chest. I look down, and notice my robes quickly turning red in the area. I drop to one knee, trying to catch my breath as the assailant gets ready to fire again, and look over at Kima, still on the ground. She’s ok. It’ll all be worth it if she’s ok.

<<<<<<<< Break 4 >>>>>>>>

Kima

I grunt as I suddenly smack against the floor, the sound of a loud thunderclap going off above me. Where Allie was. I look up and see her grasping her chest, her white gown is slowly turning into a red and pink one. Oh no. Allie. I grasp my Holy Avenger in my hands as one of the people begin to drag her body towards the outside area. So that’s how the bodies were always in perfect position. Well they aren’t taking my Allie. Not while I have anything to say about it. I will make them all pay.

I take up my Holy Avenger, charging towards the man closest to me. He raises his weapon. I can tell when he’s about to fire, I can feel Bahamut’s blessing soaring within me. As he slowly pulls what I assume to be a trigger similar to that of a crossbow, I feel my body move on it’s own, impossibly fast. I jump to the left, not stopping my run. I hear his gasp of surprise as I raise the blade, a blue flame completely flying from my blade. “Not like this Allie! I’m coming for you!” I crash the blade down, aiming for his ribs. The blade feels no resistance as it slices cleanly through his body. Suddenly, the forged wings that form the handle of the blade glow even more radiantly, and instead of angel wings turn into those of a blue dragon’s. I feel Bahamut’s strength and aura around me as I continue for the next man. The man carrying Allie is just in front of him.

“FOR BAHAMUT!” I roar, leaping towards his form. He pulls his trigger and I feel the impending projectile as it hits my armour, slowly piercing. Then, just as soon as it’s about to pierce my skin, I flare with another burst of radiant energy and the projectile is turned to ash. I come down with a cleaving swing aimed to split his skull.

It hits it’s mark.

“FOR ALLURA!” I hit the ground and take another swing as I see the final man brandishing a weapon much more complex looking than the others’. He looks at me as my tear-stained eyes glare back at him.

“Hm. You pose much more of a threat than I anticipated. Nonetheless, I guess that if you want something done, you have to do it yourself.” He eyes me yet again and I take my final jump, the Aura of Bahamut searing my flesh as the heat becomes incredibly intense. Burn you disgusting motherfu-.

I crash to the ground.

The sword goes flying the other direction as I roll, a new type of searing pain within my abdomen.

I look up at him, eyes filled with anger and seething hatred.

“Anywho. My business is done for the night. Feel free to take your own life, it’ll be much faster than this. Goodnight.” He says calmly, wiping his weapon before sliding it into his coat pocket. He walks away, heading for the house opposite the center. And as he leaves, I look towards Allie.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Allura

Kima pounds her fist on the ground, and yells out, trying to mask the pain. I clutched at my chest. Kima painfully crawls her way over to me. Every grunt she made on the way over was agonizing to me. She does her best to sit up, and holds my head in her lap. I can feel my energy fading me. She puts her hand on my wound, and tries to heal it, with no effect.

“No. NO! WHY ISN’T IT WORKING?!” She screams.

“I’m…I’m so sorry, Kima. I failed you again.” I say, failing to hold back tears.

“Don’t say that. This isn’t over yet. You’re gonna get out of here, you’re gonna tell Vox Machina how much of an ass they were, and you’re gonna be fine-” “Kima. Be realistic.” She glances down at her once-magnificent armor, which now has a hole blown inwards, only tearing her wound apart more. I look down at my hands, now trembling. I fail to even attempt a spell.

“Don’t leave me, Allie. I love you too much.” Kima says. Her strength is broken. Her heroism is gone. The tear tracks on her face reflect the moonlight, and only emphasize her gorgeous eyes. Kima. The beautiful. warrior who’s everything I’m not. Yet, in this moment, she breaks down. Because of me. I put my hand on her wound. Maybe I can…no. Nothing works here. I grab the edge of her armor and use the last bit of my strength to pull myself up and kiss her. I feel her arms grab me tighter than ever. I open my eyes, and the image of her face blurs. I’ll miss her so much.

“I love you-” I get out, before the last bit of my energy fades, and my vision goes dark. I’ll see you soon.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kima

No. No. No. Nonononononononononono. “Allie.” I whisper. “Allie, Gods damnit say something. Allie.” My voice cracks and I can’t take it anymore as soon as I feel the body go limp. My Allie. Allie. She means the world to me. I can’t have her leave now. We were going to go back to Emon.

We were going to go back to the clearing within the woods just outside the city. We were going to be together.

We were going to be together forever. I had the ring made. THE RING. I look frantically through my pocket, trying to reach for it as my arms become more and more sluggish. Then, I feel something. I feel a small, round metal object. The ring. I pull it out and look at it with awe and joy. I reach for Allura’s hand and as my shaking fingers try to place it on her own cold ones, I almost drop it. I put the ring on Allie’s finger and begin to focus my energy into the ring.

I put everything I have left into it. I pray to Bahamut for anything and everything. For Allie to be ok. And as I open my eyes, I see the ring, dormant on her finger. Of course. No magic works here. No magic.

I realize with a sudden worry that there is nothing I can do. I hold her hand in mine and just let the rest of my energy flow in the form of tears. She’s gone. And that’s all I can think about. I lay down her head upon the ground, then follow suit, laying next to her. I look at her closed eyes and for a second I can almost believe that she really is just asleep. That this is merely the ruins of some tower she found near the clearing and she wanted us to investigate it. That we found nothing, but as nightfall came, she pulled me down to the ground with her and just asked a simple question.

“Kima, will you watch the stars with me?” I looked into her own eyes and just smiled.

“Of course.” We sat here for hours, just witnessing the beauty of the world, and as I turned my head just now, I saw her sleeping face. She is beautiful and ethereal. I want the fantasy to be true do badly. I want her back. But that doesn’t matter anymore.

I look down at my own wound as I lay with her. It hasn’t stopped bleeding. I sigh, looking into her eyes. “Allura, I love you. I just wanted you to know that, ok? I love you so much. I guess we’ll be seeing each other sooner than I thought. Goodnight my love. I will not break my vow. I will stay with you… all our days…” And I let the darkness take me.

Fin -

[rpg-adventures]

A New Dawn: Second Darkness Epilogue

With the deactivation of the master glyph and the defeat of Allevrah Azrinae, the terrible doom Golarion secretly faced was averted. The falling star that had been captured by the aboleth magic was released, and the influence of the powerful magic that shielded it from the planet’s atmosphere faded.

Before returning to Kyonin to inform the Queen, the adventurers were met by an emissary of Abraxas who introduced herself as Alistraxia. She informs them that her master, Abraxas did not care if Allevrah completed her goals, he simply wanted to ensure than the Aboleth magic she utilized was not forgotten. To this end, she offers them a magical item if they were to take the research and keep them safe, deep within a surface world library for a seeker to find once again. Though Caeldor seemed tempted by the offer, his companions vehemently disagreed and young Lamia set the research ablaze before the mage had any time to argue.

The loss of the research seemed not to faze the demon, who simply smiled and stated that more copies were sure to surface as time went on. A boon of the human race’s habit of documenting their failures, she mocked, before returning to her realm.

With Alistraxia’s last words spoken and the Aboleth magic turned to ash, the party returned to Kyonin to assure the elves that another Starfall was prevented. Their mission was a success.

---

“Ledhpóna Kyonin!”

Caeldor’s voice echoed with magic. One moment, they were staring at the purple-glow of the Blood Basilica’s runic walls and in the next, bright morning light shone upon them.

Like the Drow they had fought, the adventurers shielded their eyes, briefly blinded by the first natural light they had seen in weeks. Tears stung Uyula’s eyes, as she squinted into the sun.

“Praise Gozreh!” she exclaimed, wiping her face and crouching to feel the grass between her fingers. “I can actually see the sky!”

Slowly the group regained their bearings, adjusting to the light gleaming of the pearlescent spires of elven architecture that surrounded them and the sounds of natural, running water and murmured Elvish reached their ears.

“Suilanna, Master Sanakt,” one of the royal guard greeted from the edge of the courtyard. “I am glad to see you all return.”

“Suilanna, meldir,” the Paladin replied with a weary smile. “As are we, I assure you.”

“The Queen will wish to speak with you,” he advised, looking over the worn set of warriors. His gaze finally rested on Uyula, sitting in the grass stroking the singed leaves of Twill’s wings with an untempered grin on her face as she basked in the sunlight. The guard’s shoulders relaxed somewhat, and he smiled at Sana.

“You seem in good spirits. Would you like to refresh yourself before seeking an audience with Queen Edasseril?” his eyes shifted to the grime on their armor, but he held his smile politely. “Perhaps a bath and some more comfortable attire?”

“A bath sounds wonderful,” Caeldor agreed. “So much more satisfying than a little prestidigitation. Yes, and well earned, I might add.”

“A little dirt never hurt anyone,” Uyula rolled her eyes, before noticing the blackened demon blood that still stained Twill’s ligneous maw. Bits of gore remaining from Allevrah still hanging from her horns, “...but I guess baths don’t either. So maybe a bath?”

Imani locked eyes with Sana, silently conveying her thoughts on the matter. ‘A private moment would be prefered. We should speak before reporting to the Elves.’

Sana nodded and addressed the guard. “Please. A few moments to clean up would be appreciated.”

The guard gestured to one of his peers to join them. “Galan here will show you to the guest quarters and I will inform the Queen of your arrival. Rest well.“

---

The guest quarters were undoubtedly elven, with curved walls and lavish decor that covered every inch of the room. Curtains draped over alcoves with private quarters and the enchanted harp sat by the marble bathing pool in one of the larger alcoves, serenading the space with an ethereal song. A step up from the simple quarters the group had shared during their previous stay in the Elven capital.

Uyula was never one to have a very high regard for strict personal hygiene, thinking there to be much more important things to worry about in life on a day to day basis and cleaning only really needed to happen when you couldn’t stand the stink of yourself or had something really yucky on your clothes with no handy spell to be rid of it - but as the steam from the perfectly heated and scented pool rolled along her dark skin she felt her muscles ache pleasantly for the water. It was time to wash off the land of Black Blood.

She didn’t bother with the sectioned quarters, simply walking up to the side of the pool and beginning to shed her layers and equipment. Weapons, gloves, bag, belt, armour, shoes, all in one unified ungraceful pile. Her clothes felt more like rags now, still damp with sweat and blood and dirt and the shower of conjured water she’d used to put out the fire clinging to herself and Twill. Uyula hummed thoughtfully, noting how strange it felt to think back to things that had happened mere hours ago, but already felt like a distant memory when suddenly surrounded with the life and light of Kyonin. She could barely believe they’d really been there, underground and surrounded by evil for such a long time.

“Come, Twill!” she called, reaching an arm back to beckon her companion as she waded down the steps into the pool. “We hafta wash the Allevrah off you.”

“Won’t that transfer ‘the Allevrah’ onto anyone else who wishes to clean themselves?” The giant wolf asked incredulously, coming to poise at the marble edge of the water sphinx-like, with her bark-tail swishing back and forth along the floor behind her. Bunny and Nutty scampered about over her shoulder, jumping back and forth after each other around the room looking for places to hide, bumping into things and making a great ruckus. Twill’s head snapped back and she bared her teeth with a low, warning grown - Nutty froze still as a statue and Bunny darted under Uyula’s cloak, peering out with its blood-red eyes aglow and nose twitching. At least the polymorphed pets of hers were starting to know their place.

“We can be like barbarians, and bathe in the blood of our enemies!” The half-elf cackled gleefully in jest, swishing her hands through the water to toss some up towards her friend, then ceased with a grin. “I’ll just purify the water when we’re done. Come on, I don’t like looking at you like that.”

Twill crouched down low over her front paws to scrutinise the pool, and after another moment’s thought rolled in with a loud and cumbersome splash. Uyula giggled like a child as she watched her eidolon roll about like an excitable puppy in a summer puddle, the leafy feathers along the ridges of her wings fluffing up with pleased relief even as the water around her started to cloud with the dark blood of vrocks and drow washing from her form. After she’d finished and gotten to her feet, looking far closer to her natural pale-oak colour once more, Uyula sat back and opened her arms, welcoming her close to fondly scrub behind her ears and pluck at stubborn flesh and gunk that still clung to the eidolon’s horns.

“I’m proud of you, Twill,” she breathed, pressing her face to Twill’s wide snout. “We did it, and you made the killing blow. I’m sure Gozreh is pleased for that, that would mean the world was saved in his grace, wouldn’t it? And now we can go home.”

Home. Churlwood. How long had they been gone? Would that tiny forest with its simple rules and easy problems be enough for her summoner when she returned, after all that she’d seen and carried and been through? She’d gone from a quirky, wood-dwelling loner to a world-savior, powerful and with powerful allies, and no longer faceless in a crowd. Soon, if not already, everyone in Kyonin would know their names and faces and celebrate them, and she wondered if the girl would know the Uyula they spoke of.

The great wolf hesitated a moment, her large golden eyes gazing up into Uyula’s own of the same shade, trying to find her answer. She lowered her head and nuzzling to her summoner’s shoulder. “We can go wherever you like, little one. Now clean the water before the wizard pitches a fit.”

Uyula sighed, and glided her hands along the soiled surface, mumbling to it in the secret Druidic tongue. Light shifted through the water, and within moments it was clear once more.

“I also appreciate it,” Imani admitted from the edge of the pool, hanging her heavy coat on a golden branch that seemed to grow out of the mural painted across the wall that curved around the bath. Methodically, she unbuckled and removed the few pieces of armor she wore. Their last encounter in Alleverah’s temple had left her gear in worser wear than normal.

As soon as Lamia placed her gear to the side of the bath, Imani pulled the thin, silk curtain around the perimeter for the scant touch of modesty it offered and began to disrobe.

“Caledor?” she asked through the curtain. “Can you make certain this room is safe from prying eyes and ears? The Elves may be our allies, but indulge my paranoia this once.”

She could feel the elf’s protest on the end of his tongue, but the words caught in his throat. Sighing heavily, the mage set to work on a spell.

“Considered yourself indulged, Imani. Our privacy is assured,” he announced, obviously too weary to argue the superior status of elves for once. In truth, the Winter Council and Alleverah herself had done much to deflate his own thoughts on the matter. “Do hurry it up in there. This ‘ladies first’ business is quite bothersome, you know.”

The tiefling ignored the comment and smiled to herself as she slipped into to warm, scented water. Honeysuckle and lavender, she noted, only just able to hold back a grimace. She missed the heady, spicy scents of Katapesh. Amber and sandalwood, balanced with desert rose. With a sigh, she dipped her hair in the floral bath and washed away the thought of home. It was a place she knew she would not be returning to, despite her hope when leaving Riddleport almost a year ago.

“I do not think it wise to share all of what we know with the Elves,” Imani spoke just loud enough to ensure Caeldor and Sana were still included through the drapes. “They have shown themselves to be seduced by ill-practices, and surprisingly short-sighted for a race who are so long-lived. Coupled with their natural talents for the arcane, I do not feel sharing the existence of aboleth magic, to risk them to seeking it, is a wise venture.”

Her strange gaze flicked up to the shadows behind the curtain. She could not deny her concern for the Paladin’s morals in such a situation. “How much do you intend to tell them, Sana?”

Lamia chimed in as she slowly slid herself into the pool. She’d been quiet for the past while not really thinking it was her place to speak; after all, what did a nineteen year old child know about the machinations of elves and demon lords? What she did know was that no one should have access to such evil.

“Perhaps we just tell them that the drow’s plan has been stopped… and not about Abraxas’ plans. If anything it’ll scare ‘em and probably inspire others to search for the stuff…” She pulled a nervous and lamentful face that was only privy to those on her side of the curtain. She met Imani’s eyes for a moment before shrugging and going back to lazily scrubbing the grime and demon blood off of her.

Sana’s walking slowed, until he stood near the edge of the large pool. He’d barely stopped moving since they arrived at the accommodation, leaving the room and returning multiple times and engaging the guards on the door, as well as his own shield, in muted conversation. His eyes unfocused, he looked as though he were seeing through the walls of their residence. Imani might have believed he was, if it weren’t for her particular ring being decidedly absent from Sana’s fingers. “You’ve both got points, I think,” he began. Although he, too, was speaking softly his voice projected around the room. “It’s not quite right though. Maybe I’ve become to used to the fight, but I feel like now is the time to be proactive.” Sana fixed his gaze on the curtain that obscured Imani and Lamia.

“If I know you at all, Imani, you’ve already started planning something. I’d hear it, if you’re willing. What we do and say in the next few hours could well ripple down the years.”

Imani’s gaze shifted from the paladin’s broad shadow, across the water to the women bathing beside her. After a quiet moment, she nodded softly and spoke up.

“Before we embarked for Zyrnakanin, I sent a letter back to Magnimar for my brother. It was… my resignation from the Order,” she began, sinking down to let the water sit just below her scarred shoulders. “I walked through that portal, and into the Darklands as Imani Fiendborn -- a tiefling free to pursue her own path in service to the Seven Veils. No longer am I a ward of the Kassis family, nor a Shadowbreaker. As such, returning to Riddleport is not an option for me.”

It felt like an awkward admission to leave hanging, lest one of her companions find the chance to comment, so the half breed quickly continued.

“Leaving the Order removes what protection I had. Not only does the blood of fiends run through these veins, but I know their ways, their tactics and safe houses. While it places a sizable target on my back, it also leaves me to pursue matters that my Lady deems more important,” she continued. “The gloating of the maralith has me concerned. There was no lie in her words. Abraxas unearths secrets that should be best left to rest, and as any demon would, cares nothing for the chaos his machinations unleash. For me, at least, the journey is only beginning. Reconnaissance would be my goal for the foreseeable future, and I expect it will take me far from the Order’s gaze for the time being.”

“Should the Elves allow it, I would like to start my research here, in their libraries,” she concluded.

Uyula scrunched up her elven nose, pulling a face. She looked a mix of concerned and disgusted.

“Here? Surely the only one of us who’d happily stay here is the wizard.” She paused and rolled her eyes as Caeldor huffed and muttered about her from behind the curtain. If only the ancient, secret Druidic language had swears, then both of them could curse at each other in other languages.

“Another way you could look at it is,” she started thoughtfully, her head bobbing back and forth to the pandering of Twill’s grass-coloured tongue lapping insistently at her hair, like a she-wolf cleaning her young. “Maybe that Alistraxia told us what she did on purpose, so that we’d pursue these other documents and rituals to keep the curses alive. She did say Abraxas just wanted to be known and unforgotten. What better way than to work up the people who defeated him into a frenzy, looking all over for the Aboleth magic and keeping the knowledge of it fresh?”

Twill’s head rose, her amber eyes regarding Imani, silently awaiting a response as though some undecided action relied on it.

“She also assured us that were we not willing to carry the knowledge to the surface, others would fill that role in time,” the tiefling pointed out softly. “We did not defeat Abraxas in the Darklands, we merely prevailed over Allevrah’s plans. I do not believe staying idle would do much to impede his goal in this case.”

Laima’s eyes were trained hard on Imani like a concerned mother. Though the tiefling had several years on her the simple nature of ‘family first’ the youth had been raised with shone through, and like it or not they were all family.

“If Riddleport is no longer safe for you…” she trailed off as internal debate wore on her face, “... even the Gold Gekko cannot offer safe haven, you have men of your- uhm, ex-Order there. Will they remain? What of my brothers? Would they use us to get to you?”

She found herself rattling off too many questions and bit her tongue for a moment. “Whatever your plans are, I'll be there for you, Imani, I promise.”

The tieflings grey lips curved into a brief smile. The young girl had come a long way since that night following the battle of Celwynvian. Imani inclined her head gratefully. “Thank you. In my letter I had mention of Celwynvian, I expect the men at the Gekko have since be recalled and reassigned to follow that lead. The Shadowbreakers have a weak presence in Varisia, their forces will have to conviene in Katapesh from around Cheliax and Orision before they get organized and move out. Should they still be stationed at Riddleport, they will be no threat to you or your brothers. Simply tell them the truth, tell them we split paths in Kyonin. I will ensure I am not here when they arrive to check.”

Lamia nodded slowly, her brow furrowed for the briefest of moments but she seemed sated by the answer. “Alright. Just remember if y'all ever need a place to lay low, the Golden Gekko is open. I'll have the underground passages made up as a safe house if we ever need it.”

With that Lamia dunked her head under the pools surface for a moment to let the matted sweat and blood wash out of her dark locks. Once reemerged she rested against the lip of the lavish cistern with a happy hum. They'd won the battle and while the fight wasn't over it was still a good time to enjoy the pleasantries of life.

“Uyula has a point too. How do we know this isn't a trap set by Abraxas?” the young woman pointed out.

The armoured figure on the other side of the curtain turned, and his voice was softer, as if speaking away from the bathers.

“It’s a Demon Lord. As much as it wants the Aboleth magic remembered, if we’re even slightly a threat it can simply ignore us until we just… go away. And we will, eventually,” he continued sadly.  “Time will take us all. Proactive action, something where we can make a lasting impact is the only way to curb the revelations Abraxas wants to unleash.”

He chuckled, “A trap is ultimately a compliment, like the opposite of damning by faint praise. If it wants us trapped, then I feel there must be more we can do to stymie its plans.” The sound of Sana’s fist meeting his palm emphasised this statement.

“I think reconnaissance is a good idea. Finding out what already exists is a good start. The tunnels under the Gekko are also an exceptional idea. I may see if I can put the Arena to some use for us as well. There’s something else I’m missing; something we, as our Hyena pack can do, even if we have to go our separate ways.”

The shadow made to turn back as if looking at Twill’s bulk behind the curtain when he stopped. “Hyenas...” he muttered softly, the projection gone from his voice. “Which were… and then the priestess… domains…” he trailed off; thinking aloud.

A silence filled the room as Sana paced away from the curtain, before turning back to his starting point. He paused for a moment before his pace accelerated, and he stopped himself just short of swiping the curtain in front of the alcove back. Hand still on the rich cloth, eyes focused as if staring through the walls of the room he began to cautiously speak, as if his words would flee if he tried to speak them too quickly. “Months ago, before we arrived here for the first time, I told Uyula a story from my youth. How a man from the desert hills of Osirion had come to the temple seeking aid against the wild hyenas of the red lands. As he told his story it was my abbott that I watched.” Sana’s head turned, reliving the scene in his mind’s eye. “It seemed the abbott could have told the man his own story and it dawned on me I was living a fable, a parable, a tale where the telling teaches, aside from strict lessons and repetition of lore.

“Later,” Sana’s whole body shifted, as if he were moving to a separate table, to physical evidence only he could see. “When we arrived here in Kyonin, our first accommodation had that book, the one we believed was from Queen Edasseril. We read of the tale of the Priestess and the Quasit. We knew there was a message hidden within; why else would it have been so conspicuously left for us? “I believe now that the Queen was preemptively asking forgiveness on behalf of the Winter Council; they’d schemed for so long they couldn’t help but do otherwise. My tale asked that we stand together in the face of opposition. Each was a story with a separate message, knowledge couched in a format easy to spread, enjoyable to learn. Knowledge where the context was only revealed when it became necessary.” A predatory smile now began to spread over Sana’s face and his pace rushed. “Abraxas’ domains include knowledge, the forbidden. He wants this information remembered, he wants it feared. The maralith implied as much. ‘Fear the Aboleth magic, fear the might of the ancients and fear the being that can gift it to your enemies’. Let’s twist it,” he mimed. “Twist the knowledge he’s given us, remove the forbidden nature of it. Take what we know of the Glyphs, their crafting and their destruction and build a story around it. One where the Aboleths, their falling stars, destruction on Golarion are absent unless you know the real context. We build a fable that only speaks of how to break apart the stabilising and master glyphs, to recognise when they’ve been built. Not to fear them but to render them nuisances to which the answer lies in a childhood fable, the same way one burns incense for the gods or wears silver to deter ‘thropes.

“Destroying the instructions that the maralith and Abraxus would place is but a sliver of our strategy. We’ll poison the well, so to speak, by making the knowledge of the Glyphs and Starfall useless before it’s implemented. One day, the knowledge that the magic came from the Aboleths might be just a historical curiosity. A curious scrap to share when you plan on getting too deep in your cups to know anything else. “What we tell the Queen and her people later today should reflect this goal. They know so much already of what they faced, but we may be able to convince them of our way of seeing things. If they don’t know there is more to find, they think we’re just heroes wanting our story told our way, they may agree.”  Sana’s eyes focused again, as he turned back to the concealing curtain and the bearded elf in front of it.

From behind the thin drapes, the tiefling laugh bubbled. It was a rare sound -- soft, but harsh like the light rattling of iron nails in a clay jar. Imani ascended the marble stairs leading from the bath and claimed one of the folded linen towels on the cabinet nearby, grinning to herself.

“My Lady would find much poetry in such a tactic, I should think,” she spoke toward the curtain as she dressed. Though the elven clothes were freshly laundered, the half-breed was about as fond of elven fashion as she was elven architecture. She muttered a soft curse her native tongue as she attempted to fix the laces that held the fitted bodice together.

“Everything alright?” Caeldor drawled, his shadow shifting closer to the curtain.

“Fine,” Imani growled, dissolving into a grateful smile as Lamia stepped up to assist her. “Just marvelling the construction of elven tailoring.”

As the young brunette went to fetch the matching skirts to Imani’s bodice, the tiefling frowned and shook her head, opting for a pair of the soft leather breeches possibly intended for the men, and boots to match.

“Thank you,” she smiled to the girl, retrieving her bladed scarf and ducking out from behind the curtain. The look she saw on Sana’s face was almost as amusing as the clothing had been frustrating. “I apologise, Imani,” he said, regaining composure. “I’d not even considered how the Seventh Veil would respond to such a tactic. That was remiss of me.”

Sana began removing his armour, as if remembering that he, too, would have to clean up before standing before the Elvish Queen.

“Ooooh,” Uyula sung finally, “I get it. You mean to say, because there’s no one here that could challenge our story on what happened, we could twist the truth to our advantage? Removing the dread of Abraxas and the ritual and all of that from the tale completely? That’s so smart, Sana.” She gathered her thick mounds of raven hair up in hand and began wringing the water from it, batting away Twill’s gnarled snout as she stood.

“If we could pull it off, that would cause to happen exactly what he’s so afraid of. He’d be left out of his own story and maybe even forgotten.” A grin spread across her dark lips at the thought. It was such a simple concept, yet could so easily be executed.

“History is written by the victors,” Twill hummed, following suit and standing, shaking out the water from the long thin branches that made up the sort-of mane along her neck and shoulders, littering the pool with leaves and small twigs, “and bards do like a moral to be at the centre of their epic stories. I see no reason not to spite Abraxas and omit him and his omens from our journey.”

“‘The Incredible Adventures of Caeldor the Magnificent’ sounds like a title the bards would love,” the bearded elf chortled from the other side of the curtain. “‘The Many Arcane Bumblings of Caeldor the Treasure-Obsessed…’” Lamia muttered to the ladies as she finished dressing herself in a simple but beautiful elven dress.

“We have plenty of time to build on this,” Sana said with a smile as Lamia walked out from behind the curtain. “But yes, Uyula, that’s exactly what I was thinking. Although I think instead of twisting the truth, we’re encouraging a story to become legend faster than it normally would. Besides, it is our story to tell and we can depict the villain however we like. And if we choose for that to be off-stage, so be it.”

“I think, Imani,” he said, turning to the tiefling, “in answer to your original question, we tell the Queen and her court that we prevented Alleverah’s magic from bringing the star from the sky, and destroyed her research and theories lest we become tempted, let alone anyone else.” If Caeldor felt Sana was deliberately not looking in his direction as the Osirian spoke, he didn’t show it.

“If they ask for specifics, we can provide a series of ritual sites, heavily defended, and state that we feel they are best left alone. The Drow presence may be gone, but there are creatures there that have no love for up-worlders and they remain at large. The Creature at the Crystal Plaza springs to mind.”

Lamia quickly shook her head. “That monster… I don’t think we have the power to defeat it. What kind of thing can exist in all planes at once at once, but I see your point.”

“Then we shall let the two of you bathe,” Imani nodded in full agreement. “Then we shall spin our tale for the Court.”