#thewingedbaron

[thewingedbaron]

Owlcatober Day Eleven: Medals

So glad to be back to writing. Its been a WEEK folks! Hope you can forgive me for missing a few days, things have been real weird the last couple days. This fully self-indulgent scene between Allix and Arueshalae should help :)

Seriously, thanks for reading these. Interacting with everyone has been so so fun this month ;-;

Medals and Recognitions (1,446 words)

Fandom: Pathfinder Wrath of the Righteous

Ship: Arueshalae/KC (Allix)

Warnings: Very Cute.

Read here under the cut, or over on Ao3

The doublet itched. Allix turned himself this way and that, studying every inch of his costume in the full length mirror. That’s what it felt like, a costume. He was dressed to the nines in a custom tailored suit, dark satin green with forest brown accents. It fit him like a glove, everything in its proper place except for the gods damned doublet. 

With a sigh, he removed it, buttoning up his shirt to fill some of the gap. He was left with a neckline just short of plunging that exposed the tops of his collarbones. Not a bad look, by any means, but a touch less formal than the tailor had originally intended. He could deal with that. 

As he studied the suit, his eyes could not help but travel to the man behind it, tail swishing anxiously as he looked himself over. Just short of three years ago, he’d been a bounty hunter, down on his luck, drifting through the world wound in search of more dangerous targets for heavier sacks of gold. Almost three years ago, he’d awoken in a square in Kenebres, bleeding from the chest with a dragon leaned over him. In those three years, he’d lead armies against the forces of the abyss, tread through the worst horrors a mortal could imagine. He had almost been an angel, though Heaven would have likely rejected his… contrary nature had he followed through. Instead, he’d given up his power, become a mere mortal again, and then lead one of the most daring military campaigns in Golarion’s history that had ended in the death of two demon lords and the closing of the World Wound, which had plagued the mortal realms for more than a century. And yet… 

When Allix looked in the mirror, he saw the same roughshod mercenary desperate to scrape up some coin before he starved. His eyes had crows feet at their edges. His thick beard was beginning to show a little more gray than he was comfortable with. Scars, new and old littered his body like the words of a fairytale, each telling the story of a different battle, a different danger. His horns were chipped in places from uncountable close calls, but they were still his horns. Without the adrenaline of combat, he found that his hands shook slightly, but they were still his hands. His eyes looked older, wiser, more tired from the great trials he had undertaken in the last three years, but they were still the same blood red color, flecked with bronze. Despite it all, he was still… him. 

Soft arms wrapped around his shoulders, as softer lips pressed a kiss into his hair, gently drawing him from his musings. 

“You’re thinking too hard.” Arueshalae murmured with a soft smile. “I can see it in your eyes.” 

She was dressed in a deep blue dress that complimented her eyes and hair. Gold highlights and jewelry adorned her wrists and neck. Her hair had grown longer over the intervening months. With no reason to fear her own beauty any longer, Arueshalae delighted in trying different styles and fashions recommended to her by their friends. This was one of her, and Allix’s favorites. 

“Only good things.” Allix replied, leaning into her embrace. “We’ve all changed so much from when this all began.” 

“We have.” She said. None had changed more than the once succubus, now redeemed follower of Desna. Allix felt a swell of pride in his chest as he met his soon to be wife’s eyes in the mirror. She, amongst all others, had climbed the steepest cliffs and faced the greatest dangers. To give up his powers was one thing, but the throw off the yolk of the Abyss, itself. To  find compassion, forgiveness, and love in a place that taught only blood and hate? He could think of no greater challenge. 

“Ready to go?” She asked, drawing him from his thoughts once more. The former Knight Commander suppressed a cringe. 

“Not at all.” Even after leading the crusades, fighting gods and monsters alike, he still did not feel comfortable in crowds. Especially ones gathered in his honor. “Are you?” 

“Absolutely not.” Arueshalae laughed. “All those eyes focused on us? Do mortal ceremonies always have to be this large?” 

“Only ones orchestrated by a Queen that wants the world to know exactly who saved their collective ass, I suppose.” Allix returned her smirk. “Think of it, Kings and Queens, nobles from across the world, all gathered to pay us respects.” 

“I think I’d rather just go back to the cabin.” 

“Me too, love.” 

Arueshalae stuck out her tongue at him in the mirror, scrunching her nose in distaste. “At least we won’t be alone up there.” 

“Very true. Did they finally talk Lann into a suit?” 

“I believe they tried, right up until he threatened to turn the next person to come into his room with a coat into a pin cushion. I believe they have settled on a nice robe for him in the Crusade’s colors.” 

“I don’t suppose he took the title either?” 

“Of course not, but the Queen agreed to sponsor his first three ships in his trading fleet. I think he values those more than any empty title.” 

“Good.” Allix smiled. 

“Darling.” 

“Love?” 

“You’re delaying as much as you can. But we do need to leave this room.” Arueshalae smiled, pressing another kiss between his horns. “Come now, the sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can go home.” 

“You have such a way with words.” Allix grinned, turning to kiss his love proper. “Hand me Finnean and we’ll get on our way.” 

She passed him a beautiful sword, the vessel that once contained the lost soul of a Pathfinder named Finnean. Allix’s preferred weapon was the heaviest crossbow he could find, but he had carried the blade through the remainder of the crusade in the memory of their friend, now released to explore the afterlife. It was a beautiful blade, and a comforting weight on his hip as he took Arueshalae’s arm and the pair stepped out into the hall to await the Queen’s escorts. Her guard arrived a short time later, the majority of their party in tow. 

Greybor had remained in the Abyss. The dwarven assassin had little interest in the Queen’s recognition, and had his hands full running his new business. He had, however, sent them a lovely letter. Also missing from the gathering was Regill, who, despite his exile from the Hellknights in the later days of the campaign, believed he needed no recognition for his efforts, and had politely declined the ceremony. The rest, however, eagerly accepted. 

Embraces and words were exchanged as they joined company, walking together down the wide steps toward the Queen’s own courtroom. From there, the party would proceed to the front steps of the palace where they would receive their honors and recognition, alongside many other officers, warriors, and heroes of the crusades. Allix had spent weeks pouring over the long list of martyrs, heroes, and soldiers that had served, hand picking dozens to receive their medals alongside him, and hundreds more that would be awarded honorifics in their own time. Every soldier who had served in the final taking of Iz and the closing of the World Wound would receive their recognition, as well as a large enough pension to keep them fat and happy for the rest of their lives. 

In the courtroom, they were joined by two more familiar faces, Irabeth and Anevia. The Knight Commander’s most trusted advisors easily fell into step with the rest, chatting and hugging their way to the great doors of the palace. There, they stopped for one final time, listening to the distant remarks of Queen Galfrey as she addressed a mixed crowd of hundreds of crusaders, emissaries from a hundred nations, and a dozen Kings and Queens from the various kingdoms and empires that had contributed to the fight. 

When it was finally time for the Knight Commander’s party to be recognized, the little group was quickly organized by the guard and set to wait just by the doors. Two by two they would be called up to the dais to stand with the Queen, until all had joined. At the front of the line, Allix exchanged a glance with Arueshalae. 

“Nervous?” He asked. 

Arueshalae looked him up and down, then back at the line of their friends, closer than family, behind them, and shrugged. 

“How could I be?” She asked. 

Allix grinned and planted a kiss on her lips as the grand doors were thrown open. Together they faced the world, fingers and tails intertwined.

[thewingedbaron]

Oh god I don’t need another work in progress.

What game/fic am I doing this for?

There should be a fanfic writing game called the showrunners challenge where someone writes a story and partway through someone else can play things like "actor leaves after 4000 more words" or "topic now too politically sensitive due to unforeseen world events" or "lost rights to that reference"

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

To My Friend: Or, a Letter From a Villain

My dearest,

I am sorry. For everything that has passed between us. I am sorry for the fights we have had, for the scabs on our knees and the pranks we have played. I am sorry we did not do more of it. 

I remember we used to sit on that tree. We carved our names on it. It was not romantic. We didn't know what romance was. It didn't matter, even if it was romance. We were just having fun. 

We had a challenge to climb it all the way up to the top. It was the highest tree in the forest, or so your sister told you. I'm sorry that I never did reach that top branch, and even more sorry that I never helped you up there.

I pushed you off once. Your knee was fractured, and you yelled so loudly the weird girl from the next village over came to investigate. She helped me carry you all the way home. Mother and Father yelled at me so afterwards. I remember having to do your chores for weeks afterwards. I am sorry for that. Your tears made my heart ache so badly. I cannot believe you still let me draw on the cast. Did you like the flowers I put on them? I do not know if you could tell, but they were supposed to be lilies. Your favourite.

How are you now? Did you manage to start the shop you always wanted to man? I know you told your mother about it, and she slapped you and said to dream bigger. She told you that you would be great one day. I hope you are not. Greatness really is not what it was cracked up to be.

I am sorry I have not spoken with you. I did not think you would want me to, what with what has happened since. I do not think you would be happy to see me. I am everything I ever wanted to be, and I hate it.

We dreamed as children, did we not? I dreamt of a crown of jewels and a throne of bone, a foolish thing to want for a boy such as I. You dreamt of a quiet butchery at the heart of the village, leaning on the counter and bragging about being the one to provide the Emperor with freshmeats. What kind of whelp dreams of being a butcher, anyways? I am sorry I did not mock you for it.

How silly we were there, little kids playing a wild game of pretend. How different we were. How foolish.

I do not eat freshmeats from a butcher. No, I feast of flesh right from the bone. It tastes fresher, sharper, like the memory of you carving into my heart. Do you like carvings, still? You used to make the most adorable birds out of called branches. I would scour the forest after a storm and bring the best pieces just for you.

I would give you all the branches in the world to have you by my side. You could be my lady, my advisor, my butcher. Whatever position you want, my friend, you could have it. Just come back. Please. I am sorry for what I have become, for the monster I see in the mirror.

That tree we used to sit on is fallen now. I had it cut down after I took the throne. I am sorry for that, too. Nonetheless, it sits in my trophy room now. We could sit on it together again. I could have servants push the both of us up onto its topmost branches.

What do you say, my friend? Will you come back to me? Will you accept my apology, and renew what cruel fate tore apart? Will you be my friend again?

Remember: I know where you live. And I can bring you back to me, whether you like it or not.

Taglist: @coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch

@tragedycoded, @finickyfelix, @urnumber1star, @ratedn, @ramwritblr

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west, @differentnighttale

@evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms, @xenascribbles

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @dimitrakies, @beloveddawn-blog

@riveriafalll, @the-golden-comet, @rascaronii, @trippingpossum, @real-fragments

@unrepentantcheeseaddict, @the-inkwell-variable, @paeliae-occasionally, @an-indecisive-nerd, @thecomfywriter

@seastarblue, @wyked-ao3

(Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

[arendaes]

I was tagged to take this quiz along with making myself in this picrew by @likeyua. Thank you for the tag! Sorry for not reblogging the OG post, I just wanted to make a fresh post.

Tagging my tag list and anyone who sees this and wants to do it!

@themournwatcher @miseryscrowned @gutterspeak @fantastic-mr-corvid @mathlann

@amatres @starlightcleric @arrow90-alrakis @silversiren1101 @blighted-elf

@mxanigel @poetikat @outeremissary @valiantvillain @dragonologist-phd

@dmagedgoods @dujour13 @captastra @undyingembers @spyridonya

@the-raging-tempest @serenbach86 @jean-dieu @forestdragoncat

@yunessa @eurekq @sotc @aelyosos @thewingedbaron

[pluppsauthor]

Tag Game: OC/WIP Q&A

Thanks for the tags from: @tildeathiwillwrite, @diabolical-blue, @honeybewrites, @somethingclevermahogony, @willtheweaver

and @leahnardo-da-veggie. ��� Much love to all of you.

Rules: open the floor for questions about your WIPs/OCs/creative process/inspiration/etc

I wanted to post this yesterday, but I had a medical problem that has thankfully cleared now. Anyway, my ask box has always been open (no anon tho). BUT, I want to hear anyone and everyone's questions.

I'm going to tag all of my writing mutuals that I didn't already above, both to pass the game along, but also to get some questions. No pressure to either :)

I'll lay out a list of my WIP's and stuff in them. I'll answer any question, but I will preface if it's a spoiler in case you want to avoid it at all (i'll also tag it as such)

Frequency:

Wounded Reflection:

Characters: Lukas Tiro (MC), Axel Reath, Oak, Vesa, Bene Grey, Cary Loaras, Kai & Skyla Starill, Karve Treath. (I only included the main trio and the other Hunters). Things in it of note: Fortissimo Organisation (special division), Hunters, ghasts/ghouls, Frequencies.

Kindred Spirits:

Characters: Rain (MC), Kasi, Yun Tiro. Things in it of note: Fortissimo Organisation (regular division), Frequencies, Romance :).

Hellfire:

Characters: Akita Day (MC), David Pol, Kai Everden, Vis, Hazzin. Things in it of note: Demons, Arch Demons, Ghasts, Un'thil'ar (Home of Demons), Frequencies.

Shattered Gods:

Characters: Luna (MC), the other characters are REDACTED, but, feel free to ask about them :) Thing in it of note: Gods, Daemons, LORE, Yismor (Home of Gods), Frequencies.

Forsaken:

Characters: Dusk/Ralillith Trio (MC), Zenith Freydra, Kyr, Dawn, Ino, Reven. Things in it of note: Frequencies, Runes, Everden Family, Families, New Season, Old world/New world, Daemon Tears, Trials, Daemons, Romance :).

Other Stories:

Wild & Grief:

Characters: Tinder (MC), Hope (MC), Mr. Fox. Things in it of note: Tree magic, fantasy world (no name yet), spirits.

534 ft.:

Characters: Jesse Graves (MC), Nolan Hunt, Shapeshifter Girl (Name pending). Things in it of note: magic, fantasy world (no name yet, not affiliated with Wild & Grief), fantasy creatures such as witches, fae, demons/devils, undead, etc.

Ad Infinitum (Placeholder name):

Characters: Captain Zanlith (MC), Officer Ani, Officer Clayde, more to come I'm sure. Things in it of note: sci-fi technology such as starships and the like, dreamlink technology, alien species, exploration of math and science theories.

That's it for WIP's (for now :)).

Anyway, down here in the depths of this post I will put the list of my writing mutuals I am tagging :3

@the-golden-comet, @ms-macintosh, @sm-writes-chaos, @illarian-rambling, @paeliae-occasionally

@aalinaaaaaa, @thewingedbaron, @sunset-a-story, @sunglasses-in-the-bentley, @ryns-ramblings

@nixwithapen, @whatwewrotepodcast, @minamaybe, @rivenantiqnerd, @phoenixradiant

@finickyfelix, @theeccentricraven, @bloodmoonloveletter, @oliolioxenfreewrites, @mk-writes-stuff

@kaylinalexanderbooks, @leave-a-message19, @themboty, @agirlandherquill, @xenascribbles

@emilynotfound, @shepardsherd, @kbwritesstuff, @decadentpandawasteland

and, open tag/anyone I missed. I didn't think there was that many lol. Much love to all of you again ❤

[thewingedbaron]

No cause this was the same thing I thought for the first two arcs of Arcane S2. The war between cities and the gang wars in Zaun, anything outside of the main characters directly was pretty much abandoned in those first few episodes or relegated to a slideshow.

I think the biggest offender is the time skip between episodes 3 and 4. We spent a whole season and two episodes talking about how bad a war between cities would be. How terrible things would happen and people would die. And then episode 4 comes and it’s just kinda… fine?

Zaun is under occupation and is resisting it (kind of we only get like one or two scenes of some people being angry outside of the mass arrest scene), but overall none of the terrible things that season 1 and the first two episodes were warning about ever happened? Then it’s just never addressed again?

That was nice, but it was not the conclusion to season 1 of arcane

[multi-baker]

@drascua tagged me for the Spotify on repeat game!

rules: shuffle your ‘on repeat’ playlist & post the first ten tracks, then tag people

My Song - Labi Siffre

D&D Is Gay (But So Am I So This Tracks) - Newgrounds Death Rugby

About 10 Hours of Making Breakcore - Emray

Sedation - yuronono

attachment - yuronono

Saint Bernard - Lincoln

Bad Habit - Steve Lacy

Good News Is Bad News - Helsinki Lambda Club

Crime - Chek

oyasumination - Ippotsk

@thewingedbaron @scaredigloo

[thewingedbaron]

BG3 Fic Feb Day Four!

Day Four: Camp Chores

By the fourth day together, camp was beginning to run smoothly. Wyll set a watch every day, ensuring that none of the goblin’s scouting parties accidentally found their way into camp. Karlach was all too happy to assist with keeping watch, though privately she spent more time caring for her teddy bear, Clyde, than keeping an eye out for trouble. As she put it, when trouble found them, she would be ready. 

Gale had settled in quickly as the camp’s cook. After the disaster of Shadowheart’s half hearted attempt on the first night, the wizard of waterdeep produced an apron from his tent, the rest of the party was still unsure as to where exactly it had come from, and set about preparing whatever Alyss managed to catch out in the surroundings woods. Thankfully, Alyss was almost as good at hunting animals as she was bounties, so more often than not there was plenty to go around. 

For her part, Shadowheart busied herself about the camp setting up new barriers of thistle and heavy bush. Alyss had shown her how to rearrange the surrounding shrubs to help disguise the camp from outside view, and the cleric of shadows had taken to the skill almost immediately. She seemed to delight in finding new methods to hide them all from view. That, or she just enjoyed being close to the camp’s ranger leader, as Astarion claimed. It was hard to ignore the snuck glances, and occasional straight on staring that neither side seemed to notice. Astarion had started a betting pool on the second night. Currently, Wyll was winning. 

Lae’zel provided the background music to their little camp. She could often be found practicing strikes on a mock Illithid that she had created out of roots and branches. The dull thud, thud, thud, could be heard at all hours about the camp. Wyll had joined her a number of times, as well as Karlach. Both were apt students as Lae’zel explained the best ways to kill a ghaik quickly to avoid their psychic attacks. When she wasn’t practicing, Lae’zel was preparing. Mending armor, sharpening blades, Lae’zel was sure that she would be ready for whatever they met on the road. With a few sweet words, and the promise of a new dagger, she agreed to help with the camp’s weapons as well. Soon the grinding wheel could be heard near constantly, much to the chagrin of some of its other residents. 

Astartion, of course, prided himself on helping drink through the camp’s meager wine supply. He also carefully gathered gossip like a court spymaster sitting on a mountain of secrets. Alyss had given up asking him to help with camp chores, but perhaps that was for the better. He was a little too interested in her secrets, and she preferred to keep those under wraps. Even if it meant that Astarion was taken off dish rotation.

[thewingedbaron]

BG3 Fic Feburary Day Five!

(Still a little behind right now, but working on catching up)

WARNING: Depicitons of Violence and gore. If that's not your thing, maybe skip this one.

Read on Ao3

Day Five: First time seeing companions in battle

The crossbow bucked in Alyss’ hands as the bolt sped away and tore out the throat of the goblin sounding the war horn. The raiding group had already reached the Grove’s gates and were pounding mercilessly at three humans that had been locked outside when it shut. Alyss could see the defenders on top of the wooden wall, armed with crossbows and bows to  rain down fire on the attackers. Lot of good it was doing them. With the goblins attacking their mercenary allies in front of the gate, none of the defenders could get a clean shot. Not the mention the goblin’s own archers and casters working their hardest to keep the defender’s behind cover. That, Alyss decided, was where they would start.

“Lae’zel, get that bastard with the stick and work your way in toward the bugbear.” Alyss called, loading another bolt. “Gale, rocks for cover, do your best to cover the Blade of Frontiers.” 

“The what?” 

“The idiot who just jumped down into the fray waving a sword around.” Alyss snapped back. “Shadowheart, help me get the archers, then pinch the main group with Lae’zel.” 

There was a round of affirmative nods as the group set about their tasks. Lae’zel sprinted right, slamming into a knot of goblins like she had been launched from a catapult. Bodies and blood flew with each swing of her blade. 

Gale worked his way left, alternating between firebolts and ice crystals as he chipped away at the goblin’s own casters. Confused by the crossfire, one their warlocks stepped out of cover to find their new attackers, only the eat a firebolt to the face. One caster down, Alyss thought. 

For her part, Alyss started to wear down their archers. Ordinarily, she would aim to injure, firing for arms and legs. An injured target often took two out of the fight, but goblins cared little for their wounded. Instead, her bolts slammed into chests and shoulders, slowly dropping the opposing archers one by one. Next to her, Shadowheart whispered the words of a spell, capturing a flame in her hand. 

“Ignis!” She shouted, sending the flame off like a bolt of her own. A moment later, she cursed as it slammed into the stone cliff-face, a few feet above her intended target. Shadowheart snapped her fingers in frustration, and a holy flame slammed onto the goblin from above, removing them from the fight. Alyss cocked an eyebrow at her companion. 

“Watch out!” Shadowheart cried, throwing her shield arm over the ranger. Three impacts slammed into the hardwood face, intercepting shots meant for Alyss. The ranger snapped off another shot, dropping one of the offending goblins in response. 

“Sorry!” Alyss reloaded. “Didn’t see that one.” 

“You’re lucky.” Shadowheart replied, regaining her composure. “Eyes off me and on the enemy next time.” 

The pair paused, both faces turned a slightly deeper shade of red as Shadowheart’s words registered. 

“Lae’zel needs help. I’m, uh.” Shadowheart nodded several times to herself. Below them, the gith warrior was tearing through a pack of goblins on her way to the bugbear as if they were wet parchment. 

“Right, got your back.” Alyss replied stiffly. By the time either of them looked up, it was already over. The mercenaries were battered, but alive, and steaming mad. Lae’zel was surveying the scene like  a general overlooking a battlefield, waiting for the next target to reveal itself. Gale approached them slowly, too busy trying to scrape the blood off his robe to notice the awkward silence between the other two members of the party. 

“Well, that was quite fun, wasn’t it? That Lae’zel is quite the warrior.” Gale smiled. “Are you two injured? You both look like you’ve been walloped over the head with a goblin’s club.” Gale’s smile faded as his two companions nodded stiffly at him and began to make their way toward the Grove, not acknowledging each other, or him. Was it something he said? He pondered for a moment before realizing that he was alone on the battlefield. 

“Now wait just a moment, I’ll not be left behind!” He called, jogging after the party as the gate began to lift.

[thewingedbaron]

ASK ME THINGS! I know I have old ones I promise im getting to them. Things have been busy <3

Unusual Questions for Writers

I thought it'd be fun to make my own writer ask game, but exclusively with questions I've never seen in any others! Feel free to ask me these, and/or reblog it and people can ask them of you! :D

What is an area of expertise you find yourself inserting into your work? It can be job-related, but it can also just be a random interest or hobby.

What is the most experimental or bizarre thing you've written? Share it here (or a quote from it).

When did you first start writing, whether that was fanfiction or original work? What was your first work about, to the best you remember? (For bonus points, quote it!)

Describe your writing, but exclusively in terms of how it would taste and feel to eat it.

What is the most unusual, uncomfortable, or funny place you've written in?

Name three writing inspirations: one dead published author, one living published author, and one fanficcer/fellow amateur writer.

Quote a bad joke/groan-worthy pun/intentionally silly line from your writing.

What do you imagine people might guess about you, the author, from your writing? Are they right about this, or wrong?

Who are you writing for, other than yourself?

Is your writing creepy or wet?

What is a personal quality, interest, or preference that you find yourself projecting on your characters?

Do you ever put "easter eggs" or minor references in your work that you anticipate few people will notice? (If so, quote one of them here!)

Where are you from? Do you think the culture and language of that place comes through in your work?

If you were helping another writer imitate your work, what would you be telling them to do? (Silliness encouraged.)

Has anyone ever complimented your work or commented on it in a way that really made your day or you found exceptionally flattering? What was it they said?

[thewingedbaron]

Hey ya'll! I've been desperately trying to get back into writing lately (its been a minute), but between work and some health concerns I've been a little off my game. BUT I have done a little writing practice with some of my characters from BG and Pathfinder, so I figured I would share.

Please enjoy a little descriptive/characterization piece I wrote for Alyss (pictured below) arriving in the Shadow Cursed Lands.

Aylss’ heart sank to her boots as she took her first steps into the shadowlands. After a week of crawling through the underdark, she had the smallest glimmer of hope that she would see the sun again. That she could sleep once more under the open sky. Those hopes died as her party squeezed out of the small pass, stepping onto a path alit with torches.

The world around her was unlike any that she had ever seen before. Encroaching shadows, inky and dark, seemed barely constrained by the torchlight around them. The very air was thick with them. Dense clouds of grayish fog curled from the ground like smoke, leaving Alyss with only the vaguest of impressions of thick, creeping vines and rocky cliffs that loomed out at her like horrid abominations. 

She drifted closer to the flickering light, battling down the sudden rise of bile in her throat and her pounding heart. Her feet felt frozen to the ground, unwilling to carry her further into the drowning darkness. Breaths came in short and labored bursts, never quite seeming to fill her lungs before the next ragged pull of damp air must be taken. It was as if the very sky had dropped onto her shoulders, as if every patch of sullen grass and twisted vine hid hostile eyes. 

It was beautiful. Horridly beautiful. Like a shattered inkwell spilled upon the contents of a page. With trembling hands, she reached into her pack and selected a torch, holding it to the weakened flame of those that lit the path. It was almost embarrassing, the sigh that escaped her when she held that little bit of light. But as she glanced back at her companions, she saw the same relief reflected in their eyes as they beheld the torch like a beacon. Even Lae’zel, who had hardly balked at an army of goblins and ogres, who fought a bullette without complaint, seemed unnerved by this wretched place. The only one the shadows could not seem to reach was Shadowheart. 

“A blessing of Lady Shar, I think.” She explained, voice steady. Despite her words, Alyss noted the way she gripped her holy symbol just a little bit tighter as she stepped toward the shadows. 

“No… no sense in waiting.” Alyss stated, doing her best to ignore the tremor in her own voice.

“Should someone scout ahead?” Astarion asked. Silence stretched between the party. It had become common practice among them for Astarion or Alyss to lead from a distance, spotting enemies and traps in the path before the rest of the group could stumble into an ambush. No one, however, seemed willing to step beyond the torch’s feeble light. 

“Together then.” Alyss said. “Stay close.” 

Cautiously, she took her first step beyond the path, her party clustered closely behind. Together, they stepped into the dark.

[thewingedbaron]

can you tell me more about vulpin, please? i’m very intrigued by that snip!

Absolutely! Thanks for the ask!

(I'll try to keep this short or we'll be here for hours)

Vulpin is my sad boy from a novel I'm working on. He's an infernal (Got a little devil in his blood, basically a dnd tiefling with a little extra spice). He has lavender skin, curling horns like a ram, and red eyes.

Vulpin was raised with his twin brother Illik, red infernal with pillar like horns and red eyes, in a place called the Somniorum Academy. Think of the Academy as a city wide college that teaches everything from magic to engineering and soldiering. Lacking his twin's talent for magic, Vulpin was raised as an artificer, one skilled in creating arcane trinkets, weapons, and armor. Illik was raised as a wizard, giving him much more status than his brother at the Academy.

The two have a falling out, putting Vulpin on the run for some time, which is what you see in the snip!

tdlr: Vulpin is a sad boy artificer missing a home that he can't go back to.

[thewingedbaron]

Owlcatober Day Fifteen: Flying

Still working on parents. Really not sure what to do with that one yet, so enjoy a snippet of day 15 that i didn't get around to posting :)

On an Island in the Sky (853 words)

Fandom: Pathfinder Wrath of the Righteous

Characters: Vysk (Knight Commander)

Read here under the cut, or over on Ao3

Vysk looped above the city of Drezen, weaving between the floating pillars of rock that made up the base of her own, personal floating island. Underneath her, Jester stretched his wings to their fullest span, gliding across the night sky as if it were his personal playground. 

“Ready, buds?” 

SCREEE! Jester called. Vysk threw herself deeper into the saddle, hands clinging to the horn as the hippogriff peeled right and flipped into a long dive. Wind screamed in her ears and pulled tears from her eyes as the ground rushed up to meet them. As they drew closer, Vysk could pick out the individual streets and buildings of Drezen. Then, the individual people as they looked up at the screeching comment of feathers and fur barreling down upon them. 

When she judged the moment right, Vysk tapped her heels to Jester’s sides twice. The hippogriff’s wings flared as he pulled out of the sudden dive, leveling out a few feet above the rooftops of the city. Hippogriff and rider zipped along the streets, dodging the temple’s steeple and a few chimneys before they were climbing once more. Up and over the wall they flew, until the ground beneath them was rock, dirt, and tree. Jester pointed his beak at the sky once more, and shot upward like an arrow fired from a bow, racing back to the floating islands above. 

Vysk couldn’t contain the bubbling feeling in her chest any longer. She laughed and whooped as they flew through the sky. It was a feeling unlike any other. Complete and total freedom, flying through the sky on the back of her closest companion. It was a freedom very few would ever know, and one of the things that once made her proud to call herself a Sable Company Marine. 

Jester creased the lip of the island, throwing himself down upon the thick grass and dirt. He skidded to a halt, arresting his momentum with his massive talons and hooves. A low chirping escaped his beak as he looked back at his rider, still giggling on his back.

Having fun back there? He seemed to say. 

“Of course, buds.” Vysk flashed him a smile, stroking his neck feathers fondly. “That’s enough training for the night. Why don’t you get some rest?” 

Jester snorted in reply. He could keep at this for hours yet. Such was his training as a hippogriff of the Sable Company. Vysk rolled her eyes, making a shooing motion as she slid out of the staddle and undid the straps. The hippogriff could be as proud as she was at times. And twice as stubborn. 

“Go, go. I’ll be fine.” She said. 

With one last hrrumph, Jester launched back into the air, doing a slow circle of the island before disappearing into the evening. Vysk gave a little wave as she watched him go before settling down herself, feet kicking over the edge of the floating rock as she looked down on the city below. She could see for miles up here. The forests around Drezen had regrown in the past months at a rate that baffled even the druids amongst their forces. Looking at it now, one might assume the old fortress sat in the River Lands, untouched by demonic hands. One only had to look a little further to give up the game though. 

To the south, the Wounded Lands stretched for an impossible length. Corruption in the ground had turned it to a craggy wasteland of deep gorges and high plateaus. A thick fog hung over the worst bits, along with red clouds that brought rains of blood to the water starved soil. 

Vysk shook her head. How was she supposed to take and hold such a place? Any fortresses taken out there would be miserable, surrounded by nothing but wastes with bloody rain upon their heads. Water needed to be carted to the fortresses they did hold by great caravans, since everything down to the earth’s bones had been corrupted by the stink of the Abyss. For now, she had focused their efforts in the north, seizing footholds in the Dragon’s Wood and and along the lakes. But, eventually, she would need to turn her armies south and answer the demon’s challenge. 

Vysk’s hand closed around the sweet grass growing all around her. Perhaps her powers could be of some help. Down in the caves, where the demons were turned crusaders into corrupted soldiers, she’d managed to heal the land. Greenery seemed to follow her wherever she went. It was a gift of the strange powers that had taken root within her. Maybe, just maybe, she could continue to heal and regrow the land about her? 

“Knight Commander! I believe the cavalry sculptors have something to show you!” A voice called. 

Vysk sighed. These were problems for another day. For now, she needed to focus on what could be done for Drezen, and the strange band of misfits that her court attracted. “On my way!” She called, dusting herself off. What could the gnomes have possibly cooked up for her this time? She thought with a grin. 

[thewingedbaron]

Oh I love this.

HERE’S THE LIST:

The OG Inspirations:

Captain Underpants: these books are the entirely responsible for making me want to write. When I was a kid, I used to emulate the formate of George and Harold’s comics with my own hero I called the Minotaur. I made my own comic series and everything with recurring villains. I’ve loved writing ever since.

Guardians of Ga’Hoole: My favorite book series as a kid and my first introduction to fantasy. I fell in love with the idea of kings and queens, and knights fighting for what is good against evil. So what if they were all owls?

Fun fact: Baron from these books is the direct inspiration for my username.

The Secrets of Droon: another early fantasy series. I really really love fantasy alright? And I read a lot as a kid. If you’ve never read it, it’s basically Narnia aimed at a younger audience. Great books.

Star Wars: my very first space opera. I fully credit Star Wars for my love of rogues and scoundrels. Especially bounty hunter characters that one up their opponents through wits and gadgets. Shoutout Han Solo and Boba Fett.

Lord of the Rings: what else needs to be said? One of the greats. Responsible for my love of the ranger archetype and sweeping fantasy.

Rangers Apprentice: if I liked Aragorn, I loved Will and Halt. These books are hands down what made me want to write fantasy and what made me love rangers forever more.

Pirates of the Caribbean: one of my biggest influences. I loved the ships and the sword fights and the flintlocks. This secured my love for flintlock fantasy and the early modern era, which I now mix in to my current fantasy projects.

More Recent Stuff:

Dungeons and Dragons: I discovered TTRPGs in mid high school, and have been dming ever since. Stuff like critical role, WBN, D20, and my own home games make storytelling so fun. The Drizz’t novels have deeply effected the way I write characters and follow their thoughts in my own head. Deep deep love for dnd.

The Powdermage Novels: remember flintlock fantasy? Brian McClellan has had such a massive impact on my life as a writer. These novels were the first time I looked at Napoleonic fantasy and realized “holy shit you can do that????” My favorite novels to this day. Absolute bangers.

Brandon Sanderson: only a recent discovery of mine (I am so late to these books). But goddamn if he hasn’t radically altered how I plot books and handle revealing character backstory.

Hell’s Belles by Sea.Ya.Later on tiktok: I never realized how much I loved romance books. Her first novel is coming out in December, it’s called “For Whom the Belle Tolls.” I beg you to check it out.

Finally, the Pathfinder Novels: similar to dnd, but exploring Pathfinder’s world through the massive novel series by a ton of different authors made me realize I want to do the same thing. Create one fantasy world and write a host of stories throughout it. These are fire little novels for one of fantasy. I recommend the Alchemist set and the Liar’s Blade books.

question for writers

I was thinking about what sources of media most inspires my writing style and themes, and after some thought I realized I am most influenced by the media I watched when I was 13-15.

Now, writers, I want to ask you: what TV shows, movies, web series, games, comics, etc. inspires your writing style the most, even implicitly?

[thewingedbaron]

Owlcatober Day Five: Forgiveness

A bit of a different take on this one (like I've been sticking the script at all). There's a certain character throughout Act 1 and 2 that I've always had mixed feelings about. How far can heroes fall when their people no longer want them?

Heroes and Traitors (764 words)

Fandom: Pathfinder Wrath of the Righteous

Warnings: Mentions of death

Ship: Arueshalae/KC (Allix)

Read here under the cut on Ao3 :)

The graveyard was all but abandoned at night. It had been long months since the soldiers had moved their not-so-secret gambling ring to the warmth of the Half Measure Tavern. Without them, very few had any reason to dwell amongst the headstones. The names of crusaders, heroes, cowards, opportunists, equally revered and forgotten there in the mist. A shame, Allix thought as he carefully stepped through the wrought iron gate. A gods damned shame. 

He picked his way between the graves at a snail’s pace, stopping every so often to read the names and whisper a prayer to Iomidae, or Erastil. He did not need to go far to reach his destination. 

The headstone stood alone on its own patch of dried grass. It was nondescript, nothing to mark it as special other than the heavy name carved into its face, and the lack of any kind of symbol to denote any kind of faith. The crusaders had not known under what god’s eye to bury the traitor Stanton Vane. An unmarked grave seemed to be a statement all its own. It stood alone because no comrade, nor family wanted to bury their dead close to the headstone, out of fear that the marks upon his soul might seep from his coffin and infect the souls of those interred nearby. It was hard not to be superstitious when your enemy was the horrors spat out by the worst place imaginable. 

Allix sat down before the headstone, legs crossed, gazing sadly at the name carved there. He had ended hundreds of lives. Cultists, demons, Gods. Yet it was here where his soul felt the quietest. The Knight Commander silently brushed the fallen leaves off the top of the stone, wondering where the dwarf’s soul might have gone. 

“Who were they?” A quiet voice asked. 

“A hero.” Allix replied, shifting to make room before the grave. A moment later, he was joined by the winged form of Arueshalae settling in beside him. “And a traitor.” He continued softly. 

“Stanton Vane.” Arueshalae read off the grave. “I’ve heard his name whispered amongst the crusaders. I’ve heard him called many things, but never a hero.” 

Allix nodded. “I can’t imagine you have.” 

For a long moment, they sat in silence. Arushalae’s head on his shoulder, their tails intertwined. Touch had become easy for them since their return from the abyss, and Arueshalae’s ascension. It had been slow at first, but now even the most mundane of contact felt natural. As natural as breathing. Small touches of support. 

“Why do you call him a hero?” Arueshalae asked. 

For a long moment, Allix did not reply. “We wouldn’t be here without him.” He said slowly. “He helped take this fortress. Fought back the tide of demons for years in the first crusades.” 

“But that’s not why you call him a hero.” Arueshalae said. 

“No.” He agreed. “I believe he’s a hero for what came after. He lost Drezen, seduced by a demon to charge out in a blaze of glory. In one fell swoop, he lost our greatest fortress, and our greatest defense in the Sword of Valor. Hundreds of heroes died in the battles that followed. And yet…” 

Allix’s voice trailed off, a half formed thought on his lips. Arueshalae shifted closer, her weight a comfort on his side. 

“He fought on. For so many years he fought on as his allies and friends turned on him. The crusaders spat on him, outcast him, and yet he still fought, all the way to the Gray Garrison.” Allix whispered. “And I killed him.” 

“He betrayed you.” 

“He did.” 

“And you feel guilty about his death?” Arueshalae asked. 

“Yes.” Allix nodded, his eyes far away. “He betrayed us because we gave him no other option. For all the people these crusades have protected. For all the people we’ve saved… we hurt people. The crusades have allied themselves with anyone willing to supply the bodies and swords to throw in front of the world wound, no matter how young or old, willing or unwilling. I sometimes wonder just how many cultists we’ve created over the years.” 

“It can’t be all bad.” Arushalae argued. “The crusades are the only reason the demons don’t rule Glarion.” 

Allix nodded again. “You’re right. It's just… sometimes I have a hard time forgiving the harm that we cause in the name of good.” 

They were silent for a moment more. “Have you forgiven Stanton Vane?” Arueshalae asked. 

“Some day. I hope that I can.” Allix replied. “If I can forgive him. Maybe there’s hope for us all.”

[thewingedbaron]

Sunset

Arueshalae shifted, spreading her wings a little further to fully encompass herself and her companion. The sunset was just beginning, an explosion of warm oranges and yellows painted the sky in a way only the hands of gods could. She could feel her love’s questioning gaze upon her as she held on a little harder when the sun dipped.

“Mortals have a saying…” She began slowly, choosing her words as carefully as she could. “That all good things must come to an end…” The rest of the question died on her lips.

Her love’s brow furrowed in thought. “Perhaps,” they replied. The former Knight-Commander lifted a hand toward the sunset, as if to capture its beauty upon their fingers. There, in the center of their palm, they summoned a small mass of blue sparks. The mass shifted, and before Arueshalae’s eyes became a familiar pearlescent butterfly.

“Your powers!” She gasped. “I thought you gave them up!”

Her companion chuckled, a beautiful sound that blossomed warmth in her chest. “I did.” They replied. “But it seems even the gods, themselves, could not pry me from your side.”

“What does it mean.” Arueshalae asked, taking their hand in her own as she could tease the answers from the creases and scars on their palm.

“I don’t know.” They replied, pressing a kiss into her hair. “I suppose we’ll find out together. No matter what it means, I have the sense that I won’t be going anywhere for a long, long time.”

Arueshalae smiled and kissed her love softly. the sun dipped lower, immersing itself in beautiful strokes of purple and blue. The once demon didn’t see the sun as it disappeared behind the horizon. There was something more beautiful than the sunset, and she beheld it in her arms.