#they would go around and leave the undead inside peoples homes & encampments

[continuousmeowing]

Girls will take a nap at eight pm, have an extremely realistic dream about the apocalypse, and wake up at midnigjtb with absolutely no thoughts except “what the actual fuck”

[poptod]

Hi! Can I have an enemies to lovers fic between Ahkmenrah and a Nubian Queen, where their territories are at war with each other (as in a war is literally taking place) 😇😇

notes: man, ive been integrating nubia/kush into my ancient egyptian stories for How long now and i havent thought of doing this? damn. anyway i sort of changed the prompt a little cause i didnt want to get too much into the politics between ancient egypt and nubia cause holy fuck was that a hyperobsession of mine for a bit WC: 1.8k

+

This was... unconventional, to put it lightly. You and a Pharaoh inherited a war from your parents – a longlasting conflict between Nubia and Egypt, and having it end up this way was something no one could have prepared for.

You had directed armies yourself; put yourself in battle, ridden hordes of bulls through encampments and foreign soldiers. It was a purposeful tactic to incite fear in those who opposed you, a lesson in the dramatics handed down to you by your father. He always had an eye for showmanship.

Ahkmenrah conducted undercover operations and covert raids and, at times, led his armies into battle. He was renowned for his work with swords and daggers, often using fire to get his way. By lighting your cities aflame, he weakened the power of Nubia, and destroyed precious resources and lives.

Both of you had earned your share of scars, up and down your arms, puncturing your chest and slashing your skin. You personally fought one another on several occasions – the month-long conflict in Semna, the burning of Buhen, the advance on Aswan. Your officers attested to your hatred of the man, and the people of Egypt were well in the know of the Pharaonic family's distaste for Nubians.

"That bastard cut two of my fingers off," you often recounted, and often (and coincidentally) on the same days the Pharaoh would say, "that little shit ruined my perfect skin."

What he meant by this remained, for a good while, unknown to those who heard it. His officers and advisors had asked him several times, but he never gave a straight answer. He kept it a nice secret till it was inevitably discovered to be long, numerous scars ranging all up his back. From his shoulder blades to the small of his back, scars had ruined the once smooth skin, a gift from you to him.

How you gave him these scars was also unknown, and continued to be so forever. He never answered how it happened and you never spoke about it.

However, the answer became clear, though not officially confirmed.

You looked off the side of the bed, listless eyes drifting between the different paintings lining the bedroom's walls. Unlike the grandeur of the court room and dining room, the images were not of the Pharaoh, instead displaying the wealth of a happy garden. It was art you had somehow come to miss in your time away from Egypt.

Kisses landed on the back of your neck before hands travelled to your waist, squeezing the supple skin as the kisses grew lower. You attempted to shake the touch off but he was persistent.

"No," you said, squirming in place but not bothering to leave your spot on the bed. "I came here to settle my debt and I should return to that."

"Lie here with me and your debt is settled," he murmured, lips moving against your skin as he spoke.

"That is not even close to –"

"Shhh," he said softly, and his movements continued without pause, searching the body he had gotten to know uncomfortably well.

Unbeknownst to the populace and to many of your officials, the two of you exchanged letters. Nothing of fantastic importance nor hatred, but instead a communication between two people who had no one else to relate to besides each other. Where else would you find a King or Queen embroiled in conflict?

So you related to one another, and the information you relayed in your letters was always thrice-checked, a tactic to keep Ahkmenrah from using anything against you. He did the same with his own letters, which you expected him to.

Your worst enemy and closest friend continued to kiss you as you lay in his bed, his hand wandering lower till he tugged at the hem of your skirt.

"I'm going to kill you one of these days," you said as you rolled over, facing him head-on. As usual, your words were curt, to the point, and spoken in a nearly monotone voice with complete seriousness. As usual, his eyes were glittering with the excitement you often sparked in him, the most bittersweet of smiles always tainting his lips.

"You've tried six times and you've been unsuccessful thus far," he said in a teasing manner, his grin spreading.

"Well then," you said as he moved to hold himself above you, one hand planted on either side of your head as he sat between your legs, "one more try won't hurt."

"Please don't try to kill me while I'm having sex with you," he groaned.

"I don't want undead dick in me, so I thought I'd do it before or after," you said, something he apparently found amusement in.

"If you weren't the one that destroyed my alliance with Punt, I would marry you so hard," he admitted before diving in to kiss you, aligning perfectly with your lips. You tried two times to reply, but you were entirely muted, and eventually you gave in.

You hated him from the moment you met him. Was that still true, though? Did you still hate him, the man who had taken so much from you, gifting it back in the form of a physical love. His actions in the throes of passion did not suffice as an apology, so you assumed yes––you still hated him.

After all was said and done, you didn't dare to linger. Being absent more than a day from your country never boded well, though the journey back would take up the rest of the day, as the sun had risen a short time ago. You dressed yourself and bid a hasty good-bye to the Pharaoh, who asked you to stay longer.

"If I stay any longer I'm going to suffocate you," you said as you adjusted your belt.

"Have you ever stopped to think maybe I want that?" He asked, and in pure confusion you turned to him, your expression contorted. He explained further, "I've heard choking can be very good during sex."

"Shut the fuck up," you sighed, rolling your eyes as you turned back to your reflection. He just chuckled, flopping back down on the bed.

You paused for a moment––stopped dressing yourself, and instead unwillingly turned your attention to Ahkmenrah's reflection in the mirror, his curls a mess as he stared up at the ceiling. The slow rise and fall of his chest did not match the heavy blush on his cheeks. As he turned to lay on his side, you caught sight of his back, and the numerous scratch marks lining up and down it.

"Do they hurt?" You asked softly, and though you didn't realize it at the time, they were the first soft-spoken words you had shared with him.

"Do what hurt?" He asked in return, rolling back over to face you with a curious smile.

"Those marks on your back," you said, though you didn't turn to face him, instead locking eyes with him in the mirror. "I never mean to give you them."

"You don't?" He asked, quirking one of his brows. "I've always thought of them as a memento. I mean they hurt, but... most things you do hurt me."

For as right as he was, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of embarrassment for your actions. You had done many things to him and around him, and by both of your accounts, none of the things you'd done had helped him in any way. Except the sex, but neither of you thought of that as your own actions. But he was handsome, and he was kind to his people. Despite the mutual hatred between you he always ensured you were alright with what he was doing in bed. It was two different versions of yourselves––the battlefield, and the home. He was a perfect lover and a ruthless King, and you never bothered to be anything but a spiteful ruler on and off the battlefield.

"Put some lavender oil on it," you said, fixing your collar. "It helps get rid of scars.

"We don't have any lavender oil ever since you cut off our trade network," he said flatly.

"Oh," you paused, "right."

You took one more moment to watch him through his reflection before you took a deep breath.

"I have to leave now. Try not to get into any trouble, or start any, before I get home," you said.

"When will I see you next?" He asked, his cheek squished into the mattress.

"Probably when you wake up at midnight with a knife above your head."

He laughed, but before he could properly respond, you left out the door with your veil concealing your identity. So instead he sighed, turning back to the ceiling as the image of you imprinted itself behind his eyelids. He would miss you no matter how hard he tried not to, and he knew this because every time you left him in his bedroom, emptiness replaced the warmth in his chest. Your warmth.

The moment he passed the threshold of his room, however, he fell back into his natural state––the one he held around his palace officials and citizens. The man who burnt down cities. Very rarely did he ever let this facade fall, and in the following weeks he kept up with it, only breaking it for a split second on a humid evening.

Mail had come into his study, full of letters, plans, and maps all addressed to him. Usually he went through them with his advisors and vizier, but tonight was a holy night, and many of them had asked for the day off, which he of course granted.

The last piece of mail wasn't a scroll or a letter, but instead a small package with a note inside. He frowned as he tore open the sealing, curious to see its' contents. Out fell a sturdy glass bottle, followed by a slip of paper, and the bud of a dried flower.

Get a pretty girl and have her use this on you.

Signed, your friend

He twisted the cork off the bottle. The scent inside was strong enough to reach him without him having to bring it to his nose, and instantly he recognized the source.

Lavender.

He grinned, a grin that only grew larger as he thought of what to say in return. In a flash he grabbed his own papyrus and pen, scribbling down a neat response.

Use it on me yourself, coward.

Signed, your love.

A week later the mail came into your home, and for a good while you sorted through it, though what first caught your attention was the insignia Ahkmenrah planted on each of his covert letters. A lotus. You set that aside––it was not as important as other matters, and it could wait until a little later.

When you did open it, however, you went into such a fluster that a blush coated your face for a good three days.

[kingmaker-thac0hno]

An Expected Journey: Part 7

The Journal of Evrin Brazenbrook

23-24 Neth, 4710

It has been nearly seven months since I last thought to pick up this journal to write an entry. Indeed, I nearly burned this book on several occasions in the past few months, as I wince every time I reread my insipid prose and reflect on who I was earlier this year. But yesterday, during the Festival of the Seven Veils that Saryn had carefully arranged, the opportunity presented itself to regale the townsfolk of Haven with tales of our apparent heroics, and I was urged to tell of a few choice encounters. I immediately ran to my home and grabbed this very journal, and proceeded to speak of some of the more exciting adventures, such as coming across a clearing full of rusty hunting traps or the cache of goods beneath a scorched tree, and I was encouraged by the signs of people clearly deep in thought about what I had to say. It made me realize that my words do indeed have value, and that I should resume documenting my adventures for the sake of others. Hence, this entry.

As I write, many townsfolk are hungover, though Armauk and I wisely abstained. I must admit that yesterday’s festival was a sight to behold. I normally care little for celebrations and performances, but Kimble in particular, with some help from Saryn, put some incredible craftsmanship on display in the form of memorable costumes. We also witnessed an awesome display by our friends, the Sootscale kobolds, highlighted by Chief Sootscale himself propped-up in a dragon-shaped litter. We also met a very curious fellow with the unlikely name of Stone Walker, who revealed that he was writing a book called How to Rule, and he came to us after receiving a very bad impression from Baron Drelev after documenting him for some time. Mr. Walker claims to have some skills in the magical arts, and we certainly welcome his company. Saryn in particular preened like a peacock at the gnome’s offer, and I fear that it will soon go to his head, if that has not happened already.

25 Neth, 4710

Today was simple, yet important. We returned to the Stag Lord’s fort to rid its grounds of the undead that have been rising from various mounds, as we hope to lay a greater claim to the area, and perhaps start populating it in the near future. I managed to round up all of the animated corpses, gathering them into a single location, and Armauk managed to reduce them all to dust with a few words. If only I had known it would be that easy earlier! But I am nonetheless impressed by the kindly half-orc’s skills, and trusted his judgment when he chose to destroy the shrine to Gyronna in the cellar of the fort. Tomorrow we plan to track down the talking wolf we had encountered many months ago, as Saryn tells us that worgs—that is apparently what these beasts are called—are cruel creatures who should be nowhere near our home.

26-27 Neth 4710

We slew the worg! In truth, it was not hard to find the beast, as it seemingly had no reason to try to hide its whereabouts. Bones were strewn around the entrance of a small cave, and Karis opted to turn himself invisible and sneak inside to take a look. While I was a few hundred feet away, I saw the most amazing sight: a now-visible Karis running from the cave, pursued by a pack of angry wolves! They caught him and mauled him quite badly before we were able to intervene. The worg itself proved no match for our collective might, and he was quickly dispatched in flames by our new comrade and documentarian, Stone Walker. While we had to kill a pair of wolves to prevent them from devouring the elf, we managed to scare the others off. Nothing more came of this encounter, and we opted to return to Haven today to mount the worg’s head on a pike in Havenhall. I personally care little for trophies such as these, but I was assured by the others that they can boost morale. Tomorrow, our plan is to take the canoes to start exploring some of the regions to the south. It has been awhile since any of us has been adventuring, and I daresay that a few of us are excited to have a temporary reprieve from our administrative tasks in Haven.

28-29 Neth, 4710

I have little time to write tonight, as I am exhausted from spending the better part of two days rowing in a canoe. We were fortunate to have the current with us into the Tuskwater, and after most of a day, we saw an island that Saryn had previously spotted overhead from Grimfeather’s back. It was too late for us to explore the island, but some among us claimed to have seen lights coming from the ruin itself, and others mentioned that they might have seen lights elsewhere. After getting some rest, we canoed over to the island in the morning, where Karis did a quick look around. He did not see anything of note, so we decided to press on to the other shore where lights were spotted. It was late, but after some quick recon, we discovered there was an encampment, or perhaps a reinforced village, of two dozen or so people—women and children included. We have decided to spend the night at a distance, lest they see us as a threat, arriving so late in the evening.

30 Neth, 4710

Today I felt some of the strongest emotion I have experienced since our siege of the Stag Lord fort back in Gozreh. This morning we awoke to the sight of six armed men inquiring about our purpose for being there. Saryn opted to be diplomatic, but as the men kept speaking, it became clearer and clearer to us that they were bandits formerly of the Stag Lord’s retinue. I was ready to cut down all of them as soon as it dawned on me that they themselves might have murdered Vekkel or Svetlana, or set flame to Oleg’s Trading Post, or any number of other atrocities besides. With great reluctance, I refrained from drawing against them outright, and the others of the party suggested that we simply leave the area and return to the island we had scouted yesterday. Make no mistake that I have nothing but derision toward these men, and were I a more vengeful person, I would make it a goal to ensure that no one else could be a victim to these brutes. But for now, I will try to put them largely out of mind. As it happens, the other event of the day makes that easier to do.

We rowed back to the island, and by midday we were out of the canoe and exploring. All of us felt a strong sense of unease, and while I am not accustomed to feeling fear, I cannot deny that there was an aura of foreboding while there. Armauk could not conceal his own fright, and noticeably lingered behind all of us. When we approached the ruin of the tower, Saryn and I immediately entered and soon found some skeletal remains wearing a strange suit of plate mail, with an unusual ring nearby. We had no time to examine further, however, as the others of our party were swiftly beset upon by shocking balls of light, perhaps the will-o’-the-wisps I was told about as a child. Once again Karis bore the brunt of the attack, and at this point I am starting to wonder if he is somehow cursed. After dispatching several of these wisps, we retrieved the armor and ring, and decided to return to Haven. We will disembark tomorrow, and while my heart yearns to continue our adventure, I cannot deny that returning to Haven now feels like returning home.

1-5 Kuthona, 4710

Our travel to Haven was long and arduous, as we had to fight the current for much of the way, and for all of Stone Walker’s other skills, he is truly abysmal at manning the oars…but we did eventually make it without incident. The gnome did manage to identify the provenance of the armor and the ring, and I find both to be disquieting, though perhaps in the right hands they will be of use. The armor in particular is of a very high quality, and will be a major upgrade to one of the guards. Revna seems to have excelled the most, and despite her youth, she has shown much promise. Speaking of youth, today is Armauk’s birthday, and all of us were shocked to learn that he is only seventeen. This explains a few things about him, like his fascination with horses and his tendency to smash things with his warhammer, though none can ever doubt his mettle or his devotion. I, for one, am certainly glad he is a comrade, as he would make a rather formidable foe.

[donegeonsndragons]

CoS: Session 2 Highlights

Long-awaited second session! The party gets to learn how combat works, gets major plot points, and has some pretty interesting interactions with NPCs.

Premise: the party has run away from the town of Luna, away from the were-people there. As they go down the road that they came from, thick fog rolls in and where they expected the town of Initia to be, it’s just skeletal trees and fog... 

First off, they notice that Raynn has disappeared somewhere, most likely while they were running

The party then takes a really long to decide what they’re doing

The fog is really thick, and not even dancing lights illuminates much more than 5 meters ahead

To get some bearing, they check to see if the trees around them are the same trees they saw on the way to Luna

Damakos gets a nat20, and he knows that the trees aren’t the same and this type of tree shouldn’t even live in this area

After awhile, they decide to sleep and get a long rest while Buzzlorn acts as a sentry (as he doesn’t need to sleep)

It’s daylight now, and it’s so dim and grey that it’s not any better, and the fog is still just as heavy

Buzzlorn hears the sound of footsteps and yells “We have visitors!”

That wakes up everybody

At this point, Damakos and Mu can see silhouettes slipping in and out of the fog

Mu immediately gets weapons out

Damakos casts thaumaturgy to make his voice 3 times louder  Damakos: We come in peace!

5 people approach slowly, looking scared and a little crazed ???: No apparition of Strahd comes in peace

Combat start!

The varana immediately runs up a tree and prepares for battle that way while Vogal hides behind the tree

Damakos casts Cloud of Daggers, which accidentally catches Mu too

Mu actually takes a lot of damage during the entire combat session, being the main target 

After an arduous combat session with 3 of the strangers taken down, two of them attempt to take out Damakos and Buzzlorn

The guy attacking Damakos gets stabbed by Vogal, who coughs up blood before dying

The other guy crit fails his attack roll, looks up at Buzzlorn, and immediately falls to his knees, crying and praying

Combat ends with 3 dead guys, 1 unconscious, and 1 terrified 

Buzzlorn leans down and hugs the praying guy, consoling him

Vogal, cautious about looting around the party since last time he stole from the treasury and got slapped, stealths and loots the bodies

He finds very little money, but he also finds a letter with a fancy seal 

The letter reads: To whoever may receive this, I, the burgomaster of the town of Barovia, ask for your help to protect my daughter against the monster that preys upon her. You will be rewarded handsomely.

They question the guy, who, because of some name mix-ups, is called Tatiana now

He says that he and his party were hired and they were headed to Castle Ravenloft when they stumbled across the party

While this is happening, Mu takes his axe and chops off the head of the unconscious guy to the horror of everybody else

They then convince Tatiana to lead them to his town

As they walk through the fog (and later, rain), Tatiana tells them that the monster Strahd has a habit of kidnapping maidens from the land of Barovia, and that the burgomaster’s daughter Ireena seems to be the latest target

The fog and the forest clears out, and now they see an encampment on a hill filled with colourful tents and caravans

Two guards immediately call out to them, asking them to state their business

They say that this is a Vistani camp, and Tatiana is not one of them 

After convincing the guards that they’re not sketchy and they should let them in, they hear the familiar voice of Besnik (the teen that hired them in the first place)

Besnik looks confused, then happy, then really ashamed

Besnik: What are you all doing here? Nobody should be able to...wait...I made an oopsies. Oops?

He says that he waited for 3 days for them to return, and ended up going home instead

He also says that people can only enter Barovia if they have an item of Strahd’s or they were invited in, and that they can’t leave 

The varana, Mu, and Damakos are really pissed off

The varana tries to bribe the guards to look the other way as he punches him, but they say that they can’t because Besnik is the chief’s son

Damakos causes a small explosion right behind the guards, causing them to turn around in shock

Because of the explosion, a bunch of Vistani are coming down the hill to see what the kerfuffle is

The varana punches Besnik in the face, then proceeds to convince him that it was out of shock from the explosion

He succeeds

Suddenly, a scream sounds from the middle of the camp, and Bisnek recognizes it as his dad

Mu picks Besnik up by the scruff of his neck, and tells him to guide them to where his dad would be

They get there before anyone else does, and they see the Vistani chief on the ground dead while a pale man with dark hair and red robes stands over him

The varana feels the strongest presence of undead emanating from this man (or rather, vampire), enough to almost make his head hurt

They ask the vampire why he killed the Vistani chief, and the vampire responds “Someone stole my book, and I believe you have it”

Vogal, the one holding the book, tries to sneak and fails

The vampire points at him, and Vogal is charmed

As Vogal approaches Strahd, compelled to give him the book

Mu grabs Vogal and tosses Vogal into the nearby tent to avoid it

The vampire casts mage hand and catches the book in mid-air, starting to take it in

The vampire introduces himself as Strahd von Barovich

Damakos starts to talk to Strahd about what the book is and the contents, to which Strahd smoothly avoids the topic

The varana tries to jump and grab the book mid-air while Strahd is distracted, but Strahd immediately turns and asks if he thought that he really wouldn’t notice

The varana lets go, and Vogal manages to recover and get out of the tent

Strahd is questioned more, and the varana manages to grapple the book again

Strahd tells Vogal to “take care of his monkey friend”

Damakos goes to help the varana pull the book (which doesn’t budge) while Vogal starts approaching the varana

Mu tries to grab Vogal again, but in a blink of an eye Strahd moves in front of Mu and punches him in the stomach

Mu passes out

The varana and Damakos, seeing that their efforts are going to waste, let go and the book floats to Strahd’s hand

Strahd looks smug and asks if anyone else wants to try anything

Buzzlorn: We’re clearly outmatched, we’ll leave you in peace Strahd: See, I like him, he’s polite

Strahd raises his hand, and fog descends upon him, and when it lifts, he’s gone

Buzzlorn goes and heals Mu 

Bisnek is sobbing over the body of his dad, and the party asks him what just happened

He says that his dad was in charge of holding onto Strahd’s book, but that since the book went missing he must’ve punished his dad by killing him

Damakos: Does this mean you’re the chief now? Bisnek: ...oh shit

Bisnek says that he doesn’t know what to do next, but that Granny Eva has the gift of the sight and would know what to do (grandmas always know)

They approach a small purple tent, which everyone enters except for Buzzlorn, who is too big to fit inside

The inside smells of smokey wood, and an old woman sits at a table with a deck of cards

Damakos: Hey Granny Eva! Madame Eva: That’s Madame for you, kind sir

In the same breath, they tell Madame Eva that the chief is dead and that they need information on Strahd

After giving her a moment to mourn, she turns and tells them that she has been expecting them, and that she can answer questions

She tells them that Strahd has been the ruler of the land of Barovia for centuries, ruling with an iron fist. Barovia exists on another dimension of sorts, and so Strahd has control over who can enter and leave. She says that only the Vistani, who he had a blood debt to many generations ago, are allowed in and out of the land. Everyone else is trapped, and it will probably require killing Strahd to escape. She also says that Strahd has a habit of kidnapping girls whenever he gets bored, though she knows no pattern

She then takes her cards and spreads out 5 of them, telling them she can give them their fortune

“This card tells of history. Knowledge of the ancient will help you better understand the enemy.” The card shows a picture of a necromancer. "A woman hangs above a roaring fire. Find her, and you find the treasure.” 

“This card tells of a powerful force for good and protection, a holy symbol of great hope.” The card shows a picture of a monk. "The treasure you seek is hidden behind the sun, in the house of a saint.”

“This is a card of power and strength. It tells of a weapon of vengeance: a sword of sunlight.” The card shows a picture of a priest.   “You will find what you seek in the castle, amid the ruins of a place of supplication”

“This card sheds light on one who will help you greatly in the battle against darkness.” The card shows a picture of a fierce beast. “A werewolf holds a secret hatred for your enemy. Use his hatred to your advantage.”

“Your enemy is a creature of darkness, whose powers are beyond mortality. This card will lead you to him.” The card shows a picture of a dark shadowy figure. “He lurks in the depth of darkness, in the one place to which he must return.”

With their new quest and objectives, the party heads out of the tent, ready for their adventure!