#well you should have SAID SOMETHING in the campaign to let them know it wasn’t going to be the same

[the-physicality]

this election discourse reminds me so much of finals discourse…. (Obviously much higher stakes but)

[utilitycaster]

Hi, would just like to say thank you for writing up so much meta on campaign 3, it is keeping me sane seeing similar thoughts to what I’ve had written down coherently.

The last couple asks you’ve answered have got me thinking about how campaign 3 ended up like this (indecisive characters, weird nonsensical themes, only setpieces and maybe a ship or two being memorable) and I remember hearing that c3 was described by Matt as ”Pulpy” and I keep coming back to that and thinking that there was never even meant to be a big decision. From what I’ve read of old pulp fiction dnd novels it's pretty much “here’s the big bad go defeat/seal/slap them on the wrist, have fun on the way there with several cool setpieces and romance!” and I wonder if there was even meant to be a god debate at all or if it was just picked up in the middle of the story by the cast. It could explain why the characters wouldn't fit the story if this wasn’t meant to be the story.

Cause a character who goes with the flow is fine in those books and a character who only looks into what is thrust upon them works, but it feels like somewhere it tried to be more and just fell apart.

Because even now the story does feel pulpy but just held down by a narrative it isn’t handling well. 119 was a great episode and having the Raven Queen show up in the middle to give boons is an incredibly cool beat that would be memorable as hell but for it to end up as another god debate just sucks. But the rest of the campaign sort of does that with cool beats that end up dragged down in one way or another so its not unique I guess

I know you talked about the “pulpy”ness of c3 a while ago and was wondering if you had more thoughts now that we’re in the endgame for the campaign

I do - this is all rather speculative but in some discussions with other people one possible explanation that's come up is that Matt genuinely didn't expect the characters to be so hesitant to save the gods or stop Ludinus or sympathize with the the Vanguard, and has kind of pivoted to make a campaign that accomodates those doubts...but in doing so sort of fucked his end premise of "we must deal with Predathos". Which, you know, makes a lot of sense! What if Hearthdell was intended as a glimpse into why people might join something like the Vanguard to introduce an element of complexity to a party that (quite reasonably I might add) had said "these people are a fucking scourge on Exandria" but instead served to fan the flames of "well the gods didn't give me things when I asked so yeah we should let them be eaten"? What if the fetch quests to the Shattered Teeth or the scouting mission were like the quest for vestiges - something that the party desperately wished to do to achieve a deeply felt goal - and not something they had to be nudged along to do every step of the way? What if the party went into the final confrontation with any consensus or intention? Because then yeah a pulpier "you're taking on the Big Bad Ultimate Threat...but your MOTHER is on THEIR side" a la vintage superhero comics plays out much more coherently. I cannot stress enough that the cultural touchstone Matt brings up about the campaign is the 2012 Avengers film. Regardless of some posts I've seen (which tend to assume anything the cast has ever read/watched/played is an influence, which is. incorrect) that is your starting point.

The thing about all the "take a third option" and "status quo" talk surrounding this campaign is...this post is actually a good description of how it plays out in real life. Like yeah there's a lot of political constructs within the world that are stupid and unjust! However it is unproductive, naive, and idiotic to act as though just because you don't like them they aren't part of a complex system that needs thoughtful dismantling (at least, if you place any value on human life) or worse, that they simply don't exist because they shouldn't. Sometimes you genuinely do have two choices and neither is ideal and if you do not choose between them because you're holding out for a better option the choice is made for you, and often, it's the worse one. Sometimes there is in fact a problem caused by something stupid that you cannot undo in time to solve said problem, and it is selfish and childish to say "well I think this shouldn't be a problem" and leave it at that. You will fail in your endeavors if you do this. People will see that's your approach and stop listening to anything you say.

Bells Hells feel like that to me and it's not even entirely their fault. I think because Matt had such a clear endgame in mind in the sense of "face off against Predathos" and the party was so ill-suited, and the early pacing was genuinely already bad, he's sort of tried to pivot away by following every dumb idea Bells Hells have to perhaps funnel them towards that endgame. And this is a problem too, because it means the plot doesn't push back on them and they do not grow as people, which means that a lot of us are getting tired with their shit. It's telling that most of Bells Hells' loudest defenders are the "well, if you're traumatized, you're excused from all responsibility for your actions ever :)" types within the fandom because like, part of why people are sick of Laudna's shit (for example) is that it's like ok I agree you shouldn't have an evil wizard in your head but you do, so like, what are you doing about it. And because she hadn't done anything about it and because they had to get to Predathos we had our Deus Essek Machina situation, which to be clear, not mad about, but it also means Laudna never really learned or grew from this. And to be clear she's not alone; part of the frustration around Ashton is it seemed like they DID have a revelation around shardgate and then immediately discarded it.

There's many more factors I'm sure but just to sum up:

Matt has a very clear overarching plot in mind [and, also, probably was creating a campaign for characters who see point 3 had more realized worldviews and goals and investment in their communities]

Matt does not give the cast much guidance in creating characters for that plot; "pulpy" is really tonal and not even genre

Cast, having played characters specifically designed for the "complex and morally gray and must be from the continent the campaign is set on" campaign last, turn to wacky and go-with-the-flow types

Overarching plot kicks in; characters do not behave as expected

Matt tries to embrace/encourage this by getting the party to follow what they want to do

Go-with-flow/take no responsibility party doesn't know what they want to do

endless loop of a DM trying to adjust the direction of flow to a directionless party instead of imposing a direction/Cast trying to take direction cues from a DM who keeps throwing more options at them in the hopes one will appeal to them which turns into a "what do you want to do" "I don't know what do you want to do" situation.

[suitelif3]

Under the mistletoe…gone wrong

rated t | 1.4k | ao3

For @steddiemas, prompt: mistletoe

**

“Why don’t you want to be with Nancy again?” Dustin asked.

“God Henderson, we’ve been over this. She’s with Jonathan now, and they’re a good couple. I’m not that interested in her right now anyway.” More like he’s interested in the boy with brown doe eyes, curly hair and stubborn personality. God, he really has a type.

“How are you this blind, Steve? Just because she’s in a relationship doesn’t mean feelings aren’t there.”

“Dustin, there’s no feelings anymore. Get that through your thick skull. It’s never going to happen again.”

“We’ll see.” He muttered.

“Oh my god.” Steve said disbelievingly. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands.

“What’re we talking about?” Robin jumped on the counter, swinging her legs, so they were banging on the cabinets behind them.

“Just about Steve’s tragedy of a love life.”

“Dude! I’m perfectly fine being single, I like focusing on myself for once in my life.”

“Fine. You said fine Steve. Not great, not fantastic. Admit it, you miss being in a relationship!”

“Dustin, not everything is about being in a relationship! Do I miss being taken care of, sure. Do I miss having someone to be affectionate with, yes. But I also don’t need to be in one to be happy. I have Robin, I have you guys. That’s enough for me.” Steve sighed, looking around the kitchen. Robin smiled encouragingly at him, but Dustin seemed closed off. He didn’t want to ruin the Christmas party with everyone at the Byers, he was just tired of constantly being asked about his relationships from Dustin.

Even if he was secretly missing being in a relationship, he wasn’t missing one with Nancy, and he didn’t need to tell Dustin who he was missing one with.

“Yeah, Dustin, it’s okay to want Steve to be with someone but he’s okay. We’re all okay because we have each other. As friends, and sometimes friends is all you need.” Robin slung an arm over Dustin’s shoulders.

After a beat, Eddie peeked his head into the doorway of the kitchen. “What’s all the commotion about?”

“Nothing.” Dustin grumbled. Eddie smiled at Dustin, and ruffled his hair.

“Alright, well Wayne and I brought mac and cheese. Where should I put it?”

Robin gestured to all the other dishes on the counters the party has brought in so far.

“Thanks Buckley.”

Steve’s heart raced at the sight of him. Eddie looked good. He had his curls pulled up into a messy bun, with some out to frame his face. He had on non-ripped dark jeans and a dark, nice dress shirt. It was the most done up Steve had ever seen him, and all he wanted to do was kiss those perfect, plush lips. He wanted to absolutely ravish him.

Dustin asked Eddie a question about his upcoming campaign, which shot them off into a whole nerd conversation Steve could barely keep up with. He didn’t mind watching Eddie though. His eyes lighting up when talking about his passion, him gesturing his hands out to emphasize his points, his loud boisterous voice filling up the space. Steve loved how he took up space, that he was as confident as ever. He thought he covered up his staring by talking with Robin, her going on and on as usual.

Minutes ticked by until Nancy appeared in the doorway, letting them know everyone was here.

Steve nodded to her, and everyone started to filter out. He lingered behind, hoping to catch a moment with Eddie, but he had already slipped out with Dustin.

Walking out of the kitchen, Steve joined Nancy making idle small talk. They stopped in the threshold of the living room, Nancy going on about her new journalist job. He really was proud of her, they had been through so much together, and she was finally building something of her own. He didn’t love her anymore, but he would always want her to be happy doing something she loved.

“Look!” Dustin pointed to something above them. Steve looked up to see mistletoe hung innocently right above their heads. “That means you have to kiss.” Dustin announced smugly. Steve had never felt this much contempt for him before. He really didn’t want to be under the mistletoe with Nancy.

He took in everyone in the room. Everyone was staring at them, wondering what they would do. Jonathon was glaring at Steve, and he tried not to feel uncomfortable, but that was proved impossible since he was already feeling uneasy being in this situation.

Everyone else gave him varying looks of pity until he got to Eddie. Eddie looked crushed, the gleam that’s usually in his eye was dimmed, his shoulders hunched forward. His face the picture of heartbreak and Steve felt his own heart sink. He broke eye contact with Steve, his eyes darting around the room, planning his escape. He squeezed past different people, bursting through the back door.

Steve turned to Nancy, a look of remorse on his face. He didn’t know what to do, everything itching in him to chase after Eddie, but he couldn’t leave Nancy.

Nancy, able to read him as always, brought her hand up to his cheek, bringing his head down and kissing his other cheek.

He breathed a sigh of relief, looking at her gratefully. She gave him a small smile before leaving to stand with Jonathon.

He briefly saw Dustin’s look of disappointment, and Robin patting him on the shoulder, when taking off to the back door. Everyone chattering away again.

He stood outside, scanning the area for Eddie. The chill of the air made him shiver, the dim light making him squint his eyes, trying to see any figure from here to the shed.

He turned his head to the right, about to go down the stairs when he finally caught sight of Eddie.

Eddie was slumped against the back of the house, looking down at his feet, where they scuffed the ground.

He looked tormented, and Steve took a deep breath, not wanting to ruin this all over again.

“Hey, thought I saw you come out here.” Steve started gently.

Eddie swiped the back of his hand across his face quickly before looking at Steve.

“Uh-yeah. Inside was getting a little stuffy, y’know?”

Steve nodded, descending the stairs to get closer to him.

“Shouldn’t you be inside with Nancy anyway?” Eddie sniffed, eyes flickering around the yard.

He felt a tug in his chest. “Why would I be with Nancy?”

“Just seemed like the perfect situation. You guys under the mistletoe together.” Eddie shrugged with an aloofness about him. To make out that the sight of Steve under the mistletoe with Nancy didn’t bother him at all.

Steve took a chance and asked, “Can I tell you something?”

Eddie nodded.

“I didn’t want to be under the mistletoe with her. I never did.” He confessed.

“I thought you were in love with her?” Eddie looked confused, but Steve was tired of him always pushing him to Nancy. It was never going to happen. He only wanted the man in front of him. If he could have him again.

“I haven’t been in a long time. I don’t know why no one believes me. It’s not going to happen again.” Steve said exasperated.

“Maybe because you guys have a lot of history, Steve. It’s hard to let go of someone like that in your life.” Eddie tried not to sound too bitter.

“She’s not the only one I have history with Eddie.”

Steve still remembered the way Eddie curled into him, how he sounded when mapping out his body, drawing out those sweet sounds. He thought about those kisses, languid and soft. He recalled how he felt, full of warmth and love. He didn’t understand how Eddie thought he was still in love with her, when he’s been in love with him the whole time.

Eddie was looking up at him with those big doe eyes he loved so much. They were glossy, and red around the edges, his lips jutted out in a pout. Steve could only stare and said in a soft voice. “I wanted it to be you. That’s all I ever wanted.”

Something seemed to break in Eddie as he reached out to grab Steve’s collar, pulling him down until their lips collided. This kiss was nothing like their previous ones. This one was fast, a flurry of movement, of passion being pushed and pulled between them. Steve’s arms wrapped around Eddie, scouring his back, holding him as close as he could. Their lips nipping at each other, Eddie’s tongue fighting his, like he was desperate to be felt by Steve.

And Steve couldn’t feel anything but Eddie.

[fandoms-in-law]

Still Here 2

Liking Nancy

Story Summary: There's a lot of people with expectations of Steve and he's reached the point where he'll call out when they're wrong

Chapter Summary: Nancy and Jonathan go around to Steve's expecting to confront him over flirting with Nancy in the Upside Down

This is part 2. When written I will link the rest here: Part 1, 3, 4, 5

Author's Note: I'm not happy with this, but I can't remember which bit of the song made me think of this scene at all

~

Steve knew how much he had shown of himself, and was well aware of how he’d acted most of the time. He was not impressed with Nancy and Jonathan coming to talk with him looking as if he’d done something unthinkable.

“Harrington, I think we need to talk.” Jonathan’s formality made him smirk, looking him over.

“Sure, Byers, are you trying to imitate the lab guys before a kidnapping or-” He teased, opening the door wider so they could come in.

Byers spluttered for a moment. “I’m trying to be serious! This is-”

“An odd time to decide that when from what Mike has been saying you were high the entire time you went through whatever happened elsewhere while we dealt with Vecna.” He cut off. The kids had been trying to use Mike’s stories to convince Eddie they should get to try weed after the first D&D campaign which was the only reason Steve had learnt of it.

“Steve, you’re avoiding what we’re here to talk about.” Nancy stated, as if they all knew just what was about to be discussed.

Steve crossed his arms, turning to her. “Which is what? If not the fact that this guy endangered kids by doing that shit off his head.”

“You were flirting with me through it.” She replied as if expecting him to react with immediate denials.

“A taken woman, I’ll point out.” Byers added, looking judgemental now.

He meets the glare, “You’d know all about that, and frankly that’s understating who I’d been flirting with down there. Here’s a question, Have I done any of that since getting out? Or have I focused on healing, getting back to work and looking after the kids as you two forever fail to manage?”

“Who else-” Nancy began frowning, before her eyes narrowed, “Eddie was flirting with you too, but that isn’t the point here.”

Steve rolled his eyes, going through to the kitchen uncaring if they followed him or not. “You have no point here. Have I done anything since I was literally severely injured? More to the point, have you, Nancy?”

“What do you mean has Nancy?” Jonathan asked, sounding confused.

“Call Robin, any flirting that happened wasn’t just me.” He pointed towards the phone, “She’ll also confirm that my interest in Nance is lower than zero considering she never bothered to break up with me before getting with you, and thinks being black out absolves her from any guilt over the Halloween party. The flirting was a way to relax when I was severely injured and before that happened I’d literally been offering to flirt with a guy for information. My charm is something I use for various reasons but seldom recently because I actually have an interest in someone.”

Both his guests scoffed, but Jonathan turned to Nancy uncertain, “You said it was just Steve? And I thought you had broken up?”

“Great, you came to confront me knowing actually nothing.” Steve clicked a few times before turning to face them fully. “Nancy, you keep staying the same. You decided you like the idea of having both Jonathan and Me and refuse to let that go even though I have. I’m not yours and neither of you know me. Show yourselves out. I need to have lunch before your siblings need fetching from the arcade.”

[dnd-shenanigans-ensue]

The Dog Dies at the End

Cassandra Blackwater Character Sheet

Warnings: Conversations about torture, sibling abuse, animal abuse, and animal death

A/N: This is a scene between my PC Cassandra and another PC, Markus we didn't get to play out, but talked about outside of game.

Some context for this, Cassandra entered the campaign later with the instructions from her patron to steal a ring from Strahd and to kill Markus. As always, there were some complications to this plan, namely a shared illusion that transformed into each party member's personal hell. This prompted some impromptu trauma bonding between Markus and Cassandra, and the party as a whole.

If you're curious to know more, let me know! I've been thinking of writing summaries of each of the session and sharing them here.

Summary: Cassandra and Markus have a much needed conversation about brothers, devils and dead dogs.

Word Count: 3.0K

Cassandra didn’t remember her dream when she awoke, but she could take a decent guess. Her hands stung, nails still embedded in the frozen dirt and fallen snow. She imagined the chilled air was the only thing to keep the usual sweat from covering her entire body. Her heart raced, but she had the satisfaction of not feeling any strain in her throat. A quick look around the camp confirmed the rest; she hadn’t screamed this time. 

Ashe and Freedom were curled by the now dead fire. Tessa sat upright beside them, the distant look in her eyes indicating she was deep into her trance. Almira’s body lay a distance away, the cloth and coins still placed over her eyes. Considering where they were, she took it as a blessing. 

“Surprised to see you up early.”

She turned over, not as surprised to see Markus sitting beside her, fully awake and clearly not happy about it. 

“I’ve always been a light sleeper,” she said, straightening herself up. “Should we wake the others?”

He shook his head. “Leave ‘em be. I think Tessa only just started sleeping a few hours ago.”

Cassandra bit back the urge to correct him. It was too early to debate the difference between sleep and an elven trance. 

Giving him a quick once over, she noted his dress, specifically the armor and sheathed dagger. 

“Going somewhere?” she asked. 

He shrugged. “Just to get more firewood. Since you’re up, I could use the extra hand.” 

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. It was plain enough just by looking at her, her hands were not built for scavenging. Markus has proven time and time again he was not just able to go off on his own, but preferred it. He wasn’t exactly subtle. 

“Well, luckily for you, I have two to spare,” she purred. 

“As do I,” a very different voice interrupted. 

Cassandra’s attention turned to Steel Defender sitting an awkward distance away. Markus in turn rolled his eyes. 

“I need someone who’s strong.”

“I’m strong,” the robot said, indignantly. 

“Who has opposable thumbs then.” 

Steel Defender raised one of its pincers as if just noticing it had hands. 

“That’s discriminatory.” 

“How about you just follow along,” Cassandra stepped in, already seeing the steam rising out of Markus’ ears. 

The robot gave an annoyed huff. “I can do more than just follow after you.” 

Markus mumbled something likely unpleasant under his breath. “Fine, whatever, let’s just go.” 

He straightened to his feet and then did something wholly unexpected; he offered his hand. 

Instinct told her to refuse, years of practiced social grace compelled her to accept. 

She braced herself as her hand pressed against his. It burned, as it always did. Panic spiked into her chest as she willed her body not to flinch away. Every callus and cut scraped against her skin like broken glass. 

It only lasted a few seconds, just enough time for her to get to her feet. If he noticed the swiftness in which she pulled her hand away, he didn’t say anything. 

Silently, they moved out of the circle Cassandra had placed around camp the night before. The only sound that could be heard was of their own feet over freshly fallen snow. 

She had the impression it had been coming down in gentle drifts for sometime, but never piled more than an inch from the ground.  Like the sun behind the darkened sky, time didn’t seem to touch this place. 

A chill worked its way through her as she pulled her coat just a little tighter. Strahd’s hold over Barovia was not worth dwelling on. The immediate question of Markus and why she was out here was. 

“Determined little fellow, isn’t he,” she said, nodding back toward Steel Defender. 

“Sure,” Markus grumbled. “Wasn’t so bad until he started to talk.”

“I heard that.”

“Well try not to,” he snapped, before turning back to Cassandra.“Sorry about…that.” 

“It’s quite alright, although I do want the story of how he became your keeper.” 

He shifted awkwardly, his hand rubbing against his scruff in what she could only assume was a nervous habit. “Yeah, ah, that’s a bit of why I asked you out here. I figured we needed to talk.”

“Do we?” 

He narrowed his eyes slightly before glancing down at her hands. “Have a peaceful night’s rest then?”

She looked down, and saw just how embedded the dirt beneath her nails were. 

A shared memory passed between them, her nails digging into flesh, her mouth tasting of iron and barely repressed bile as her vision blurred red, before being forced back down as she slid her hands deep into her pockets. 

“Well enough under the circumstances,” she dismissed.

“Was it your brother?” he asked. He was gentle about it, clearly not trying to push her. It only made it worse. 

“I don’t recall. Statistically speaking it’s likely.” 

There was a pause. She didn’t look at him, but she could feel him searching for the next word. 

“Is that what you wanted to talk about?” she prompted.

“No…We’ve had this conversation before. At least I think we did, at the windmill.”

She stopped, finally catching his eye. “You think we did?” 

“Yes,” Steel Defender interjected. “You came up to Markus asking about everyone in the party. He then asked about you. You said “alright, honesty then”.  You then informed him how somebody used to tear you apart and put you back together over and over again, until you met someone who could get you out. He then called you a fool. You then–”

“Yeah, thanks,” Markus cut off. It was hard to tell given his green skin, but Cassandra swore for a moment he was blushing. 

“I believe this warrants a private conversation,” she said before turning to the faithful follower. “I assume your orders were not to let Markus out of your sight.”

“Correct,” Steel Defender said.

“A compromise then. You go as far away as you can while keeping us in sight and stay there until we come and get you.” 

It stared at her for a moment. She could all but hear the gears turning as it worked out if this technicality interfered with its programming. 

“What am I supposed to do in the meantime?” it asked, the conclusion it came to clearly not to its satisfaction. 

“Whatever you did before, I imagine.”

The robot didn’t say anything, but did as ordered, rolling off to an acceptable distance. 

She glanced back at Markus, his expression an odd mix of relief and trepidation. She could hardly blame him. If her own experience was any indication, she doubted he had a moment truly alone with another person since arriving in Barovia. 

She could kill him now. 

It would be easy, wouldn’t it? She could slit his throat, blast the little nuisance and come back to the group with some story about being attacked. 

One of the werewolves came out of the woods. Vampires. Ghouls. Strahd. Gods only knew there were plenty of things out here ready to kill them. 

She didn’t even need to go back. She wouldn’t have to go into the temple. Victor could remain dead and in the past. Her mission wasn’t to kill Strahd. If she played her cards right, a simple negotiation would do the trick.  

The picture became clear; a single surprised gasp, the smell of blood and then…

She was going to be sick. 

“Cassandra?”

She blinked, catching herself staring straight through a very much still living and breathing Markus. 

“Sorry,” she said. “Were you saying something?”

His head tilted to the side, his mouth forming into a hard line. “No.”

With an effort she shifted her expression into something casual. 

Answers. She was here for answers. If Cassius wasn’t giving her any, she’d have to find them another way. Killing Markus would have to wait. 

“Apologizes. I was simply putting things together in my mind,” she said. “You mentioned before, your brother tried to summon something. Why do I have the distinct impression he was at least partially successful?” 

That did the trick. Whatever she could fool herself into believing was concern slipped from his face shifting into a much safer solemn expression.

“You could say that. What else have you been able to put together?” 

“Not much,” she admitted. “I take it that doppelganger we saw in…whatever it was, that was him?”

He nodded. 

“You didn’t appear happy to see him.”

A hollow laugh rumbled from Markus’ chest, so low and harsh she felt it resonate in her own. It was the sound she had to swallow whenever a friend of the family offered their deepest condolences. It was almost comforting to hear it finally spoken aloud. 

“My brother was…a monster,” he said, plainly. “I don’t remember as much when I was really young. Redrum left with my father early. I just remember being afraid when they were there and relieved when they weren’t. It was good, for a little while, just me and mum. At least as good as it could be.”

His eyes grew distant a moment, lingering in those few memories run down to rags. 

“She got sick,” he continued, “and when she died, I had to go live with them. Well, I had to live with my brother. Turns out, he killed our father. Our father was a bastard, don’t get me wrong, but this was out of the frying pan and into the fucking fire.”

He forced a breath which did nothing to loosen the sudden tightness of his jaw or unclench the fist at his sides. 

“When I was about ten, eleven, there was this dog that lived near us. Good dog. Didn’t bite or hurt anyone. Redrum ordered me to kill it. 

“I didn’t want to, obviously. I told him I wouldn’t. So, he beat the shit out of me and locked me out of the house. Told me that if I loved the dog so much, I could live like one. I wish I could say I held out, but after about a week of no food or water, save for what I could scrounge…I found the dog; broke its neck and left it on the front step. 

“He got more demanding as we got older, but the simple fact is it didn’t matter who he was telling me to kill or what he was forcing me to do, it all came down to the same choice; my life or the dog’s.

“It’s probably why that thing reached out to him. Redrum believed it was some higher deity, worshiped it as a god. All the things he did, everything he made me do, it was all in service to it. It gave him power and he used that to gather followers, more blood. And when all was said and done it just ended up killing all of them.”

“Except for you,” Cassandra said.

“Except for me.” he repeated. “And that bit of him or it that clung on.”

He met her gaze, and in that moment, she saw it. She hadn’t known him well enough at the time to spot the difference, but now it was obvious. The man she had spoken to that night held himself differently with the stillness of a predator. Markus she knew could be dangerous, but that all too familiar assurance of their own superiority was absent. She doubted the man in front of her now could ever lay claim to having it in the first place. 

“He’s in my head,” Markus said, as if sensing her thoughts. “I can’t seem to get rid of him. He comes out whenever I get…angry or even when I’m asleep. I black out and usually find myself surrounded by bodies.”

Cassandra kept her face placid even as old instincts told her to reach for the dagger pressed inside her sleeve. This certainly explained Steel Defender. It didn’t stop Tessa’s little crush on the man from being pathetic, but at least she could confirm the stalking was for a good cause. 

The question of why Cassius wanted Markus dead remained unanswered. Somehow she doubted Markus knew much about the devil’s true nature he undoubtedly was carrying on his back. Cassius remained open to the idea of separating the two as an alternative to murder. Perhaps this one was strong enough to puppet a body without the soul still attached. 

There was something else, an urge, that pushed its way to the front of her thoughts. 

She wanted to tell him, he was right to choose himself over the dog. She would have done the same thing. 

It pressed against the seam of her mouth, but she swallowed it down, forming it instead into an easy smile.

“Not always,” she said. “I found we had a rather pleasant conversation.”

He ignored her. “Look, the point is; I get needing to get out. And I get what kind of power devils offer people. Some, like my brother, seek it out for the sake of it. To hurt people. Other people…they’re desperate. But at the end of the day, you’re just a means to an end.” 

Cassandra’s smile turned into a line as she was suddenly very grateful for her own restraint. Cassius was right. There was a reason why you didn’t name the dog. 

“While I appreciate your concern, I guarantee your brother’s devil is different from mine.”

“It’s not.”

“It is,” she pressed. “That illusion you and Tessa so kindly pulled me out of; it was more of a memory. 

“When we were young, my brother would come into my room, tie me down to the bed and set it on fire. Of course, his methods grew more sophisticated as we grew older; a lot of trial and error. Funny thing about burning alive, once you reach a certain level of heat you cease to feel anything. So, his little work around was to ensure sections of skin remained untouched so when the rest peeled away, the nerve endings would still be intact.

“He didn’t just stick with fire. Hold Person is a very versatile spell, but somehow he always came back to it. Something about honoring the strength of the family.

“Our parents knew. In the beginning they even encouraged him. Perhaps trial by fire was what I needed to awaken my magic. Of course once they realized nothing was working, I think they just saw it as a good outlet. 

“Of course, they couldn’t have a dead daughter on their hands, even a hopeless one. So they brought clerics and healers to the house, ensuring not a scar appeared on my body. 

“Any one of them could have stopped it. Any one of them could have said no, but they didn’t. None of them said a word.

“So when a devil came to me, and offered me a way out; I told him no. A way out wasn’t enough for me. I needed them to suffer. I needed it to last. And I needed them to know that they deserved it. 

“My devil gave me everything I asked for in spades. And when it was over, he gave me purpose. 

“He has never forced me to kidnap children or torture innocents. Those he sent me after were those like my family. Those who knew my family; who knew what Victor was and stayed silent. Nothing I’ve done in his name is something I would not have done willingly on my own.

“I’m not a victim Markus. Don’t try to paint me as one.” 

She held his gaze, daring him to answer, to call her a monster, to berate her for her anger, or worse, to look on her with pity. 

To his credit, he didn’t look away. 

“I know you're not,” he said. “You did what you had to do to survive.” 

She couldn’t make out his expression. Her mind flittered back to that shared nightmare and his own hands digging into her too. 

“But?” 

He took a deep breath.“Do you trust him?”

“Now I know you’re deliberately insulting my intelligence.” 

“That’s not a no.”

She huffed out laugh. Cassius came to her because she was desperate and just clever enough to be useful. He told her only what she needed to know and not always then. He was also there for her when no one else was. He gave her comfort and power and someone to turn to when she found herself scared and alone. 

“No,” she said. “Only a fool would trust a devil.” 

Markus didn’t say anything, but kept looking at her in a way that made her feel as if every burn and cut she had received in her youth were marked across her skin. 

“Look if you’re worried about me turning on you or the rest of the party, I wouldn’t be,” she said airily. “It would still be one against four, or four and a half as the case may be.”

“You planning on turning on us,” he questioned. 

“You haven’t given me a reason to. Journey is still not over yet though.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

“I’m at my most serious when I’m joking.” 

The answer didn’t seem to satisfy him as he shot her a skeptical look. 

“Fine,” she conceded. “Honesty. Our brothers are waiting for us in that temple. Once we enter, it will be just us. I don’t want to go. I know you don’t either. But, we are going and we’re going to kill them. Right?”

His face hardened, his shoulders set as he gave a firm nod. “Right.” 

Her mind flickered, just for a moment, as it always did when, on those rare occasions, someone decent wandered their way into her life. 

What if I met you sooner?

It was a childish thing to think. She was smarter than to linger in such flights of fancy. So she tucked it away in the same place she put her belief in prince charmings and cosmic justice. 

“Well, best get under way then.” 

She turned, moving towards camp as Markus followed in step beside her. 

This whole affair was getting trickier by the day. Devils and brothers and vampires on top of it all. Still, fool or not, she was clever. One more complication wouldn’t derail everything. Maybe, this time, the dog didn’t have to die. 

[lya-dustin]

Shock and Delight

Chapter 11

Cw: mentions of childbirth, parental neglect, murder, westrosi culture is its own warning

“Rhaena has a headache, I hope you do not mind me for today, mother.” The girl poured their cups with watered down wine just as Rhaenyra did for her father before being made Princess of Dragonstone.

After Rhaenyra one of Alicent’s Hightower cousins had filled the role until Aegon was old enough to pour the cups, only Aegon took that for granted and eventually Helaena did it until she married.

Aemond had yet to master living with only one eye and by then Vicky had become her cupbearer.

Bethany had replaced her and now Aemma only had to appear to make the painfully shy girl melt into the shadows.

It wasn’t her fault, Alicent knew the girl never did it on purpose.

Much like the sun, it was merely her nature to outshine anyone beside her, even when she was born eight and ten years ago.

There had been a tourney to send Rhaenyra into her confinement and as Criston seemed to be winning his last tilt the twinging the princess had been hiding turned into a worse pain.

Criston had become distracted by the sight of his former lover clutching her large belly in pain and been knocked off his horse by his opponent, Ser Harwin Strong.

But the tourney went on so the people could celebrate the birth of the heir or all be gathered there should it end as it did five years ago.

Rhaenyra had cried for her mother and in her delirium mistook Rhaenys for Aemma, she had also cried for Alicent, but Alicent refused to go to her and claimed her children needed her.

It was a quick thing, a girl born with a bloody caul on her little head like a crown as the crowd cheered for Ser Harwin who proclaimed to crown Rhaenyra his queen of love and beauty.

The baby girl had scarcely been named Aemma when her brother was born with his plain looks. The Andal blood of the Arryn and Baratheon lines had shown through Jacaerys with only the dark Velaryon eyes to confirm his paternity.

And much like Viserys with her children, he promptly ignored the boy and held up the infant girl as the dragons roared.

The word for prince and princess is the same, he had said later as he rambled on and on about the babe he envisioned and butchered the first Aemma for.

I was wrong, it was never a prince I had seen, it was a princess, he had laughed as if Alicent hadn’t been forced to bear him child after child because Alicent just had to tell her father about the strange dream Viserys had had the day he killed Queen Aemma.

At first the queen believed he kept Rhaenyra as his heir out of guilt and shame for his actions ---murdering her mother and marrying his daughter’s best friend to satisfy her father--- but then she learned he truly believed in dreams and in the words he whispered as he looked at the plain Valyrian dagger.

Alicent had come to know that her suffering was not divine in nature no matter how much she tried to make herself believe it was.

It was then that she began to let her resentment truly take root, and if the gods would not make her suffering be for something, she would.

And now she had to make a deal with Daemon of all people to make sure her son doesn’t burn himself and them as he courts the girl filling her cup.

“Prince Daemon has requested we see if there is any way he could have the funds to support his campaign at the Step Stones. Seeing it will give us a temporary truce with Dorne and keep them from encroaching on our borders and keep the islands under our rule, the King wishes we approve of his petition.” The queen wants to get this over with and knowing her father will be against it, she had approached Beesbury beforehand and Tyland as well.

Her father believes her to be working for his goal, but they are not. As the end of Viserys’ reign comes fast, Alicent has decided they are doing things her way to achieve her goals and if Aegon wishes to keep her father as his Hand, she will make sure her father knows he is not the one with the power.

Not anymore.

There are few private yet public places in this keep, as far as people know Aemond and Aemma are merely promenading in the Godswood and not planning their false courtship to end before he goes to the step stones with Daemon.

Mother will say no, but eventually she will relent just to keep them away from each other thus giving Aemma the chance to find a perfectly suitable husband while he becomes the first of his brothers to become a true warrior.

Really if he must endure Maris Baratheon saying Baela is twice the man he is because she has fought in battle any longer, he will have to kill her.

“You haven’t sent me flowers.” The princess points out as she steers them towards a group of eligible young men.

“Didn’t you get enough this morning, there was queue outside your family’s wing of the Holdfast.” Aemond knew it was expected of him to woo a lady, but he had hoped he wouldn’t need to woo Aemma.

They knew each other already and it wasn’t a real courtship anyways.

He’d never even gotten Jena flowers and they have been involved since they met three years ago.

“If you wish for us to sell the ruse you have to look as if you are really courting me, as horrid as it might be for you.” She answered as if she was an expert on the subject.

And between the two of them, she likely was.

“Any flowers of you would like?” Aemond asks knowing she will ask for anything that symbolizes love or desire or anything like that.

“Surprise me, I’m sure all your book-reading has to help you out there.” Aemma answered with a teasing lilt.

“I could end up giving you yellow carnations, Aemee.”

[seasonal-depression-of-punk]

Ritualistic sacrifice

Chapter one:

the beginning of the end

Rating:mature

Summary:After clash at the castle, Drew McIntyre has been furious at CM Punk for taking another win away from him. With all of these emotions, he has been struggling with dreams of this man.

Punkintyre fan art based on the chapter included

Tags: @thlayli-ra @salemshotspot if you want to or don’t want to be tagged in the next chapter, tell me in the comments or anywhere else

____________________________________________

The day CM Punk came back and dared to show his face, was the day Drew knew that he’d do anything to take that taunting and infuriating smirk off of that already annoying face and never let it return there. He knew he was destined to be the reason for Punk’s misery.

Only after few months, he had already broken one of Punk’s dreams by injuring his arm. The dream he had been always talking about. The thing that would finally make people know that his worth in life was acknowledged. That he wasn’t just the bratty asshole the world tried to paint him to be. That CM Punk deserved to be in the main event of the most popular wrestling event in existence. That it wasn’t too late for Phil Brooks to finally achieve his childhood dream and main event Wrestlemania.

And Drew shattered that chance. He took that pathetic old man’s dream that was as frail as the man himself, held it in his strong hand and crushed it with all the power he had in his body. Oh the joy he felt the day after, when he heard how bad the damage had been. That day his prayers had been answered. That was the day he truly began to believe in god.

He should’ve remembered what kind of a person he had wronged. He should have known what that man would do. He shouldn’t have forgotten that, that petty old man would bite back. To talk back. To kick back! That old asshole has begun a hateful revenge campaign against Drew!

He ruined a Wrestlemania moment that should have been beautiful, joyful and unforgettable. He was supposed to be the world champion even after leaving the event. But no. That no good man, who brings even more bad luck than broken mirrors, ravens, horseshoes with their ends pointing down and black cats together. Black cats aren’t even bad luck!

This hasn’t been enough for Punk. Of course not! Punk would never be satisfied and Drew knew that way too well. The people in other companies and his own experiences pointed to that. That petty man could find something to be mad about in everything. No matter what, there was always something that could be better.

It wasn’t enough that Punk had taken credit for ruining Drew’s Wrestlemania moment. He also needed to ruin Drew’s homecoming. The moment where he was supposed to win back what he lost. But instead, he lost it again because of the same reason.

The smug grin of acknowledgement on Punk’s face made Drew’s emotions shoot through the roof. Pushing him in the corner, wanting to rip his face off then and there. But the older man had expected a reaction like this from him. Of course he had. The kick to his crotch happened so fast that Drew only could register it when he was on his knees, trying not to get affected too much by the pain. It took him so long that Damian Priest had recovered enough and took advantage of the situation, making Drew lose again.

After all of that, Drew was ready to give up. He was ready to quit. He had gone to RAW and said “I quit” in front of the crowd only two days after Clash at the Castle. Everyone tried to stop him. “What do you mean you quit? Drew you can’t!” Guys like Adam Pearce and Hunter had said to him. “No. I’m serious,” he had told them and walked out of the building. Ready to never return.

Drew had locked himself in his house and decided to become a hermit. He deactivated all of his social media, made his distance to other people lengthen and decided to dedicate all of the energy he used to use on social interactions to his cats. All of them were so happy he was staying home, purring and nuzzling against him no matter what he was doing. It was very comforting. To just pretend that everything was fine and his life goals hadn’t been destroyed. Everything was fine until he felt himself fall asleep.

~

Drew was at home in his bed when he heard something. He wiped his eyes and got up to see what was going on.

He walked to his living room and looked at the direction of his couch. He could see a shadowy figure sitting on it. This made him really concerned. He looked around for his cats. Why none of them meowed or let any sounds?

“Oh Drew. What are you looking for?” He heard a smug very familiar voice speak to him. Drew quickly turned on the light and saw exactly what he thought he’d see. “Phil wha-“ Drew started but was stopped by a finger in front of his mouth. “Shhhh… no need to open your mouth. I know anything that comes out of it is just bullshit” the man who proved to be Punk whispered into the taller man’s ear. He could feel the hot and moist breath next to his face. He felt his ear being licked which sent shivers down his spine.

This made Drew quickly push Punk away from him, making him fall on the floor. The tongue hadn’t felt like a normal tongue. It was slimy like a reptile. It disturbed Drew. Nothing felt real. The man fallen on the floor had a sinister smile across his face. His pupils were like snake’s. Drew stared at him with wide eyes and started to walk backwards further away from this creature.

This wasn’t a human. This was a demon. A succubus. A devilish creature from the deep depths of hell. The laugh of the creature that tried to look like Punk continued to get more loud and sinister. A guttural laugh like a horror movie villain-

And that’s when Drew woke up and sat up panicked.

It was all a dream…

Drew sighed in relief and wiped his hair away from his face. And that’s when he noticed…

He was hard.

Second chapter

[goldenlaurelleaveswrites]

I've Got These Friends...

2. Hug

I've Got These Friends (AO3)

Aimée - aged 18 Luka - aged 18

_____________________________________________________

"And remind me why Bri and Mari aren’t helping us with this, again?” Aimée asked as she squinted at the miniature she was holding, before delicately dabbing a bit of silver paint onto the dagger it was wielding. Once satisfied, she looked up to glance at Luka. 

He was staring intently at the dragon miniature he was holding as he delicately brushed bronze paint onto the spikes on its back, seemingly blissfully unaware of the streak of paint on his cheek. “Bri has a shift-‘

“Which I know, but we could have waited until she was done-”

“And you know she would have spent the rest of the week messing with Dingo and Darrel, and about how they’re going to get their butts kicked during the next session,” he said, not once looking up from the dragon he was staring at so intently. It was a little worrying, how intently he was staring; it couldn’t be good for his eyes. “And Marinette…” 

It was like a switch had flipped the second he said Marinette’s name. 

He finally looked up from the dragon as his entire face softened, and a small, dopey grin slowly curled itself across his face. The one Juleka was always calling ‘disgusting.’ She had thought he had had it bad before he and Marinette had even gotten together—how it had taken them this long to actually get together was still a mystery to her because, well, it was them—but he was somehow even more lovesick now that they were together. Normally, she would blame it on the honeymoon phase, but they had been together for months at this point. It didn’t really feel like the ‘honeymoon phase’ label still applied… 

“I don’t want to spoil the campaign for her,” he said as het gently set the dragon down on its stand, and sat back a little to look at it before turning his attention to her. “She’s been having so much fun since she joined- you’ve seen her costume.” 

“I’ve more than seen it,” she laughed. Marinette had begged her to take some pictures of her in it. 

“And you should have seen the way she figured out the puzzle I set up for our last session! See, there were all of these chests, some of them were filled with treasure but the rest were traps that would detonate different spells…”

She set the miniature she had been working on back and its own stand, and sat back as Luka regaled her with stories from the last D&D session, and how brilliant Marinette was, both in D&D and in general. 

His eyes were lit up with a light that was usually reserved for when he was playing music. His music, not the music he was asked or told to play. The funny thing about Luka was that he was a quiet kind of guy; he tended to let his music speak for him. He wasn’t what she would call shy, but he was… reserved. People were always so shocked when she—or anyone else for that matter—mentioned in passing what an enormous dork he was. It took him a while to fully open up to people. 

But around Marinette… heck, even just talking about Marinette was enough to bring him out of his shell. 

And according to Juleka, it had been that way between Luka and Marinette right from the start. 

She liked seeing Luka like this. It wasn’t really that he was different. He had always been a dork. He was just more forthcoming with it now. More open. Lighter. 

Happier. 

He deserved it. He was always looking after everyone else. Keeping Dingo from being… well, no one could keep Dingo from being Dingo… But Dingo was still alive and in one piece, so that had to count for something. And he had kept Bri sane all these years and always had her back. He was always there to comfort and encourage Nadine when she was being too hard on herself. She couldn’t count the number of times he had been a shoulder to cry on when she had gotten her heart broken. And he was always there, ready to pull them out whenever any of them got themselves stuck in a creative slump. 

To say nothing of the way he was his family’s anchor, keeping them steady. 

He deserved someone who made him light up like a kid on Christmas morning. Who supported him in his music and dorkiness. Who sewed him custom guitar straps and brought him his favourite pastries to split at lunch and be disgustingly cute with. Who was sewing him custom dungeon master robes for his birthday— not that he knew it. 

“…and because you know how Darrel and Dingo get when there’s gold around-” She reached over, cutting his words off as she pulled him into a hug. “Aimée…? Is everything… ok?” 

“Yeah. I’m just happy to see you so happy.” 

Luka was silent. But only for a second. And then she heard the chuckle in his exhale as he returned the hug. 

“Thanks, Aimée.” 

“You’re such a dork,” she murmured. “And you have paint on your cheek.” 

[the-himawari]

A3! Promotion Event Translation - Haunted Western-style House (9/9 Epilogue)

*Please read disclaimer on blog; default name set as Izumi

---

Horror House Talk

Tsumugi: Ah, Masumi-kun. Are you heading to the rehearsal hall right now?

Masumi: Yeah. The same as you since we have an instelive.

Tsumugi: I can’t wait for the stream.

Masumi: What a pain…

Tsumugi: Now, now. Don’t say that. Let’s announce the next issue of “VELUDO” to our fans.

Masumi: …I guess I have to.

Tsumugi: Ah, that’s right. I’ve been wondering this for a while…

Masumi: What?

Tsumugi: What did you think about the Horror House as a date spot with Director?

Masumi: Well, I think it works. But when were trying out the Horror House, she went along with all three groups, so I decided I’m not going to invite her.

Tsumugi: Right, I suppose after going around three times, she’d know where and what all the tricks are…

Masumi: Exactly. That’s why I’m searching for a new spot now. Let me know if you know of any good places.

Tsumugi: No problem. I’ll tell you if I come across any information.

-pause-

Tsumugi: I wonder if everyone else is already here… Oh, there’s a bunch of drinks?

Izumi: Ah. Masumi-kun and Tsumugi-san.

Tsumugi: What is this about?

Izumi: We’re promoting a special drink campaign that’s going on at a café near the Horror House in our stream today… I just went to pick them up with Kazunari-kun.

Kazunari: You can get a drink from their limited Halloween menu for half price when you show them your ticket to the Horror House!

Tsumugi: I see. I’m sure the visitors will love that.

Masumi: That’s not fair. I wanted to go to a café with Director too.

Izumi: You were out during the day though, weren’t you?

Masumi: I would’ve went if you called me.

Izumi: That wasn’t something to call you over!

*door opens*

Tsuzuru: Hey, guys.

Kumon: I can’t wait to do a stream with nii-chan!

Juza: I’m lookin’ forward to it too.

Izumi: Ah, it looks like the whole gang is here. Everyone will be having these drinks in today’s stream. Are you all ready?

Kazunari: Yessiree!

Izumi: Alright, pressing play! Start the stream!

-pause-

Tsumugi: Hello, everyone.

Troupe Members: It’s MANKAI Company!

Tsuzuru: Woah, a flood of comments came in…! We’re happy that you all came to watch us.

Kumon: The main topic of today’s stream is… TAH DAAAH! It’s about “VELUDO”!

Juza: We’re gettin’ more comments. “I can’t wait”, “yaaay”… “Is it a special feature”?

Kazunari: The next issue… will be special feature on a Horror House! All 6 of us here were part of the photoshoot!

Masumi: Kazunari and I are on the cover. I think we fit the vibe well enough.

Kazunari: Our costumes popped off. Check us out when it’s announced, ‘kay~!

Kumon: Me, Masumi-san, and Tsumugi-san were wearing the same clothes as the staff members at the Horror House. It'd be awesome if you could check that out too!

Tsuzuru: Lots of comments are saying they’ll take a look for sure. Great to hear.

Tsumugi: Moreover, in order to take the pictures that are going to be published in the special spread… We were asked help out as staff members on the Horror House’s opening day.

Kumon: I wonder if anyone who happened to be guided by us are watching right now?

Masumi: …Ah. There was someone.

Juza: Where?

Masumi: The comments are flowing too fast, I lost sight of it.

Juza: I see… Thanks to that person who came on the first day.

Kazunari: Hm? It looks like everyone’s curious about the drinks we’re having~? Glad you asked. These are original Halloween drinks from a café next to the Horror House!

Juza: Do they taste good? Mm… yep, they’re tasty. They’re a bit sweet, but even those who don’t have a sweet tooth should be able to drink them no problem.

Masumi: If you show them your Horror House ticket, you can get these limited drinks from that café for half price.

Kumon: Wait, really!?

Tsuzuru: Is that why these drinks were prepared today?

Tsumugi: That being said, please do drop by this café after you visit the Horror House.

Tsuzuru: By the way… starting today, videos of our own trek through the Horror House will be uploaded to SNS one by one for the next 3 days.

Masumi: Watch them if you’d like.

Juza: There’s comments sayin’ they’ll check all three days.

Tsuzuru: There’s also lots of comments saying they can’t wait! Thank you, everyone.

Masumi: It looks like it’s about time.

Kumon: Eh, we’re wrapping up already!? The time totally flew by!

Masumi: Alright, our instelive today will go up to here.

Juza; Thanks for tunin’ in today.

Kazunari: Make sure you pick up the next issue of “VELUDO” with Massu and I gracing the cover!

Tsuzuru: Thank you very much for watching until the end today.

Troupe members: That’s all! It’s been MANKAI Company!

Tsumugi: Please tune in again.

---

previous |

[mikaela-granger]

The Long Wait (Season 5) Chapter 13

Map of the Seven Knights

Fandom: Grimm

Pairing: Sean Renard/OFC

The Long Wait Masterlist

A/N: The group get their hands on some more keys.

***Lorelei’s POV***

The next morning, Sean and Lorelei checked out of the hotel and went in their separate directions. Sean headed to work, while Lorelei had to get her iron infusion done before heading home. After being hooked up to the IV, Lorelei pulled out her phone and was checking her email when Nick called.

“Hey bro, what’s up?”

“Hey, uh, did you have a good weekend?”

Lorelei nodded. “I did. But I get the feeling you aren’t calling me about that.”

Nick chuckled. “No, you’re right. Uh, I just left Monroe and Rosalee’s. Monroe got a call from his Uncle Felix in Germany about some Grimm books he got his hands on.”

Lorelei raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

“Yeah. He contacted Monroe because he knew he was friends with a couple of Grimms. Thought we might be interested in buying them.” Nick sounded almost giddy. “He sent through a photo of one, and I gotta tell you. It looks really old. There were wesen in there that even Monroe and Rosalee had never heard of.”

“Do we know how many books? How much he wants for them?”

“No, not yet.” Nick replied. “He’ll get back to us once he’s appraised them or something.”

“Alright. Well, let me know and I’ll see what I can contribute.” Lorelei told him. “Maybe they can replace some of the ones we lost in the fire.”

“Yeah, that’s what Rosalee suggested. Anyway, I better go. I’ll keep you updated.”

As Lorelei ended the call, she felt her inner history nerd getting excited at the prospect of gaining access to some old books. How many hands had those books passed through? What new wesen would they learn about through them?

Less than an hour later, Lorelei was pulling into her driveway, eager to see the kids. Before leaving the hospital, Lorelei had called Adalind who advised her that her and Angela had the kids over at Nick and Adalind’s house. After setting their luggage under the stairs and greeting the pets, Lorelei headed next door.

“Mama, you’re back.” Diana greeted Lorelei as she entered the back door.

“Just in time for lunch.” Angela told her as Diana gave Lorelei a big hug.

“Mama!” Olivia squealed excitedly from the highchair she was perched in.

Lorelei pressed a kiss to the top of Diana’s head before moving over to Olivia and doing the same. “What’s for lunch?” Lorelei asked taking a seat beside Olivia.

“Tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.” Adalind replied, placing bowl of soup and a sandwich in front of Diana.

“Sounds delicious.” Lorelei commented as Angela served up a couple of dishes in front of Olivia.

The women and children ate their lunch, with Lorelei helping Olivia with her soup. Angela asked Lorelei how she was feeling following her iron infusion. “Maybe a little bit of a headache and some nausea, but other than that. I feel ok.” Lorelei answered before finishing up the last of her soup. Thankfully, the nausea wasn’t so bad that she couldn’t eat.

“Perhaps you should go take a nap, make sure that headache doesn’t get any worse.” Angela suggested.

Adalind nodded. “Angela’s right. We’ve got the kids. Go and rest. I imagine you didn’t get a lot this weekend.” She said, waggling her eyebrows.

Lorelei snorted. “I suppose you’re right.” Lorelei said before glancing at the girls. “But I should spend some time with them.”

“They’ll be here when you wake up.” Angela reminded her.

After a short debate, Lorelei eventually conceded. She was tired and the headache had increased in intensity. Stopping in the kitchen to get a bottle of water from the fridge, Lorelei headed upstairs and got changed before curling up in bed. She was out like a light.

***Sean’s POV***

It was late afternoon when Sean had his meeting with Andrew, Jeremiah and Rachel to discuss Andrew’s campaign. “Polls have got a dead heat. If the election were held tomorrow, it could go either way.” Jeremiah explained to them.

Rachel looked at him. “We’ve taken the high road and Galligher hasn’t.” She pointed out as she looked at Andrew. “We have to stop being the nice guy.”

Andrew shrugged. “I’m not trying to be a nice guy. I just don’t want this campaign to be like every other campaign. I don’t want to get elected because I’m the guy they hate the least.”

Jeremiah scoffed. “Pointing out a couple of flaws about your opponent does not make you the bad guy.” Jeremiah told him.

“If you wrestle a pig –.” Andrew started to say.

“You get dirty, and the pig likes it.” Rachel finished. “But George Benard Shaw is not running for the Mayor of Portland.”

“And you don’t wrestle a pig. You take him to slaughter. And you make bacon.” Sean said looking at Andrew.

Rachel leant forward. “How do you suggest we make bacon out of Galligher?”

“Well, first you fatten him up with some youthful indiscretions, and then you slit his throat with a couple of covered-up drug charges.” Sean explained. “And finally, you gut him with gambling debts, some favours paid out to known associates of the mob.”

Andrew had narrowed his eyes and was looking between the other three. A smile had crossed Jeremiah’s face. “Is any of that true?” He asked Sean.

“All of it.” Sean answered. “It was discovered during an undercover operation and then later buried with political favour.”

Andrew sighed. “Look, whether it’s true or not, I still don’t like using it.”

“The public has a right to know who they’re gonna elect.” Rachel told him. “And it wouldn’t come from us; that’s what the press is for.”

When Sean entered his bedroom that evening, he found his wife laying down with a heat pillow resting on her head. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Just this headache that won’t go away.” Lorelei told him. “Apparently, it’s a common side effect of an iron infusion. That and the nausea.”

Sean sat down beside her, “They are also symptoms of preeclampsia.” He reminded her.

Lorelei looked up at him. “The headache isn’t severe. It’s just…there.” Sean pursed his lips and Lorelei grabbed his hand. “How about this? If I still have a headache in the morning, you can drop me off at the ER on your way to work.”

Sean gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’d come in with you.”

“There is no point in both of us being bored. They’d just be doing tests.”

“We’ll talk about it in the morning.” Sean told her, pressing his lips to hand.

The next morning the headache and nausea was still present. Leaving the girls in Angela’s capable hands, Lorelei allowed Sean to drive her to the ER. There was a bit a debate in the car about Sean staying, but eventually he conceded in dropping his wife off and going to work.

***Lorelei’s POV***

Lorelei was grateful she didn’t have to wait too long before being called back in the ER. The nurse was understanding when Lorelei explained the sitation and got Lorelei set up in a bed. After obtaining a urine and blood sample, the nurse sent them off and Lorelei sat waiting in the bed for the results. As she was waiting, she received another call from Nick.

“How are you going? Sean said you weren’t feeling well.”

Lorelei sighed. “It’s just some side effects from the iron infusion. I’m fine, but I agreed to come to the ER for Sean’s piece of mind.” Lorelei explained to him. “Now, have you heard back from Monroe’s Uncle?”

“I did actually. Met him last night.”

“He’s in Portland?”

“Yeah. And he has 20 Grimm books.”

Lorelei let out a whistle. “Wow. How much does he want for them?”

Nick paused. “$100,000.”

“Holy crap, that’s like 5 grand a piece.” Lorelei sighed. “I figured they’d be expensive, but not that expensive.”

“I know. He says we’ve got less than 24 hours to give him an answer.” Nick paused. “I’m waiting to hear back from H.W. regarding whether they can provide any funds. Meisner is seeing what he can do. Apparently Black Claw may be interested in the books.”

“Why?”

“To destroy them. Eve says that Black Claw wants to eradicate all things Grimm including Grimms.” Nick sighed. “I hate to ask, but how much would you be able to put forward.”

“I could do 25 up front, but I’d need some more time to get anymore. Even then, I’d probably still fall short. 75 max.” Lorelei told him.

“Would that completely wipe you out?”

Lorelei shook her head. “Nah. But a lot of my investments or funds are tied up in things I can’t access right away. Like the trust funds I have set up for all the kids, including Kelly.”

“Damn, you are doing pretty well with your investments.”

Lorelei chuckled. “Yeah. I guess so. Anyway, maybe Monroe’s uncle would be happy with some kind of written guaraentee he was going to get his money.”

“Maybe.”

Lorelei looked up as the curtain was pulled open and a doctor stepped in. “I gotta go. Let me know what happens.” She said before ending the call. “Hi. Sorry about that.”

The doctor smiled at her. “It’s not a problem. I’m Dr Rochester by the way. I’ve got the results from your tests. There is no sign of protein in your urine, and although your blood pressure is high, it seems to be in a normal range for you.”

Lorelei let out a sigh of relief. “So, the headache and nausea is probably just a side effect of the iron infusion.”

Dr Rochester nodded. “More than likely. Although considering your history, it’s better to be safe then sorry. I’m sure you know how quickly things can go bad.”

Lorelei smiled. “Indeed, I do. So, I can go home?”

***Nick’s POV***

The day had certainly been eventful, for a lack of better word. However, it had ended up with the trunk of books worth killing over, in their hands. Tragically, Monroe’s Uncle Felix had been one of the people killed by the men tracking the books for Black Claw. After taking care of Black Claw’s men, Nick and Monroe returned to the spice shop, trunk in hand, so to speak. In the basement of the spice shop, Nick, Hank, Wu, Trubel, and Rosalee stood around watching as Monroe picked the lock of the trunk. “Ok. That should do it.” Monroe mumbled under his breath. Setting his lockpick set to the side, he opened the trunk.

“Let’s get them out of there.” Nick told them.

“Gently, gently.” Monroe reminded the group as everyone carefully removed the books from the trunk.

“There a lot more stuff in here than just books.” Trubel said excitedly.

Nick turned around and watched as Monroe and Trubel removed the panels of wood lining the bottom of the trunk. The removal of the false bottom revealed an array of ancient weapons.

“Oh, that’s incredible.” Rosalee commented from beside Nick.

“That is a lot of stuff.” Wu said in awe.

“Looks like we got our trailer back.” Hank added with a smile.

The entire group was in awe of the contents of the trunk, from the books to the weapons. It was an incredible find. Nick couldn’t wait to show Lorelei. She was gonna go nuts. Old books and old weapons, so much history. This was right up her alley.  As the others were gathered around the table, Monroe was examining the trunk. “Something about this lock…” He commented quietly. “It’s bigger than it needs to be.”

“I still don’t understand why they would kill people for all this.” Rosalee said as she glanced around at their finds. “It’s only real value is to a Grimm.”

“Black Claw is trying to destroy everything that has to do with Grimms.” Trubel informed her.

Hank looked up from the book he had. “Hey. Look at this one. It’s not like the others. It’s like some kind of family tree, book of ancestory.” He explained as the others came to look at the book over his shoulder.

“That’s not a – a regular family tree.” Rosalee pointed out. “It’s only following a few individuals from generation to generation.”

“And some of them just dead-end.” Trubel noted.

Nick looked at Monroe. “What’s the name of the guy your Uncle got the books from?”

Monroe looked up from where he was looking at the trunks lock as Trubel answered “Uh, Joseph Nebojsa.”

Nick pointed to the surname at the top of the page they were looking at. “It’s the same last name.” Nick pointed out. “Uh, go to the end.” He told Hank, who carefully flipped a page out. “There he is. Joseph Nebojsa.”

“Oh my god.” Wu uttered. “There all Grimms.”

“That’s why this is worth killing for.” Rosalee told them. “Everyone in this book is a Grimm.”

“See if Burkhardt’s in there.” Monroe commented from his position by the trunk.

Nick shook his head. “No, uh, it’d be under my mother’s maiden name. Kessler.” Nick told Hank.

“Hey, I think I just…saw a Kessler.” Hank said, flipping through the pages. “Here.” He opened up another page. “Is Walter your grandfather?”

“Yeah.” Nick said looking at the page. “And there’s Aunt Marie, there’s my mom, there’s me, and there’s Lorelei.”

Trubel straightened up. “But if you’re in here, maybe I am too.”

“Nebojsa was keeping this book up to date.” Rosalee pointed out.

“This would be real dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands.” Hank said quietly.

Monroe spoke up from behind them. “We’ve got ourselves a secret compartment.” He informed them as he picked something up. “It’s probably just an extra trunk key.” He said, slowly wrapping the cloth. Nick watched as Monroe’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. “Nick. You gotta see this.” Monroe said in a hushed whisper as he stood up and walked over to the table, holding out his fine.

Rosalee rushed over to him. “Oh, my god, another key.”

Nick carefully took it from Monroe, looking at it in amazement. His eyes widened even more as Monroe placed the cloth on the table, revealing there was more than one. “Three of them.” Nick said, looking up at the others. The looks of amazement on their face reflected his own. Nick looked at Rosalee. “Go get the other two keys from upstairs.”

“I’ll bring those.” She said, turning around and running upstairs.

Nick picked up one of the other keys, looking at them closely. Trubel helped him to line them up. Once Rosalee had returned with the other keys, they used the keys to create the map. “It doesn’t all fit together.” Trubel commented, as they compared the map the keys created with an older map and a current map.

“No, we’re still missing two keys.” Nick reminded her.

“But maybe we have enough to figure out where it is.” Rosalee suggested.

“Wait a minute.” Monroe said slowly. He pointed to a spot on the older map. “These three hills here with the two rivers on either side connecting to the bigger river here, that’s an exact match for what the keys are saying.” Monroe looked at Nick. “And it’s in the Schwarzwald.”

“The Black Forest.” Nick confirmed.

Monroe nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I know these maps aren’t as accurate as like, modern day topographical maps, but this terrain.” He said, picking the image created using the keys. “Is a pretty good match for this terrain.” He pointed to the older map. “Which is outside of Wolfach, which is…right here.” He pointed to the modern-day map.

“So, we can figure out where they buried whatever it is they buried.” Nick stated.

“Exactly.” Wu said before pausing for a moment. “Well, not exactly, unless you have the classic ‘X marks the spot.’”

Monroe looked at Nick excitedly as he removed his glasses. “But, dude, we got it. And it’s right here. In the Black Forest.”

Nick nodded. “I’m going to the Black Forest.”

Next Part

Taglist: @zoexme, @nu1freakshow, @star-yawnznn, @bella250

Banner by @cafekitsune

[curseofthebloodcountess]

What's the biggest curveball your players threw at you? Or just something wild/funny they did?

I talk about both of my campaigns, but in reverse order here. First, Blood Countess (ongoing) and then Remix (completed). Spoilers ahead!

The party was ambushed by Anstrasya and some of her lieutenants in the Barovian army. It was in the Svalich Woods. We have three PCs (Tam the ranger, Theo(dora) the warlock, and Alistor the cleric) and they were traveling with two NPCs, Ireena and Ismark. The Barovian soldiers effectively cut off Ireena and Tam (the pair they are trying to kidnap) and surround Alistor and Theo. The only one remotely safe was Ismark (who suffers from Ismark Curse: failing his rolls and being forgotten by the DM). 

Madi (Tam’s player) goes, “Can I pick up Ireena as my item interaction?”

I thiiiiink there was a roll involved (Athletics) but verbally, Tam turned into Aladdin. “Do you trust me?”

I need y’all to know he and Ireena have just found out they are the reincarnations of Sergei and Tatyana. They aren’t lovers (they still aren’t. They’re trauma-bonded besties.) The only person who Ireena trusts more is Ismark. He scoops her up.

“For my bonus action, I cast Zephyr Strike on myself. For my movement, I run with Ireena as far as you’ll let me go.”

Okay, sixty feet.

Except, based on where they were on the map, I didn’t have enough space. I didn’t have more enemies lurking and it felt like a dick move to add more. Bewildered, I watched as Madi, Tam’s player, yeeted Tam and Ireena off the board to safety. Meanwhile, the others are embroiled in battle. That means that as they are resolving this, on his turn, Tam is going double his speed with Ireena in his arms. I had him make a survival check or perception check, but he’s in his favored terrain. Nothing is stopping this man. He is aware of all the dangers. 

Alistor is downed at one point. Theo brings him back from death. The two of them and Ismark flee.

Tam and Ireena? Already at Argynvostholt, which was supposed to be a big reveal for Alistor because it’s his childhood home. Oh, well. Tam and Ireena are there alone until the others lose the Barovian soldiers in the woods, now trying to figure out what to say to Alistor about the state of said childhood home. I’m trying desperately to get the party back together. Oof.

I should know better.

This is actually the second time I’ve run CoS for Madi (Tam) and Clare (Alistor). I know the two of them. In our last game, they lassoed the roc’s leg, and anchored the other side of the rope to a boulder and the fighter (Madi’s character, Dorinn) ziplined down it while the paladin (Clare’s character, Victor Trevor) climbed up it because even though the players were talking to each other (and playing all four PCs) the characters weren’t and the characters were big of heart and dumb of ass. They crashed into each other and fell into the ravine, but it wasn’t as far a fall as I anticipated after the three of us deliberated over the map. 3d6 of bludgeoning damage isn’t all that much for a fighter and a paladin at level 9. 

Originally in that game, a third friend had been playing a druid and the thing that stymied me about her character was the moment she gave away all of her husband’s blood to Doru (aka some random vampire kid the party just met). It inadvertently shone a light on some out-of-game issues I’m not about to blast on here, but I worked tirelessly to make it work out in a way she would find interesting and favorable for a month and it still went to hell. There were out-of-game conversations, spoilers provided, you name it. Her playstyle - and that of the rest of the party - didn’t end up jiving. 

My players seldom stump me and more often than not, when they do, they surprise and delight me and it makes for a better game for everyone involved. Even when it doesn’t work out, I try very hard to communicate and keep things fun. 

[madalice31]

It’s funny how when this Blake Lively shit went down, you got folks coming out with the “there’s good people on both sides” energy lmao. There’s no bad and good guys. It’s not so black and white.

Y’all love saying that shit when your faves are involved. Blake has clearly been problematic for a while. It’s not a smear campaign when the behavior has been documented. Ain’t nobody making anything up about her mean girl behavior. If it was a man getting exposed, y’all would be all for it. But since it’s y’all fave white girl being called out on her shit, suddenly it’s misogyny.

When you’re CLEARLY pregnant and someone congratulates you and instead of a simple thank you, you congratulate them on their bump when they are clearly not pregnant. Like who does that? You don’t know if that woman even has the ability to get pregnant and how saying something like that would make HER feel. Blake could have easily said, thank you but I don’t want to draw too much attention to the lil bump right now, or something along those lines. Just to show that she doesn’t want to focus on her pregnancy. Anyone would have understood. Well…let me not say anyone. Not with the way yall dragged Halle Bailey when she was going above and beyond to not show her bump since she didn’t want to draw attention to it. But I think that interviewer would have understood. And instead Blake got nasty for no reason.

So say it ain’t “all black and white” all you want to, but when someone shows you who they are, believe them!

Also, can we put to rest the whole “you’re more than a victim” bull shit. I was molested as a child. I was a victim. And I’m not ashamed of that because there’s NOTHING to be ashamed of. It wasn’t MY fault. Am I more than that moment in my life? Yes. But should that moment still be called out for what it was? YES! This whole “nothing can phase me” mess is bullshit, especially when it comes to any form of abuse. It leaves a mark on you. And yes it’s beautiful when we can accept and kiss our scars rather than try to cover them up or hide from them. Therapy works. Denial does not.

Just my opinion.

*edited

[utilitycaster]

I was reading your posts about interesting moments in CR3 and different possibilities that could’ve added positively to the campaign and the party split was an interesting point. Honestly I can’t help but wonder that if we had one party who

1- met guests who had a positive relationship with different gods (there are 12 Primes right? Why did both parties end up interacting with Pelor) to broaden the knowledge through player-player interactions

2- were sent to a place with a mix of religion and culture and explore a region with NPCs offering a different viewpoint

Because honestly as much as I enjoyed the split, I felt kinda bummed out that both parties experienced even more negative feedback re: the gods: Deanna forced to come back by a god or the village being taken over and forced by a religious group. Even more so when it was Pelor in focus both times and he is one of the harshest ones.

If one party had a different experience, because none of them had any personal experience and were mostly working off their own hurts when asked ‘should the gods be killed’, then maybe the debate when they reunited could’ve been different. Instead of Orym being the only one to say ‘Ludinus is bad guys.’

It felt like having someone be horrified at their gods being killed would be a good shock to the ‘meh’ reaction the party was constantly having. Or the guests being meh about it too (or it just being a weird comedy improv moment).

I wasn’t on tumblr, but were people wondering why both instances were negative religiously? Do you think it could’ve impacted the group positively if Matt had made the encounters different?

Hi anon, I mean this as kindly as possible but I have repeatedly been saying for literally over a year at this point that the issue is not that Bells Hells lacks a pro-god member. I feel like I get questions like this every few months and I say something like this every few months and I know it's a fandom and I don't expect everyone to read every post on my blog but like, I do have to read every post on my blog and it's getting tiresome.

Bells Hells had a pro-god member in FCG and were frequently pretty belittling and unkind to them about that, frankly, until the moment of their death. I also think (and iirc Aabria has clarified out of game) that Deanna is not in fact mad at Pelor. She has a lot of issues with the actions of other worshipers, and she has complicated feelings, but I would not under any circumstances say her perception of the Dawnfather was negative. I also think she is something of a Keyleth case, of "if I do not let out this anger towards a deity, it will be directed towards the person I'm actually mad at, whom I love, and that's much harder to face and process, so I will be shaking my fist at the sky instead." I also think that the character of Bor'Dor is a great example of the awful manipulation that the Ruby Vanguard took part in and how like most cults they destroy the lives of their followers, rendering them unable to see outsiders as anything but the enemy, and that most people don't escape.

If you are dealing with people whose genuine reason for enabling what amounts to either genocide or extinction of a species, depending on your perspective, is "I asked for help from them [in a vague and indirect sense] and never received it", having someone else say "well I had help and it was great" is not going to change their minds. The thing that would have fixed Bells Hells is, as someone else said, having significant ties to the world outside of each other, who they've at most known for 2 years and change. As is they have little investment or care for any of the other people of Exandria while claiming to be their voice. You do not need a love of the gods to make, as Caduceus said, the kind choice. You do need a love, or at least an effort made in the direction of love, for the mortals of Exandria and Ruidus, and they do not have that. And from an outside perspective again we can discuss that this is largely a failure on the DM-ing side but within the context of the story that is the problem, that this is the behavior of people who spend more time arguing in favor of people who are long dead (after uh. trying their own genocide) than in the presence of the many common people on Exandria and Ruidus who are alive.

[kidgetrash]

Monsters and Mana 2 - Save The World, Get The Girl - Chapter One

Character:  Keith Kogane, Pidge Gunderson/Katie Holt, Lance McClain, Hunk Garrett, Shirogane Takashi, Coran, Princess Allura, Matt Holt

Pairings:  Keith/Pidge

Warnings!:  This is going to be one looooonnnggg fic! I think? So far I'm barely into the plot and I have four chapters, so let's see how far we go! I'll add warnings as they come up!

Summary: After many battles, the war is over, and the team have finally got some well-earned downtime! Having noticed that Pidge and Keith had feelings for one another but hadn't yet acted on them, they decide to have Coran run another campaign, this time with the two as betrothed royalty!

A/N: Here you go, guys! This is chapter one of my Monsters and Mana follow up which is basically a fantasy story involving or rather leading up to some Kidge romance!

Also! The title is actually something my brother has as a tattoo!

Chapter One

‘Keith, you’ll love this!’  Pidge bounced up and down beside him, walking down the corridor to where the rest of the team were waiting in a large booth in the garrison rec room.  ‘We all have our own characters and everything!  I’m a tough warrior!  With a huge axe and full plate armour!’

Keith smiled down at her exuberant explanation.  He had been away with the blades when they last played and each of them had mentioned at least in passing how much fun the game was.  ‘Meklevar! Best axe fighter in three lands!’

‘I can’t wait to see you in action, Meklevar.’

‘I can’t wait to see what you choose to play.  Just, not a paladin, okay?  It’s meant to be an escape, not art imitating life.’

‘Who chose to be a…’

‘I want to be a paladin.’  Shiro argued, leaning on the game table and giving Coran a firm look.

‘And like I said, this is a one off adventure and you all have prewritten characters to fit in with the plot.  Here’s your character, master thief.’  He slapped the datapad with the character information on into Shiro’s chest.  ‘This will be a good exercise to get everyone out of their comfort zones and utilise your imagination while you’re at it!  You have to work with what you’ve got in the field and this is no different.’

‘A…thief?’  Shiro looked at the datapad in despair.  This wasn’t what he had been hoping to play.

‘Here you go, Princess, as discussed.’  Coran handed them each a datapad.  ‘Matt should be along in a few doboshes too.’

They each took a seat around the table, Keith and Pidge side by side as they always seemed to be these day and it hadn’t escaped anyones notice.

‘Hey, no peeking!’  Allura pulled her datapad away from Lance who was trying his best to get a look.  ‘This has sensitive information pertinent to me and me alone!’

‘You just got it, how do you know what’s pertinent and what’s not?’  Lance leaned in closer.

‘Coran and I have spoken at length about my character’s background, and if you don’t stop I will move seats!’

‘Fine.’  Lance sat back in his seat, arms folded and pouting.

‘Now, I want you all to go around the table and introduce yourselves.’  Coran began.  ‘Character descriptions are on page two.  Keith?  As a newcomer, why don’t you go first?’  He passed him his datapad.

‘Alright.’  He scrolled hesitantly.  ‘It says I’m Prince Theophilus of Qiomend, Theo for short.  My country is in negotiations to ally with the neighbouring country of Ephbe, who we have a trade deal with but it’s delicate at best.’

‘Hey, how come Keith gets to be the prince?’  Lance argued but a well placed elbow and glare by Allura silenced him.

‘I agree.’  Keith replied.  ‘Lance is much better suited for this kind of role.’

Coran stared at Keith, his left eye twitching.  ‘I have spent a lot of varga making this campaign and you will stick with the characters I have designated.’

‘Just do as he says, Keith.  It can’t be as bad as being a thief.’  Shiro scowled more than he should have, given it was only a game.

‘Princess, if you will?’  Coran asked without taking his eyes off both Shiro and Keith beside one another, evidently unimpressed by their disappointment.

‘I am Mylaerla.  A beautiful, mysterious woman from the exotic tribe of Daquin.’

‘Yes you are.’  Lance grinned at her, which she easily ignored.

‘Shiro?’

Shiro sighed.  ‘My name is Airdan Swifthands, a master thief for hire.  I come from Ephbe and have a reputation for retrieving lost things with the least amount of casualties.’

‘That actually sounds rather heroic for a thief.’  Pidge commented.  ‘More like a bounty hunter or…’

‘A bailiff?’  Hunk suggested.

‘Moving on.’  Coran passed Hunk his pad.

‘Oh, wait, no, I’m a bounty hunter.  Lore Greyarrow.  I come from Snagrore, a mutual enemy of both Ephbe and Qiomend.  Cool.’

‘Lance?’

‘Let’s see what main character sharpshooter gets to play.’  He scrolled with a smug smile on his face, until he reached his background.  ‘What the quiznak is this?’  He waved the pad at Coran.  ‘You have to be kidding me?’

‘Not kidding in the slightest.  You are Billy, Prince Theophilus’ loyal servant.’

Keith burst out laughing as Lance continued to complain.  ‘Oh no, I’m not being his servant!  I don’t even have a last name!  I may as well be a slave!’

‘Not a slave, per se.’  Coran twirled his moustache thoughtfully.  ‘But your family do owe a debt of honour to Prince Theophilus’ family, which is why you’re completely devoted to him.’

‘Remember, this is a good team building exercise.’  Shiro interrupted before the arguing could get any worse.  ‘And the way you’re delaying things we’ll never get to the story.’

‘Well, said, master thief!  Lastly, over to you.’  Coran handed the second to last datapad to Pidge.

‘Okay, I’m Princess Quieta Ambrossia of Ephbe.  I’m the sister of the newly crowned king who wants to make peace with neighbouring Qiomend.  I spend my days…’  she looked up at Coran.  ‘Seriously?’

‘You’re a princess.  Your pastimes include embroidery and dancing.’

Pidge narrowed her eyes at him.  ‘I’ll bring your research to the top of my list if you let me make ten changes.’

Coran stroked his chin thoughtfully.  It was a tempting offer.  He had been wanting to know the results of his research into the correlation between the amount of the Earth beverage coffee related to the number of times he had to expel his waste water and until now he had been held to the longest of waiting lists while so called more important projects got the go ahead.  ‘Two changes.’

‘Eight.’

‘Three.’

‘Five, and I throw in a coffee gift card I got for my last birthday that I haven’t used.’

‘Done!’

They shook hands across the table.  ‘Great.’  Pidge pulled up the rulebook and started making changes.

‘No fair, how come she gets to make changes?’  Lance complained yet again.

‘Because she drives a hard bargain.’  Coran straightened his posture as though he had won some great moral victory before opening his own datapad.  ‘Our story begins in the great hall of the castle of Ephbe kingdom.  You have all been summoned here by King Z’opetes the Just, older brother of Princess Quieta.  Oh, except you, Princess.  You’re not here.’

‘Got it.’  Allura nodded.  ‘Then, where am I?’

‘Not you, Princess, Princess Quieta.’

‘Me?’  Pidge looked up hearing her, in her opinion, stupid character name.

‘Yes, you’re not here.’

‘I’ll just keep doing this then.’  Pidge turned back to her pad and Coran continued.

Masterlist

[mrs-monaghan]

Thanks for sharing and confirming that my instincts were right. I always tend to trust my gut feelings about people but sometimes I wonder if I should. Well, once again, it seems that I, indeed, should. Now I have to be honest, I never gave much credit to wsj, I ended up unfollowing cause I wasn’t interested in her posts anymore at some point, I really don’t trust people claiming they know stuff about celebrities and posting it on the internet, everybody can pretend to be xyz, unless there’s some solid proof I chose to remain skeptical (I did see a few stuff, tough nothing groundbreaking, from the k-side that I trust though, so maybe she was right). That being said, it’s Tumblr, it’s more private that Twitter, we’re a smaller community, so I don’t see any harm in people sharing what they want to share on their own blog. Just move on and ignore if you don’t like. The campaign against her and other bloggers was disgusting. Let ppl speak on their own tiny corner ffs, if don’t agree you can expose your arguments, have a discussion or unfollow and block. As long as they don’t cross a line I don’t see the problem. I’m seriously done with the holier than thou woke bs attitude. It’s all about virtue signaling these days, showing how you’re so much better and morally pure, and you know everything better than the rest of the plague… give me a break. Also the discussion around jealousy and constant dismissing of k-army and korean dating culture was quite something… because as someone who comes from a country where the dating culture differs a lot with the American/western perspective, where a drop of jealousy and possessivity is considered as a normal display of affection - I’m not talking about excessive and toxic behavior obviously!! - the blatant ignorance and constant undermining of korean dating culture that is quite similar to mine in that regard really annoyed. me. so. freaking. much. It’s deemed as a big no-no in your culture, okay, I get it, but you’re not better than us who thinks that in many cases it’s not that big of deal and, in Jikook case, was quite revealing in the past. Sorry I’m going all over the place, I’ll shut up now!

Ha ha haaa... no, dont even worry about it. Its fine. Thing is though, the Jeonlous/Jimlous thing IS indeed quite exergerrated. Most of the compilations are rubbish. And I can see why most people hate it. Including Regina George. I get that. But it doesn't mean it doesn't happen. Especially in the case of other people who are not members. My mind immediately goes to the Sean Mendez interaction. 🤭🤭🤭

(TT is accurate has not been manipulated in any way)

JK almost bulldozed RM and downright ignored him in his rush to get to Jimin. It's actually hilarious 😂😂 Now this can be classified as jealousy. But when it comes to members I don't think that's what that is at all. Annoyance, Irritation, maybe? because he can't do to Jimin what others can. But definitely not jealousy. Either way whatever it is, it happens and denying it is stupid.

As for WSJ I don't see why the notion that an Army personally knows BTS is so hard to believe. Normal people know celebrities all the time. That being said, my issue with everyone who went after her was the hypocrisy. WSJ was very careful not to tell us anything incriminating. And everything else she ever said were things we already knew.

-Jikook is real

-Jikook live together

-Vminkook have issues

Etcetera, Etcetera. These are things we already know. She was just confirming. And she wasn't even worse than us Jikookers. And i said as much to Stormie when she made that shady post. We are the ones talking about Jikook 18+ moments and posting about them. So anyone thinking they have a leg to stand on are being hypocrites. 🖕🏽

[druidx]

Find the Word Tag - Alexis Dalliance vs the Evil of Titan - Part 2

I have a lot of Find the Word tag games. So I decided to put them all together to make me edit the Alexis Dalliance vs the Evil of Titan, a NaNoWriMo novel from 2012 based on the first TTRPG campaign I participated in the Fighting Fantasy World of Titan setting.

There was a total of 145 words to find so I've split these into batches of ~50. I've not removed any duplicates, and where there's not an exact match I've used synonyms instead.

I've grouped the words by the original tagger - though some of these are old enough the tagger has changed URLs...

Fair warning before you click:

I have tried to keep the snips short, but at ~8,320 words, this post is 'colour of the sky' long.

Well, if we're sitting comfortably, I'll begin.

➤ @autumnalwalker

Advice (Instruction)

The group once more reached the gates of Castle Dire “Ho there!” Richard hollered up at the guards stationed above. “We return on the instruction of Corporal Janz, bringing the gift from my lord, Zharradan Marr, to his Lordship Balthus Dire.” A cautious face popped up over the battlements. “Good Gods,” said Janz. “Is that it?” Alexis clenched her jaw at his tone. “Yes, it is,” Richard yelled back. “Now let us in, if you please.” “Alright, alright. Keep your pants on.” Janz vanished from view.

Alright

Alexis woke from where she’d curled up under a table. As she crawled out from under the table, she found Victor still drinking, helping himself to a barrel of ale with its top stoved in. “I’m going a-bed,” she declared, her words slurring together. “You should do the same.” Victor grinned, singing something unintelligible in an off-key warble. Alex waved a wagging finger at him. “You better pay for that barrel you’re draining.” “Course!” Victor beamed at her. “We were ordered t’see Yazty and the Cap’n. You better be at Townhall by noon. Got it?” “Aye, aye, sir!” Victor gave her a lazy salute. “Well, alright. I’m going t’bed,” she said and left him to it.

Bite

Back at the inn, Alexis hitched the horses outside and went in, finding Richard in the middle of breakfast. As soon as he saw her, he unfolded himself from the low seating, and they met in the middle of the carpeted space. “Alexis-” Brown hair flopped into his face as he bowed his head, his shoulders slumping with relief. “I… I thought you might have left us.” Awkwardly, he places a hand on her shoulder. “Psh. Never,” she said. “You’d trip the first trap you found and get yourself killed if I wasn’t here.” Despite her flippant words, Alexis squeezed his hand and grinned. He smiled back. “Probably.” “Definitely.” Together they returned to his table, and Richard took a bite from his flatbread. "I’ve sent Bast and Victor to get trail rations and other supplies. Um. I’m afraid Goregut won’t be joining us. He’s decided he’s quite fond of the desert and has joined a mercenary band. He left with a caravan at first light.” His brown eyes regarded her over the bread, lips pursed in a silent question. “Oh.” Alex’s hand found the necklace of bone Gorgut had given her. “A shame. I should have liked to have said goodbye. I guess this means we have an extra horse then.”

Connection

Victor turned away from where he’d been poking at the bottom of a wall and grinned. “Why, Rock to Mud, of course.” “And what is that?” Richard asked. “A spell. If I use it on the base of the walls, the unworked stone here, see? The foundations will collapse, the temple will fall in on itself, be swallowed by sand, and we can be on our merry way.” He dusted his hands off with a grimace. “I don’t know about you, but the heat and dust and significant lack of beer is becoming increasingly tedious.” "I don’t see any other options,” Alexis said. “All right then, let's do that.” Bastet stood, walking over to the tunnel connecting the chamber with the outside, and Alexis joined her. “Whenever you’re ready,” Richard said, motioning the other two up the tunnel to give Victor room to work.

Duck

Victor continued, unfazed, “It seems we were expected, presumably by Yaztromo’s mysterious source. The chappy over there said he would only speak to us together." "Let’s not leave him waiting then," Richard said, leading the way across the street towards the man in question. The man lifted his chin as he saw them cross and ducked down the alley behind him. He led them, keeping his distance, as the alley jinked back and forth, past the occasional body or sack of detritus. He stopped, finally, next to an unremarkable wooden door. Alexis squinted. In the gloom opposite the obvious door was another of dark metal, recessed into the dank brick.

Initially (Introduce)

"Where in the hell are we?" Alexis asked. Despite the guard, Bastet stood up and went to the bars to look around. "What are you doing? Get her back from there. Do you want to get us all in trouble?" came a new voice, hissing from the corner. Alexis turned. In the faint light of the torches, she could just pick out the pale, emaciated form of an elven woman. Her wide, fearful eyes were fixed on Bastet. “You’d better come away,” Alexis said, poking Bastet in the leg. “I’d guess we’re in some kind of drow-run mine,” Bastet said as they sat next to the woman. “Yes,” she said. “We’re on the outskirts of the Darkwood Forest. They have us mining for moonstones.” Alexis held out her hand, introducing herself and Bastet. "I’m Nassurae Talloth," the woman said, ignoring Alexis’ hand. "Now, please, you must get some sleep. Don’t make the guard come back.” Alexis and Bastet glanced at each other as Nassurae moved to the back of the cell, cuddling down with her fellows. “I can’t do anything without my tools,” Alexis said. “We may as well get some rest then,” Bastet said. “I was never stationed at a place like this, but I’ve heard the rumours. We’ll need all the strength we can muster to survive.” So saying, she laid down. Alexis followed suit, trying to get comfortable on the cold, stony ground.

Not

As Richard paid for their meal, Alexis rolled the map up, stuffing it into her pack. “Let’s see if we can drag those two away from their entertainment,” Richard said dryly. Alexis glanced out. The tiles had been put away in favour of a pack of cards and a bottle of pale golden liquor. Bastet now sat, engaging in a drinking contest with a burly half-orc woman. Alexis snorted, and they left the tent. Richard was ahead of her, striding over, no doubt with an admonishment on his lips, when Alexis felt the back of her neck prickle. She stopped, looking around, as twiclings shifted around her. The crowds parted, just for a moment, and she spotted people in what appeared to be clerical vestments. She squinted. Except, something wasn’t quite right… One of them twisted, looking straight at her. “Shit…” He nudged his companion and pointed. “Richard!” she yelled and ran. Today was a day when being small worked in her favour. Alexis shot through the crowds, darting this way and that, winding through the legs of people and animals alike. But though it might help her lose the cultists, she’d also lose her backup. Eventually she was going to run out of legs to hide behind and have to face the cultists on her own – a prospect she did not look forward to.

Once

The blanket of night was once more drawing over as the group approached the flickering lights of Castle Dire. A blanket was thrown over Three and coin exchanged with the duty guards to smuggle him through the gates and into the city. While Richard and Victor stayed in a shadowy nook with Three and their mounts, Alexis and Bastet ventured into the bustling city to find a place for the night. They followed the smells of late-night street food stalls to a place where the cobbled road turned to dirt and the pub signs creaked and flaked as they swung. Two men, in the midst of a fight, tumbled out of one of the myriad drinking houses, followed by a small cheering crowd. In Thieves Cant, Bastet signalled that it advertised stables as well as room and board. A female orc came blundering out after the two humans, grabbing them by the collar. As the pair watched, the orc slammed the two men together, dropping them in a lump at her feet. Their coin purses were removed, the orc yelling for them to never darken her door again. Alexis tilted her head towards the establishment, eyebrows raised in question. Bastet gave a shrugging nod. Silently, they split up – Bastet into the inn, and Alexis to retrieve their fellows.

Pass

“So, how are repairs going?" she asked as the barman began to draw their drinks. "Good. Very good," he replied. "We’ve been one of the first they’ve set to work on. Can’t think why.” He winked as he set Richard’s beer on the counter and moved to draw Alexis’. “Now the pub’s passed to me after old Finnley lost his life in all the troubles, I’m thinking to rename her. Fresh start and all.” He put Alexis’ drink down. “That’ll be a silver bit for the beers and meals then.” “Oh really?” Alexis gave a puckish smile and slid a gold piece over the counter. ”Are you taking name suggestions?” The bartender gawped. Then his hands flashed, hurrying to hide the coin. “You keep tipping like that, love, you can name her yourself.” Alexis grinned broadly, sending another gold after the first. “I think The Plot Hook has a nice ring to it myself. How about you?” “Aye, my lady, aye,” the barman said, eyes wide, pocketing the coin. “I’ll have the sign writers in first thing tomorrow.” “Excellent,” Alexis said, still grinning, and jumped from the counter. The barman passed down her beer. “Food’ll be out in a jiffy.”

Recommendation (Charge)

Richard came back in. He took one look at his empty plate and Alexis rubbing her full belly, and sighed. With a wave to the server for more food, he took his seat.

"Those are fine-looking beasts. Well kept and well trained," he said. "The trader must have charged you a fortune." Alexis gave a small, secretive smile. When Richard raised an eyebrow at her, she laughed, a rare tinkling sound. "Actually, no. We, ah…” Heat rose to her cheeks, and she glanced away, still smiling. “He enjoyed our conversation and cut the price on that account." Both of Richard’s eyebrows shot up and he gave her a long, incredulous look before laughing. “I’m glad you’re on my side,” he said with a grin.

Sat

Richard knocked on the Captain’s door From within came Hengar’s voice, "Come in." Inside the cramped office, Hengar was sorting slates on his desk, Yaztromo behind him, looking out of a window. Hengar looked up from his slates and grinned. "Ah, just the rabble-rousers I was hoping to see. You did a very thorough job of giving half the town a hangover. The other half seem to still be inebriated." Hengar gave them a smirk. "I trust that you, my elite squad, are feeling fit as fiddles, and are keen to continue your duties?" The group glanced at each other, sharing trepidation looks. Alexis nodded carefully. "Ye-es?" The Captain sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers and his expression sobered. "Good. Because I’m afraid I have some troubling news for you. The demon Myurr is as tenacious as he is evil. The Eye of Myurr cult has risen again, this time in its ancestral homeland – the swamps of Silur Cha. I’ve had word from the local militia in the area that there has been unusual activity concerning the lizardman population. This has been confirmed by Yaztromo’s colleagues, who’ve also provided intel about a temple in the depths of the swamp which may be used as another portal staging ground. I’ve agreed to send you down there as you’re the only ones in the militia network with the skill and experience to tackle this.” Hengar sighed. “I don’t suppose you’ve kept hold of that nifty little device that you told me about?"

Think

“I’ve not had chance to scout this level completely,” Alexis told the group as they gathered in the stairwell, “but I’m confident there’re no patrols. We should remain quiet and vigilant all the same.” “Agreed,” Ithanor said. With that, Alexis led the party out and along the long dim corridor. Here racks of equipment lined the walls. Alexis steered clear, but Victor, close to the back, paused next to one. “I could do with a sword," he muttered and tugged at a shortsword. The rack toppled and fell. Metal hit stone in a cacophonic tangle. Everyone froze, hands on weapons. The last sounds of spinning metal tapered off and their breath rasped harshly in the silence. Alexis strained her hearing. “I think we’re in the clear,” she whispered. Ithanor shot a glare at Victor. "Do not do that again.” Victor backed away from the rack, the sword still in his hand. "Sorry! Sorry," he said. “At least I got a weapon?” “Could we please continue?” Nathardrin asked, gesturing to Alexis. “Dalliance?” Alexis nodded. “C’mon.”

Under

Presently, the Captain was refreshed and began speaking. "I have a proposition for you all," he told them. "As you may know, we have started this recruitment drive on information that Firetop Mountain, a dwarven settlement a few leagues away, has become overrun by goblins under the leadership of an evil wizard named Zagor. However, I am reluctant to lay siege to this place or approach it under the banner of war without knowing what I am sending my troops into. "You four have recently come to my attention as potential candidates for a special mission, especially you, little one." He stopped and looked pointedly at Alexis before continuing. "The basic is this: I would like you four to infiltrate Firetop Mountain and gather reconnaissance. This is completely voluntary and if you wish, you may leave this room now."

Wake

Morning – or what Alexis presumed to be so; it was impossible for her to tell from underground – came, and Alexis was woken by Nassurae. As she came awake, scrubbing tiredly at her eyes, she saw that Bastet was being woken by another elven woman. "Come, little one. You need to wake up now," Nassurae said, encouraging Alexis to stand. "They will be bringing food soon. If we do not eat it quickly enough, they will take it before we have finished." Alexis nodded. "Will we be able to see our friends when they take us down to the mine?" "Yes," said Nassurae. "But you will not have any opportunity to talk to them. The work is gruelling. You won't have the breath for talking, if you can even get close enough without the guards seeing. They're very strict – if they see the slightest flagging, they will whip you" Alexis nodded. "I'll have to manage. My friends and I have to find a way to escape. We have people relying on us." Nassurae looked like she was about to say something else but then the guards banged on the bars of their cage.

➤ @oh-no-another-idea

Black (Blackguard)

"Why?" he asked. "What did I ever do to you? For that matter, what did the people of Toreguard do to you?" The Blackguard laughed. "In answer to your second question: nothing. But it got your attention, did it not?" He took another step towards them and Richard did the same, drawing his sword. "As to your first question," the Blackguard continued. "You killed my master and mentor. Twice no less! I should thank you for that, but there was still so much I had to learn. And you took that from me!" So saying, Alexis saw rage cloud his eyes and he launched himself at Richard. Their swords clashed and Alexis found herself moving. "Just because he’s here for Richard, doesn’t mean we can’t help our friend!" she yelled, reaching for her crossbow. Bastet put her hand on Alexis’ arm. "No, we shouldn’t interfere. This is a personal journey. Richard needs to do this by himself." "Screw that!" Alexis said, loading her bow.

Deep

"My lord," the steward said, dipping to one knee and bowing. "I present to you emissaries from your brother in wickedness, Zharradan Marr. They bring you a gift of Marr’s design." "Oh ho?" said Dire, standing to stride down the dais towards them. Where Zagor had been the husk of a man long since departed, and Zharradan covered in so many bodily modifications he was more machine than person, Dire was the direct opposite of his brothers. He wore a well-tailored and debonair robe of azure and gold, cinched at the waist with an exquisitely tooled belt; the robe skimmed the ground as he walked towards them. His neatly trimmed hair and beard were a deep, shimmering black, and the nails that traced his cheek in a thoughtful brush were even and manicured.

Hair

"Hail and well met, fair maiden," came a voice from her left. Alexis glanced over to see an elf come from a small, brightly coloured tent. For a moment, she could only stare, jaw slack. The elf was stunning. Hair like golden honey dripped down his back and shoulders, partly plaited and ornamented with beads of turquoise and lapis. Eyes, the deep green of herbs, smouldered from behind pale lashes. His chest was bare, water droplets caught in soft curls of hair shimmering like dewdrops across his tanned skin. Alexis sucked in a breath, biting her lip and the elf flicked a skein of hair over his shoulder, revealing solid biceps cross-crossed with scars. "Hail and well met," she managed to murmur.

Hands

"I shall be sending an extra man with you," Hengar said, waving forward a human with coppery hair. "Since you’re to make your final approach to the fort on foot, Corporal Durnin here will bring your mounts back to town." "We’d best get going then," Nathardrin said, swinging himself up onto a blue roan. Yaztromo stood next to a chestnut mare, speaking softly to her before mounting. Ithanor cupped his hands, helping Alexis to mount up in front of the wizard, before swinging himself onto a handsome grey charger. Richard stood in front of the mount assigned to him, looking at it with some distrust. The bay shook her mane at him. Richard nodded and, with some difficulty, mounted up. With everyone astride, they set out, leaving Toreguarde in the dust.

Ink

Mess

The clamour of the wake-up bells drilled into her skull. Cursing and groaning, Alexis dragged herself to the Mess Hall, wishing her mouth didn't taste like a desert. She dropped down onto an empty bench, resting her head on the rough wooden table. A cup of strong chicory coffee and a plate consisting mostly of grease, with a side of bread and meat, landed in her eyeline. She rocked her head, following the arm to the amused face of Richard. "How do you not have a hangover?" she asked, glaring up at him through one squinting eye. "Because I didn't drink nearly as much as you or the others," he said smugly. "But you were wasted!" Alexis said, wincing at the loudness of her own voice. "I saw you." "No, you only saw what your wobbling vision allowed you to see. Now, eat up. We’ve got a busy day ahead of us, and we still need to go and wake the other two."

Midnight

Once they were all seated, with a small glass of brandy each, he addressed them properly. "What has my elite squad been up to these past months?" Captain Hengar asked. “I send you off to gather intel about the Eye of Myurr cult, and hear nothing of you until you show up in High Creek.” Alexis took a breath, sharing a side glance with Richard. “It’s, ah. Been a… bit of a time, yes. Port Blacksands then…” she said, and between the four of them, they launched into the full tale. Food was brought as morning turned to afternoon, and again as the evening turned, along with fresh bottles of brandy. Each added their own words to the winding story, and even after the tale was done, Hengar asked follow-up questions, having them retell parts he wanted clarity on. By the time they finally finished, it was gone midnight. “Thank you,” Hengar said, “for your patience in explaining this extraordinary affair. I’ve got a lot to think about with this information. Please, get some rest. We’ll talk more about our next steps on the morrow.” With that, they were ushered from the office and back to the barracks, to collapse into deep and dreamless sleep.

Murmur

The sun had barely risen by the time Richard was waking Alexis. After breakfast, the cook handed them packets of prepared trail rations, and they made their way out to the courtyard, where they found the most unusual sight. Next to a pair of horses, there stood a large dog and an oxen. The stable hand saluted them, as Bastet and Victor came sauntering into the yard. "Sirs," said the stable hand, "I took the liberty of sending a runner to wake your friends and bring them here. I have also prepared mounts for you all." Alexis nodded. "Very good, Private… ah?" "Keld. Ceri Keld," said the stable hand. "Thank you, Private Keld." Alexis put her hands on her hips. "What I would like to know, however, is what the hell is that cow doing here?" "Ah…" Keld paled. "I’m not sure, ma’am. It just… sort of… trotted in, and lowed every time one of the other mounts was saddled. So we saddled it, and it went quiet." Alexis raised an eyebrow. "Richard…?" "Umm, yes. This may be my fault," he said. "I do seem to recall, fuzzily, that I left last night and, umm, called for it. I had a feeling, I needed a mount for my paladin-ness. And, well. Oxen are good strong beasts." He walked over. Cow and elf regarded each other, then Richard reached out and gave it a pat on the head. "I shall call him ‘Benevelor’ because he is a holy cow." Victor sniggered a bit before Bastet elbowed him in the ribs. Alexis sighed and shook her head. "Well, it’s nice to meet you, Ben," she said and patted the cow on the leg. it looked at her curiously and then turned away. Richard frowned at her, as she and the others took to their mounts. "It’s Benevalor," he murmured grumpily. "Shall we get this show on the road, lady and gents?" Alexis asked and with that, Richard mounted, with some difficulty, and the four of them set out to Trolltooth Pass.

Sass (cheek)

The pair made their way to the bar – a simple plank supported by several barrels – and were greeted by a rotund human with a thatch of whitening hair. “Ah! ‘Tis our heroes. Welcome home!” he greeted them with a beaming smile. “And what can I get for you fine folks this evening?” Alexis used Richard’s arm to bounce onto the counter. “Dinner and an ale each, if you please.” The barkeeper frowned, his gaze flicking between Alexis and Richard. “A bold little one you’ve here, sir, eh? Though she’s a mite-” He trailed off catching sight of Alexis’ deepening scowl and Richard’s frantic head shaking. His mouth worked as a tense air filled the pub. “I’ll just be getting that for you then.” “You do that,” Richard said, tapping the counter. Alexis blew out her cheeks as the barkeeper turned away.

Shark (Astute)

"Why don't we take this discussion into my tent?" he asked. "It seems so gauche to discuss business out here." "Ah… I would rather not. No offence, but one can never be too careful. You’re charming and beautiful. But so too is a dryad before it strikes." The elf pursed his lips and, with a small sigh, looked away. "Ah, so astute and practical." He turned back. "Very well. Four fine steeds and one fine pony to go to the Pagan Plains." The elf reached behind his head, putting his full chest on display, and bundled his hair into a bun as he walked to the corral. With an unnecessary leap, he vaulted inside, causing a horse to wicker and shy away.

Smile

In the silence, every displaced rock sounded like a boulder, and every tinkle of the picks in the lock sounded like the rattle of chains from the Pit. Alexis breathed slow and even as she felt her way around the inside of the crude lock. But as seconds seemed to stretch for hours she struggled to keep the wave of anxiety from overwhelming her. Bastet was keeping a lookout, but Alexis found little comfort in that fact. What if she missed a signal, what if she couldn’t move fast enough? Never before had so many relied on her skills. Never before had it meant the difference between life and death. The sudden clunk of the lock seemed to reverberate through the darkness. Alexis glanced over at where she knew Bastet stood. The drow flicked a skein of white hair as she turned, her hands flashing the all-clear. Alexis let out a controlled breath and pushed open the cell door, once again waiting for Bastet’s hand signals. When the corridor remained still and silent, the pair slipped out. Nassurea pulled the cell door closed behind them, and Alexis gave her a reassuring smile. Bastet nudged her arm, and Alexis nodded. With one last look at Nassurea’s wide eyes, Alexis took off down the corridor towards the other cells.

Son (child)

CW Slavery

"Bastet, what is the meaning of this?" Richard said, tone hard. "This is Brian. I bought him," Bastet said, preening with the satisfaction of a cat who’d gotten the best bit of fish. Alexis shot Richard a look, trying to convey with the out-jutting of her chin, Now do you believe me she’s Pit-spawn? Richard’s jaw tensed. “You bought him.” “I wasn’t, y’know, gonna keep him,” Bastet said with a derisive huff. She shot Alexis a cold look. “That would be evil.” She returned her attention to Richard. “I was gonna let him go.” Richard crossed his arms. “Alright. Do it now then.” Bastet opened her mouth. “I assume they gave you a key? Get him out of those chains.” “Fine,” Bastet whined like a petulant child. From her brassiere, she plucked a key. The man looked at her with unrestrained hate as she unlocked the heavy manacle around his neck.

Sprint (dart)

The main corridor of the fort was dark, filled with dancing shadows from the smoking torches. From the side passage, the corridor marched both left and right, sharply turning away from her at either end. With a glance, Alexis noted the corridor as empty. Cautiously she padded out to the left, passing under each puddle of light with quick, light steps. At the corner, raucous laughter drew her attention towards a door on the outside of the corridor. With another swift check that no patrols were about to discover her, she darted over, peeking through the wide keyhole. The room inside was well lit by large windows, filled with all manner of green-skins at banqueting tables, hurling food and sloshing ale, tormenting each other with good-natured abandon. Though she wrinkled her nose at the waste of good food and beer, Alexis was pleased to see they were off-duty, and thus less likely to chance on her or her companions.

➤ @spacetimewraithwrites-archive

Cord

Ithanor set to searching the body for Zagor’s phylactery, while the others investigated the room. "Do you think this is it?" he asked, holding up a tubular object on a leather cord. Victor set down the book he was flicking through and walked over. “May I?” Ithanor nodded, holding it out. Victor took it, holding it by the cord as he muttered something under his breath and snapped his fingers. “I think so," he said, handing it back. “It does have a magical aura. We should destroy it anyway. If it was around that abomination’s neck, it can’t be anything good.” “Right.” Ithanor scratched his chin. "How?" Victor opened his mouth, took a breath, and closed it again with a frown. He walked around Ithanor, stroking his chin. Eventually, he stopped and looked at Ithanor. "Hit it with your hammer," Victor said, tone faintly questioning.

Fail

Night was falling by the time they reached Coven, coating the squat buildings in shadows. People – humans and dwarves both – hurried past with suspicious eyes as they made their way up the main street towards the Inn, a tall edifice carved, like the other buildings, from the sharp rock face of the Moonstone Hills and advertised by a swaying sign of a long, greenish tooth. If the outside had been impressive, the inside failed to live up to the standard set. It stank of stale beer and stale bodies, the villagers speaking in hushed tones. Richard went straight to the counter, ordering them rooms and dinner, with Bastet and Victor trailing behind him to order beers. Alexis veered away to read the noticeboard, keeping her ears pricked for any conversation about the fort spanning the pass, or the monster therein. After they’d eaten, Victor took to wandering between the tables, showing off his prestidigitation and other parlour tricks. Alexis trailed behind him, collecting the odd coin and listening hard for any gossip they may help them, but all she heard was related to the daily lives of the villagers. Not long after Victor wrapped up his ‘show’, she headed to bed.

Fault

(Word edited out for better prose)

CW screen readers, unusual dialogue punctuation

Alexis and Bastet approached the door, swaddled in the armour of their enemy. Two goblins stood on either side. One was picking his nails, the other humming some kind of ditty. ⟨Hey up.⟩ The goblin picking his nails stopped, twitching his ears. ⟨What’re you doing here?⟩ Alexis puffed out her chest, summoning her courage from her boots, and prayed she didn’t forget a word or trip over her tongue speaking the goblin’s language. ⟨Whaddya mean, what are we doing here?⟩ she asked, as brazenly as she could. ⟨What’re you two still doing here? It’s your break, innit? Go on, skedaddle.⟩ The goblin lifted his chin, narrowing his eyes. ⟨You’re early.⟩ ⟨Yeah?⟩ Alexis put her hands on her hips. ⟨Dunno what to tell you, mate. Bigboss sent us up here. If he got the times wrong, then that’s on him, innit?⟩ The goblin titled his head, red eyes still narrowed, but the one humming the ditty had stopped, and was leaning forward, twitching his ears. ⟨You really wanna quibble a few extra hours free time? I was you, I’d just take it, mate. 'Specially since they cracked a cask just as we left.⟩ The ditty-singer smacked the nail-picker. ⟨C’mon, lad. S’better than standing around up here. Anyone asks, it ain’t us what’s gotta sort it out.⟩ The nail-picker sniffed, his long nose wobbling. ⟨Fine.⟩ The two left their station and headed down the stairs. Alexis almost felt sorry for what was waiting for them. Almost.

Favour

The ship lurched. Bastet looked up from where she was stowing her pack, gazing out of the porthole. "It looks like we’re on our way," she said. “I’m gonna go check on the boys.” Alexis hummed and Bastet left. Even though Alexis had always been a wanderer with no real home since she’d left the Forest of Night, she still felt a pang of sadness as she watched the quayside slip away. It was going to be a long time before she saw Toreguard or Allansia again. Alexis climbed up on the chest, pressing her hands on either side of the porthole and gazing down at the jumping white flecks caused by the boat’s movement. “Greg,” she whispered. “I’m finally travelling on your favoured domain. No, I know I’m not skating the waves as you would. But, since we’re here, please keep an eye on us during this long journey. Thank you, amen.”

Glow

Alexis and Nathardrin stepped forward, loosing off a round of arrows each, then fell back to let Richard and Ithanor charge forward. The fighters began to pound the hell out of the drow, dropping three before they moved out of the way to let Victor, his hands glowing ferociously and chanting like the wind, cast a sphere of flame that levelled the remaining two.

Make

The wind whistled through the cracks in the door. "A what?" asked Alexis. "A lich. It is an undead creature who has crafted unholy and powerful magics upon itself, removing its soul from the confines of its Titan-bound shell, and placing it inside another item. Until this ‘phylactery’ is broken, the lich can not be truly killed." The group looked at each other. "I had heard of these such beasts, but thought never to encounter one," Ithanor said. "How will we know what the phylactery is, what will it look like?" Alexis asked. "I do not know, I am afraid," Yaztromo said. "They come in many forms, often some item that is important to the owner. It should be on his body, however. All you must do is destroy it and we will be free of his tyranny. Come. There is much to do. We should make ready."

Mark

They waited in the late afternoon sun, Bastet leaning back in her saddle, and Victor playing with a pack of cards. The groaning of wood reached them, quietly at first, then louder as the great gate began to creak open. A platoon of guards appeared in the arch. One, his open helm decorated with curling markwork, stepped forward and saluted. “Ma’am. We’re here to escort you and the gift directly to the castle and Lord Dire.” He looked up at Three. “Is that it?” “It is,” Alexis said, her voice dripping with ice. “And it is to remain in my custody until we are met with Lord Dire. The guard nodded. “Very well, my Lady."

Minute

“You know, we could leave them here?” Alexis suggested. “They still give me the heebie-jeebies, and I just think that maybe-” “Alexis,” Richard snapped, his face creasing into a ferocious frown. “There is nothing wrong with either Victor or Bastet. They’re perfectly normal people. Besides, we need them and their blades. Don’t bring it up again.” “O-okay,” Alexis said, leaning back in her seat, surprised by the vehemence in his voice. “Jeeze, I was only thinking out loud.” His hand landed on the table, rattling the crockery, as he leaned in, still scowling. “Don’t.” Alexis stared, open-mouthed, as he stood. “You have twenty minutes to finish your breakfast, then I expect to see you in the barracks.” With a sharp about-turn, Richard strode off, leaving Alexis hunched into her seat, and reaching for her coffee to calm her frayed nerves. She took a slug of the drink. It had to be the lack of sleep making him crotchety. She dug into her breakfast. Yeah, that had to be it…

Miss

Crackling stacks of papyrus, held down by painted stones, and rolls of parchment lay across the stall’s table. Idly, she picked up one of the rolls, peeking at its contents – a map, of some kind. “Can I help you, little miss?” Alexis looked up to see she was being addressed by an elf, skin and hair like roasted bark, dressed in a squat hat and brightly patterned robe “Yes. I’m looking for a map of the desert. I need to find a particular temple.” “Oh ho! Treasure seekers! Adventurers!” The man grinned widely, spreading his arms to gesture at the stall. “You have come to the right place, little miss. You will not find better maps of this dry and dusty land, than at Hassan’s World of Treasure!”

More

“It’s too powerful. There would be Titan-shattering consequences if it were to be destroyed. And I mean that in its most literal sense.” Victor wrapped his arms around his shoulders. “No. You keep it for now. We’ll give it to Yaztromo. He’ll know what to do with it.” Alexis looked down at the dagger in her hands, eyes widening, breath coming in little gasps, and slowly moved it away from herself. “Richard?” she said in a panicked voice. “It’s just an item,” he said soothingly. “Just... pop it in your pack for now.” Fighting the urge to drop the thing and run, Alexis shucked her pack and buried the dagger the furthest down she could manage. Once she was satisfied, Alexis rose, slinging her pack on, feeling as if it were a hundredweight heavier. “What now?” she asked. “Now, we need to get our mounts and get the hell out of here,” Richard said, moving to help Bastet bring Victor to his feet. “There’s bound to be more dirty rotten cultists running around this place, and I do not want to run into them.”

Morning

Over breakfast the next morning, Richard set down his mug and cleared his throat. “Um. I heard a worrying rumour about my home village last night,” he said. “Would anyone mind if, before reporting back to Captain Hengar, we took a trip to High Creek. I found someone with a bit more information about the rumour, and I’m very worried that something isn’t right there.” Alexis shook her head. “That’s fine with me,” Victor said. Bastet nodded. “Me too.” "Thank you," Richard said with a smile.

Old

When Richard, Bastet, and Goregut showed up at the stables, Victor explained what Bloodbeard had told them about their mounts. Goregut had walked, and Bastet sold hers the moment she could find the stable master. Richard stood stroking the neck of his ox. “Benevelor, my faithful friend, I must send you away for a little bit.” The ox lowed disconsolately, butting it's snout into Richard’s shoulder. “I know old friend, I know. I will call for you as soon as I can. It won’t feel like any time has passed at all, I promise.” The oxen lowed again, and with a heavy sigh, Richard stepped back. He straightened his back, and held his hand out, palm up. “Benevalor,” he said, “I bid thee away to the celestial realms, until a time when I can call for you again." The ox was surrounded by a suffusion of golden light, and with one last dismal moo vanished in a flash of light.

Out

(Edited the word out for better prose)

The pub was looking a lot better than the last time Alex had seen it. The charred wooden pillars had been sanded down, patched up, and varnished. The barrels and haybales masquerading as furniture had been replaced by sturdy chairs and tables. The floor was now stone flags, and the counter was a lovingly crafted piece of art. "Roderick!" she called to the barman as she vaulted up onto a freshly upholstered stool. "Beer me up, man!" Roderick grinned and pulled her a jar of the house special. "Well now, if it isn’t our very own hero. How have you been, milady Dalliance?" he asked, handing her her beer. "Oh, you know.” Alexis flipped a hand. “Running around, saving the world, drinking substandard ale." She took a sip of her beer and smacked her lips. “Damn, but it’s good to be home.” Roderick blushed. “Thankee kindly, m’lady.” Alexis winked. "And you, my friend? How has business been? Did you find a lass to let you be her husband yet?" "Oi you," he said with a blushing smile. Over his shoulder to called into the kitchens, “Nadia-Rose? Are you free a spell?” A woman appeared at the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron. “Yes, love?” She had coppery skin and shining eyes under a cloud of wispy brown hair. “I’d like you to meet someone,” Roderick said, waving her over. Nadia-Rose smiled as she came to the counter, her cheeks dimpling, bringing with her the smell of bread and stew. "Alexis, this is my lovely new bride Nadia-Rose. My darling, this is Alexis Dalliance. When she can, she’s one of my best regulars."

Salt

“Don’t just stand there, ye daffies!” Bloodbeard called, waving them up the gangplank “Come aboard, my lovelies.” Richard led the way, carrying the heavy pouch of money they’d pooled together. “Your payment, as promised, Captin.” “Thankee kindly, lad,” Bloodbeard said, making the vast pouch vanish into his greatcoat. “Mate Arts!” A man with bronzed skin bringing with him the scent of salt and tar appeared with a snappy salute. “Aye, Cap’n?” “Arts, show these lubbers to their quarters, then report back to deck. We’ll be setting the sails in half a turn of the clock."

Scream

Once more Merickson coughed, breath rattling now. “Ah, child. If only it were that easy.” He cupped her face. “I betrayed everything for my own selfish need. That can never be forgiven.” “It can. It can!” Alexis cried, twisting to look at Richard. “Tell him!” Richard looked down at them, face impassive as a stone, eyes like gimlets, trained on Merickson. "You are forgiven, if you want to be," he said, voice flat. "I am beyond forgiveness," Merickson said, and before she could do anything, he put his hands over Richard’s and plunged the sword deeper within himself. "No!" Alexis screamed. "No!" She shook the Blackguard. "No…" Richard withdrew his weapon and wiped the blade. Gently he pulled Alexis away from the body. "It was his choice," he said softly. "But it was wrong and you could have stopped it!" Alexis sobbed. The rain mingled with her tears. She swiped at her face, pushing wet strands of hair away. "It may not seem like it," Richard told her, "but he returned to himself in the end. You had a part in that. In your own way, your forgiveness of his terrible acts let his spirit move on. You should be proud."

Sing (Song)

Richard stood and clasped Ithanor’s free hand. "Of course we’re not upset! I wish you all the best with your new life. We shall see each other again, I am sure of it." Richard grinned, clapping Ithanor on the back. Alexis stood up on her stool and walked along the bar counter to Ithanor. "Fair fortune, my friend," she said and hugged him. "Now finish the goddamn speech!" Laughter rippled through the assembled townspeople. Ithanor guffawed and raised his glass again. "To Toreguard! Fair fortune attend her and her people!" he cried. "Fair fortune!" the crowd called back. The room settled back into laughter and eating, snatches of song stirring as the beer flowed.

Sink (sunk)

"I hit my head as I fell," Victor said, indicating the poorly wrapped gash. "I don’t remember anything." Richard nodded. "I found him unconscious, draped over a bit of wood. He’s lucky though – a moment later and he would have sunk. I managed to drape him over a lost barrel, and swim us both away from the ship."

Smile (Beam)

Alexis blushed and bowed back. "The pleasure is mine, I can assure you. How’s business, Roderick? While I was out shopping earlier, I noticed the town’s starting to look like its old self again.” “Oh aye, things are booming,” Roderick said. “I’d dare say that fire did us a world of good. Everyone has been getting upgrades. You may’ve noticed the town hall and library are stone-clad and tile-roofed now.” “I did indeed. And there’s so many more shops and services.” “There’s been many folks moving in from the villages around, lots of new talents too. Your mate Ithanor’s been struggling to get housing up fast enough. Nadia and I have been helping out with getting the new folks settled, and all this cash flow means we’ve been able to expand the pub too. Your investment’s doing the town right well, milady.” Alex beamed. “I’m so pleased to hear that. From what I can see, everything is working out great. I’m really happy our home is doing so well.” “Oh aye,” Roderick lifted his chin behind her. “Looks like we’re not the only ones who want a chinwag.” Alexis turned to see Ithanor waving. “Ah, yeah. I’d better go say hi,” she said to the couple. "Congratulations again on your marriage.” “Thank you, milady.” Nadia reached across the counter to clasp Alexis’ hands. “You've done a world of good for our town. I hope your luck stays just as strong.” Alexis ducked her head. “Thank you. I try my best.” With that, she slid off the stool and went over to see Ithanor.

Soak

Mid-way into the journey, the clouds covered over and the Captain looked anxiously at the sky all the long day. The seamen were jittery too, making distracted mistakes, and dropping their tools. Mid-afternoon Bloodbeard ordered everything to be tied down and the sails to be furled, except for the main mast. It wasn’t until evening chow when the winds picked up, large globs of rain hammering into the deck and soaking anyone foolish enough to not have an oilcloth.

Sour (Acidic)

(Edited the word out for better prose)

“Those who would come to Atlantis need to prove themselves worthy of our time,” the apparition said. “Ahead you will find three tests: one of your wits, one of your knowledge, and one of your courage.” “Oh, great,” Alexis muttered. “They bring us here and they still make us fight our way to them.” Richard shot her a look, but they carried on. Alexis went ahead followed by Richard and Victor, then Bastet and Goregut. Their going was slow, as Alexis paused them several times, studying the path and disarming traps. They were so close to the end of the Test of Wits when Alexis made a mistake. The trap she was disarming instead triggered, sending an enchanted arrow to strike her down. Alexis staggered to her feet. “I think I’m-” The arrow dripped a viscous green slime, the leather cuirass smoking where the slime touched. “I’m… Ung!” Alexis doubled over and dropped to the floor.

Tree

They stood on the edge of the swamp, gazing into its shadowed depths. The stench from the mire rose high in the air, followed by clouds of tiny biting insects. “We’ve got to go in that?” Bastet asked, grimacing. “Unfortunately so,” Richard said. “Does anyone have any ideas?” Alexis wrapped her arms around herself. “I don’t like it here,” she said. “But it’s full of trees,” Victor said from where he was investigating a large fallen log with Gorgut. “Aren’t those kinda your thing?” “It doesn’t feel right,” Alexis said with a shake of her head. “It’s a swamp. What were you expecting?” Bastet said. “There’re swamps back home. They didn’t feel like this. This feels… sick. Like it’s being poisoned.” “Indeed it is, little maid.” The group jumped at the voice, soft and sad. The treetops rustled and from a low branch jumped a gnome in a pale green robe.

Trick

The next day went the same. The drow woke them early, they received their slop and were taken down to the mine in chains, the menfolk not long behind. Richard was stationed several people down from where Alexis stood at the end of the women’s chain. Through a game of whispers, she shared the plan with him. “It could work,” he sent back. “If she can distract them long enough for you to get our weapons, Ithanor and I can deal with the rest.” “The tricky part will be finding our equipment,” she sent back. The line went quiet as the guards made their patrols. Once they’d left, a message came back, “The men have prepared shivs. They know the guards' rotations. We strike in the early hours, before feeding time. Just get us out – we’ll manage until we have our weapons.” “How will I know when that is?” Alexis asked. The man in line next to her smiled. “Ask Nassurae. She’ll be able to help you with that.” “Right. One last thing – Bastet will need a shiv. She needs to be able to protect herself while ‘entertaining’.” The man nodded, sending the message up the line. A few moments later he said, “We’ll get one to her.” Alexis nodded. Perhaps they’d pull this off after all.

Try

(Word edited out for better prose)

"We need to get everyone out now," Ithanor said, panting. "Before they send more troops." "Nathardrin, Bast and Victor,” Richard said, “go retrieve the rest of our equipment." “Aye,” Nathardin said, and the three of them took off. "All the cages are open," Alexis said. "I’ll go on ahead, make sure the way is clear." “Be careful!” Ithanor said as she set off.

Behind her, Alexis could hear the murmurs of her friends encouraging the other prisoners out of their cells. She ignored them, putting all her efforts toward finding the way out. So far their jailbreak had gone unnoticed, but it couldn’t remain so for long. She kept her ears open listening to the corridors ahead for sounds of discovery, and a watchful eye for the glint of metal from a guard’s blade.

Young

(Avoiding the 'red shirt' issue)

"This acolyte will transport you back to the temple, and assist you in sealing this portal forever." A young man stepped forward. He wore dusky rose robes which stood out starkly against his dark skin and dark hair. His eyes were like birchwood, and he smelt, incongruously to Alexis’ newly-remade nose, like fresh snow. "What’s your name, Acolyte?" Bastet asked. The boy stuttered. “I don’t have one, Miss. Acolytes give up their names on admission to the order.” “What was your name, then?” “I do not recall it. Our names are returned when we reach a high enough proficiency to be worthy of them.” “Well, we have to call you something. In my culture, not having a name is bad luck. If you don’t have a name then you’ll die a gruesome death the moment you’re in peril. Such as,” she flipped a hand, “entering a temple to a demon filled with murderous cultists.” The boy paled. "It’s fine. We won’t let that happen," Bastet said. "We shall call you… Cee Jay." The young man sighed. "Very well, miss. To you and your friends, I shall be Cee Jay.”