#when you are 16 and full of rage and a sorcerer between wizards

[mxssful]

troubled girl

Hands are curious things.

Hers are small, and calloused. Her fingers get a little twitchy when she starts to get bored. Currently, they pulse with the ache of swollen knuckles and split skin.

The girls’ hands had not been calloused. They had made a point of it, she remembers— hands on her cheeks, the scent of honey and rose water. Squishing her face, laughing, such a silly girl, Rosie. Do you even know what the words to that song mean?

Her hands are calloused now. She had known this for a while, but she had not felt the weight of it until a week ago, when she looked at her palms and suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to lather her entire body in milk and honey and rosewater and lavender, to find something soft she could wrap all her jagged edges in, something sweet to disguise the scent of ozone.

She turned sixteen a week ago. Had she still been with the girls, she would have been put to work proper— properly, that stern voice corrects in her head. 

Hands are curious things. Hers pulse with the ache of swollen knuckles and split skin, her gaze fixated on dried blood and clear fluid. She thinks that if she makes a fist, angles it in the light just right, she can make out the paleness of bone underneath. She wants to lick, to peel back her skin with her teeth, find out the hue of her skeleton. Eat herself until there is nothing left but the cleanest, barest bones, instead of the mess of flesh and blood and feeling that she is.

Perhaps she would feel better after her own cannibalization.

“Are you listening to me?” 

Viago doesn't squish her face, but sometimes he does this— grab her by the sides of her jaw, move her head until she's focusing on whatever he wants. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes she leans the weight of her head into his touch, a beast of burden leaning into the bit inside their mouth— and if the metal hurts against her palate, then it hurts. But at least it's something to bite onto.

(Fire polishing might be another alternative. Let the worst parts of her melt down to nothing, and whatever is left behind be smoothed, hardened, cleared, purified. Maybe that’s what they tried to do to Andraste, but they had the temperature wrong, and she burned down to ash with nothing to show for their efforts.

There are glass lamps in Treviso. Bright. Colorful. She should like to be a little like that, she thinks— with an option, naturally, to smash them against the ground, and use the shards as a weapon.)

“I am a Crow of House de Riva,” she repeats, “not some petty criminal.”

Everything is sharp, sometimes, so sharp. Herself and the whole world— if she could only close her eyes just so, just until things come out of focus—

She imagines Viago's hands aren't soft either, but she does not know. She remembers more the taste of his blood than the texture of his skin. Rosa understands not how he lives like that: always with a barrier between himself and the world. 

Everything is so sharp, but his eyes are sharper, caught somewhere between blue and grey— violet, sometimes, in the right lighting. Like a storm. Someone had said— who? When? Was this a song? Was it something else? Perhaps an old refrain?— ‘Clouded eyes, unclouded future.’ Maybe this is what he looks at when he frowns and schemes, some crystal-clear future that will only take a hundred and thirty-six steps for him to reach.

She does not have storms in her eyes

She carries them in her head, and in her heart.

She cannot see the future. But she can walk right on his footsteps, and maybe she’ll get somewhere.

“Why do we keep having this conversation?” His face is stern as ever, his tone halfway between disappointed and annoyed. He carries tension in his shoulders, but this is not new. 

Not for the first time, she thinks he would make a very poor whore. 

The thought pulls at the corner of her mouth.

“You think this is funny?” Viago asks.

“No,” she answers. “But that thing on your face you insist on calling a moustache is.”

Retaliation will come later, mixed into her dinner, she knows. And she will welcome it— leave no crumbs, look him right in the eye and demand he ups the dosage next time. And then she will spend a night throwing up, writhing, crying, feeling like her stomach is on fire or like her brain is melting and dripping out her nose. But she will not die.

Neither will apologize. They will move on, there won’t be hard feelings. 

No matter how much they might fight— and lately, oh, lately she feels like the only thing she’s good at is fighting— it would be much worse to simply be… apart. 

Rosa leans her weight onto Viago’s hand.

He can support her. This is good enough, even if he doesn’t squish her face.

“Why do I bother with you?” He says, not for the first time, not for the last.

“Because you hate being wrong,” she answers plainly. 

She knows what they call her; what they have been calling her for years. Viago’s pet project— shortened to Viago’s pet. Like a half-trained dog always trotting after him. Viago’s pet, in different tones— from curiosity, to fondness, to derision. 

Woof, Rosa thinks, and keeps trotting after him, day after day.

His nostrils flare, and he looks at her that way he does sometimes— like he would like to put her in a jar and shake her very hard, see if her pieces come loose. She snorts.

She’s sitting on his workbench, his collection of jars and vials pushed carefully to the side. She supposes she fits there just fine among his studies. Rosa curls the toes of her left foot inside her boot.

“Make a poison after me.” She says. Suggests? Demands.

“No,” he denies.

This is one of his favorite words with her. No. Sciocca. No. Sciocca. She does not know how he can stand to be so predictable.

He lets go of her face and begins searching for something in his drawers. A bottle of antiseptic. Cloth. Pity, she quite likes dried blood on her knuckles.

“What would you use? If you were to?”

“It doesn’t matter, because I am not going to.”

"What would my poison do?" 

"Nothing, because it won't exist," he pauses, then. "Perhaps give whoever ingests it a terrible migraine."

“So make it.”

“No. Sciocca.” 

She deflates, but gives him her hands without waiting for the request. He’s precise in tending to her wounds. Not affectionate, but careful. But this is how he handles everything— sometimes she likes to watch him work, whatever it is that he’s doing with his hands: developing a new concoction, practicing his bladework, taking notes. She sits nearby, and watches, and gets lost in the rhythm of Viago’s hands, and sticks out her tongue at him when he complains about her being unnerving again. 

He has nice handwriting. She does not. She tries— sort of. Sometimes. She could try harder.

There was a rough patch between letters and her— she would keep setting her notebooks on fire by accident, again and again, no matter how her trainers tried to instruct her. Constrain her. Said things like control, and intent, and she had tried to understand those things— and they also said things like mana output and channel the harmonics and her eyes glazed over.

And then she had taken Viago’s notes on the development of a neurotoxin, led by nothing but the curiosity to see if she could get away with stealing from him (she could.) 

He has nice handwriting. Rosa had traced over the grooves of the paper with her bare finger— trails of fire had followed, perfectly controlled and constrained to the path of his sentences. And that had been that.

Whatever books she set on fire after that, had been with intent.

“Is it another rage demon?” He asks her, straight to the point. He had been unnerved, mistrusting— rightly so, of course. She had been unnerved and mistrusting as well the first time she heard those saccharine voices, promising her things— but she knew not to trust things that sounded like they might smile too much.

Nothing ever comes for free. Unless you steal it.

Eventually, whatever demon hangs around her, leaves.

“Perhaps I am the rage demon,” she says. Shrugs. 

Viago does not smile, because he rarely smiles. This, she likes about him. She would like it better if he laughed— she’s convinced, still, he doesn’t quite understand her jokes.

Except the puns. He does this thing when she makes a pun— breathes slowly through his nose. Once, she saw the corner of his mouth twitch. She knows she will wear him over, in time, erode him in the relentlessness of her humor. She wants it to be so, and thus it will be.

(Nothing is ever free, unless you steal it. Everything else you grab with your own hands.)

So Viago does not smile, but there is a note of something in his voice as he tends to her bloody knuckles.

“I have no doubt about that,” he says. 

Rosa does not smile either, because she is not in a mood for smiling. Her knuckles don’t look quite right without blood on them— too clean, but not in a good way. They sting at the touch of antiseptic. There were no rage demons, but maybe she descends from one, It would explain the fire in her blood.

(But what would explain the storm in her heart? What kind of demon is linked to lightning? Pride? But she would rather have no pride, because then she has no shame. Shame is for those who can afford it.

She can afford things, these days. She still steals, to see if she can get away with it.)

“You can’t keep picking fights,” Viago tells her— stern as ever.

The look she gives him is sharp, and dark, and stormy— she can, she says without saying, she can, and she will, day after day if she needs to. And she always needs to. Sometimes, something feels wrong, just at the edge of her perception— when she looks at her hands and does not recognize them, not because they’re calloused, but because they lack wicked claws and are not constantly covered in blood.

At least she stopped throwing rocks at Chantry sisters. 

“You do not have the size to keep picking fights,” Viago tries again.

She resents this. She resents this, so she bares her teeth— that stings as well, her bottom lip is fat, the barely-congealed blood not doing much in ways of maintaining the cut sealed. Fresh blood wells— she tastes metal, and does not mind it.

Viago reaches for her face again, digs his gloved fingers on the sides of her jaw. A muzzle, perhaps.

Woof, she thinks. Woof, woof, woof. She’ll trot after him the next day, and the next.

“Everything you do,” he says, “reflects on me, the good and the bad.” He brought her here, after all. Pulled her out of a cage, saw something— some potential— and said come along.

And along she went. She’s dangerous, now. She likes it, calluses and all.

(She still feels like she must bathe in some pleasant scent. Something sweet.)

“If you must insist on picking fights— do it quietly. Hit fast, hit first, do not let them get up. If you’re going to be stupid, be clever about it at least.”

Again, she settles in his hold, as she ruminates on these instructions.

Her knuckles are clean. She’ll dirty them again soon enough, so it’s bearable.

“Yes,” she says. “I don’t dislike that.”

[thenerdyindividual]

Hi! I've been following your Barabarian King story on AO3, and I was wondering if you could give a non-DnD person a primer on the different classes all the characters are? (Also! I noticed on your blog description that you're ace, so hello from a fellow ace!)

Hello fellow ace! I am absolutely down to explain the classes. This is going to be kind of long though, so most of the information is going under the cut. Also none of this is necessary to read Barbarian King, but it is fun.

There are thirteen classes in D&D, and they are generally divided between martial classes (the classes that hit stuff with weapons), and magic caster classes. In Martial Class we have: Fighters, Barbarians, Monks, Paladins, Rangers, and Rogues. In Caster Class we have: Clerics, Druids, Sorcerers, Wizards, Warlocks, Bards, and Artificers. Each of these classes also have various sub-classes that give you different abilities at higher levels, but I will only break down the character specific sub-classes. I also will break each of these general classes down, starting with the characters. Also keep in mind that characters can do something called multi-class, meaning someone can be a fighter and a sorcerer, or a druid and a warlock.

Barbarian

This is what Arthur is. Barbarians' whole thing is hitting really hard, and taking less damage. When a barbarian uses a special skill called Rage (what Arthur is using in chapter one and the most recent chapter), it fills them with uncontrollable anger and that anger acts as a sort of shield. It means that when they take damage from a weapon, they take half the amount a different class would.

Subclass: Spirit Totem, Bear. Arthur channels the spirit of a bear while he is in rage. This specific sub-class allows him to take half as much damage on all types of damage except for psychic while raging. Meaning that even if someone used a spell that would normally set him on fire for ten damage, he only takes five.

Sorcerer

This is one of the classes Merlin is. He is multi-classing into warlock which I will get into later. Sorcerers have innate magical abilities whereas other magic classes either get their powers from a magical being, or from learning it. Sorcerers can get theirs by birth, a weird arcane occurrence, or any other number of things. They can use things called sorcery points to manipulate the spells they cast which is something no other caster class can do.

Sub-Class: Shadow. Merlin is a shadow sorcerer. This means his magic has special connection to shadows. It allows him to do things like teleport between shadows, summon essentially a hell hound, and if his health drops to zero he can pop back up with one health.

Warlock

This is the other class that Merlin is. Warlocks get their magic from patrons (magical beings). They don’t get to cast as many spells as other classes, but they do get to cast spells with max damage a certain number of times.

Sub-class: Celestial. Warlocks with celestial patrons get healing spells and some other stuff, but I only gave Merlin one level of it so that he could cast healing magic like he does in canon. Sorcerers do not get healing spells, and other warlock sub-classes don’t either.

Wizard

This is Morgana. Wizard’s get their magic by studying super hard. They have spell books and can copy new spells they find into their spell books. Most caster classes either have the spells they have, or have access to all the spells available to their class. Wizards can pick up spells they find while adventuring and gain access to them by copying them into a spell book.

Sub-Class: Divination. I chose this one because of Morgana’s prophetic visions. How this works in game is that the wizard rolls two rolls at the beginning of the day, and can replace other rolls with the rolls they came up with earlier. So if someone rolls an 8 and it fails, a divination wizard who rolled a 16 can “see the future” and choose to replace the 8 with the 16.

Artificer

This is Gwen. Artificerers are essentially magical blacksmiths. They can infuse the items they create with magic.

Sub-Class: Armorer. I chose this for Gwen because of her history in canon of working at her father’s forge. She has experience with weapons. I gave her skills to enhance armor, weapons, and crossbows. That’s why the knights all bring her their armor for repair.

Fighter

What it says in the title. They use swords, and can hit with almost every weapon. They also have a limited ability to heal themselves to keep fighting. Very good at combat. A lot of the knights are multi-classed with this.

Subclass: Champion. This is our boy Lancelot. It lets him do more damage on high rolls, and take hits that were meant for other people.

Subclass: Battle Master. This is one of the classes Elyan is. This sub-class allows him to learn specific fighting tactics. In this case he has learned to disarm people, and maneuver people so his fellow knights can hit.

Rogue

Rogues are sneaky. That’s their whole thing. They do more damage when they sneak up on people, or have friends nearby distracting the person they are attacking. They can also runaway or hide after attacking without getting attacked in return.

Subclass: Scout. This is the other class Elyan is. It lets him move away from enemies coming at him without anyone getting an attack on him. It also gives him extra help when he is using skills that involve surviving in the wilderness, or when getting information about the natural world.

Subclass: Swashbuckler. This is our boy Gwaine. He isn’t so much super sneaky, as so self confident and rakish that it becomes distracting. His showiness can even direct attacks from his friends to himself (think the scene where he punches a guy in the ace when we first meet him).

Monk

Think kung-fu movie. Monks are fast, and they don’t hit hard but they hit a lot. They can spend things called ki points to hit more, and to enact special effects like temporarily stunning their opponent. Ki points can be used for other abilities based on the sub-class.

Sub-class: Drunken Way. Also our boy Gwaine. This was mostly a joke about how much he likes to drink, but it does let him pop back up much faster than other classes if he gets knocked down, and redirect attack. Both of these are things we see him do in the intro scene in canon.

Ranger

They are hunters with connections to the land. They tend to favor bow and arrows over swords. They are good at tracking, camping, and all things woods. Primarily they are martial classes, but they do gain some spell casting ability at later levels. Their spells either have to do with nature, or the skills involved in hunting.

Subclass: hunter. This is what I made Percival. This makes him extra good at tracking prey, and killing it. Also gives him extra protection against creatures attacking him.

Paladin

Magical Fighter. Paladins get their martial prowess from training, but they get their limited casting abilities from their connection to a god. Most of their spells involve doing more damage with their hits.

Sub-Class: Oath of Crown. This one just sounded the most bootlicker so that’s why I picked it for Leon. He can force people to fight him, and heal people around him.

For the classes no one in the fic is.

Cleric

Get their magic from a god much like paladins, but they are a full casting class. They tend to focus a lot on healing, but can also do some damn good damage. This is one of the classes that have access to all the spells available for the class, and switch out which ones they use each day.

Bard

Jaskier from the Witcher if he could use his performance to cast spells. They do a lot of damage, but also having access to minor healing spells unlike sorcerers or warlocks who have a similar casting style.

Druids

Get their arcane ability from nature. Can turn into any animal they have seen before. Most of their spells have a nature-y component to them if they are doing damage.

So there you go! Layman’s D&D. Keep in mind that I have only been playing for a little while so my descriptions may not be the best, but I hope this helped! And I hope you are enjoying Barbarian King.

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #107: Angra Mainyu

Today on Fate and Phantasms, we’re making the original Shirouface, Angra Mainyu! This angy mango can turn into a dog, track mud all over the place, and also warp time and space to cheat at grail wars. 🎵 One of these things is not like the other! 🎵 I’d say he’s also really good at killing humans, but in D&D most humans aren’t that hard to kill. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.

Check out the mango’s build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here!

Next up: Yeah, I guess he is pretty great.

Race and Background

So... Angra’s kind of weird. He was human, but now he’s the sins of all mankind, so if you want the flavor build maybe a Tiefling? That being said we’re trying to turn him into a dog and we can’t wait three levels, so he’s going to be a Longtooth Shifter here. This gives him +2 Strength and +1 Dexterity, a bit of Darkvision so you don’t have to keep your tattoos lit, Keen Senses for perception proficiency, Fierce for intimidation, as well as the ability to Shift once per short rest as a bonus action. This bestial transformation lasts 1 minute, and during it you gain some temporary HP and can make a bite attack as a bonus action.

As for your background, Acolyte is a much nicer title than your real one, Ritual Sacrifice. (As long as you leave out your role in the order, Shelter of the Faithful should still work, right?) Either way, you get Religion proficiency, as well as Insight. You’re really good at sizing up your opponents, but that’s mostly because they’re always stronger than you are.

Ability Scores

We’re not doing anything fancy this time, just the standard array. You can roll if you wanna, but keep multiclassing in mind. First up, make your Intelligence as high as possible. It’s your casting modifier, and half the reason you’re so hard to kill is because you fight smart. Speaking of fighting smart, put your next scores into Constitution, then Dexterity for maximum survivability. After that I guess we can go with Strength for multiclassing and, y’know, hitting things. You might be weak, but you do have those abs going for you. After that is Wisdom to help with that insight. Finally, dump Charisma. Self-deprecation isn’t a good look king.

Class Levels

1. Barbarian 1: You don’t even wear a shirt, let alone armor, so Unarmored Defense is right up your alley. It gives you an AC based on your dexterity and constitution scores. You can also fly into a Rage for extra damage, advantage on strength rolls, and damage resistance, all at the low low cost of not casting or concentrating on spells.

One last thing for level one- you have Strength and Constitution saving throw proficiencies, as well as two barbarian skills. You’re great at hanging in there for as long as possible, so grab Athletics and Survival proficiencies.

2. Fighter 1: Now we bounce over to fighter real quick for Two-Weapon Fighting to help you wield Zarich and Tawrich properly. You also learn how to find a Second Wind as a bonus action for a bit of healing. You can’t really get a counter attack in if you’re dead after all.

3. Wizard 1: We’ll get a second level of wizard so it makes sense later in the build, but all you really need to know right now is you can cast and prepare Spells using your Intelligence, and when you take a short rest you can use your Arcane Recovery to regain a total level of spell slots equal to half your wizard level rounded up. This only works once per long rest though, don’t abuse it.

For your spells, grab the Light cantrip for your sick tats, True Strike for a spell almost as useless as you are, Infestation, Tasha’s Caustic Brew, and Charm Person for the beginnings of your grail mud, and False Life, Mage Armor, and Shield to stay on the defensive. Charm person isn’t quite Completely Rewriting Someone’s Personality; but I mean it’s a first level spell, what did you expect.

4. Fighter 2: Okay, enough multiclassing for now- back in fighter, you get an Action Surge for a surge of action. Once per short rest, you can add an extra action to your turn. Unlike the sorcerer’s quickened spell, you can use two leveled spells at once with this. Or hit people more. That’s probably a better option for you.

5. Fighter 3: At third level you become a Battle Master for some fancy skills. Your Student of War gives you proficiency with any one artisan’s tool. I’m not totally sure what the best way to make your tats would be, but it’s probably painter’s supplies. Anyway, you also get Combat Superiority, giving you three maneuvers that you can use with Superiority Dice. You start with four d8s, and you regain them on short rests.

D&D as a system doesn’t have much in the way of counterattacks, but Brace and Riposte are probably the closest you can get without dumping 14 levels into a barbarian subclass that doesn’t fit you otherwise. The former lets you make an attack when a creature enters melee range, and the latter lets you attack when you’re missed by a melee attack. In either case, you also add the superiority die to the damage. Your last maneuver is a Tactical Assessment, which lets you add the die to Investigation, History, or Insight checks. It’s kind of cheating when you know you’re worse than everyone else, but it’s still technically an assessment.

6. Barbarian 2: It’s been 6 levels and we’re still barely a dog- clearly we need to fix that too. Second level barbarians get a Reckless Attack, which gives you advantage on all weapon attacks for the turn at the cost of taking attacks at advantage too. To balance that out, your Danger Sense gives you advantage on dexterity saves. 

7. Barbarian 3: At third level you can finally become the bad boy you were always meant to be thanks to your Form of the Beast. When you rage, you gain one of three natural weapons. 

Your Fangs let you bite creatures, and once per turn you can regain your proficiency bonus in HP if you’re bloodied.

Your Claws let you make an extra attack once per turn.

Your Tail is long enough to get the reach property, and you can use your reaction to add to your AC by moving your tail between you and an attacker.

I don’t think dog tails are long enough to do that, but you’re more of a shadow werewolf monster anyway, so it’s not like you need to work with biology.

8. Barbarian 4: Eight levels in and you finally get your first Ability Score Improvement. Bump up your Strength for a more passible amount of attack power. 

9. Barbarian 5: Our last bit of barbarism for a while nets you Fast Movement for extra move speed and an Extra Attack per attack action.

10. Fighter 4: One last bounce back to fighter for another ASI. grab some extra Constitution for more health and a tougher hide. This also makes your unarmored defense as tough as your mage armor, which should free up a spell slot or two for ya. Speaking of spells though...

11. Wizard 2: Yeah, we’re finally getting back to wizard. Your innate skill at messing with timelines will make you a Chronurgist. Unfortunately, D&D doesn’t do four day time loops. What you get instead is a Chronal Shift, spending your reaction to force a creature nearby to re-roll a d20. Unlike most roll messing-with abilities, this one takes effect after you find out if it worked or not. You can do this twice per long rest. A couple of seconds is way more convenient anyway- having to redo everything would be a pain in the ass. Your Temporal Awareness also lets you add your intelligence modifier to your initiative for better ambushes.

There aren’t other first level spells we really want, so let’s grab the low-magic Alarm and Snare. Being in a time loop is super useful for trapping people.

12. Wizard 3: Third level wizards get second level spells. Alter Self will let you become a dog boy without having to rage, and Darkness makes things dark. You’ve got this “edgy silhouette” thing going for you in the early ascensions, it’d be a shame to ruin it just because it’s day out.

13. Wizard 4: Now that you’re starting to get spells worth using, grab the War Caster feat. This gives you advantage on concentration saves, as well as the ability to cast spells with full hands. You can also use cantrips for your opportunity attacks.

14. Wizard 5: One last level of wizard for now gives you third level spells. Spirit Shroud gives you an aura of grail mud, slowing down creatures near you and letting you deal extra necrotic damage with each attack. This also shuts down healing! Bonus. You can also Summon Shadowspawn for more material doggos with one of three moods. Furious dogs get advantage on frightened creatures, despairing dogs slow creatures in mud, and frightful dogs can hide in darkness as a bonus action.

15. Barbarian 6: That’s enough magic for a while, lets get back to hitting things. Your Bestial Soul gives you magical claws, fangs, and tails while raging, and you also get a bunch of movement options that don’t really mesh with your character. I guess the jumping boost might be useful- most type-moon characters can jump a story into the air.

16. Barbarian 7: Your Feral Instinct gives you advantage on initiative rolls, and you can just ignore being frightened if you go beast mode immediately. Speaking of, your Instinctive Pounce lets you move as part of your rage bonus action, giving you an extra half-speed of movement.

17. Barbarian 8: Use your last ASI for even more Intelligence. You’d probably use strength more, but you’re supposed to be weak, so that checks out.

18. Barbarian 9: Your Brutal Criticals give you an extra die of damage on critical hits, but you use shortswords, so it’s not going to help much. Again, pretty on point for you.

19. Barbarian 10: Tenth level beasts have an Infectious Fury, letting you dab a little bit of that grail mud into your rage weapon attacks. When you hit a creature, they need to make a wisdom save (DC 8+your constitution modifier + your proficiency bonus) or they take one of two effects. Either they’re forced to attack another creature nearby, or they take extra psychic damage. You can use this a number of times per long rest equal to your proficiency bonus.

20. Wizard 6: Your capstone level nets you one last chronurgy trick- Momentary Stasis locks a creature in a time loop if they fail a constitution save, either until they take damage or the end of your next turn. While in the loop, they’re incapacitated and can’t move. You can use this a number of times per long rest equal to your intelligence modifier.

You also get a last couple of spells, which will really ramp up your mud production. Tidal Wave does exactly what you’d think it does, and after your foes are drenched in mud, hit them with Bestow Curse, another spell kind enough to tell you exactly what it does on the tin.

Pros:

You’ve got plenty of ways to deal damage when it isn’t your turn, and multiple effects to make those attacks more effective. Combine Brace with your Infectious Fury to drop two creatures at the same time before either have a chance to deal damage. Sorry I don’t have a pithy way to bold this one.

Even if you get stuck in a longer fight, you’re tough to kill, with 200 HP, rages, a shield spell, and ways to heal yourself, you can stick around for a long time even before factoring in any loops. (Oh hey, biting is another thing that your counterattacks make super effective)

Thanks to your multitude of multiclassing, you have a lot of variety. Your melee combat is solid, of course, but you can also use magical combat or utility spells, with just a touch of healing thrown in for when it’s absolutely necessary.

Cons:

The downside to that last point above is that you have a lack of focus, which is especially bad given the small number of ASI you have to work with. This means none of your stats are particularly impressive, so expect people to see through your illusions regularly.

You have a lot of reasons to keep your reactions open, and unlike the bonus action problem this isn’t something that you can reason out yourself- you never know when a party member will need you to chronal shift away a critical hit. You also have shield and your counterattacks tied to the same reaction, so in busier fights you’ll have to plan carefully.

Most of your low level spells involve Poison or Acid damage, two of the most resisted and immune-to types. They’re just not that strong, sorry. 

[ariadneclaire]

Multi-Class Options for Jester at 12th Level

I’m not saying Traveller Con is going to go poorly and she’s not going to be a cleric anymore or whatever. I’m just here for the chaos. 

Barbarian

Requirement: Strength 13 Jester: Strength 16 This one doesn’t make a ton of sense, but it’s doable. Jester raging would maybe be more along the lines of “I would like to rage. :D” than Matt would be entirely prepared for. 

Rating: 6/10 for comedy and Matt Face Palms.

Bard

Requirement: Charisma 13 Jester: Charisma 12

Even though I think Jester would love to be a Bard, she is sadly under qualified. “The Ruby of the Sea is the Best Lay Ever” will likely be her only hit single. Rating: 2/10 since it doesn’t suit the story or the character. (At the moment, of course. Things can change.)

Druid

Requirement: Wisdom 13 Jester: Wisdom 20 Mechanically this is great. Jester’s spell slots wouldn’t be impeded since Druid’s are full casters and both classes use her best stat (WIS) as their spell casting modifier. Wild Shape is fun, and maybe Jester could cast Speak with Animals and get a better handle on taking care of Sprinkle. Story wise most of the Druidic Circles are a bit of a reach, but Circle of Dreams is a bit of a fun one: “Druids who are members of the Circle of Dreams hail from regions that have strong ties to the Feywild and its dreamlike realms. The druids’ guardianship of the natural world makes for a natural alliance between them and good-aligned fey.”

It’s perhaps a bit healing heavy for Jester, who everyone roasts for being a Battle Mercy (even though Cure Wounds is her second most used spell after Sending), but it’s the mood. If Artagan decides he Doesn’t Want to Be a God Anymore after Traveller Con, this would suit them well and would be a lot of fun. My biggest concern would be the ridiculous restraint that Druid’s aren’t allowed to have metal armour or shields, but I could see Matt handwaving that since Artagan has been supporting her with a metal shield this whole time.

Rating: 9.9/10 This would be a full 10 if it wasn’t for that armour restraint.

Fighter

Requirement: Strength 13 or Dexterity 13 Jester: Strength 16 and Dexterity 18

My girl is so swole. Bless her. Regardless of her over qualification, I can’t see this making sense. If she were to switch right now she’d lose spell slots and wouldn’t even be able to pick a martial archetype until level 15. It’s a good dip early on for HP and armour proficiencies, but it’s not great late in the game. The only real benefit would be more weapons, but she hardly uses the ones she has.

Rating: 1/10 Boring and Impractical

Monk

Requirement: Dexterity 13 and Wisdom 13 Jester: Dexterity 18 and Wisdom 20

On the one hand Beau teaching Jester cool monk shit is fun. On the other hand, the idea of the Traveller asking Jester to start a monastic tradition in his name is hard to imagine. This one would probably hinge on a shift of faith or a major narrative change in Jester’s personal story. Practically it’s a little bit wonky, running into a lot of the same problems as the fighter. Although, Jester would get to punch things very hard right away, which I think Laura would enjoy.

Rating: 4/10 it’s impractical, but I’m giving it bonus points for the potential training scenes.

Paladin

Requirement: Strength 13 and Charisma 13 Jester: Strength 16 and Charisma 12

Unless she finds a way to raise her CHA (like Fjord in Refjorged) this one is a no. Tragic, because the concept of Trickster Paladin is the funniest thing on Earth and I think Laura would kill me by making me laugh too much. 3/10 for getting my hopes up, but not being possible.

Ranger

Requirement: Dexterity 13 and Wisdom 13 Jester: Dexterity 18 and Wisdom 20

Jester’s stats are actually very well suited to this one. However storywise this is wonky; the Ranger class is arguably the weakest; Jester is a spell heavy character who would be losing access to high level spells; I don’t think Laura would want to play a two games in a row. (Counterpoint: Sprinkle as a Beast Companion.)

Rating: 2/10 It was going to be a 1, but do it for Sprinkle.

Rogue

Requirement: Dexterity 13 Jester: Dexterity 18

If there was any non-spellcasting class I could see Jester taking it would be this one. I know Vex was also a Rogue, and I just said I didn’t think Laura would repeat classes, but a Cleric/Rogue is very Different. It would impeded her spell slots of course, but Rogue does come with all sorts of fun benefits. Tragically sneak attack would only apply to weapons, but Expertise is fun, and the combination of Expertise and Guidance would make Laura Bailey #unstoppable. However, once again we are running into Spell Heavy character builds being interrupted. I could see this one, but only in the even that the Traveler gives up Godhood.

Rating: 6/10 Eh mechanically, but I like it thematically.

Sorcerer

Requirement: Charisma 13 Jester: Charisma 12

Same problem as Paladin and Bard. This one would be super wonky even if the stats could make it work, but maybe a way to explain Jester’s ability to just make a God would be her blood line. However, I’m a big fan of the way ascension works in Matt’s world, so I don’t know if I love this.

Rating: 3/10

Warlock

Requirement: Charisma 13 Jester: Charisma 12

You know the deal with that Bard/Paladin/Sorcerer thing by now. Okay, okay, okay, but it would be so good. If Jester and Artagan just made a pact? I’m living for it. LIVING FOR IT. He’s like “all these other gods? Nah. You’re the only one who can handle me” and they make a pact. She could take The Archfey and easily stay on brand. Spell slots are wonky, but the idea of Jester casting Eldritch Blast is fjucking hilarious.

Rating: 8/10

Wizard

Requirement: Intelligence 13 Jester: Intelligence 12

This one doesn’t really make sense and she doesn’t meet the stat requirements, Maybe if she gives up the Traveller, but wants to keep casting spells. She could always ask Caleb to teach her. (He did say he wanted to be a Professor.) It would be nice to get a scene where she reads the spells, since she said she was hurt when Essek wasn’t “interested in anything [she had] to teach.”

Rating: 5/10

TL;DR if Jester multiclasses I would love to see a Druid or a Warlock.

[xladyxfatex]

My heart! I love this so much!

troubled girl

Hands are curious things.

Hers are small, and calloused. Her fingers get a little twitchy when she starts to get bored. Currently, they pulse with the ache of swollen knuckles and split skin.

The girls’ hands had not been calloused. They had made a point of it, she remembers— hands on her cheeks, the scent of honey and rose water. Squishing her face, laughing, such a silly girl, Rosie. Do you even know what the words to that song mean?

Her hands are calloused now. She had known this for a while, but she had not felt the weight of it until a week ago, when she looked at her palms and suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to lather her entire body in milk and honey and rosewater and lavender, to find something soft she could wrap all her jagged edges in, something sweet to disguise the scent of ozone.

She turned sixteen a week ago. Had she still been with the girls, she would have been put to work proper— properly, that stern voice corrects in her head. 

Hands are curious things. Hers pulse with the ache of swollen knuckles and split skin, her gaze fixated on dried blood and clear fluid. She thinks that if she makes a fist, angles it in the light just right, she can make out the paleness of bone underneath. She wants to lick, to peel back her skin with her teeth, find out the hue of her skeleton. Eat herself until there is nothing left but the cleanest, barest bones, instead of the mess of flesh and blood and feeling that she is.

Perhaps she would feel better after her own cannibalization.

“Are you listening to me?” 

Viago doesn't squish her face, but sometimes he does this— grab her by the sides of her jaw, move her head until she's focusing on whatever he wants. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes she leans the weight of her head into his touch, a beast of burden leaning into the bit inside their mouth— and if the metal hurts against her palate, then it hurts. But at least it's something to bite onto.

(Fire polishing might be another alternative. Let the worst parts of her melt down to nothing, and whatever is left behind be smoothed, hardened, cleared, purified. Maybe that’s what they tried to do to Andraste, but they had the temperature wrong, and she burned down to ash with nothing to show for their efforts.

There are glass lamps in Treviso. Bright. Colorful. She should like to be a little like that, she thinks— with an option, naturally, to smash them against the ground, and use the shards as a weapon.)

“I am a Crow of House de Riva,” she repeats, “not some petty criminal.”

Everything is sharp, sometimes, so sharp. Herself and the whole world— if she could only close her eyes just so, just until things come out of focus—

She imagines Viago's hands aren't soft either, but she does not know. She remembers more the taste of his blood than the texture of his skin. Rosa understands not how he lives like that: always with a barrier between himself and the world. 

Everything is so sharp, but his eyes are sharper, caught somewhere between blue and grey— violet, sometimes, in the right lighting. Like a storm. Someone had said— who? When? Was this a song? Was it something else? Perhaps an old refrain?— ‘Clouded eyes, unclouded future.’ Maybe this is what he looks at when he frowns and schemes, some crystal-clear future that will only take a hundred and thirty-six steps for him to reach.

She does not have storms in her eyes

She carries them in her head, and in her heart.

She cannot see the future. But she can walk right on his footsteps, and maybe she’ll get somewhere.

“Why do we keep having this conversation?” His face is stern as ever, his tone halfway between disappointed and annoyed. He carries tension in his shoulders, but this is not new. 

Not for the first time, she thinks he would make a very poor whore. 

The thought pulls at the corner of her mouth.

“You think this is funny?” Viago asks.

“No,” she answers. “But that thing on your face you insist on calling a moustache is.”

Retaliation will come later, mixed into her dinner, she knows. And she will welcome it— leave no crumbs, look him right in the eye and demand he ups the dosage next time. And then she will spend a night throwing up, writhing, crying, feeling like her stomach is on fire or like her brain is melting and dripping out her nose. But she will not die.

Neither will apologize. They will move on, there won’t be hard feelings. 

No matter how much they might fight— and lately, oh, lately she feels like the only thing she’s good at is fighting— it would be much worse to simply be… apart. 

Rosa leans her weight onto Viago’s hand.

He can support her. This is good enough, even if he doesn’t squish her face.

“Why do I bother with you?” He says, not for the first time, not for the last.

“Because you hate being wrong,” she answers plainly. 

She knows what they call her; what they have been calling her for years. Viago’s pet project— shortened to Viago’s pet. Like a half-trained dog always trotting after him. Viago’s pet, in different tones— from curiosity, to fondness, to derision. 

Woof, Rosa thinks, and keeps trotting after him, day after day.

His nostrils flare, and he looks at her that way he does sometimes— like he would like to put her in a jar and shake her very hard, see if her pieces come loose. She snorts.

She’s sitting on his workbench, his collection of jars and vials pushed carefully to the side. She supposes she fits there just fine among his studies. Rosa curls the toes of her left foot inside her boot.

“Make a poison after me.” She says. Suggests? Demands.

“No,” he denies.

This is one of his favorite words with her. No. Sciocca. No. Sciocca. She does not know how he can stand to be so predictable.

He lets go of her face and begins searching for something in his drawers. A bottle of antiseptic. Cloth. Pity, she quite likes dried blood on her knuckles.

“What would you use? If you were to?”

“It doesn’t matter, because I am not going to.”

"What would my poison do?" 

"Nothing, because it won't exist," he pauses, then. "Perhaps give whoever ingests it a terrible migraine."

“So make it.”

“No. Sciocca.” 

She deflates, but gives him her hands without waiting for the request. He’s precise in tending to her wounds. Not affectionate, but careful. But this is how he handles everything— sometimes she likes to watch him work, whatever it is that he’s doing with his hands: developing a new concoction, practicing his bladework, taking notes. She sits nearby, and watches, and gets lost in the rhythm of Viago’s hands, and sticks out her tongue at him when he complains about her being unnerving again. 

He has nice handwriting. She does not. She tries— sort of. Sometimes. She could try harder.

There was a rough patch between letters and her— she would keep setting her notebooks on fire by accident, again and again, no matter how her trainers tried to instruct her. Constrain her. Said things like control, and intent, and she had tried to understand those things— and they also said things like mana output and channel the harmonics and her eyes glazed over.

And then she had taken Viago’s notes on the development of a neurotoxin, led by nothing but the curiosity to see if she could get away with stealing from him (she could.) 

He has nice handwriting. Rosa had traced over the grooves of the paper with her bare finger— trails of fire had followed, perfectly controlled and constrained to the path of his sentences. And that had been that.

Whatever books she set on fire after that, had been with intent.

“Is it another rage demon?” He asks her, straight to the point. He had been unnerved, mistrusting— rightly so, of course. She had been unnerved and mistrusting as well the first time she heard those saccharine voices, promising her things— but she knew not to trust things that sounded like they might smile too much.

Nothing ever comes for free. Unless you steal it.

Eventually, whatever demon hangs around her, leaves.

“Perhaps I am the rage demon,” she says. Shrugs. 

Viago does not smile, because he rarely smiles. This, she likes about him. She would like it better if he laughed— she’s convinced, still, he doesn’t quite understand her jokes.

Except the puns. He does this thing when she makes a pun— breathes slowly through his nose. Once, she saw the corner of his mouth twitch. She knows she will wear him over, in time, erode him in the relentlessness of her humor. She wants it to be so, and thus it will be.

(Nothing is ever free, unless you steal it. Everything else you grab with your own hands.)

So Viago does not smile, but there is a note of something in his voice as he tends to her bloody knuckles.

“I have no doubt about that,” he says. 

Rosa does not smile either, because she is not in a mood for smiling. Her knuckles don’t look quite right without blood on them— too clean, but not in a good way. They sting at the touch of antiseptic. There were no rage demons, but maybe she descends from one, It would explain the fire in her blood.

(But what would explain the storm in her heart? What kind of demon is linked to lightning? Pride? But she would rather have no pride, because then she has no shame. Shame is for those who can afford it.

She can afford things, these days. She still steals, to see if she can get away with it.)

“You can’t keep picking fights,” Viago tells her— stern as ever.

The look she gives him is sharp, and dark, and stormy— she can, she says without saying, she can, and she will, day after day if she needs to. And she always needs to. Sometimes, something feels wrong, just at the edge of her perception— when she looks at her hands and does not recognize them, not because they’re calloused, but because they lack wicked claws and are not constantly covered in blood.

At least she stopped throwing rocks at Chantry sisters. 

“You do not have the size to keep picking fights,” Viago tries again.

She resents this. She resents this, so she bares her teeth— that stings as well, her bottom lip is fat, the barely-congealed blood not doing much in ways of maintaining the cut sealed. Fresh blood wells— she tastes metal, and does not mind it.

Viago reaches for her face again, digs his gloved fingers on the sides of her jaw. A muzzle, perhaps.

Woof, she thinks. Woof, woof, woof. She’ll trot after him the next day, and the next.

“Everything you do,” he says, “reflects on me, the good and the bad.” He brought her here, after all. Pulled her out of a cage, saw something— some potential— and said come along.

And along she went. She’s dangerous, now. She likes it, calluses and all.

(She still feels like she must bathe in some pleasant scent. Something sweet.)

“If you must insist on picking fights— do it quietly. Hit fast, hit first, do not let them get up. If you’re going to be stupid, be clever about it at least.”

Again, she settles in his hold, as she ruminates on these instructions.

Her knuckles are clean. She’ll dirty them again soon enough, so it’s bearable.

“Yes,” she says. “I don’t dislike that.”