#yes i finally finished the pale elf quest

[hua-liansimp]

My contribution to the bg3 fandom: take one r from the name Szarr, it will mean "shit" in hungarian.

[guardianofrivendell]

PERFECT SECRETS - CHAPTER 3

Legolas x OC

Requested: Nope

Summary:  Mira. A short and unusual name for a short and unusual Elf. After an audience with Galadriel goes sideways, she leaves her birthplace Lóthlorien and the Elves for good.  That is until a certain Gandalf asks for a favor. Come along on her journey, as she reluctantly agrees to accompany Gandalf on the quest to destroy the One Ring.  She befriends every Fellowship member, except one. Legolas and Mira are water and fire from the very first moment they laid eyes on each other. Will this be an obstacle during the quest or is it going to make everything just a little more interesting?

Warnings: None, just men being men. 

Masterlist Perfect Secrets

THE COUNCIL OF ELROND

While Gandalf and Mira climbed the stairs, she asked him why he had summoned her. Gandalf wouldn’t say, only telling her to be patient and that everything would be cleared up at the ‘Council of Elrond’. 

When the pair reached the top of the stairs, they were welcomed by Lord Elrond.

The Council hadn’t begun yet, and Mira was a bit surprised to see more people than she expected to be at a secret meeting. A delegation of Elves, Dwarves, Men and one small Hobbit were seated in a circle, around a rock with a flattened surface. 

They were looking towards her and Gandalf. She could hear them mutter amongst themselves asking who the hooded lady was. She smirked confidently. Let them guess, she thought. They’ll never know. 

Elrond gestured to take a seat in the two remaining empty chairs, one next to the Hobbit and one between Legolas and the other Elves. Did Elrond suspect something?

Mira looked back at him, but he had already turned around to take a stand at the head of the circle. Gandalf took the seat next to the Halfling, whispering a few words into his ear. She hesitated for a few seconds, before walking around the outside of the circle to the wall of the building, feeling the eyes of everyone piercing her back. She turned around and leaned with her back against the wall, arms crossed, one foot over the other. 

It was her way to say she didn’t belong to the Elves nor Men, keeping the mystery alive. Plus she preferred to be in the background anyways. Gandalf nodded at Elrond, signaling that the Council could begin.

“Strangers from distant lands, friends and old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it, you will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to its fate; this one doom. Bring forth the ring, Frodo,” Elrond asked the small Hobbit. Frodo stood up and carefully placed a small golden ring on the centered rock. 

“So it’s true,” one of the Men gasped, his eyes fixed on the ring. “In a dream, I saw the Eastern sky grow dark. But in the West a pale light lingered. A voice was crying: your doom is near at hand. Isildur’s Bane is found.” He was on his feet now, and got dangerously close to the ring. 

“Boromir!” Elrond warned him. He sat down at once. 

“Frodo, will you tell us how this ring came to you and the troubles you have faced already?” Gandalf asked the Hobbit. Everyone listened to his story, how he inherited the ring from Bilbo, that he had encountered Black Riders, fought against them and got stabbed by a Morgul Blade in the process. 

Mira had listened to him intently. It was remarkable how such a small being had endured so much in so little time, there was no doubt this was the One Ring. Hobbits never cease to amaze her.

The sky turned dark and ominous. Gandalf’s voice became deeper, there was a strange echo when he spoke. The moment he spoke the first words, Mira got a splitting headache. 

“Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul” (One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them)

Mira shook her head, trying to get rid of the headache. She didn’t want anyone to notice something was wrong, but she recognized the pained expressions from the other Elves. She was not the only one who felt it. 

As soon as Gandalf finished, the sky cleared and so did the headache.

Lord Elrond gasped, definitely not happy with Gandalf’s actions.

“Never before has any voice uttered the words of that tongue here in Imladris!”

“I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond, for the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the West! The Ring is altogether evil!”

Well, he does have a point there, Mira thought to herself. Gandalf had been right, they were on the verge of war. If they had the One Ring, Sauron would do anything to get it back. 

“It is a gift. A gift from the foes of Mordor. Why not use this ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of my people are your lands kept safe! Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him!” Boromir demanded. 

“You cannot wield it! None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master,” the ranger answered him. 

“And what would a ranger know of this matter?” Boromir sneered back. 

At this point, Legolas stood up from his chair. 

“This is no mere ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance.”

“This is Isildur’s heir?” Boromir asked, just as Mira thought the exact same thing.

“And heir to the throne of Gondor,” Legolas countered confidently. 

Mira would say it was more arrogant than confident but maybe she was a bit biased. 

“Havo dad, Legolas,” Aragorn said to him, trying to calm him down. (Sit down) Legolas obeyed, but kept a stern look on Boromir. Mira could tell the tension was building. It wouldn’t take much before they’d start killing each other. She hadn’t missed the angry glances between the Elves and Dwarves. 

“Gondor has no king. Gondor needs no king,” Boromir muttered angrily before taking a seat again. His attitude was starting to get on Mira’s nerves. What was it with men and their pride, always wanting to have the last word?

“Aragorn is right. We cannot use it,” Elrond intervened, trying to clear the tension. “You have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” One of the Dwarves jumped out of his seat and tried to destroy the Ring, shattering his axe in the process. 

Mira chuckled, noticing the stunned expression of the Dwarf upon seeing his ruined axe. She liked this one, he was straightforward and didn’t hesitate. 

“The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloín, by any craft that we here possess,” Elrond said to him. “The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm of whence it came. One of you must do this.”

He looked around the circle, but there was no reaction. 

Boromir sighed heavily. “One does not simply walk into Mordor.” 

He continued warning everyone about the dangers Mordor held for anyone who dared to cross the Black Gates. Legolas interrupted him, clearly fed up with the man of Gondor. 

“Have you heard nothing of what Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed!”

“Well yes, Elf Boy, we all heard that,” Mira muttered silently, rolling her eyes. She knew he would be the only one to hear it. Legolas’ head snapped in her direction, his eyes shooting daggers at her. Before he could say something, Gimli interrupted.

“And I suppose you think you’re the one to do it?” he shouted angrily at Legolas. “I will be dead before I see the ring in the hands of an Elf!”

Mira had to admit that was taking it a bit too far. She might be hiding the fact that she was an Elf, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t proud of being one. The others took this as their cue to start arguing. Even Gandalf and Elrond took part in the fight, which surprised her. She had taken a few steps away from the wall, so she was ready to intervene if necessary. 

The only one who wasn’t participating was Frodo, he was still in his chair seemingly deep in thought. Mira also stayed out of the argument, and kept an eye on everyone in the room. 

All of a sudden Frodo’s eyes focused again and he said, “I will take it!”

Nobody except Gandalf and Mira had heard him. Gandalf closed his eyes in defeat, clearly not happy with the Hobbit’s suggestion.

“I will take the Ring to Mordor,” Frodo repeated, finally getting everyone’s attention. His expression changed once he noticed everyone staring at him, almost looking shy. “Though I do not know the way.”

Gandalf kneeled in front of him, placing his hand on his shoulder. 

“I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear.”

Frodo looked very grateful. He should be, Mira thought, it was a very dangerous task and he should accept all the help he could get. She did think it was very brave of him to volunteer. Stupid too. But brave nonetheless. 

In the next few minutes, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Boromir had offered their help as well. Mira couldn’t help but notice Legolas’ smirk when he looked at her. Was he challenging her? 

“Oi! Mister Frodo is not going anywhere without me!” Another Hobbit was coming out of the bushes, rushing towards the group. 

Elrond looked sternly at him, but Mira could see a hint of a smile. 

“No indeed, it is hardly possible to separate you even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not.”

Mira crossed her arms again, and leaned back against the wall behind her. The group standing before Elrond was a sight to behold. Wizards, Men, Elves, Dwarves and Hobbits, every race was represented. Who would have thought this to be possible?

“Seven companions-”, Elrond started but was interrupted by yet another pair of Hobbits who came running from behind the pillars in the back. 

“Wait! We are coming too!” They rushed to Frodo’s side. Mira smiled, she was certain these Hobbits would give Gandalf a hard, but interesting time during their quest. 

“You’d have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us!” one of them said proudly, crossing his arms.

The blond Hobbit wanted to say something smart too, and added, “Anyway, you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission, quest… thing.”

“Well, that rules you out, Pip,” his friend was quick to answer. Mira snorted. 

Elrond opened his arms. “Nine companions-”

“Lord Elrond, if you please,” Gandalf interrupted him. Mira half expected Elrond to drop his arms at his side and just give up speaking altogether, but his expression didn’t even falter. Impressive.

“I do believe there is someone else who would be wise to join us,” Gandalf spoke, looking directly at Mira. 

Mira’s eyes widened. No, he wouldn’t, would he? She even looked behind her, forgetting she was leaning against a wall, to check if there was a chance he didn’t mean her. 

“Mira, my dear. Don’t keep us waiting,” he said warmly. 

She froze, frantically trying to think of an excuse, any excuse not to join them. 

“A woman?” Boromir laughed. “You can’t be serious! Does she even know how to fight?”

That comment made something stir within her. Wasn’t it enough that Legolas had been acting like he did towards her, and now another man had to doubt her skills?

In less than a split second she had drawn her two knives from her boots and threw them towards Boromir, effectively pinning his cape to the railing of the balcony behind him, without even scratching Legolas and the Hobbits, who were all standing in very close proximity. It did not only show her skills with a knife, but her strength as well since the railing was made out of stone. 

“I can assure you, Boromir, that Mira knows exactly how to defend herself. Best not to get on her bad side,” Gandalf chuckled. Mira stepped towards Boromir and pulled her knives out of the railing, keeping her eyes fixed on Legolas’ the whole time, as if to say “Did you see that?”.

Elrond cleared his throat, opening his arms for the third time. Before he started, he looked at Gandalf, who nodded at him. 

“Ten companions… so be it! You shall be known as the Fellowship of the Ring!”

A/N: I have a taglist now! Send me an ask if you want to be added!

Taglist Perfect Secrets: @ayo-cowbelly​

[fantasyoverreality98]

King of the Lost

Pairing: Aerin x F! MC

Summary: Raine says one last farewell before returning to Riverbend, but the desire to heal Aerin’s corruption finds her pursuing adventure once more.

Author’s Note: It’s been a long, long time, but I finally managed to finish this fic. Thank you to anyone who takes the time to read, like, reblog/comment, I appreciate every single one of you!

Word Count: 3,116

---

Children shrieked with delight outside, the sun casting a streak of light across the inn floor. Everyone celebrated without knowing how close they had come to complete and utter disaster. The world was just as it always had been.

But not for Raine.

As she forced herself out of bed, her muscles flared with pain. It was going to take a while for all the injuries to heal. Still, she could count her blessings that she had managed to survive the fight against the Dreadlord.

Someone knocked on the door after she’d finished getting dressed.

“Come in,” she said, tying her hair back.

The door opened to reveal her friends. Raine sighed, knowing what today would bring. She’d tried to convince herself that, when the moment came, she could handle it. It was a lot harder than she’d thought.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me, kit?” Mal grinned at her, though the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You don’t have to stay here.”

“I’m sure.” Raine took turns looking at each of them, a heaviness weighing on her heart. She took a shaky breath and tried to force a cheerful tone. “Well, are we all ready to go our separate ways?”

It was unclear who broke first, but in the next moment, they were all hugging each other. Tears burned at her eyes as she tried to keep it together. Not a single one of them looked unbothered.

Nia pulled Raine to her and hugged her tightly, whatever she said lost between the sobs. Mal joined in on the hug, tugging Imtura in alongside him. Tyril rolled his eyes before wrapping his arms around the group, his sigh long and heavy.

“I can’t believe this is goodbye,” said Raine, blinking away the tears. “I knew the day would come, I just—” The rest of the sentence got caught in her throat and she shook her head.

For several minutes, the group stayed in their hug. When they pulled back, no one spoke. Addressing the reality would only make it that much harder.

So, they walked out of the inn together instead.

“Remember that you are all welcome to visit Undermount whenever you wish,” Tyril said, obviously trying his best to keep his expression neutral. Mal smirked, opening his mouth as if to make a comeback, but the elf cut him off. “As long as you can behave yourselves.”

Nia turned her head away to laugh, and for a moment, joy enveloped them.

“Well, I guess this is goodbye. I’ll miss you land rats.” Imtura cleared her throat and stood up straight. “I have to return to my ship. Take care of yourselves.” She looked like she had more to say, but shook her head and turned, disappearing into the crowd.

Tyril went next. Then Nia, accompanied by Threep. Finally, it was just Mal and Raine. She still had Kade, who was waiting somewhere in the city for her, excited to stay for a while before returning to Riverbend.

“Off to seek out more adventure?” asked Raine, grinning through the tears that watered in her eyes.

Mal sighed, avoiding her stare. “You know me. I’ve got so much to see.”

Silence swept over them, the heaviness of this particular farewell hurting more than the others. Raine remembered the beginning of the journey. Had someone told her that she would end up here, that what was meant to be a simple quest would turn into saving the realm, she would have laughed. She was just a young woman from Riverbend. A nobody.

The thought of saying goodbye to Mal somehow confirmed that this was the end. She’d always known the day would come, that the group of them couldn’t live the rest of their lives trying to find the shards, but the change that came with this moment terrified her.

What if this was the end of everything? What if life held no more adventure, friendship, love? What if the memories of this journey faded into oblivion?

“Try not to forget about me,” Raine said, trying her best to maintain at least a little bit of dignity.

Mal’s smirk faltered. He sighed, shaking his head as he reached out to her. “Aw, come here, kit.” His arms wrapped around her, and that was when the tears came.

Raine hugged Mal tightly, clinging to this final moment. There was still so much left unsaid, so much adventure that the group had yet to embark on. Once he left her, she would be alone. Kade would go off and do his own thing, while she had one last person to visit.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” Mal whispered, his breath on her skin sending shivers down her spine. “I wouldn’t mind the company.”

“I’m sure.” Raine pulled back, a slight smile tugging at her lips when he brushed away the tears trailing down her cheeks. “We’ll meet again, right?”

He nodded, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he studied her face. “Right.”

“Well, I guess this is goodbye, then.” Raine raised her chin, knowing she had a few minutes before she broke down again. “Until we meet again.”

Mal’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. He hugged her one last time, patting her on the shoulder before turning away, disappearing into the crowd like the rest of her friends without looking back. Raine stood in place for a long time, sighing as she tried to accept that she wouldn’t see her friends for quite a while.

The walk to the palace was quiet. Without the constant bickering, Raine felt more alone than ever. She wondered how she’d ever been fine in Riverbend with just Kade for company. A part of her had left with the rest of the group, and she had no idea if it could ever be recovered.

Now, she felt as though she was about to lose another part of herself.

King Arlan greeted her at the palace steps, dark bags under his eyes. He attempted to smile, but the result was lacking. His lips twitched, his shoulders remained down, his hands trembled slightly.

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” Raine said, chewing on her bottom lip. She hesitated, unsure what else to say, before dropping into a curtsy.

“Please, there’s no need for that.” King Arlan glanced at one of the guards. “Is he ready for visitors?”

The guard’s eyes widened and his face paled. “Your Majesty, I don’t think—Prince Aerin is not well, he—” With a sigh, the man bowed his head to the king. “Perhaps it may help him to receive a visitor. Though I would advise you not to leave him alone with her.”

“I’m not afraid of him.” Raine’s voice echoed in the courtyard.

Several guards turned their heads to look at her, most of them frowning. She could feel the fear radiating all around her. Everyone was scared of him. As they should be. As she knew she should be.

King Arlan nodded to the guard who had spoken. He forced another smile when he focused his attention back on Raine. “Come, let’s go see him.” The pair entered the palace, the large doors shutting with a resounding boom behind them.

Raine would never get used to the sight of the palace. It left her breathless each time she saw it. Even more so when she thought of how lonely it must feel to grow up in a place like this without a sense of belonging. No amount of riches, of privilege, could replace an emptiness that lived deep inside a heart.

“We’ve tried to discover a way to heal him, but the healers fear it may be too late.” Arlan’s voice cracked as he spoke the last two words. “Oh, my poor boy—”  

“The moonblooms,” Raine whispered under her breath, remembering that night by the lake.

It was wishful thinking, the chances of it working were slim, but she wanted to believe. She looked up at King Arlan, focusing on keeping her expression neutral.

“Have you ever heard of moonblooms, Your Grace? Aerin—” Saying his voice out loud sent a flash of pain through her. Clearing her throat, she continued. “Aerin said that they could heal the deepest of corruption. Perhaps they could help him?”

For a moment, she feared the king would laugh at her. Instead, he cast his eyes down to the floor, his steps coming to a halt. Arlan took several moments to answer. “Perhaps…I suppose we have little to lose at this point.” He looked up at her again, and she could see in his eyes the words he did not speak. “I shall send someone immediately. Did you see some?”

Raine nodded, keeping her eyes focused ahead. “Yes. In the Deadwood.”

The guards around them shifted, their armor creaking in the quiet hallway. Someone took a sharp breath, another stifled a cough. It amazed her that they’d allowed the two princes to travel into the Deadwood if the people were this scared of it.

“I see.” King Arlan started to walk again, turning his head to mumble something to the guard nearest to him. “Thank you for the information, Raine.”

She smiled, not saying another word as they began to walk again. After a few minutes, they reached the tower where the dungeon was held. The smell of the damp earth and decaying stones made Raine recoil. It was dark, and she wondered why they’d left him here instead of somewhere where the Light was strong. Perhaps he didn’t want to escape.

Water dripped onto the stone, the sound echoing when they reached the bottom of the steps. Everyone paused for a moment, the sounds of their breathing mixed with the trickle of the water.

Many of the guards stayed back, waiting near the stairs. Even King Arlan hesitated, deep lines appearing on his forehead as he stared into the darkness ahead. A quiet tapping began from one of the cells.

“Maybe…do you think I should go talk to him alone?” Raine knew that too many people would make it impossible to have a proper conversation.

King Arlan opened his mouth, but no words came out. He looked past her, further into the dungeon, and took a deep breath. “Are you sure that is a wise choice?”

A voice echoed in her mind, the words sending a chill down her spine. “You’d still have me? Even as I am?”

Raine closed her eyes to prevent her eyes from watering. “I need to be alone with him.”

“Very well.” The king glanced at his guards and nodded.

Everyone except for Raine stayed at the far end of the dungeon. The tapping grew louder as she approached, and soon a haunting lullaby filled the air.

Shivers ran down her spine at the words. It was a tale that she knew all too well because she had lived it. An adventure in the Deadwood, the struggle between the Light and Shadow, a young man too far gone for salvation.

“I made it up myself. Do you like it?” The voice was the same, and yet it had changed. Gone was the cold, power-hungry side of him she’d witnessed just days earlier. Now, he sounded defeated.

Raine hesitated, lingering just out of sight. She had no idea what to expect when she faced him. Would Aerin still look like his corrupted self, or had he returned to normal?

“Come on. Don’t be shy.” She could hear the smirk in his voice.

With a deep breath, she stepped forward, coming face to face with Aerin.

Dark lines streaked across his face, his skin a pale gray. But he looked better than he had in the Shadow Realm. She could see the parts of the prince that she’d started to develop feelings for in the Deadwood.

“Hello, Raine,” he said, grinning up at her. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She stepped closer to the cell, and Aerin did the same. They were separated by mere feet now. “Hello, Aerin. I came here to say goodbye.”

For a moment, the smirk faltered. His lips turned down in a slight frown, and he cast his eyes to the floor. But he collected himself within moments, meeting her gaze once more.

“And where are you off to now? Some more grand adventures with your friends?” He wrapped his hands around the cell bars, leaning in closer. “Or are you going to return back to your filthy hometown?”

Despite his words, she could hear the hurt in his voice. His cruel words no longer fazed her. Not when she could see that he was trying his best to hurt her, to fight against what good still remained inside.

“I think your father is sending someone to find some moonblooms,” she said, ignoring Aerin’s words. “He just wants to help you.”

The laugh that came from him sent shivers down her spine. Raine turned to look at the men waiting near the stairs, and was surprised to find the spot empty.

She was completely alone with Aerin.

“No one can help me.” He leaned in, and she found herself drawn closer, leaning in until their faces were inches apart. “You cannot be the hero this time, Raine.”

Aerin didn’t move when she approached, wrapping her hands around the bars, just beneath his. “I don’t care about being the hero. All I care about is you.”

Despite everything he’d done, how much chaos he’d created, she still cared. The idea of having to accept a world where the prince was forced to live out the rest of his days here was one she refused to accept. Even worse, she thought of what might happen if the people decided that Aerin should pay for his crimes with his life.

Raine refused to let that happen.

“You may try to fool everyone by saying it was all an act, but I know there is more to you, Aerin Valleros. Somewhere, even if it’s buried deep, there is still good in you. And I refuse to give up on that part.”

He studied her face, his expression unwavering. “What makes you so sure about that?”

She didn’t have a clear answer. All that she knew was there had to be more to him. Whatever had happened to make him turn to the Shadow, it wasn’t enough to extinguish all the light inside. Even the deepest of corruption could be cleansed. Raine believed that with every beat of her heart.

Neither of them spoke for a moment. She searched his face for some hint of the prince she’d thought she knew in the Deadwood, but it was difficult to tell whether any kindness survived inside.

The Aerin she thought she knew was dead. Perhaps he had never really existed at all.

“I need to believe that what we shared was real,” Raine whispered, so close now that she could feel his warm breath on her skin. “Tell me that I’m not wrong.”

She should be ashamed that she wanted to believe that any of the time they’d shared together was real. Aerin had kidnapped Nia. Every action proved how untrustworthy he was, and yet she was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. The kiss by the lake lingered in her thoughts, haunting her late into the night. She needed to believe that there was hope for him.

He studied her face, his eyes flickering to her lips. “I think only you know the answer to that.”

Raine took a deep breath, the sharp inhale echoing in the quiet dungeon. It was the first time the two of them were alone since he’d revealed his true nature. There was no need to put on a show anymore. He had a bruise from when Kade had punched him, the skin near his eye a rich purple.

Footsteps pounded on the stairs, the sounds of life roaring around them once again. Raine blinked, giving her head a slight shake when she felt the presence of others near.

This was it. Perhaps she would never see him after this.

“Aerin—” She pressed her lips together, hesitating before releasing her grip on the cell bars. He kept his eyes locked with hers when she raised a hand to touch his cheek. “I’m sorry things had to be this way.”

Voices filled the stairway. The time for them to part ways had come.

And she knew in that moment that she wouldn’t rest until Aerin was freed.

His brows drew together as he looked at her face, his lips turning down in a frown. “I—”

Without taking the time to think things through, Raine leaned forward, brushing her lips against his. She cupped his face in her hands, kissing him with urgency. Her heart raced in her chest.

“Until the stars align for us again,” she whispered against his lips, pulling away before the guards arrived.

The two of them locked eyes one final time, hands clasped between them. As Raine turned to head back to the stairs, she allowed her fingers to brush his, shivering at the cold that rushed in when their skin no longer touched.

Her eyes burned as she walked past the guards with her head held high. No one would see her cry. Not today.

“How is he?” Arlan asked once Raine had exited the tower. His forehead had deep lines etched into it. “Is he alright?”

She had no idea how to answer that question. So, Raine turned to the king and tried to steady herself. “What’s going to happen to him?”

Arlan’s eyes widened slightly, and he cleared his throat, averting his gaze. “There may not be much we can do for him. It may be too late for—”

“What if I find the moonblooms?” Interrupting the king was a dangerous thing to do, but Raine no longer cared. She would turn Morella upside down in search of a cure. This couldn’t be the end of Aerin’s path.

“I’ve already sent some of my most trusted men in search of them. You’ve done more than enough, Raine. It is time to rest.”

Less than ten minutes later, she left the palace, unable to ignore the feeling deep down that she had to do something. This was not the end. It was just the beginning.

Her heart yearned for adventure, and she knew exactly what she must do. Aerin’s words at the edge of the lake echoed in her thoughts. The memory of the moonblooms blossomed in her mind. There had to be a cure. She refused to give up so soon.

It was time to return to the Deadwood.

[rickonwrites]

Tabris x Ser Perth 

He expressed respect and courtesy regarding how to address elves. The warden and her group spend the night in Redcliffe preparing for the battle, and with the shadow of death; grave and morbid, hanging over them all an unexpected human seeks comfort in her stoic strength and perhaps, gives her reason to reconsider the worth of shem. He is religious, noble and unfailingly polite.

-

“It is decided then. We will stay the night and help the town prepare for the coming battle.” Tabris paused to look every member of her motley crew in the eye. A stern gaze that brooked no argument, the set of her shoulders firm and determined there was no bartering with their fearless leader.

She lingered the longest, and rather tellingly, on Morrigan. Dark grey, almost black irises locking in with wickedly golden ones. After a beat, the witch huffed and shrugged. “”Tis your death wish, I suppose. Be not fooled that I should not transform myself into a bat and leave the moment things turn dire.”

Tabris grinned, a slight crinkle of lips. “It won’t. We will live, and we will win. Have some more faith in me, Morrigan.”

“After all, what’s a village full of undead compared to the Archdemon hey?” Alistair quirked, shrugging off the moue of disgust the witch threw his way with evident satisfaction.

“I for one look forward to spending a night behind a nice, locked gate, for once.” Leliana proclaims, to a chorus of mixed opinion. “No more having to keep watch and huddle pathetically by the fire!”

“Aye, and to wake with a blade in our faces!” Ogrin said, causing the party to shake their heads and begin preparations. Anyone else and the comment could have been ambiguously construed as sarcasm, but the dwarf’s bloodlust was without parallel.

Tabris could only inwardly smile, hiding her amusement. It would not do to show levity now when she needed to be the decisive, clear-headed leader. She hadn’t expected half the party to voice dissent when she first proposed they stay to help Redcliffe. Morrigan was no surprise, and to a certain extent neither was Sten. But even Zevran had deigned to comment on her becoming soft for a shemlen cause. There was the Blight to consider, and the need to recruit forces. She had thought the decision to be obvious.

But perhaps, she conceded, distractedly nodding in greeting to a passing soldier, there was some wisdom in their concerns. The conclusion seemed already foregone. A poisoned Arl, a wave of undead to plague the village, and only a handful of barely disciplined local militia. Half the town seemed to have already packed up and left, and the few who chose to stay were hiding in the Chantry, praying for salvation in the form of a shapeless, incorporeal deity. Not only that, but should they somehow achieve the impossible and rescue the town there yet lay a darker mystery in the castle itself. A mystery that had the elf’s nose twitching, as if she could already scent the dark magics involved.

Tabris sighed, subconsciously resting her palm against the worn pommel of her blade. And yet she could just as little deny the truth behind the benefits of defending the village. The ever looming if - if they won, if they survived, if they secured Redcliffe as an ally and gathered enough force - would not be so easily dispelled by the mere chance that they could die in the attempt.

Alistair was right, she thought, as her step ascended the wooden stair of the Chantry’s entrance. How could any of them fathom defeating the Archdemon and its hordes of darkspawn if they could not even handle this?

Knots of displaced villagers stilled in an expectant hush as she nudged the heavy, oak doors open. She spared them little more than a cursory glance before she strode forward purposefully to the red-haired man waiting down the long, dim hall.

“These are the people that move your heart to take up sword in their defense?” Morrigan's snide, but softly uttered quip reached her pointed ear.

Tabris did not glance back to shoot her companion a cautioning glance as much as she wished to, though she did lift a shoulder in resignation. “You know were I in their place I would not hesitate to defend my Alienage,” she replies after some thought, keeping her voice low. “It’s why I am here after all. And so you should also expect my mind to be of yours, Morrigan. However, yon bronze-haired buffoon is correct. Our need for reinforcements is too pressing, I would not pass any opportunity to gain allies however few or beleaguered they may be.”

“And risk our lives in the process? Whilst I am no frightened filly to shy away from battle, I am also not so fool as to knowingly join a battle with such odds stacked against us.”

She could feel Morrigan’s piercing gaze at the back of her neck, the woman’s disapproval palpable. Tabris took a moment to look around her, taking in the sight of mothers and children huddling in corners and meeting their wide, baleful eyes with a directness she never thought she could employ amongst humans. My, how far she had come.

“Whatever happens on the morrow, there is no questioning that the Archdemon that lies heart to our quest shall be a thousand-fold worse. Think of this as ripe opportunity to test ourselves and those we call our companions, and judge well before it is too late to turn into a bat and fly off with tail tucked between your legs whether an encounter with the Archdemon is something we may yet survive. If your spells cannot smite a walking bag of bones, then you’ve joined our quest merely to die.”  

There was a terse pause, until finally Morrigan’s conceding grunt was as much indication that the elf’s infamous gift of coercion had worked its intended effect. Satisfied that she would get no more protestations from the witch, Tabris braced herself to deal with her next hurdle.

“Bann Teagan,” she greeted him, choosing not to bow as she felt Alistair fold himself beside her.

The man barely batted an eyelid, gazing at her with open curiosity and, painfully obvious, hope. “Grey Warden, I hope you’ve not returned to tell me you’ve changed your mind?” His voice was light. Lighter than she knew he felt inside. What he clearly intended to be a friendly jest was transparently a poor attempt at concealing his fears, as his voice audibly trembled on the last vowel.

Tabris had no patience for courtesies and gentle rejection. She shook her head adamantly, “No. We stay. We will help you fight - or die in the fucking effort.”

Teagan stilled for a moment before his shoulders went slack, the corners of his lips lifting in an easy and relieved grin. He lifted a pale, lily-white hand to tousle his head of red locks. An oddly boyish gesture for someone of the noblesse. “Thank the Maker! The way you were striding in here I thought you looked far too grim to be delivering good news.”

“The only good news we need to hear is at the end of this battle, when we defeat your enemies.”

He nodded, in easy agreement. “Yes, yes. But with you in the mix I’ve no doubt our chances have increased tenfold. Do not think me a stranger to the legendary tales of the strength and cunning of the Grey Wardens. I am indebted to you my lady. You may count the fiefdom of Redcliffe an ally!” He was delighted, and without a second thought reached out and squeezed her gloved hands; his large hands covering hers neatly. Tabris concealed the jolt of surprise the unexpected gesture elicited and forced her fingers from their instinctive descent toward her dagger’s pommel. Humans were so sentimental sometimes.

Gently extricating herself from his grip, she inclined her head in acknowledgement of his praise. “As I said, such words of debt and gratitude are best left until battle’s end. You speak too soon, ser.”

“She is right,” a new voice, baritone and earthy, joined them. “We’ve still much to do to prepare for the upcoming battle.”

From the corner of her eye Tabris noted the Knight Commander approaching from the Holy Mother*’s chamber. She winced inwardly. She’d not be in favour with the old hag after she had refused the offer of a blessing. Words and goodwill were at the bottom of the list of things needed to win. Tabris was too practical to engage in such pretensions. She knew what needed to be done, and she would bear the cost of it with eyes wide open - not with some incorporeal promise from a deity not of her own people’s.

Ser Perth joined them, a slight sheen of sweat at his temple. He glanced at her appraisingly, an impressed grin tugging at the corner of his lip.

“Fresh from a bit of prayer?” She asked, actually expecting it to be so though her tone gave off the impression of levity.

He inclined his head, brunette locks rustling in the process. He seemed just as undone as Teagan. “Just finished collecting the last of the charms her Holiness blessed for my men and I. I must thank you again for convincing her to do such a kindness for us. Morale amongst the other knights really has seen improvement.”

Tabris inclined her head smoothly in acknowledgement, expertly hiding her thoughts on the matter. Unfortunately, she needn’t have bothered. Zevran spoke up in poor attempt at an undertone, as if lending voice to her very thoughts, “For a blooded, sword-wielding, grown man you are awfully naive if you think a small trinket like that will keep you from a darkspawn’s blade in your back.”

He shot his fearless leader a quick, sneaky little grin - the barest twitch of his lips - before keeping his attention on Ser Perth’s response. It took all her will not to roll her eyes at the assassin. Chastising words would be had. She silently promised him that much.

“You are the Antivan assassin, yes?” When the knight spoke, his voice held none of the obtuseness Tabris had anticipated, especially in one of his ilk.

Zevran inclined his head, corners of his lips drawn in amuse anticipation. “I see my reputation precedes me.”

“I’ve been to Antiva - only once, and only very briefly. But I’ve been there all the same. For all that the Antivan Crows were just another organization run by just another group of deadly men - of which you and I know, there are plenty in the world - talk of them would have you believe them akin to gods. Do you think this so, assassin?”

“We have never called ourselves as gods, and have always declared ourselves as the Crows that we are. Though the comparison is somewhat flattering, yes.”

** TBC **

[a-gay-bloodmage]

—A Living Friend—

Pairing: Platonic Cole & Female Lavellan, Background Solas x Female Lavellan

Pairing: Platonic M&F, Background M/F

Words: 1,729

Warnings: Lots of Death, a Tragically Heterosexual Woman, Implied Borderline Necrophilia, I'm Sorry Okay She's Weird

Ashavise was a very interesting woman. She was very pretty, too, but that wasn't very important most of the time. She was very lonely and very intelligent. Most people didn't know about the lonely part. They just saw her as a bit of a madwoman, obsessed with the dead and horribly rude to humans. She had her reasons for being rude, of course, but most people didn't bother finding them out.

Cole was her only friend in the Inquisition. It was a little sad, really, and he knew how much it hurt her to be so ostracized. She was an outsider even in her own Clan, looked at as an oddity despite being next in line to be a Keeper. She hadn't told him, but he knew. Varric was a little bit of a friend to her, too, but he was a little scared of her and her necromancy, and was put off by the fact that she usually smelled like an open grave. Cole didn't mind, and she liked him because of that.

It was a shame someone so smart was so hardly listened to. Well, they listened to her on Inquisitor business, but not Ashavise business. That was almost like not listening to her at all.

Cole was the only one who took time out of the day to visit her when she wasn't off on whatever quest her Advisors sent her on, in which she usually dragged Solas, Cole, and Varric along—this meant Cole knew Solas thought Ashavise had a very nice rear end, even if he didn't tell her that out loud.

Cole had been quickly granted permission to visit her in her room whenever he wanted. Now was one of the times when he decided to visit the young Dalish woman, slowly making his way up the several flights of stairs and through the winding halls. He approached the door to her chambers, flinching a little when he heard a loud crash and an equally loud string of elven and accented Common curses. He stepped through the oak door, taking quickened steps up the final flight of stairs. Ashavise's hair was pulled back into its usual tight ponytail, and wore a loose top with torn-off sleeves and strange stains. She was behind her desk, all the papers gone as it was turned into a makeshift slab for a decaying corpse she had found quite well-preserved in a ruin they had recently visited.

"Cole!" Cole jumped a little as he was directly addressed. "Can you grab that for me?" She pointed to the floor by his feet, and he saw a small canister laying on the stone. "Damn thing rolled when he jumped," she huffed.

Cole bent down and grabbed the little metal piece, walking over to the messy slab and handing off the item.

"That durgen'len, uh, Dagna's been giving me some advice," she said, taking the canister and popping it open with a small blast of blueish magic. "Wasn't quite interested in touchin' the bodies herself, but she did seem quite excited at the ideas I've proposed." She seemed very proud of the fact that she had gotten a durgen'len on board with her very much so magical and elven ideas.

Cole bent over the table a little to get a better look at Ashavise's current project. The corpse of a male was currently nude, his chest slit open down the center from the bottom of his neck to his pelvis. His organs had been removed, and the elf seemed to be in the process of replacing the ancient insides with interlocking gears and strange pipes. "That... doesn't look very comfortable," Cole said, smiling a little as he looked at the odd corpse.

Ashavise let out a rare laugh, her hands fishing around in the metallic intestines. "Oh, he's quite fine," she laughed, shaking her head. "I was communing with him earlier. I'm pretty sure he's perfectly fine with me tampering with his body. Ain't quite using it anymore." Ashavise was wonderful with the dead. She couldn't talk to spirits too well directly, but she was very good at figuring out their emotions and getting the gists of their thoughts. She wasn't as good at figuring out her own emotions, though, but everyone had their flaws. "Hey," she said, smiling at Cole as she leaned down, her chin quite close to the still-moist flesh of the elven corpse. "Want'ta see something amazing?"

Cole nodded. Ashavise had very unique definitions of amazing, but Cole appreciated whatever she showed him. She set her thumb and index finger gently on the corpse's eyelid, slowly and carefully opening his eye.

"He's so beautifully preserved," she cooed, her other hand caressing the dead man's cheek. "His eyes are just sparkling with dormant life, aren't they?" They were big and as green as the Emerald Graves, pupils slightly widened and flecks of blue almost seeming to move among the greenery of his iris.

"His eyes have seen much," Cole said, squatting down a little to look closer at the corpse. Sure, Cole himself wasn't exactly the most lively person in the Inquisition, but that just made viewing Ashavise's projects all that more interesting. Was this what the old Cole looked like before he became the new Cole? Perhaps.

"And look," she said in an amazed whisper. She let go of his eyelid, and the green eye stayed open for a moment before closing. Then opening again. Then closing once more before resuming his usual corpse-ness. "He blinks." She was grinning. To most people, seeing Ashavise Lavellan grin was a very scary thing, but Cole thought it was nice. She was happy, and so he felt her happiness. "Oh, the things I could learn," she sighed, resting her elbows on the desk and staring wistfully at the now motionless body. "Imagine it, mechanical and magical insides helping this man walk once again to the mortal realm... Sitting up, no longer worrying about his heart decaying in his chest, of worms feasting upon his intestines... Free to speak and share his stories with a new tongue..."

Cole looked up at Ashavise, gazing at her smile. She never smiled at Solas like that. She reserved her real smiles for the dead and for Cole, but that was probably because the dead and Cole had a lot in common.

"With the Inquisition's resources, just imagine how much more research I could get done," she smiled. "Solas' knowledge, dergen- Dagna's tech, your compassion..." She shivered. "Fascinating, isn't it?"

"The cold clutch of the corpses keep me warm, the Clan cannot comprehend, they cannot... cannot understand their meaning to me, the dead do not damn and demand and deceive. They listen," Cole said, words spilling out of his mouth.

Ashavise looked at him, tilted her head a little. "Where did you pull that from?" She asked, her thin ginger brows pushing together a little. She wasn't upset, just curious.

"A mother pulls her daughter away from the graves, shouting, scolding, seething. A young woman does not run off just because she can spark."

Ashavise laughed softly. The memory Cole had gotten snagged on wasn't very sad, really. A mother was angry at her daughter for running off, but the daughter wasn't upset. She had a finger bone in her pocket. "That was on my thirteenth birthday, wasn't it?" She said, memories popping into place on her life's timeline. "Ten years ago to the day."

"Most people have birthdays with friends. Drinks and laughter, love and celebration of continued life. We are forced cherish was was unfairly made important by shemlen hands."

"What friends?" She laughed. The humor wasn't very present anymore. "You and a corpse? That's two outta two, isn't it?"

"Two isn't enough sometimes."

Ashavise sighed a little and pushed a stray hair back behind one of her long, pretty ears. She buried her hands back in the corpse's chest, grabbing little tools along the way to make adjustments to his artificial heart. "Cole, really," she said, almost absentmindedly as her hands sparked, "I appreciate your... friendly concern, but I'm content with what I have. Birthdays don't gotta be some big event. I'm alive another year, hurrah." She rolled her eyes a little, a smile just barely visible. "Should I celebrate every day 'cause I survived those too?"

Cole stopped before replying, considering the question a moment. "Yes."

Ashavise smiled a little wider at his response, but he wasn’t quite sure why. It wasn't a joke.

"You're a real doll, Cole," she said, shaking her head a little. Her hand sparked a little and one of the corpse's fingers twitched. "Here, if you're so insistent, I'll go to the tavern with you in a little bit. I just need to finish installing this copper."

Sure, Cole didn't drink, but he was happy she was finally giving in. It would do her good to leave her chambers every once in a while for something other than Inquisitor business.

He curled up on an armchair that wasn’t covered in papers, quietly watching her work and responding to the occasional questions she asked. Ashavise only really asked him questions. He never thought she was dumb or crazy for asking. Just curious and wanting to better her craft. He couldn't fault her for that. Nobody should, even if they think she's odd.

She took quite a while to finish up, spending far longer than she implied she would installing new wires in the corpse's flesh. They eventually made their way to the Herald's Rest, and Ashavise spent quite a while slowly drinking a bottle of wine. Her eyes never stayed still, always flickering from one shemlen to another. She wasn't very good at relaxing. Cole didn't blame her. She had her reasons.

She didn't tell anyone it was her twenty-third birthday. That was her business, nobody else's. She was a very private person unless it came to magic or elven things. She was always willing to talk about those.

She looked over at him, the bottle on her lips, and Cole could see the little sparkle in her eyes. Her eyes were narrow, irises a pale grey-blue that made a lot of people very nervous. Nobody asked her what she was doing at the tavern with Cole. She liked it that way.

Maybe one day she'd make a living friend.

Maybe.

[lostinaseaoffictionalbliss]

A Nice Rest

\A/N: so this chapter actually took a twist I hadn't planned on, but I think it works well

Summary: the company finally gets to rest somewhere that doesn't have danger lurking around every corner

Pairing: Fili X wife!OC X Kili

Warning: mentions of smut

Word Count: 1560

Nell was amazed at how beautiful Rivendell was and she hadn't even seen all of it yet. As the company walked across a small bridge and into a courtyard of sorts she looked around with awe. “Ah Lindir,” Gandalf spoke causing her to look forward. She saw an elf making his way down the stairs and watched him curiously. The elf and wizard had a conversation in what she assumed was elvish.

“My Lord Elrond is not here,” said Lindir.

“Not here? Where is he?” Gandalf asked. And then the same horn that had sounded as the company escaped the orcs sounded. Fili and Kili grabbed Nell pulling her close as the elves rode their horses around them in a circle. Her eyes narrowed as she watched what looked to be the Lord of Rivendell speak to Gandalf. Nell didn't like the fact they were speaking in another language. “That's rather rude,” she muttered. Lord Elrond looked to her with a raised brow having heard her and she stuck her tongue out in retaliation. If he was going to be rude then so was she.

“Strange for orcs to come so close to our borders. Something or someone must have drawn them close,” Elrond said.

“Ah yes that might have been us,” Gandalf replied looking toward the company. Thorin stepped forward and exchanged some words with the elf before Elrond spoke in his native language causing the dwarves to become angry. “Does he offer us insult?” Gloin growled and looked like he might attack. “No master Gloin he is offering you food.” Gandalf let out an exasperated sigh. All the dwarves discussed what they should do. And when they decided they would stay and accept the food Gloin told them as such.

“Nice of you to offer, but you could have just said it in a way we all understood,” she sassed.

Nell was taken to another room while the rest of the group was led outside to eat. It was odd that she was granted such a courtesy after the way She had spoken to Elrond, but she appreciated the kindness. She was given clean clothes and some water to clean up with. Of course she would have prefered a bath, but she knew she needed to get back to the others before they started worrying. As she joined the company she couldn't help laughing as Bofur was up on a dias singing and food was being thrown around.

Nell joined in with the fun. Throwing food and singing along with everyone. When she saw the looks the elves were giving them she simple gave them a cheeky smile in return. Teasing the elves and acting like a child was the most fun she had, had in sometime and she was going to enjoy every minute of it.  It wasn't long after the singing that dinner ended. Fili and Kili came over to her taking one of her arms each. They had plans for her while Thorin, Balin, Gandalf, and Bilbo went to speak with Elrond leaving the rest of them to do what they pleased.

“So we noticed how you were looking around when we first arrived,” started Fili.

“And we thought we would go for a walk,” finished Kili.

Nell let out a chuckle. “I would love to join you on a walk. Have some time alone with my two favorite dwarves.” She squeezed both their arms and let them lead her wherever they chose. Soon enough they found a small spring, slightly hidden by bushes and flowers along with a few trees. “I believe we're in luck.” She began removing her clothes and making her way toward the water. “I do believe you're right, Gimlelul.” Fili took his own clothes off and joined her in the water. Kili laughed and dove in once he was naked causing a splash. Nell giggled and floated on her back with her eyes closed and enjoyed the sun. “This is nice. I didn't think we would get the chance to be alone while on the quest. Nor did I think we would get to rest in such a beautiful place,” she said.

“I know uncle was against coming here and I know why, but this is much better than the cold water we've been washing with and we won't be sleeping on the hard ground.” Fili moved toward Nell and grabbed her from behind. He nibbled at her neck leaving a small mark. Kili was having fun swimming or at least he made it seem that way. In truth he was moving closer to Nell under the water. He grabbed her hips and teased her with his mouth. She let out a squeal and grabbed onto Fili's arms. When Kili could no longer hold his breath he popped up from under the water. A smirk played on his lips as he looked at Nell’s flushed cheeks. He loved being able to bring color to her face.

“You're such a tease.” She splashed water toward him causing Kili to laugh. “Aye, but you like it when he teases you, don't deny it. You know you can't,” Fili whispered huskily into her ear as he ground his hard cock against her rear. “Fair enough my golden lion, but I like what comes after the teasing even more.” She pushed back on him causing him to groan. Kili moved toward her and pressed his lips to hers in a searing kiss. “You're a tease as well amrâlimê. But like you we enjoy it and what comes after.” Kili gazed at her adoringly and with lust filled eyes.

And until the sun started to set both Fili and Kili made love to her. As the sky began to turn pink and orange the three climbed out of the spring and got dressed. “Here, Nell your braids need fixed.” Kili grabbed her hair and fixed her memorial braid as well as his braid, but he left the other alone for Fili to fix. Which he did right before they made their way back to the others. All the braids were important in some way; one for her father, one showing her marriage to Fili, and one showing her marriage to Kili.

When they joined the others a small fire had been built and everyone was laughing and drinking. “Hey lookie here the princes and princess have finally joined us,” Bofur called out. Fili, Kili, and Nell shook their heads and found a place to sit together. They laughed and joked, ate and drank, and thoroughly enjoyed their evening. For they did not know when they would get the chance to do so again. Erebor was still a long way off and they possibly had a dragon to deal with before they got their home back. But tonight that was forgotten and they relaxed until it was time to go to sleep. Nell nestled in between her husbands letting their warmth relax her. But her dreams were not at all as pleasant as her day had been.

Battle cries and screams of pain were all Nell could hear. Her body felt like she had ran for her life and didn't know if it could move anymore. She looked around not knowing where she was, but then she saw the bodies of those she called family. Fili's leg was twisted in an odd manor and his eyes held no life, Kili was broken and bloody, and Thorin was coughing up blood. She tried to move closer to them, but it was like her feet were covered in lead. No matter how much she struggled she couldn't get her body to move. Nell watched Thorin's mouth move and tried to make out what he was saying. “Run,” he said before breathing his last breath.

All of Nell’s family, the ones she had feared losing were gone. Pain blossomed in her chest and she let out an anguished cry. A sinister laugh sounded behind her and she turned seeing pink eyes right in her face.

“They are all dead and now it's your turn,” whom Nell assumed was Azog snarled. He then shoved a sword through her stomach and left her to bleed out slowly knowing she had failed to protect her family. She looked to her husbands and her surrogate father as tears ran down her face.

“I'm so sorry. I tried to save you,” she cried.

Nell jerked awake when Fili shook her. Seeing him alive she hugged him tightly. “What's going on?” Kili asked. She turned and hugged him as well as tears poured down her face. The dream had been so real she really thought they were gone. “I dreamed Azog killed you both and Thorin before he killed me,” she told them. The brothers looked at each other worried about her dreaming such things. “Nell, amrâlimê, Azog is dead. He can't harm any of us,” Kili assured her. Fili was quick to agree, “He's right. You heard uncle. Azog is dead.” But they hadn't seen the look she had. They didn't know what she believed; the pale orc was alive.

However before she could tell them what she had seen and why she feared for their lives, Thorin showed up telling them they needed to leave. Nell sighed, but got her things ready. She would have to wait to tell them it would seem.

Translations:

Amrâlimê-my love

Gimlelul-my brightest star

Tags:

@e-wolf-98 @ambivertedcroissant @thatfanficstuff @sdavid09 @violentmommabear42

[dungeonqueering]

Shardmind

The story so far: Alegra, a Tiefling Bard, arrives in Neverwinter for the first time. She has been traveling for years since leaving her bardic college after the tragic death of her lover, Melody. (THE REASON FOR THAT DEATH IS REAL SAD YALL). Alegra goes to a tavern to earn some coin, gets recognized as a magic user, and gets asked to look for a missing person: former cop Anita Bettername. Anita went missing investigating an abandoned home in the rich district, where a few teenagers have gone missing over the last 30 years, since it was abandoned by owner Nokun Silverbane.

Alegra goes, winds up in a massive greenhouse full of exotic plants, and is attacked by a plant, slays it, and is nearly attacked by what appears to be a Venus humantrap, when a person sized marionette talks to and sooths this plant. Antics ensue, and it's confirmed that this plant (named Kregery) ate the missing teenagers. The marionette, named Flora, is the caretaker of the entire exotic greenhouse, and also assumed the bones came from large animals. It turns out she is not permitted to leave the greenhouse and a subterranean laboratory that connects to it. She believed they lived in the middle of nowhere, not in the largest city in all of Faerûn.

Flora shows Alegra her Creator's office, and subsequently a video (stored on crystals) that reveals his infection by the entity from the plane of Psionic energy that I've mentioned previously. Flora acquired a new body, a slender Half-Elf rogue with bright purple eyes and unnaturally pale skin.

The two set out to the nearest of Nokun's facilities. After two weeks of travel, They arrive in Everlund just north of High Forest and, after Alegra seduces the Barkeep Gavin, they go to Moongleam tower, controlled by the Harpers.

There they learn that Nokun did pass through, and left record of his desire to go see an old friend in Shining Falls, Isaris Therfira. Alegra agrees to search for a Paladin from a wealthy family named Wilian Songsteel (not a typo, intentionally Wilian and not William) in exchange for being granted a guide, a dwarven druid named Leonan Stoneheart. Leonan gives Flora a wicked sick potion, and she sees colors differently for several hours.

After 2 days of forested travel and a brief fight with a fire beetle and two weasels, they arrive in Shining Falls, a city of mostly Halflings. It's built into a vertical cliff face next to a waterfall. They ask around for Isaris, and find that she left just two days prior to look for the Paladin, Wilian Songsteel. She went to a place called The Nameless Dungeon. They are told that control of said dungeon is maintained by The Great Wolf Sif (yes the name comes from Dark Souls, bite me), who is a guardian spirit of the forest. There is a ritual you can perform which basically entails setting a specific set of spices on fire to get Sif's attention. They travel about a day towards The Nameless Dungeon, and perform the ritual in moonlight. They bungle their perception checks, and Sif is suddenly present in their campaign. She is about 15 feet tall but speaks delicately via telepathy. They plead their case, and Alegra is magically given a hand tattoo of a wolf's head. Sif leaves them, but not before bidding them to go deeper once they find their goal.

Another day of travel, and they arrive at the Nameless Dungeon, guarded by elves. Upon being shown the tattoo, the elves remove it magically, and grant access to the dungeon, which supposedly alters it's shape and contents based on what you need to find or see.

They enter, and solve a few puzzles. One of these involves a trickster spirit which, when defeated, must answer one question truthfully. Alegra asks it to mark on a map where Nokun actually built his facilities, since he was only able to reveal the general area. The spirit complies and vanishes.

In the next room, a Halfling woman, aged maybe in her late 50s to early 60s, is exchanging spells against three men in robes. Alegra uses Thaumaturgy to distract them and the Halfing consumes the three of them in a fireball.

She reveals herself to be Isaris Therfira. She agrees to answer questions if the adventurers can go on and find Wilian, as Isaris is injured. Isaris and Alegra flirt.

A few rooms further, three giant rats and a strange screaming gray-skinnes goblinoid are standing over a warrior in gilded armor. Presumably Wil. After defeating the threat, it is indeed Wil. The 4 go into a healing chamber that heals them all to full plus 10 temporary HP.

Leonan offers to go heal Isaris, as it also restored his spell slots. He does. Alegra, Flora, and Wil press on. Wil had been hoping to find information on something yet unsaid and personal, as the dungeon supposedly shows you things related to your life and goals.

The party moves on and encounters a doorway filled with solid light. Upon pressing through, they have a shared vision wherein they saw that the ancient elves who lived in High Forest were also infected with this crystalline entity, and in attempting to destroy it, they also wipes themselves out.

They leave, reunite with Leonan and Isaris, and make camp. Alegra continues flirting with Isaris, who flirts back in kind. They share a tent.

The following morning, Isaris reveals that Nokun went to establish his facility in a cave system called "The Endless Caverns". Isaris plans to go back to Shining Falls. Leonan accompanies her for safety, since Isaris is still somewhat injured. After hearing of Alegra and Flora's quest, Wil opts to go with them since "Attempting to kill everyone is certainly against Pelor's light."

The three make their way to The Endless Caverns. They walk for nearly half an hour before encountering a left and right turn. They go right, and walk for another half an hour. They then enter a circular room with 7 Halls. They choose one. Another half hour, another right turn, another half hour, another circular room with 7 Halls. At this point Alegra suspects something is off. Wil makes a check and identifies this all as an illusion. Upon recognizing the magic, it is dispelled, and they see an 8th hallway with a marking over it. They enter and find themselves in a massive room that is plain except for statues on both sides representing warriors of old. On the wall opposite their entrance is a person sized door, unlike the large passageways in the rest of the cavern.

When they get 30 feet away, the door opens and an elf shaped creature walks out, completely made of crystal.

After they defeat it WAY faster than I intended, The Great Wolf Sif shows up and finishes it off by biting it basically in half. She states she thought she would be dramatically saving them, but that this was a big anticlimactic. She then starts to, slowly and fluidly, turn crystal from the bits she injested. She gets one final word out as the psionic entity invades her mind.

"Run."

And they do. Our heroes make it through the door, which is much too small to accommodate the crystalline wolf's now gnashing maw. They make their way forward, into what is clearly Nokun's laboratory. Inside they find a lot of machinery they don't understand, which is still running. They also find an office, and on it they find one of the semi-circular devices, along with a crystal on a chain. They play the video.

Nokun reveals that it has been 2 years since the last video. He also reveals how Flora works, and why she has her name. She is, effectively, thousands of plant souls. Harvesting the excess plant life from around Neverwinter is what created her soul. He realized something 70 years after her creation when he was trying to solve the issue of the psionic entity. It was blind to her. It only wanted to control conscious souls, and since hers was that of a plant..... It was indifferent to her. That's why they must travel. See, Nokun set up these facilities to collect this plant energy, and if she got enough of it, Flora could destroy the entity. He also revealed that the process he was devising to destroy it would require at least one other thing: an incredibly powerful Psion. He had heard rumors of one taking up residence in Ched'Nassad, a Drow City not far from High Forest. He also revealed he had a teleportation circle installed in his labs, so the party could now travel freely to Neverwinter. He urged them to use that city as a sort of base of operations. They all realize simultaneously they could simply escape the wolf. Flora says "We can't just... Leave her. She could wreak havoc on this forest, and she would not want that."

Nokun then, in the video, explains that by absorbing this ambient plant energy at each of his machines, she will not only become more powerful overall, but he will tailor bodies to her potential needs. On the wall there is a metal tube, and a slot for her current body. It is similar to the one in Neverwinter. She uses it, gaining this plant power (going from level 1 to 3, which I also had everyone else do as well), and swapping into the new body. Still a half Elf, but muscular and tall instead of small and slender.

Flora is a Barbarian now.... Until they tactically decided she'd be better as a Rogue so long as Wil is in the party.

They all turn to go fight Sif, maybe even to save her from the crystal.

And now you are caught up to the present. That's about 3 sessions of material condensed down.

[therewithasmile]

btw if you were interested here’s my character’s backstory 

.

The day she was born, Elduin Tathvir’s beaker – yet again – bubbled over, overflowed, and all but oozed onto the elven wizard’s hands. All things considered, he was relatively unfazed. This has been happening as of late; he simply emptied the remainders back down the drain, twisting the tap to rinse out the failed contents of his would-be potion. Business as usual. What he wasn’t expecting, though, was the familiar of one of his apprentices – a small bird, not the first choice of most magic users – fluttered to a stop on his open windowsill, which was left so exactly for occasions like these. Elduin didn’t need to turn to know what the message was. He’d been the one to send off his wife to the healers, after all.

But it was then when his first child, Rhystael, roused from his slumber. The young elven boy uncurled his spot on the couch, mess of gold-spun hair an indistinct halo around the crown of his head. “Father?” he mumbled, and when his father turned, a dazzling smile pulled on the wizard’s mouth.

And with a voice that was nothing but sheer joy:  “my moon, your sister is here.”

.

Her name was Ilistrae Tathvir. After the goddess Eilistraee, was her mother’s explanation. A drow goddess. Sorisana Tathvir was always forthcoming about the nature of her daughter’s name, but her sympathy for her shunned elven sisters and brothers was also no secret in Silverynoon, where the Tathvir clan resided. A diplomat by nature and profession, Sorisana’s (perhaps naïve) optimism about the drow race was quite peculiar, even for – or perhaps due to – her own identity as a high sun elf.

She cradled her new bundle to her breast, miniature gold-spun curls decorating her newborn child’s head. She was nothing like the drow goddess for which she was named, but that was the point – if Eilistraee could be a good Drow, then all Drow could be good.

Sorisana knew this.

She always did.

.

When he was old enough, Rhystael’s free time swiftly became occupied with his studies. A good student by nature, he found his time once spent with his other sun elf peers stolen by books and magic. There was never any true ill will behind his parents gentle nudging – he knew the legacy that fell on the Tathvir shoulders, and so he studied diligently, and when he did, he quickly proved his aptitude to magic. His father was proud of his child’s quick studies, pride that the wizarding practices would live on to the next generation of Tathvirs.

If Rhystael was like his father, many had told little Ilistrae that she was much like her mother. Almost as soon as she learned to walk, she fell into a swift love affair with knowledge. Reading was her forte, and even then, her research capabilities were endless. But that wasn’t to say that Ilistrae didn’t know the value of family. When the sun fell down and their nightly meditation sessions began, she’d ask her mother for her stories, sometimes about the Drow, sometimes the policies that her mother was so involved with, but then, one time, a relatively innocent question: “How did you and Adar meet?”  

It was a question that threw Sorisana off. She was used to her inquisitive, always curious Ilistrae asking about something more substantial. But a warm smile spread on her lips as she recalled how she had met him. He was an adventurer, on his own quest, having stopped by Silverynoon for a mission. It was then they had met – she’d never once stepped foot outside of Silverynoon, as a Tathvir she was never allowed to. Her path had already been set out for her from the beginning: like her mother, and her mother before that, a diplomat, on behalf of the modest Sun Elf community within their city walls.

So Elduin, quite the adventurer back then, regaled her with tales of his adventures from back in his day. He was enthralling, endlessly charismatic, and had experienced so much more than her. They had fallen in love. And she wasn’t quite sure how she’d managed to settle him, but she did – and it was all that mattered in the end, because they loved each other, and they – all four of them -- were family.

Family, Ilistrae repeated, and it wasn’t until she had settled deep into her trance did Sorisana finally leave Ilistrae’s room, a warm feeling buzzing in the deep cavities of her heart.

.

As Ilistrae grew older, it wasn’t long before her studies began to include diplomatic tendencies. Just like her mother, were the whispers that once had said the same things, but about her brother and father respectively.

It was true. She was good at understanding policy. Her thirst for knowledge equally complimented her swiftly developing diplomacy. More, more, more – she grabbed for more books, for more understandings of this world. She asked frequent questions. Why did the history record it this way? What happened during the spell plague? Why were the Drow portrayed as enemies, then?

Her mother always had an answer, and Ilistrae would walk off, satisfied, to return back to her studies, only to come back when she had another question.

… or so she had her family think.

On her way back to her family libraries, she heard a sound. And she stopped. Opened the door just a crack. Watched as her brother flipped his long mane of golden hair over his shoulders, as he flicked his fingers, a fire ball went hurling into the long-charred spot in the wall – a bullseye, so perfectly in the epicenter of the burn that the tendrils of red hot energy spread nearly identical to the everlasting black ash underneath.

No, Illistrae did not return to her studies that night.

She waited until her mother finished planting the kiss on her forehead, waited until even her mother believed she was undergoing her trance before she cracked open an eye.

She flicked her fingers, like her brother. Always like her brother.

But nothing happened.

Ever since she started trying, so long ago, nothing ever happened.

.

The first time she’d spotted him, it was on her way home, after watching one of her mother’s council meetings. It was easy to spot him, his dark skin amongst the pale, his locks of midnight blue hair a startling contrast to the common reds and ambers and spun gold. No one made comment. As it should be, said the diplomatic side of Ilistrae.

But she asked about him anyways -- to her mother, who always seemed to know the answer. “Drow,” Sorisana would eventually conclude. “Like-“

“-My name,” Ilistrae finished. Sorisana smiled.

“Your name, yes. Because there are Good Drow. Like Drizzt Do’Urden. I met him once when I was little,” she recalled fondly. “And that man may be too, you can never tell Ilistrae. Not until you meet him.” With that, Sorisana moved to leave the table.

“Mother?”

Sorisana paused.

“If the Drow can be Good, why do the books portray them always as Evil?”

Sorisana took a long breath, thinking for a leisurely moment, before finally answering. “The books are written by winners, my Stars. Who’s to say what’s true, and what’s good?”

It was her last phrase that made the most lasting impact on Ilistrae.

“That’s our job to decide.”

.

The next time they spotted him, Sorisana noticed Ilistrae had too; and her eyes met his – a startling red. Red was not a common eye colour amongst the Ar-tel-quessir. He’d given Ilistrae a smile. Naturally, her daughter gave him one back.

They met once more after that, he’d made a gesture to her, just a small crane of the neck. Ilistrae turned swiftly to her mother, but Sorisana knew how to deal with these situations – it was as natural as her Tathvir blood. She gave him a slow nod, and he approached.

“Sorisana Tathvir,” he said, a rich baritone, almost breathless. “Va’ar Undyn. Pleasure to meet your acquaintance –“ he was almost breathless as he spoke. “I just, I’ve always wanted to thank you. For your work for my people.”

Sorisana’s smile was genuine. “Va’ar, quenya. Knowing I can be helping your kind is all the gratitude I need.” She rubbed the top of Ilistrae’s head. “My work does not end with me. This is Ilistrae.”

His red eyes widened. “Like the –“

“-Goddess. Yes,” she finished pleasantly. The drow’s eyebrow raised, before another smile crossed his lips. He did a small flourish with his fingers, small sparks forming and showering over her daughter’s lithe body. Prestidigitation. A mere parlours trick, one she was used to seeing her son perform effortlessly. Ilistrae was similarly accustomed, but to her credit, her eyes widened. Ever the diplomat, the courteous curiosity that could so easily be mistaken as real.

“Such a beautiful namesake,” he said. “I am very happy to have met you, Sorisana, Ilistrae. I look forward to your continued contributions.”

He shook her hand first, then her daughters.

“Happy to be of service.”

“Vora,” he said back, always, and Ilistrae’s eyes followed him longer than hers, much longer than Sorisana was able to notice.

.

It was becoming habitual now, to wait until her mother had left her chambers, before Ilistrae stirred. The image of the drow flickered behind her eyes. His eyes, beady, red, made shivers run down her spine. She’d read about the Drow, heard from her mother. But that was her first encounter with such a type of elf, and the sparkles that he’d produced were similar to what she’s seen before, and yet different. She couldn’t tell how. But it was.

The thought of trying it out flirted in her mind. It joined the ever mounting urge to try something – sparks, firebolt, something – but she knew the outcome. It hasn’t changed. It hasn’t changed once.

Instead, Ilistrae unfurled the note she’d kept stubbornly tucked into the sleeve of her dress.

To the namesake of my goddess,

I sense a thirst for power, a thirst for knowledge and magic and understanding. Your studies betray you. You are meant for more than diplomacy and politics. You, who are named after a goddess, have a place amongst them with us. They have told me.

I can show you.

V

.

When she first set out to meet him, there was a lot of early misgivings. Yet she knew she was a Tathvir, her father a decorated wizard within Silverynoon as a whole, mother a wellknown diplomat. Brother training to be a Spellguard.

Ilistrae just wanted to live up to them.

Their first meeting was in daylight. And they didn’t do much, nothing she wasn’t comfortable with, Va’ar had promised her. At first, she didn’t want to attempt magic. It may have been childish, as if she were twenty years younger than her true age. But she didn’t want to fail.

So she asked him for stories. Asked for his experiences. And she learned a lot – about Drow society, about their hatred for the surface elves, about their connection to their pantheon.

It was fascinating knowledge.

She came back for more.

And more.

And then, no longer meek, but confident: “I want to learn.”

“Learn about what?” was the response, a smooth silky baritone, like music to her ears.

“Magic. You had offered.”

Va’ar’s eyebrow raised. “You never asked me once, Ilistrae, I’m sorry, I assumed I was wrong, your father – your brother—“

“—You weren’t,” she cut him off. Ilistrae sat back down in a huff. “You knew from the beginning, yes? That I can’t do magic.”

Sympathy twisted the drow’s face, a look she had so often seen on her mother’s when it came to the drow, a face she never wanted to see directed to her. From her mother, at least. From Va’ar, there was something almost comforting about it.

“Of course. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Ilistrae responded quickly. “I shouldn’t have misled you.”

“You didn’t,” he said, and then with a small laugh that was like liquid honey, “not intentionally, anyways.” Va’ar paused. “I am a warlock. You know what that means, yes?”

Ilistrae nodded. “You have a patron.”

Va’ar hmm’ed in response. “I wasn’t lying when I said there’s a place for you amongst the Drow gods. You, who share the name of their brethren.”

“Eilistrae betrayed them,” Ilistrae said almost immediately. “She betrayed them, they hate her. That’s what the books say.”

Va’ar’s sympathetic smile only deepened further. “And what do they say? What do you say?”

“That it’s my job to decide,” Ilistrae said, as her mother had, so many years ago. “So why do they want me?”

Va’ar reached out a hand. “Why don’t you ask them?”

.

His hand was cold, but the sudden chills that ran up and down her body were doubly so. It was black – black and thick and dark and cold. Ilistrae didn’t think she much liked that feeling.

And then there was something else. A pulse, like a heartbeat. For a second, she wondered if this tiny bead of life was what she was looking for. She reached out, grabbed that small bud into her small, small, hands, and it pulsed –reverberated all through her body.

It was ice, fire, electricity all at once – up and down her veins. Through to her eyes, her ears – out her nose, through the tips of her toes and fingers. Each time every sensation spiked, heightened, spilled out through her scalp and fighting to explode out of her skin. And then – stillness. But a small ball of energy in front of her – if there even was a front, or back, or any direction at all – and she understood if she reached out, accepted this, there was no turning back.

Her fingers dug into this small ball of energy, and it splintered into small fragments, no bigger than pomegranate seeds.

She put them to her lips, and then onto her tongue.

Ilistrae opened her eyes.

Va’ar’s gaze was endless, and his whole body shuddered, heaving for breath. Like he’d experienced the same thing she just had.

Ilistrae was suddenly, viscerally, aware that she was shaking.

And before either could speak, she loosened her hands from him – and flicked her wrist to the side, could only revel as a fireball exploded from her fingertips.

.

His daughter was also a wizard.

Elduin Tathvir discarded another failed potion, the ooze nearly staining his workbench.

But he hardly cared.

His daughter was also a wizard.

They had a celebratory dinner that night, inviting all of his acolytes and apprentices, familiars and all. Ilistrae was delighted – she’d always loved the bird familiar, so peculiar, so unlike the rest of the magical companions that often accompanied them. And the equations she’s meticulously studied, so much more than her brother, had finally made sense. She demonstrated it to them. And it was wonderful. Claps erupted from their dinner table. His Sun and Moon nothing but proud.

He was too.

Even though he could tell something was…different.

But it was his daughter’s moment. His daughter, who he’d seen practice and practice when she thought no one was watching, who studied magical formulas and spellcasting with twice the enthusiasm that Rhystael ever did. She had explained that a drow, Va’ar, as his Sun had told him once before their trance the night they’d met, had helped the missing pieces of her puzzle. Pinpointed what her mental block was, and had unlocked her capacity as a Wizard.

Elduin suspected it wasn’t fully the case.

But he hardly cared.

His daughter was happy.

And so he was, too.

.

Ilistrae thought she was sneaky, and in many ways, she was. But when they had whispered that Ilistrae would turn out so much like her, well, Sorisana couldn’t help but believe it, too. Because the way her daughter snuck out at night was identical to how she used to, once. To meet with Ny’eth.

Her lover, from a lifetime ago, before Elduin.

A drow.

But she found her body mangled in the river, blamed for a crime she knew Ny’eth never committed. How she sobbed over her body, over the cool blue skin she loved and twilight tresses she once relished between her pale fingers. How she thought she could never love again, until Elduin arrived in Silverynoon, so opposite from Ny’eth, but perhaps why she felt the stirrings in her heart nearly a century later.

She wondered if her daughter was in love with this man. Va’ar. Perhaps love was the wrong word. Fascination, adoration – a means to quench that thirst of knowledge.

A role that Sorisana was so used to fulfilling.

She watched as her daughter slipped from the front door, watched her embrace the drow, before their hands connected, and she’d close her eyes. Then their hands parted, and they darted off into the dark – but she’d return completely unharmed in the morning, just in time for breakfast, sometimes with a new advancement in her magic.

How could she, of all people, judge?

Ilistrae – it seemed like her drow name was a little on the nose, Sorisana thought to herself, and she dismissed her family’s confused looks when she chuckled to herself.

.

It was black, dark, cold.

But that didn’t make sense. She never felt like this until she took his hand. Closed her eyes. Let him speak to her.

There it was, that ball of light.

She reached with outstretched fingers.

But then it twisted. And she was holding a knife.

The handle was oozing.

Ilistrae snapped from her Reverie.

She said nothing about it when she ate breakfast. Said nothing as her brother pulled her into their casting room, laughed as they tried to connect some harmless spells to each other. Said nothing after she was knocked to her feet, grasping Rhystael’s warm, warm hands to pull her upright.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice snapping her from her thoughts.

“No,” she said quickly. “My back hurts, Rhys!”

“Well, Ili, gotta figure it out fast cuz-“ but before her brother could finish his sentence, he found himself lifted by an invisible force, before being thrown against a wall. “-ow.”

She couldn’t stop the peals of laughter that bubbled when she took in her brother’s face. “Brother dear, you’re never going to make Spellguard if you let your guard down like that.”

“That was cheap, Ili!” he complained. “Did the drow teach you that too?”

“Va’ar wouldn’t give me a chance at a speech first,” she taunted, and her brother only rolled his eyes before he went for her again.

.

She was holding the knife, except it was oozing, and there was nowhere to hold but the blade.

It should’ve sliced into her fingers. But nothing came from there. Ropes of black vicious liquid poured out instead, like her body wasn’t a vessel of blood, but ink.

Spilling, spilling.

She was drowning.

.

The night air was crisp, the sounds of a dusky city quiet in her ears. His hands were cold.

But that was it.

Until now, that was never it.

But she pretended like it was more, as she gripped his fingers harder, looking – searching –

“Ilistrae.”

His voice was quiet in her ear.

She opened her eyes.

For a second, thick, black ooze pooled at her fingertips, dripping where their hands connected.

But then it was gone, and Va’ar gently took his hands from her. “Are you okay? You were gone for a long time.”

Ilistrae swallowed. “Fine. He was just – ah – showing me some things.”

For a second, something like jealousy spiked Va’ars tone. “Like?”

“Half visions,” she lied easily. “Blackness. Pomegranate. Warmth. You know. It’s never clear.”

“Never,” he responded, and then whatever was playing at the edges of his red gaze dissipated. He gestured into the woods, where they’ve been practicing magic for the last several years. “Ready?”

No.

“Yes,” Ilistrae said obediently.

Her hands were still black.

But when she wiped them away, her pale skin stared back at her. And so she followed him, the smell of the end of summer crisp in her nostrils, her white dress entirely untainted as it played in the breeze.

.

She was already holding the knife.

Black pooled at her feet, swallowed her dress, staining the pure fabric into something else.

What are you trying to tell me?

As if in response, small lacerations marked like rope burns up her arm, making their way slowly towards her, towards her chest –

Ilistrae snapped from her reverie, panting, chest heaving, cream arms shaking as they wrapped around her knees.

.

“Va’ar.”

The silhouette froze, robes still in the dead of night, hood pulled heavy over his head.

“I know it’s you, Va’ar.” Ilistrae wasn’t scared, or surprised. In fact, she’d always known.

Slowly, the figure turned.  “Ilistrae,” he finally said, and it was his honeyed baritone, thick with intention, but Ilistrae saw through it.

“How could you, Va’ar? I was a child.”

Maybe, deep down, she felt something. Remorse, confusion, betrayal – all childish emotions, ones she had to swallow away, lock deep in her heart when she realized what he was up to.

What He had always been warning her about.

“You were lost, and I saved you,” was his easy answer. So layered in his voice – but his Charm wouldn’t affect her anymore.

“Is that why you hold that letter of confession?” Ilistrae said, and she allowed steel to edge her words. “That I’m not a wizard, but a warlock, in a pact with a Drow god?”

She saw his fist tighten – she knew these tricks well before he knew she did. This was how it all started, wasn’t it? When he’d passed her the note the first time, so inconspicuous he thought he was. But Ilistrae knew him, He knew him, and knew this would happen.

“You never saved me. He did,” she said coolly.

Va’ar clicked his tongue. “All I ever was, was a recruiter. I hate that I recruited you. That He picked you over me.” His voice went high, near hysterical. “It was supposed a hilarious joke. That the one named for our betrayer Goddess would be bound to Him. He wanted you more than anything. And I gave you to him.” He narrowed his eyes.

“And now He intends of ridding me.”

“Wrong. He’s protecting me. From you.” Ilistrae straightened, and her fingers buzzed with power – just the thought of those eyes she once trusted, a smile she once felt safe with, only made the magical surge grow stronger.

“Is that what you think, Illistrae?”

His voice was always honey. Honey and warm and so convincing.

If anything, she so desperately wanted to believe.

“It’s my job to decide,” she said quietly.

She flicked her wrist.

“Alas Va’as Ghaunandaur Tevenir.”

Ghaunadaur will greet you in Hell.

.

She burned the note, along with his corpse.

.

Ilistrae stood at the precipice, and so many thoughts swirled in her head. Half were heavy, black and dark and she didn’t know if they were hers. How long has it been since things were hers? Her path was always set for her. If not a warlock, then a diplomat.

She never really had a choice.

Yet she found herself at one, when she held a lit match to a spot behind her house, straw and meats from the kitchen and locks of her gold-spun hair arranged in such a way and ready to catch flame. It was close enough to her house. They would smell it immediately. They’d see her shoes first. Then the outer edges of her hair.

Her mother would cry.

No, her mother would be hysterical.

She would sob and sob and scream why it had to be Ilistrae, why her daughter and not herself –

Her Father would summon all the clerics to try to save her, but it would be too late, for her corpse would be too badly burned, but it’s not her corpse, at all –

And her dear brother was supposed to go to the Spellguard initiation in a few days, she couldn’t do that to her him, he’d be too broken –

One by one, those childish, childish emotions fought to the surface. She thought she’d locked them away, when she looked Va’ar in the eyes when she did it, watched the life drain from his face…

She pictured her funeral. How much they’d mourn. Silverynoon would feel the impact of a lost Tathvir. It would be forever changed.

Drow would never be forgiven.

Drow shouldn’t ever be forgiven, said another voice, a newfound hatred, with such venom that it didn’t stir her in the slightest. Edged with darkness, oozing with poison.

She blew out the match instead.

.

To my parents, my brother,

Va’ar’s sudden passing was a wakeup call to me. I must find my own path. It’s what he would have wanted. I have more to learn of the world. I was always told I was like you, mother, and in another life, if I never discovered magic, I would walk your road as a Tathvir. But perhaps I am more alike Adar than I realized, and magic was only the beginning. I feel the call of adventure. To learn more. I hope to return home one day, to Silverynoon, to you, to Rhys and his new position within the Spellguard. I wish you nothing but health and fortune, and I will write when I can in between my studies.

I am ready to start my journey. It’s my job to discover the world.

All my love,

Your Stars and Sister,

Ili

.

Fourty years passed since then. She passed the age of 110 in isolation, in a quiet tavern in the dead of night. The only company was the still of evening and the dark ooze that permeated through her body when she closed her eyes.

Gaunadaur protected her. He’d shown her things she barely understood, until they came to fruition later. A dead deer. A slaughtered house. Blood dripping from the ceiling.

He’d never treated her like a recruiter, not like that horrid drow. Not at all like him, and for that, she was thankful.

But fourty years of isolation, of brief meetings then briefer partings, had begun to blur her thoughts.

Which were hers, and which were His? What was her will, and what was his own?

If she’d faced it, she’d realize she didn’t know.

All she knew was that she was completely – utterly -- alone.

She had swallowed down those feelings. She knew she was the stain on Tathvir’s name. Overtime, she’d come to embrace it. She knew she wasn’t doing good things. But when had the world been good to her? They didn’t give her magic to begin with. Ghaunadaur did. They didn’t offer her protection from evil. Ghaunadaur did. It was Ghaunadaur. Always Ghaunadaur.

Always…

Always –

And out of nowhere, her family popped into her mind.

Her mother, Soriana, kind and patient, a great answer to every question she had.

Her father, Elduin, a spectacular wizard, several acolytes over frequently for dinner and tea.

Her brother, Rhystael, with a proud gold-spun ringletted mane, a smile that was always genuine, clad in Spellguard robes and enchanted armor.

They had asked her for her name – this group of adventurers, a human male, a gnome sorcerer, a Halfling trying to keep them together. They were quite boisterous, the kind she once tried to avoid, in case they would somehow recognize her, spill her secret. Even though all traces of her former life was gone – she possessed none of her fineclothes, her fortunes left behind, even her golden hair dyed black – all, but a small ring, hidden in the seam of her satchel. Childish it may have been, but something about these children -- their energy, despite being more chaotic, reminded her of home. Of Mother, of Father, of Rhys.

“Lyss,” She found herself responding.

Ilistrae was no more.

And in her mind, the picture of her brother she adored – missed beyond belief -- smiled.

[dammitkirk]

your love (is my fantasy)

Éponine couldn't believe that in the year that she had been travelling with the Les Amis, she had never once seen Cosette in finery. The high elf was dressed in a pale pink dress, her blonde hair pulled up so that her pointed ears were shown fully.

Éponine, on the other hand, was still dressed in her leathers. She had Grantaire had both spent several hours attempting to make them more presentable, but there was still a scent of death and fear clinging to the armor. Her long brown hair fell in waves, hiding her own pointed ears from anyone looking.

The troop had found themselves near Cosette's home, the opulent castle where her father still lived, while they were tracking down a group of cultists. It had been casually mentioned by her, but Courfeyrac had insisted that they visit. After all, it had been several months since they'd slept in truly comfortable beds, and the entire group was feeling weary because of it.

The house they had been brought to was high on a mountain, surrounded by clouds; Éponine could see why Cosette was a high elf, the girl had grown up in the skies. The walls were white stone, and every pillar of the castle was covered in pale pink, flowering vines.

The dwarf who had take Cosette in, Jean Valjean, was a friendly and kind man. He greeted his daughter with open arms and a brilliant smile, before turning to the other twelve adventures and giving them all warm smiles. "Welcome, to my home! It is a pleasure to meet my daughter's travelling companions!"

That evening, Valjean set forth a brilliant feast for the Les Amis. And that was what found Éponine slumped in her chair, sipping deeply from the goblet of wine she'd been given and gazing lustfully at Cosette. The ranger was sitting next to her father, laughing prettily at something he had said. Éponine couldn't help but notice that Marius was also gazing at the blonde, though far less subtly then Éponine believed she was.

"For an assassin, you have quite the tells," Jehan whispered, his voice airy as he leaned towards her.

"Oh, bugger off," Éponine hissed, but without any venom in the words.

"She is rather breathtaking, isn't she?" Jehan continued, ignoring the other wood elf. "And here, where she had the chance to be unguarded... It only accents her beauty all the more."

Éponine didn't bother responding, choosing instead to take another pull from her wine, finishing the glass and quickly refilling it.

"You're worried she's going to stay, aren't you?" He asked, cutting to the heart of the matter as he always managed.

"Look at how happy she is," Éponine whispered, her voice quiet and broken. "Have you ever seen her smile like this on the road, or laugh as freely? And her quest is finished; she saw the Golden Stag, received his blessing and promise to restore her lands to the breathtaking forest they once were. That was the only thing she talked about for months. So what reason does she have to stay now?"

Jehan chuckled lowly. "You're a silly girl, Éponine. You should talk to her."

Éponine glared at the druid, pushing herself to her feet and snatching her goblet from the table, moving to join Combeferre and Marius where they were discussing the moral quandaries of necromancy.

"Éponine!"

Éponine froze, placing her hand on the wall of the hallway, bracing herself for the conversation that was about to take place.

"Cosette," she replied, turning to look at the blonde ranger.

"Have you had the chance to visit your room yet?" The high elf asked, smiling warmly.

"Before dinner, yes," the rogue said, nodding.

"And is it to your liking? Is there anything you could require? I know all the secrets of this old house."

"Thank you, but I should be alright, Cosette."

"Of course," Cosette said, and Éponine could almost say that the blonde looked disappointed. The high elf gave her a warm smile, before turning back down the hallway.

Once she'd gone halfway, Éponine finally worked up the courage to call out to her. "Are you going to stay?"

Cosette froze, turning slowly back to Éponine. "Whatever do you mean?"

Éponine sighed, rubbing the back of her neck and letting her eyes flit to the side. "Are you going to stay here with your father? Since you've finished your quest." Cosette stayed quiet. "I mean, you seem so happy here," Éponine finished.

"Do you not think I'm happy travelling with you and the rest of the Les Amis?" Cosette asked, stepping closer to Éponine her dress flowing behind her.

"You just... You seem so comfortable here. Far more comfortable than you are on the road. And you're far more used to these luxuries then the harshness that is the norm of a travelers life."

Cosette gave a sad smile, reaching out towards the brunette and taking her hand, tracing her fingers lightly across the rogue's leather bracers. "I am happy on the roads. I admit, I was originally used to far more gentle treatments, but I would trade this last year for the world. I would have never met Marius, or Courfeyrac, or Musichetta..." She laced her fingers with Éponine's, giving the other girl's hand a squeeze. "Or you."

Éponine couldn't help but gasp quietly at the blonde's forwardness, before watching at the taller girl leaned in and pressed her soft lips to Éponine's. With her free hand, the assassin reached up and grasped Cosette's cheek, rubbing the smooth skin with her calloused thumb.

When they finally pulled apart, Cosette rested her forehead against Éponine's. "How could I stay here, Ép?" She whispered. "If I left, there would be no way to guarantee that you'd come back again. I might not ever see you again, whether because you never returned or because you were killed in a battle. And if I have the opportunity, the ability, to prevent that from happening, I'm going to.

Éponine stood on her tip toes, pressing her lips to the high elf's once more. She couldn't help the wave of affection that welled up inside of her at the blonde's words. And the fact was that it went both ways. Éponine still had nightmares regarding the fall that had been so close to taking Cosette, before Courfeyrac had managed to cast feather fall on the ranger.

"I'm so glad..." Éponine whispered, cradling Cosette's face with both of her hands. "I'm so, so very glad."

[kittenwritesstuff]

How would you feel if I told you I loved you?

Fandom: The Hobbit Pairing: Lindir x (human)reader Genres: fluff Words: 1.590 Summary: When in Rivendell, reader notices Lindir’s glances at her. Later, she has an opportunity to confront him, which leads to a confession - requested by Anonymous

Surely, in your wildest dreams you have not expected the Quest to involve so much running away, so much fighting and so little rest. Frankly, you were ready to sleep less than you needed, however you’ve longed for a proper all-night-long sleep in a comfortable bed.

And with a good meal in an addition, you cannot be more grateful for a break in Rivendell, despite Thorin’s initial unwillingness to even stop there. You were aware of his aversion to elves, which was understandable – you heard Balin’s story about how when Smaug attacked Erebor, Mirkwood’s elves had turned their back on dwarves.

Yet, you needed help with deciphering Thrain’s map. And to that, you had to ask someone slightly smarter than Gandalf for help. Elves of Rivendell were close and eager to help, as Gandalf assured you, so you did your best to convince Thorin that you should stop for a council and rest.

You decided to not mention the fact that one of the elves, the one that greeted you had caught your eye. The Dwarves won’t be happy if they find out that the only female (it didn’t matter that you were of a race of Men; the Company has grown to treat as slightly taller dwarf) fancies an elf. It will most likely elicit more than few curses and disappointed grunts. Dwalin will stop talking to you whatsoever, and you can’t even imagine the heartbreak that Kili and Fili will feel. Not to mention His Royal Grumpiness.

So, not a word out. You only need to enjoy the meal quietly, then go to your room and finally get a good-night sleep, pushing the sweet elf away from your thoughts.

But what if said elf keeps glancing at you during the supper? What should you think of a pink tint that flushes his cheeks once you catch his gaze? How should you read that awkward stuttering when you asked for a directions to a place you’d be eating in?

Lindir, as you learnt from Gandalf, was lord Elrond’s most trusted assistant and he seemed to be quite shaken by the number of dwarves and the ruckus they’re causing. Both, Bilbo and you, ceased trying to teach them some manners, reasoning that you can’t change what’s in their blood and so the two of you simply learnt how to bear it.

But the Elves… well, that was amusing to watch. Kili and his flirtatious antics, quickly cooled down by Dwalin and Bofur. Bofur and his scratchy, deep voice singing loud enough for the entire Valley to hear. And the faces of utter shock and displeasure at the beautiful features of the inhabitants of Rivendell. You and your dear hobbit were used to it by now, they however had a questionable pleasure of witnessing it for the first time.

A small part of you felt sorry for them, especially for Lindir since he was in the first line for the grand show of Dwarvish party.

Soon enough, feeling weary but delighted, with stomach full of tasty food, you excuse yourself and head to a room elves prepared for you. Aware that Thorin will press you to depart as soon as possible you decide to have a stroll around Rivendell’s gardens, not wanting to leave without enjoying them. Who knows if you will ever have a chance to visit Imladris again?    

The sound of ongoing celebration still rings through the gardens but you ignoring, focusing instead on a beauty of the flowers, taken aback by the variety and vibrant colors. It easies your mind, in a way, taking your thoughts off of the journey and possible dangers awaiting you on the way to Erebor.

Truly, you would do a lot to be able to come back to Rivendell one day, to be able to walk through the gardens and look at and smell flowers and trees that you’ve seen for the first time in your life. And perhaps, hopefully, to be able to gaze at Lindir, an elf who’s taken a residence in your mind and who cannot leave you be.

That is, if you wanted to be left alone. Seeing him awoke an odd feeling inside you, a strange but not unwelcome longing, a kind of pull to him that you’ve never felt before.

Maybe that is what falling in love feels like, maybe you finally met your One, someone you deemed was a myth.

Lost in your thoughts, for quite a while you’ve been wandering aimlessly until you stumbled upon what seemed to be unoccupied alcove, in a quite secluded spot, near a waterfall. It looks dreamy and inviting and so you step into it, sitting on a bench and turning your face towards the chilly breeze that comes from the waterfall.

Unstopped, your mind wanders to Lindir again, filling your head with images and fantasies.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to you, the very elf you’re daydreaming about, had the same idea as you – to find a moment of peace in the gardens and to ponder about whether or not he should speak to a beautiful girl that came with the dwarves. Lindir finds it hard to wrap his mind around how such a beauty as you ended up in a company of dwarves yet he realized you must be skilled beyond measure. Which only adds to an image of you he’s created in his mind.

He spots you as you walk into the alcove, having been nearby, only on the other side of it. Lindir thinks long and hard about approaching you – he doesn’t want to interrupt you, to ruin your moment of peacefulness with his presence but he feels drawn to you, unable to stop himself from taking those few steps and stepping into the alcove.

You sit on a bench with your eyes closed, an expression of serenity written on your face and Lindir’s mouth fall agape as his heart begins to race. You hear the movement and you open your eyes, shifting your gaze at Lindir. A small smile appears on your face.

“Good evening, my lord,” you greet and for a moment, Lindir can’t find his ability to speak.

“Good evening, my lady. Would you mind if I joined you?”

“Not at all. Please, sit down,” you tilt your head, pointing him to a spot next to you and Lindir blushes slightly but keenly takes a seat.

“You appeared to be quite agitated earlier, when we came. Not often you’re visited by dwarves, I assume?”

“I don’t remember hosting such a numerous company in quite some time.”

“And troublesome, right?” you chuckle, knowing very well how your companions behave; Lindir only nods his head, a tight  smile spreading his lips.

“What did they do after I left?” you inquire curiously, although with a hint of dread in your voice.

“They’re having a bath in a fountain,” Lindir mumbles, his voice hinted with shock and you gasp.

“I, uhm… I apologize. I should’ve kept an eye on them, but they can be too much sometimes.”

“And you needed a break, I understand it.”

“You came here for a break, too?”

Lindir nods again, offering you a shy smile.

“I did, yes. But then I saw you and couldn’t-“ he stops talking abruptly, turning his terrified eyes at you. Your eyes grow wide as you realize what he was about to say.

“You couldn’t what? Please, finish,” you whisper, leaning to him, your gaze fixed solely on his face.

“I couldn’t help myself from approaching you. You, my lady, have a hold on me nobody else ever had and I am not quite sure whether is good or not. A mere glance at you fills me with uneasiness although the feeling is pleasant. There is a warmth, a serenity surging through me as I look at you. I’ve never experienced anything like that before.”

“If I can be honest be with you, I feel the same,” you admit bashfully, lowering your eyes on your hands, folded on your lap, and Lindir inhales sharply, evidently surprised by your confession. He examines your expression – paled face and big, unsure eyes and a thought crosses his mind.

“Is there a reason you’re afraid? Are those feelings alarming you because you’re-“

“I’m not promised to anyone, Lindir,” you rush to assure him, taking his hands in yours. Your skin tickles at the contact and you make to withdraw but Lindir holds your hands firmly, gently stroking his thumbs over your knuckles.

“Y/N, forgive me for my straightforwardness, but… can we change it? Can we become promised to one another? I know you will depart soon, however I wish for you to be certain that I shall be waiting for you here. Whenever you decide to come back – if ­you decide to return here – I shall welcome you. This I promise.”

“Then, Lindir, let me promise you this – should the quest be over, once I have the chance, I shall make my way to Rivendell, to you. No matter the outcome, no matter what I’ll be offered. I’m yours and to you, I will return.”

Pure happiness lights up Lindir’s eyes and you grin joyfully, allowing your eyes to show much more than your voice can express. Initially, you were reluctant to confess your feelings, but now, as you learnt that Lindir reciprocated your affection, you’re sure that nothing can make you happier, not even reclaiming Erebor.

To love and be loved in return is the most wonderful feeling and you are glad that the journey brought you to this treasure, to your One.

[unwise-augur]

These things that you’re after, they can't be controlled- Mack

The Labyrinth Chapter 2

Author’s Note: Mack’s turn for a backstory!! I’ll be honest, I’m a lot happier with this one than I am with Althea’s chapter. Also,,, here’s a meme that suddenly occurred to me a few minutes before posting this

Althea: I’m going to the tavern, you want anything?

Mack: I want my father figure and my memories back.

Althea: Yeah… I got like 12 gold.

Ramas and Arizima Fezim, the lord and lady of a small town by the sea, loved their son, Marcel, as much as humanly possible. And they were overjoyed to discover that Arizima was pregnant with a second child. Lovingly, they picked out the name Mack, for Arizima’s grandparent, and then, seven months later, far too early, the child was born.

Marcel had been a remarkably easy birth, but Mack, on the other hand, took almost the entire night, and even then, was too little, too sickly. The doctor told Lord and Lady Fezim that Mack most likely wouldn’t survive the week.

The couple refused to believe such a claim, and Ramas started looking for alternatives. He tore through tome upon tome, from books on healing spells, to ancient religious texts. Until finally, he found it. Something that could work.

The ritual was simple, far too simple, if you asked him. One salt circle, and a bit of blood later, time spluttered to a standstill, and color drained from the library around him. The only things in the room that wasn’t grayscale, were him and the fiend. The one that he had summoned.

They looked a little startled, like maybe he had summoned them while they were in the middle of drinking their morning coffee. Did fiends drink coffee? Ramas turned his thoughts away before he went down that tangent. “My newborn child is sick. Very sick. The doctors don’t expect them to last the week. Please,” he said, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “Save them.”

The fiend nodded after a brief moment of contemplation, and in a deep rumbling voice, they said, “That is simple. But there is a side-effect. A ‘catch’, if you will.”

“Yes?” Ramas responded. He was desperate, he’d probably agree to just about anything.

“The child, Mack, correct? The only way I can save them is if they have fiendish blood running through their veins. That is easy, one of the deals things a fiend learns how to make. But your child will have to grow up a tiefling.”

“Deal,” Ramas said, holding out his hand. “As long as they survive.”

“Of course,” they responded, shaking his hand.

In an instant, the fiend was gone, color had returned to the world, and Ramas felt a great weight lifted from his shoulders.

True to the demon’s words, Mack recovered quickly (Miraculously, the doctor had told the Lord and Lady), and soon after, patches of their skin took on a reddish tint, and they grew a tail and pair of horns. The Fezims hadn’t minded one bit, as long as Mack was alive.

Six years later, Mack was going to school with all the other children. All the other human children, who had stared at Mack open-mouthed when they stepped into class on the first day. No one wanted to talk to them, so Mack didn’t even try. They did their schoolwork, they never caused trouble. They sat at the back of the class, and earned average grades (Their parents expected them to excel, they could tell. But they were trying their best. But their best must not have been good enough.)

Mack took quickly to reading, though. Everyone had seemed to think that Mack was far too active to sit down for long periods of time and read, judging by the way they were constantly fidgeting with pens, tapping their fingers on their desk, curling and uncurling their tail. But when they first started a fiction book, out of boredom during free time in class one day, they just… didn’t stop.

They loved the adventure, the betrayal, the epic fights, and the valiant heroes. They wanted to be like that someday. The one who saved the world, alongside their band of companions gathered throughout the story.

They specifically remembered one night at dinner, when they were about nine, after they had finished a particularly good book, and they said to Mama “When I’m old enough, I’m going to learn how to fight. I’m going to be an adventurer.”

Mama and Papa exchanged glances, before Mama said in that quiet, I-know-what’s-best voice that she used when Marcel thought he was too old to have a bedtime (he wasn’t, Mack thought privately. He was only two years older than them), “Honey, being an adventurer is an extremely dangerous job. I imagine you’d much prefer to stay at home and help take care of the village.”

Mack had considered their words for a brief moment, remembering all the characters that had died in the books they’d read. But then they remembered the ones who saved the trapped princesses, the ones who slayed the dragons, the ones who overthrew the diabolical kings, who toppled the evil empires. “No. I’m going to be an adventurer.”

Marcel had grinned at them, “What would you use to fight?” he asked.

“Sword,” they answered immediately. All the best heroes used swords, whether they be scimitars, greatswords, broadswords. They’d figure out the exact kind later.

“Are you gonna have an adventuring party?” he said excitedly.

Mack considered the question for a moment. They weren’t very personable, and no one really liked talking to them (it had something to do with their horns, apparently? Just like that one tiefling in a book they’d read that one of the other main characters hadn’t trusted, because they had red skin and a tail). “One or two,” they said slowly.

Papa sighed. “Kids, that’s enough. We aren’t talking about this right now. You’re too young to be deciding your futures.”

But it was too late, Mack had already decided. They never discussed their plans, it made Mama and Papa uneasy, but they were figuring their future out, piece by piece. They’d need a mentor, someone to teach them how to fight (preferably one that didn’t mysteriously disappear, get kidnapped, or killed for plot purposes, but they’d take what they could get). Then they’d need a suitable reason to leave the village searching for adventure, other than pure wanderlust. And after that, they’d need an adventuring companion or two.

Things started falling into place when they were around fourteen. Marcel had walked into the library an hour or two before sunset, and perched himself across from them on the bay window seat, as usual.

“How’s your book?” Marcel asked, like he always did.

“Good,” Mack responded. “How was your day?”

“Good,” he smiled at them. The siblings settled into a companionable silence for a few moments, before Marcel said. “You know how someone moved into that house near the forest, at the very edge of the village?”

Mack nodded. Marcel had been talking about that almost nonstop a week ago, talking about how he had never gotten a glimpse at the new villager. He had said that he was curious to see whether or not they were Mulan, like most of the people in town. Like the Fezims.

“Turns out he’s not Mulan. Or even human for that matter! He’s a tiefling, like you.”

Mack almost dropped their book. They had never met another tiefling, and there were so few books with tiefling as characters, let alone as the protagonists. “Seriously? Did you introduce yourself? Can you introduce me?”

Marcel gave them that grin, the one that gave off the distinct vibe that he has happy because other people were happy. “His name is Creed, and he knows how to swordfight. I know because we saw him practicing in the garden, and then I asked him.”

Mack felt like this was the very beginning of their story. The sheltered merchant’s daughter running away from home for a big, unfamiliar city like she’d always dreamed. The elf boy finally getting the chance to join the war like his father before him. The dragonborn cleric being sent on their first holy quest by their god. The poor boy who had always wanted to be an author hearing that the town’s most well-respected scribe was looking for an apprentice.

“Take me there tomorrow. Don’t tell Mama and Papa. I’m not sure they’d approve of me learning to fight,” they said with a slightly uncomfortable laugh.

Marcel mimed zipping his lips, locking them tight, and throwing away the key. “Tomorrow, you learn how to become an adventurer.”

The next morning, the Fezim siblings wandered near the edge of town, where the pleasantly warm sand gave way to soft earth. Nestled at the very front of the forest, was a small, one-room house, with pale wooden walls, and a mahogany door, that Marcel knocked on boldly.

After a moment, a tiefling man with horns like an addax opened the door. “Oh, nice to see you again, Marcel,” he said, giving him a small smile. Then he saw Mack, who hated to admit that they were practically hiding behind their brother. They didn’t function well around strangers, even if those strangers were the ones who could help them achieve their wildest dreams. “Who’s this?” he asked, and Mack could tell he was struggling to keep the surprise he was feeling off his face and out of his voice. “And here I was thinking I was the first tiefling in town.”

“I’m Mack,” they said, taking a deep breath. “My brother says you can swordfight? Can you teach me?”

“Of course,” he said without hesitation. He gestured for the two of them to come inside, and they took a seat at the table in his kitchen. Everything in his house radiated coziness, from the small table with a seemingly hand-embroidered tablecloth, to the earthy color palette of the room. “Is Marcel your brother?” Creed asked Mack

“Yes,” them and their brother chorused. The two of them exchanged glances, pleasantly surprised. They thought they looked plenty alike, they both had Mama’s hazel eyes, and Papa’s curly, dark brown hair, but for some reason, (“That certainly has nothing to do with someone having a tail and a pair of horns,” Mack would remark sarcastically whenever their parents or brother brought up the topic), no one ever made the connection.

“Your parents both human?” he asked, and Mack wasn’t sure if that was pity in his eyes or not. They weren’t sure if they wanted it to be, either.

“Yes.”

“You must not know Infernal then, either, do you?”

Mack shook their head. “I could never find a book on it.”

“Then I’ll teach you. It’s important for us tieflings to pass on our knowledge from one generation to the next, when there are so few of us out there,” Creed said sadly.

“But you’re still teaching me swordfighting?” they prompted. As much as learning Infernal, or whatever number of tiefling secrets Creed had to teach, excited them, they hadn’t forgotten why they were here.

Creed nodded. “We start tomorrow. Will I need to speak with your parents about any of this?”

Mack shook their head quickly. “They, uh… aren’t too fond of me learning how to fight, or being an adventurer, for that matter.”

He laughed. “I doubt they could stop you.”

Marcel gave the other two a big grin, “I couldn’t agree more. One day, Mack is gonna save the world. Maybe they’ll find out why people are Disappearing!”

Mack trained under Creed for the next five years, learning how to fight, speak, read, and write Infernal, and a million other things about being a tiefling Mack had never learned before. He also taught them more mundane things, like how to cook, or how to sew, stuff that their parents supposedly never had time to teach them. Really, Creed had almost become a second father to Mack, and they wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

Of course, that was when things fell apart. The two of them had wandered a little ways into the woods, into their normal training area, that day. Mack was leaning heavily against a tree, trying to catch their breath after a sparring session, when something caught their eye.

It was the mouth of a tunnel, one that they could’ve sworn hadn’t been there before. “Where does this go?” they called out to him.

Creed came to stand beside the younger tiefling. “I don’t recognize it. So, no clue.”

Mack gripped their sword, and began marching forwards. “Well, there’s only one way to find out!”

He smiled, and jogged to catch up with them.

And then that’s where Mack’s memory fizzled out. All they remembered were bits and flashes. Fighting for their life. A cheesy joke they couldn’t remember the setup for. Someone shouting. A jagged scar across the back of their hand they didn’t recollect having before.

The next thing they knew, they were on their hands and knees outside the tunnel, gasping for breath, with their sword on the ground in front of them. They were bleeding from multiple places, their back, their calf, and their cheek, and they were covered in bruises and scrapes. They thought their rib might’ve been bruised.

But none of it added up to the weight that settled across Mack’s shoulders like a cape. They… they failed someone. Someone important.

And then they realized that they were alone. They had entered the tunnel with Creed, hadn’t they? Where was he? How long had they been gone?

“Creed?” they called out. Their voice sounded hoarse, like they had been screaming. There was no reply. “Anyone?” they tried again.

The only answer was leaves rustling in the breeze, so Mack struggled to their feet. The walk was usually only five minutes back to Creed’s house, then about two more minutes back to the village, but each step felt like a mile to Mack.

When finally, finally, they trudged back into the village, the reaction was immediate. Villagers who had previously been going about their day like normal gasped, and stared at them. “Go get Lord and Lady Fezim,” one woman said to another. “They’ll want to see this.”

After the shock had worn off, people began to crowd around Mack, saying things like “We were so worried!” and “We thought you had died!”

Mack took an uneasy step back. “I… I don’t know what’s happening, or how long I’ve been gone. Please, I’d just like to get back to my house.”

The villagers parted quickly, leaving Mack to stumble home, past the little shoreside houses and shops, until they finally reached the Fezim manor, standing tall and proud next to the village library.

Mack reached the door just as the woman from town was scurrying away. Arizima and Ramas were crying, and Marcel had his arms wrapped around both of his parents’ shoulders.

The second he caught sight of them, Marcel tackled Mack with a hug that almost knocked them over, and Arizima and Ramas weren’t far behind.

“How… how long have I been gone?” Mack asked uneasily as their family finally let them go. They didn’t remember much of anything, but they felt it in their gut that they had been gone longer than a day.

“A year and two months,” Marcel responded immediately, dabbing at his eyes with his sleeve.

Mack almost collapsed then and there. “Gods.”

“Let’s get you cleaned up, dear,” Arizima said after a moment, taking Mack’s arm and leading them into the living room, while Ramas went to grab some bandages and other supplies. No one seemed to care that Mack was bleeding all over everything.

Once Ramas returned with the proper medical supplies, Mack was bombarded with questions, none of which Mack could answer until finally, Arizima asked, “Where did you get that jacket?”

“Wha-?” Mack finally noticed the tattered, brown jacket they were wearing. On the front were a bunch of tiny patches, all with different designs. On the back, was a design that had almost completely been worn away and torn off, and some near illegible writing beneath it. “I don't… I don’t know. But it feels… important,” Mack explained. It didn’t feel important in a “it has a secret pocket with a key that can open any lock inside it” way but more like it had been given to them by someone important. (Maybe it had to do with that heavy feeling of guilt weighing on their conscience.)

Later that night, they found their old sewing supplies, and repaired the jacket the best they could, sewing up the holes and tears, and washing out the bloodstains. It had taken almost as much as a beating as Mack had when they were wherever they had been for the past year.

Mack also took a moment to give the design on the back a closer inspection. They thought maybe it was a lyre, but it was hard to be sure, especially because there had been a large gash in the jacket running from their shoulders to the small of their back, that had taken out most of the design. (They had a scar to match.) Beneath the symbol, Mack thought they were able to decipher at least one of the words. “Team”.

When they read that, they felt something, like their brain was reaching out for a memory that just didn’t exist anymore. They hated that. Mack desperately wanted to know what had happened to them. To Creed. To that person they had failed, whoever they were. The need to know burned in their chest like a white-hot flame. And then and there, that’s when they decided.

They were going to leave and search for answers. They were going to find out why they had Disappeared. They were going to find Creed, and the one they had failed, their “Team”, and everyone else who had Disappeared. This was the elvish girl’s father getting kidnapped, the gnomish paladin getting chosen by their god, the hafling boy getting drafted for the war, the dwarven fighter finding out about the prophecy about her. This was Mack’s call to action.

And then two months later, they left in the dead of night, leaving a note explaining where they had gone. They didn’t want to say good-bye in person, their parents would try to stop them, or Marcel would try to go with them, and they had to do this. Alone. They were the one who had gotten Creed stuck in this mess. They were going to get him out, without getting anyone else roped into their desperate search for answers.

It took almost another year for them to find where they wanted to go. Lotus Ridge, over in the Open Expanse. It was a huge, bustling city, with one distinct similarity in almost all of its residents. They were searching for answers. Some even referred to Lotus Ridge as “The Town of the Lost and the Left Behind”. The second Mack heard about it, they knew that that city was where they were headed next.

They found the city within the month, and bought a small apartment in the city, and raised money doing odd jobs, until they had enough to start doing what really mattered, finding answers. They took up jobs as a private investigator of sorts, compiling all the information they could find on those who had Disappeared.

And then a few months after that, after cementing themself as one of the best detectives in town, one of the ones most likely to solve the mystery and bring back everyone that had Disappeared, Mack met their partner in crime.

The two of them met through one of their mutual clients, a human woman searching for her twin daughters. The client had insisted on introducing them to each other, claiming that they could find answers even faster if they worked together, seeing as they were already so close. Mack didn’t really see any downsides, and arranged the meeting to be at the office they had managed to buy below their apartment. Half an hour later than scheduled, a drow woman with long, silvery hair, and a crescent scar on her cheek, stepped through Mack’s door.

“I’m Althea, nice to meet you,” she said, dropping down into the chair across from them. “You’re Mack, right?”

Mack nodded, and shook her hand. They didn’t mention her lateness. “How did you get involved with the Disappearances?”

“My best friend Disappeared,” she answered easily, albeit a tad bit strained, and it sounded a bit like she’d rehearsed saying that. “How about you?”

“A close friend of mine and I Disappeared a while ago. I came back, obviously. He didn’t,” Mack answered, and the words only came out so smoothly because they had said them a million times by now.

Althea nodded sympathetically. “Well, uh, as for the investigation proper, I’ve been gathering all the evidence I could find,” she said, abruptly changing the subject. With a flourish, she pulled a small stack of paper out of her satchel (her flute almost fell out, but she caught it just in time), and spread them out on the table. They were mostly missing persons posters, along with handwritten notes, no doubt she had taken them while talking to clients. “No one ever remembers where they’ve been, correct? And the people just Disappear off the face of the planet so completely. It's… crazy.”

Mack nodded. “I did some research, and it’s only been happening for the past two hundred years or so, which is insane, because everyone knows someone who’s Disappeared.”

“I tried investigating exactly who Disappears, their gender, their race, their profession, even their sexual orientations, for the gods’ sake-” she laughed bitterly- “but there’s no pattern. I tried finding out what time of year people usually Disappear during. I haven’t found anything of worthwhile there, either.”

And so the duo continued, bouncing ideas, memories, and evidence they’d found, off of each other for the better part of an hour. And along the way, they began developing an unlikely friendship, and within the week, they had permanently teamed up for their investigations, and Althea had moved in with Mack.

One way or another, the two of them were going to find out why people Disappeared, and put a stop to it, once and for all.

[innerheadstories]

The hidden blades

    The inner halls lf the adventure guild was rather lively this morning seems a large amount of new adventures seeking glory and fame had joined recently fresh new porcline and copper tags wondered around the guilds main floor talking and laughing. On the upper floor where only the older and high ranked members were allowed sat Sinclar and Obron. Sinclar was clad in his typical black robes  and even in the well lit guild the hood kept his face hidden in shadows. AS for Obron his black plate armour seemed to obsorb any light that was around him keeping him coated in a dark and eveil arour of course that was to be expected of a dark paldin such as himself.  Sinclair raspy voice ame from his robes. "Such weak and frail lot wouldnt even be worth reanimating if they fell" He coughed from inside his robes. Obron siply turned his head to look at them from his helm before  grumbling somthign about being pathric under his breath and retning his attion to the drink before him.  Sinclar shook his head as he got up to go and find himself and his parner a new quest. While a mage a paldin may seem like a weak pair it handt stoped them from getting to the broze ranking of course they  had been in such a rank for a while The guild still didnt entrly tust them A black mage and a dark paldin did make a scary and odd pairing and hard to trust..

        Down on the main floor. A younge Aladrin looked as his porclin plate tag that reflected in his sharp intellgent golden eyes with a sigh. He pushed his long silver hair back over his long pointed ears his golden skin making him practically glow in light espically when his clothing were dark blacks and browns. But even in the dark colors it was easy to see his clothing was expertly made and of high quality . Man this sucks I was hoping I could at least start off a copper. The  priest's clapped him on the back . "Come now dear brother you cant charm your way into a higher rank. You must start on the bottem like everyone eles."  The female Aladrin shook her head Her butifull silver hair hung down her back in intrcate barids and her skin was the same beatufil gold as her twin. Her own golden eyes shown with amusment and love her white and blue robes marking her as a healer. The magical staff she carried was a lovely dark brown elderwood with a small bell on top that chimed softly as it tapped the grond.   as The male chuckled ."Why not been able to charm myself plenty of other places." She rolled her eyes "I really dont need to know where that tounge of yours has gotten you dear brother." She shoved at his shoulder lightly.       "Think fast shorty. "Came a loud shout just before a Large warhammer was swung at him. He only had just enogh time to grab his sister and jump back as he turned around His hand on his raipier before he relised it was a large golith in hard leather with runes caareved into it. "Hahahaha I knew it was you Valkier." The elf smiled Taking his hand off his Raipier. "Jugo is that you" The Large golith male  laughed as he place his hammer on his shoulder "The one and only" He chcuckled Over seven foot tall and broad as a tower shield The golith wore leather that was covered in intricate rune symblos  that also match the ones that were tattoed on his bald head. Valkier laughed "Good to see you I havent seen you since the last treity sighing." He nodded "I see you decide to finally come to the adventure guild like I told ya." He laughed.    Valkir nodded "Well me and my sister decide to leave the kingdom on our own and explore the world I assumed this was the best way to do it" He sighed "OF course these ceramic plates dont give us many options for quest" He sighed BEfore motioning to his sister "This is Seresa my little sister" The small prestes smiled and bowed her head. "ITs a pleasre to meet you. And im his twin not his little sister" She said shoving at him. The Giant smiled and bowed his head back placing his hands together ."Blessing of   Kavaki be with you" He smiled as she smiled plsently. "So you both just joined up." The male nodded "Yes we are new members still cerimic class was hopping for copper at least but what can ya do. how about you." The giant held up his own copper plate. "Still low ranking untill recently I was a lone adventure and was having trouble getting quiest that I could fufill."  He smiled "Thats why I teamed up with my compainons. A large snake man sleithered up next to his right while a small shy girl in gold and blue robes came up to stand on his left her skin was pale and her silver hair and eyes made her look almost blind. "This is Shalti she is a changling. She bowed her head and in a quiet voice. "Its a pleasure."     "And to my right is kalji a Yaun-Ti" He is from the nomad tribe in the desert plains. The snakes scales were a red rust color and  his deep red seemed to see stright threw to the core of a person his ownly clothing was a loincloth around his waist as well as leather padding on his shoulders and the staps that held his swords and quiver of arrows on his back. "ppppppleasssure" He said as he bowed his head.       The snake looked up at the Golith I have some busssniess in town to attend to, I will catch up with you later" He told him before leaving threw the front door. The changling nodded "I need to go turn in our last quest and find a new one so why dont you catch up with your frineds she said with a little bow before pulling her hood up and heading off in the grouded main hall.     Jugo smiled  "Care to join me for a drink." He smiled The two siblings nodded as Jungo and them all headed out into the crowded town to go to a tavren that the golith must have known well since no one seemed to pay his precenes any mind."    The golith and the elfs talked and drank and ate. The golith explaied the hierarchy of the guild and the levels as well as the way quest worked and collection of payment for adventures and how the guild would rank the quest according to diffuclty and only certain levels could take certain task. It seemed that thye could take any quest of there current rank and bellow but they coudnt take any quest of a higher level unless at least one of their members were of the proper rank.        Valkir smiled "So how did you join up with your comanions seems a bit of a odd Trio." He said taking a drink. "A golith A Yaun-ti and a Changling." Seresa nodded taking a small "Yes I do admit it is a little odd." She said. Jungo laughed "YA Like a pair of twins being a priest and a rouge are normal" Valkir laughed "Cours it dose I got all the evil and she got all the good" He laughed "We are the perfect balance to one another." Seresa rolled her eyes. "At least that what he tells everyone" She smiled "but never the less still I thought you were more the solo type." She asked cocking her head to the side her bright golden eyes curios about the golith and his compainons. Jungo sighed "Well as I said its hard to take a lot of missions as a solo act." He told them. "I mean dont get me wrong streght is great and my god gives me protection and prowess to fight on equal terms with most monsters........at least one on one or even 3 and 4 on one for some of the smaller ones.....But clearing out a colbalt hive is a bit hardered\ by myself. "The other two actully happened upon me that way they had taken the same quest as me before it had come up that I had taken it. Only they took longer to prepair than me so I was able to get there first" Valkir nodded ."So wht they came upon you after you had already cleared the place.     Jugo shook his head. "No they found me after I had taken out a large group of them but had also been hurt pretty badley" He lifted his leather armour to show the deep jaggad scar in his side. They gave me a healing potion and helped get me back on my feet and together we finished the quest....after that we decided to stick together as a party for a while we found that we were able to cover each others weakness pretty well." HE said. "See Kalji is a Ranger and is a amazing shot with a bow. So he has a lot better range than any of my spells could ever reach and the pair of curved swords he carries....well he could probibly stand on pair with you and your raiper" He said motioning to Valkir. As for Shalti she is a illusion mage and combine that with her own natrul abilty as a changling she is able to sneak in and out of basiclaly anywhere not to mention she can scare the hell out of damn near anything." He told them downing what was left of his piant before signalling the barkeep for another one.     The sibling nodded ."I can see how it would be handy because add them with your strenght and own magic it makes for a pretty strong party." Saresa said as her brother nodded ."Although if Kalji is as good with those swords as you say I may have to have a duel with him and see how good he really is." He grinned. His siter giggled "Really worried someoen might be better than you" He looked offnded "Better than mua you know how long I been using this blade of mine" He said patting the sheeth of his rapior been with me for damn near a centrey now." She rolled her eyes "Dosnt mean your as good as you play your self up to be" She teased while jugo laughed "ight ght ya two." He smiled looking at them. But as good of a team as we are we could actully use you two with us" He tol them as the bother raised a eyebrow "Really" he nodded          Jugo smiled "So you two want to join up with us" He smiled "We could use a priest and a thieif......I mean rogue" The elf laughed while His sister grabbed his ear "What have I told you about that brother" he laughed as "He said Rouge you know I dont do that anymore." She glared at him "They why are you holding that nobles coin purse " he chuckled "Much I dont do that much anymore" She sighed letting go and shaking her head. "Your such a pain."  Before looking back to him. "But you all seem so strong already what could we offer." She asked. Jugo smiled "WEll dear my magic is more war magic than healing so at best I can heal small wounds im much better at making my team stronger and able to take more punishment but with you and your abilitys you could help make sure none of us are taken to the afterlife before our time." She smiled blushing a bit. "Well I dont know about all that Im still learning and havent had much experince in actully using my healing abilitys other than small injurys and such." Valkir shook his head. "Shes being modest she is actully more powerfull than she lets on" He looked at him. "But if you ranger is so good wit his swords and you changling can get in and out I dont see why you really need me" Jugo shook his head. " Me and Kalji could use help on the front lines just the two of us trying to protect the two girls is a lot of work and while Kalji is good with his swords I dont think I know how fast you are with your little poker there you can intercept anything that would try to rush past us, He smiled "Besides when Shalit dose infiltration espically into high class areas lets face it your able to pass as noble and high brow much easier than me or him. Both of you are." He showed him a quild quest "We thought about doing this but sending her in alone didnt seem right with you two she would be safe incase somthing happend."       The contract was infiltration and information gathering. There was a party being held by a high dwarf lord but there was suscprion of curruption and political munipulation at play. "If she were to go in alone and get found out it could be bad for her. But with you two with her if somthing happened we would know shes in good hands." The two sibling thought about it "Well I mean I dont see a downside pluse like you said its easier to get things done with a party." Valkir said to him as the golith nodded "Aye" Seresa looked a little aprensive though "I mean it would defntly be a advantage but...I dont wanna hold you all back." The golith shook his head. "Ya wouldnt hold us back lass I know you have more power than ya think and with us we will keep you safe so you can improve." He told her with a smile      The small eldrin girl blushed but nodded ."A..alright then." She smiled "Ill do it Ill join up" As the golith smiled "Good We will be all the better for having you." His compainons entered the bar. The changling was only able to be idetified by her bule and gold robes as since she had changed her apperince to that of a human to walk the streets. The Yaun ti slithered along next to her. "Jugo we have our next job seemes there is a group of mercchants wanting a escort threw badit territory." Jugo nodded "Sounds good" HE smiled as he motioned to the eladrins. "I got us a couple of new recruites though so make them feel welcomed." THe snake nodded "Welcom abord then" The changling nodded seaking softly "Pleasure to have you"     Valkir looked at them. "Just like that no questions or anything." The snake shrugged his shoulders. "Your good with Jugo your good with me he seems to know you good enogh' He said "I assume he hass resaons for wanting to bring you along." He grinned "Just make sure you dont slow us down." Valkir grinned "Speak for yourself you think your able to slither faster than me." The yaun ti grinned "I like him.' He said to Jugo. He laughed shaking his head. "I figured you would. Anyway Valkir Saresa welcome to the hidden blades."