whomuses

[whomuses]

"You are not horse?" they tilted their head, vivid eyes catching hers for a moment, to look with real intensity. Yes. There was something far more intelligent about this creature than even the smartest of their farm animals. They held still, thinking, thinking, what to do now. This one needed rest; Sabrina had clearly forced this body to the very limits of what it was able to do, and, if they were not a horse originally, maybe did not know what the body would need in order to continue surviving.

"What made you horse?" they asked, after a moment. A curse? Terra's magic was extremely limited; they could do little beyond talking with animals and sometimes laying hunters marks, although they had never really had to try. Most of their enemies on the farm had been foxes and sometimes badgers; getting grabbed and thrown into the river a few times was usually enough to deter them from bothering the hens. Whilst they had rarely been driven to use their bow and arrow, the bird's keen eye was more than enough to make them incredibly accurate.

Not that it mattered much now. They had only the clothes on their back. No bow and arrow, no shortsword, and no money.

"Sabrina will have to graze." they said, looking around. Close to the riverbank was muddy, but there was still grass. Thick and lush, in fact; this area must not be used for farmers. "Fill belly. Let body rest down, drain." they gestured, not sure how to make her understand just how horses worked, but…

"Do not worry about not being… dignified." their head twitched around, the erratic movements of their birdlike self. "Is vital for good health."

The escape from the auction house was fraught with challenges, yet they managed to navigate through the obstacles together. They were a remarkable sight, unlike anything seen in these lands for ages. If only they had been granted the chance to fully appreciate this moment, to examine and admire the creature before them. But for now, all that remained was a weary horse that had sprinted away from the auction house, desperate to evade the grim fate of being sold to a farm, the salt mines, or some other dreadful place. 

The horse was utterly exhausted, trembling limbs and slick with sweat, on the brink of collapse. One more attempt to run, and she would surely fall.

Eyes observed her as a spell was cast, a touch of magic that was nothing short of enchanting. This spell allowed for a connection between them both, enabling communication. As she lowered her head, she watched the creature inch closer, its gentle clawed hands reaching out to nuzzle her face and then glide down her neck. Despite her usual aversion to people in such a vulnerable state, this tender gesture was heartwarming. Her tail swayed rhythmically as she leaned into the touch, a moment of solace amidst the chaos.

 “No, we truly didn’t belong there, my friend.” She clenched her jaw, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes as she managed to articulate her thoughts. It was a curious little talent they had used toh elp her speak. “No, no, my friend, I’m not a horse; I’ve been cursed to be one.” As she shook her head, it became clear—she wasn’t a genuine horse, yet this was her reality. Cursed for eternity due to her past misdeeds, she was now a humble creature meant to roam a farm, not gallivanting freely in the wild with her newfound companion by her side.

“I’m just grateful that someone can truly understand me,” she murmured softly, absorbing their words. Lowering her head, her tall, pointed ears twitched as they examined her for any signs of harm. But all they found was a horse—nothing more. A thoroughbred, rare and vibrant, in the prime of her life, spirited and immensely valuable to the right buyer. “Yes,” she replied quietly, continuing to listen as the conversation flowed. “I’m thirsty, hungry, and utterly exhausted, yet I owe you my life. I can’t even begin to fathom how I’ll repay you.”

[whomuses]

"A dark justiciar?" he asked, frowning. He didn't know a huge amount about the lady of loss and her teachings, beyond it being, well, a big thing about losing stuff to her. Not your favourite quill, more vital things. Grief, bits of your very self, so on and so forth… hm. He'd been very lost in Mystra, so maybe his studies of the othere goddesses of the various schools had fallen a touch further to the wayside than he should have allowed.

"Yes. Of course. Avoiding tentacles bursting out of my mouth is my absolute priority!" he chuckled a moment later, realising the ridiculous pun he had just made. "And, well, of course, the removal of the orb ranks pretty highly there! Not that it matters much, with our little mental companions, so… perhaps equally important, and both with… some haste."

Shadowheart shrugs. She has never even considered what will come after the Absolute. This mission is bigger than everything she has ever done before. No one knows how it will end. "I guess... I hope I'll be worthy to become a Dark Justicar. That's what I've always wanted." At least that's what she thinks. There are so many things she doesn't remember... She doesn't want to think too much about it. It's way too scary.

She lets a brief chuckle escape her mouth. "I'm sure we'll find a way to make you survive this. WIthout turning into a mindflayer, because I refuse to let that happen to any of us." Maybe it's just Mystra's way to test Gale. That's what she wants to believe.

[whomuses]

Eyes widened slightly in alarm - he hadn't known more people were about to descend on them, either, judging by the way Caedes tensed. Instinctively he adjusted, more protective over Mira, but - oh, it was family. Okay. Good. At least his own pyjamas were fluffy and thick, not too different to his day clothes, lined with soft, warm fleece. "Uh... hello." they settled on, after a moment. Nostrils twitched, smelling the food. "So much for a quiet morning."

"Well, darling, I-" he was cut off abruptly bent the door banging open and several family members streaming into the living room happily.

"Good morning, lovebug! Merry Christmas!" Morena carried a basket of gifts and Gavin and Garrett followed behind her with lots and lots of food in various baskets.

"mother, I'm not even dressed yet!" Gale spluttered, gesturing to his pajamas. "And what have you two got there?"

[whomuses]

"Do you not think they look festive?" Caedes asked back, carefully tucking the tinsel around Mira's budding horns, making sure it wasn't irritating them.

@whomuses

"why is there tinsel on the baby's head?" Gale frowned.

[whomuses]

open rp || Gale of Waterdeep "You're not the stupidest person alive, but you better hope they don't die soon."

[whomuses]

"Alaara…" he wasn't sure whether to be worried about this, or touched. Maybe a little of both. Getting too attached would be a foolish venture. With any luck, he could fix this; fix the tadpoles, and, of course, to fix the bomb brewing in his chest. He didn't want to be too honest, after all - about his fear. About how rapidly this was escalating after the slow crawl of the time he'd spent in his tower. Or maybe he'd merely been blind to it.

Gods, he was… exhausted. And thinking about this only made it worse. He swallowed hard, hoping it wasn't showing in his features, in how drawn he was. The guilt was already far too intense.

"Thank you." he settled on, finally, "I am more… grateful than you can imagine. For the unwavering support, of course, but… for having faith, I suppose." he offered a faint smile to her. There were so many questions he longed to ask, but for the fact he knew it was rude to grill a friend with questions about your culture. He'd become somewhat used to having a dragonborn as a friend, now.

"Do not think I long to go into that endless night, Alaara. I reassure you; I only think it must be done if there is no other choice. To keep everyone - to keep you - safe from it."

He hates how worried the others seemed to be for him; Alaara, most of all. Mouth open, a myriad of excuses and refusals and insistences come to mind, but - he doesn't get much chance to speak them. The orb hungers towards the ring she proffers, of course. And he doesn't know if it will help much, with how little the latest sacrifices have given him, but… he reached out none the less.

"There's little point in cursing Mystra." he might not understand her words, but he knows that tone, and of course, well - hears the name in there. "This is my folly, Alaara, as you are well aware." his throat bobbed. "Perhaps there is more she could do, perhaps… there is not." he pressed the ring to his chest.

Of course, the hungry orb reached out. In it's desperation to chew the magic from the ring, every part of it is dissolved, tugged inside him. A few brief moments of respite. The glow dulls, leaving his pupil no longer sparkling. Vision not as strong as it had been, no, but… better than it was when the hunger is burning.

"I do not imagine casting on me would do anything of use, or worse, it might put you in danger. I… do not know how longer feeding it will work. Don't you worry, though; should I feel myself becoming dangerous, I will hurry from here, put as much distance between any living thing and myself as I possibly can -"

[whomuses]

He hates how worried the others seemed to be for him; Alaara, most of all. Mouth open, a myriad of excuses and refusals and insistences come to mind, but - he doesn't get much chance to speak them. The orb hungers towards the ring she proffers, of course. And he doesn't know if it will help much, with how little the latest sacrifices have given him, but… he reached out none the less.

"There's little point in cursing Mystra." he might not understand her words, but he knows that tone, and of course, well - hears the name in there. "This is my folly, Alaara, as you are well aware." his throat bobbed. "Perhaps there is more she could do, perhaps… there is not." he pressed the ring to his chest.

Of course, the hungry orb reached out. In it's desperation to chew the magic from the ring, every part of it is dissolved, tugged inside him. A few brief moments of respite. The glow dulls, leaving his pupil no longer sparkling. Vision not as strong as it had been, no, but… better than it was when the hunger is burning.

"I do not imagine casting on me would do anything of use, or worse, it might put you in danger. I… do not know how longer feeding it will work. Don't you worry, though; should I feel myself becoming dangerous, I will hurry from here, put as much distance between any living thing and myself as I possibly can -"

Alaara's gaze bored into the wizard. In no realm was Gale alright, in no realm was everything fine, and in no realm was his pulsating orb 'just a little tender'. He wasn't doing well and his orb was causing him a great deal of suffering by the look of things. That its taint had crept up into his eye was worrisome. Could he still see from the eye or was he going blind?

"Karshoj arnahk. Malsvir arcaniss urathear; Mystra." It was a curse of frustration toward the Goddess of the Weave. One of but thousands she had muttered under her breath or had thought since learning about the orb. She was an evil arcane deity for doing what she had.

"No," she rumbled. "She cannot have you. I refuse her when you do not. She has taken more than her share in sacrifices."

She reached into her pocket, fishing for a magically-imbued ring (or anything else she could first prize) and came up with one she thought held the power of casting Light once a day. Useless, given they had scrolls for it, and doubly useless since more than one of them knew the incantation.

"Will this ring help? Would a pocketful of them help?" A pause. "Would casting magic directly upon you help to feed the orb's never-ending hunger?"

[whomuses]

// Hello! I am back from Obligatory Christmas. Tomorrow is my family, which will be... oof. Whauofuf. My dad's already being a wankhole. ANYWAY doesn't matter I got some cosy jammies and also some frankly bizarre gifts but here I am. I'll be about for a bit and I am so down for suffering okay.

[whomuses]

Reluctant Allies

Requested by anon!

"Oh, I guess... if I must."

"I don't like you, you don't like me."

"We have no choice but to get along."

"I don't want to help you!"

"Don't make me do this. Ughhh..."

"You have never said a nice word to be in my life, and yet here I am. Helping."

"Just - shut up and take my hand."

"If I'm going to have to hang out with you, can you try to be less insufferable?"

"You are unbearable!"

"We're working together. Shut up."

"I don't like it either, no!"

"We're going to do this then never have to look at each other again."

"Why are we doing this again?"

"Just - pretend. Go along with it!"

"I'm going to smack you if you don't shut up and get on with it."

"What does complaining get us? Huh?"

"You have to help, you idiot!"

"I'm not doing this by myself."

"Yes, yes, you hate me, so on, so forth."

"We're going to go do this together."

"No! [Name]!"

"I never shouted for them I don't know what you're talking about."

"I don't care about them. No. Nu uh."

"We're doing this because we have to, not because I want to."

"For God's sake, you're unbearable."

[whomuses]

// they said that food would be served at 7 but apparently been pushed back an hour I wanna go home so bad.

[whomuses]

The rest of their little ragtag gaggle of adventurers had, of course, been told. It wasn't something Gale could maintain silence about for long; the hunger in his chest for artefacts that drove on and on, more urgent by the day. He exhaled; a long, controlled breath, eyes shutting. Doing his very best, of course, not to allow a grimace of discomfort grow. "I do not feel I am in any danger of detonating, at least." he tried to inject a little humour in his tone. "But, ah. The orb is... I do not know there is anything anyone can do to assist."

He wasn't worried. Nothing and no one worried him. It didn't mean that he wasn't curious. "Are you sure?" He inquired, with an inclining tilt of the head. His blue eyes were set on the other, his most interesting companion. "is there anything that I can do to help?" The words were spoken open and friendly enough, but oh, he was more dangerous than any devil...

[whomuses]

// I'm about anyway so if anyone wants something nice and angsty to go against all the christmas cheer I am longing to torment my little sad man with an orb in his chest...

[whomuses]

open rp || gale dekarios "It's - I'm fine, it's nothing to worry about." hand against the orb, breathing slightly ragged, pulsing purple light shining through the thin lines, shimmering from under his skin, further into his body. The edges of his left eye were starting to blacken, the sclera becoming more contaminated by the day. "Just a little... little tender."

[whomuses]

Being unable to see was not making this world any less terrifying. Whether it was a punishment from the urge for his constant denial, Caedes did not know; it could have been any number of things. Jaheira was solid, warm, knowledgable; an immense force for good. Some part of him longed to sink fangs into flesh, take a chunk of her for good measure, the desire to hunt and tear… it was still there. Still hungering, bubbling beneath their surface. Keeping it contained all the time, alongside their adventure, was utterly exhausting.

They weren't sure how much longer they could keep it up.

Admittedly, Caedes might be less of a danger right now; although their other senses were still plenty sharp, their sense of sight was an important one. Eyes flickered behind their lids, still trying to catch any iota of light. Drawing back after Jaheira had hugged them, they sighed slowly, allowing their eyes to open again. Pupils were pinprick, tiny black dots, barely visible in the sea of illithid corrupted darkness.

"I did not wish to be left at camp." they admitted, "I wanted to be… useful, I guess. Or, rather…" they hesitated, for just a breath, but tonight seemed to be the night for honesty. "I did not want to be left alone."

Jaheira blinked in surprise as Caedes’ head dropped against her shoulder, the weight of it catching her off guard. For a moment, she was still, unsure if moving would startle them, but then, tentatively, she raised an arm. Then the other. Her embrace was slow and measured, a far cry from the awkward, rigid hugs of her youth that were more elbows and clunky pats than comfort. She had grown into the art of holding someone, learned how to make it warm, steady, and reassuring. Her arms curled around their back, her hands resting gently on their scales.

"Thank the gods you are afraid! If you weren’t, I’d start worrying the worm had already chewed your brain out." Her lips quirked upward, a lightness in her tone to soften the edges of the conversation.

"But listen to me, Caedes — it’s alright to be scared. In fact, it’s good. Fear has its place. Courage isn’t about the absence of it; it never was. Real courage is feeling the weight of it — drowning in it, even — and still choosing to move forward. And that’s what you’re doing. Look at yourself. You’re terrified, yes, but you’re still here. Still standing. Still fighting."

Her arms pressed around their body, giving them a small squeeze. "Though I will say this — you’re as stubborn as an old mule, refusing to ask for help when it’s so clearly needed. I can admire the resilience, mind you, but don’t mistake it for wisdom. Even the strongest need a hand, and there’s no shame in reaching for one."

[whomuses]

"What?" the dragonborn jolted their head up; hadn't realised Gale could hear them. Whoops.

"Uhh. Nobody. Withers." they said, plucking a male name from the air, then realising just what he'd said. Clearing their throat, Caedes stood up sharply, tail tucking between their legs. "Just… looks like jerky." oh, Gods, what the hell were they saying? Walk away, dude, walk away…

Caedes, a head on one hand, staring distantly at Gale. "I want to bite that man."

[whomuses]

Quick Escape

"Don't say a word."

"I'm getting you out of here."

"We have to escape."

"I want to get away."

"We have to run!"

"Trust me."

"You have to stay low and quiet."

"There's a way out."

"Through here!"

"Duck and cover!"

"Do you trust me?"

"I'm going to help you."

"You're getting free."

"We're never coming back here again."

"Close your eyes, and jump!"

"We have to jump!"

"We can make it!"

"I believe in you."

"You're an idiot."

"We're here forever."

"You can't get out of here."

"You're a fool for hoping."

"Why do you keep saying t here's a way out?"

"I can't live like this any more."

"There is... a way out. But you might not like it."

"I have to dislocate my wrist."

"Okay, this is going to make a nasty noise."

"Don't - don't look at this."

"I've been here so long, I've forgotten what it's like to be... elsewhere."

"We never deserved this, you know."

[whomuses]

What was the smell of a little more blood, when the entire camp reeked of it? He couldn't tell Astarion was approaching, so wrapped up in trying to get the blood out of his scales; the scent was sticking so thoroughly to them, even with the icy water washing against the ridges between each plate. It was strange; as if it had always been ingrained, and the dragonborn had just not… noticed it before. Dragging a claw into the gap, dislodging old, rotted gore… they startled as the vampire made himself known.

Heavy head turned, fixed; eyes narrowing, for a breath, as a horrific thought washes over him. It would be easy enough to blame Astarion for this cruelty. After all, he is a vampire; the others have already marked him monster just by due of what he is, of course, of course they have. It feels weirdly familiar, and yet…

"Yes." he says, finally, looking back down; then sitting on his heels, liquid dripping from sodden sleeves. "I do not know what happened to me last night." they whispered, other hand coming up to rub over the scales on his face. "I… I do not recall it. There is not even a blur, I… I awoke stood over her body. I liked the bard." their voice, rough as it was, cracked just slightly. "I liked her. And yet… this, this urge, whatever it is. It must have possessed me…"

Astarion was the first to wake from their rest that they were getting, his trance less than peaceful as usual... but at the very least he didn't have a rude awakening. Yet. He had grown quite fond of Alfira in the short time that she was in the camp, the bard requesting to sing songs of Astarion, and everybody knew the quickest way to his dead heart was flattery.

Imagine his surprise when the first thing that greeted him upon waking was the scent of blood. And lots of it from the intensity of it. Climbing from his bedroll, the gruesome sight that greets him was enough to make even Astarion horrified... impressed... but horrified

There goes his chance for ballads sung about him.

Following the tracks of blood down to the waterside, he sees Caedes there, and for a moment all Astarion does is admire the sight before him.

"That water must be cold," he speaks by way of introducing himself, curious to the dragonborn's reaction to being caught.