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thecommandertable · 7 months

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Lost Caverns of Ixalan Artisan Set Review: Part 1

Which common and uncommon cards in Lost Caverns of Ixalan might make their way into your Artisan Commander decks? Part 1 will cover the monocolor cards, and Part 2 will cover the multicolor and artifact cards. Let's take a look:

White

Manglehorn is an existing card but doesn't see much play in Artisan. Making your opponents' artifacts enter tapped has a larger impact in regular EDH where it hits mana rocks like Grim Monolith and Mana Vault, not to mention slowing down big treasure makers like Dockside Extortionist and Smothering Tithe. In all, I don't expect to see too much of Dauntless Dismantler in Artisan games.

Blue

An upgrade over Supreme Will, which sees some play. Putting the extra cards into the graveyard instead of the bottom of the library is relevant for spells decks with payoffs that count the number of instants/sorceries in the graveyard: Crackling Drake, Gandalf's Sanction, Rise from the Tides, etc.

Black

The closest comparison is to Infernal Grasp. Bitter Triumph can hit planeswalkers, but there aren't very many of those in Artisan. The larger difference is the flexibility in the additional cost: when you don't want to pay life you can discard a card instead and vice versa. Some decks, such as reanimator, want discard outlets anyway. I expect to see Bitter Triumph at similar rates as Infernal Grasp and Go For the Throat.

A Deadly Dispute that creates a Map token instead of a Treasure. A lot of decks that run Deadly Dispute will want this card too: Juri, Gut, Thalisse, etc.

This card's pretty interesting. It has shades of Deadly Wanderings to it, except that it only needs you to attack with a single creature instead of controlling only one creature, which is a pretty significant difference. Obviously, you'll want to put this in a deck that can attack with a single large creature. This card's not worth running over a card like Ancient Craving if you're not going to profit off the front side. I'm thinking something like Yargle or Rael Rilsa.

Ichor Wellspring is played in lots of decks that like to sacrifice artifacts. Mephitic Draught is essentially a second copy for black decks.

This card's not far from Doomed Necromancer, which has always struck me as a rare that's ripe for a downshift. The finality counter and sorcery speed are a bit of a bummer, but Soulcoil Viper is something to consider when building Barrowin of Clan Undurr, or if/when they downshift Alesha, who Smiles at Death (fingers crossed)

Any self-mill deck that can easily get four or more permanent cards into its graveyard will like this little guy. Deathtouch means you will often be able to find someone to attack who doesn't want to block, and in a pinch you can leave it back to dissuade a big creature from attacking you.

Red

I'll talk about Caparocti Sunborn when I get to the multicolor cards, but yeah, if you plan on discovering a lot, this card seems deece.

It's a red Prying Blade except: A) it's indestructible, B) it gives an extra point of toughness, and C) gives you the treasure on attack, not when it hits an opponent. Overall that's pretty good.

This card looks excellent in an artifact-heavy deck. It can provide creatures haste in a pinch on its front side, but flipping it shouldn't be very hard, in which case it turns into a land with a very powerful activated ability. Even if you never use that second ability, it's still a card that ramps you.

It's going to be fairly difficult to trigger descend every turn, even in decks that go out of their way to sacrifice stuff. Keep in mind that tokens are not cards, so sacrificing treasures or Eldrazi Spawn tokens or whatever won't trigger this. That said, getting just two or three treasures out of a two-mana creature is pretty good, and it has two relevant creature types.

Sunshot Militia is yet another creature that goes infinite with Malcolm, Keen-Eyed Navigator and a way to turn it into a pirate. Aside from that, it's still a card with a ton of potential. It works great with Curiosity effects, for one thing. But any deck that has lots of stuff hanging around, be it treasure tokens, food tokens, equipment, or dispensable creature tokens could use Sunshot Militia to deal good chunks of damage at low cost.

Great for my Syr Carah deck.

Green

Ok so a lot of these dinosaur payoffs I'm skipping over because the red-green signpost dinosaur legendary doesn't look very compelling as a commander- I'll get to it in Part 2- but Earthshaker Dreadmaw is a house.

This card reminds me of Afiya Grove, which not only is a rare but also on the reserved list. And Explorer's Cache is... better? It enters with one fewer counters on it, but gives you a lot more control over when you dole out the counter (a big mark against Afiya Grove is that you have to give the +1/+1 counter to an opponent's creature if you don't control any creatures), and of course, it recoups counters if your creatures die. I'd put Explorer's Cache into any deck that has a lot of +1/+1 counter synergies and proliferate. It also works very well with Kami of Whispered Hopes.

Poison Dart Frog looks like a decent mana dork/rattlesnake card. Pretty nice that it can block a creature with flying, then tap to help pay for its own deathtouch ability. That said, I wouldn't run a two-drop mana dork if I don't need the mana fixing; if I just want to ramp, I'd go with Llanowar Elves/Elvish Mystic/Fyndhorn Elves instead.

This is the biggest, baddest green mana sink we've gotten in Artisan. Previously the best was probably Centaur Glade. Sachi decks will be able to use this, and maybe(?) Rishkar and/or Tatyova decks. If you're making infinite mana with something like Devoted Druid + Vizier of Remedies, I'd recommend putting that mana into something like Goblin Cannon for the win; as cool as turning all your lands into 7/7s is, you have a limited supply of them, and they don't have trample-- you don't want to pass the turn only to have them all destroyed by a Slaughter the Strong or Kirtar's Wrath.

Alright, that's all the monocolor cards! See Part 2 for multicolor and artifact cards!

#artisan commander #lost caverns of ixalan

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enby-hawke · 1 year

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Got tagged by @dauntless-necromancer for WIP Wednesday

Working on Champion Lucky

He fights with kali sticks rather than a staff

Malcolm about to lecture him about how he’s about to get kicked in the balls

tagging @marhikit @cairamelcoffee @dreadfutures @the-cryptographer @hezjena @fithragaer @fensyl and whoever wants to participate

#lucky hawke #jonzen art #wip wednesday #tagging game #I expect Lucky to get like 3- notes again but that's okay it's about time I drew him in his champion armor

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crowcaught · 1 year

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❛ don’t die before i do. ❜ - okay but tlt verse yeah? yeah?

Cacophonic discourse arose in the atrium: a discombobulation of shouting, cursing voices spitting with vitriol and disbelief filled the air as he stepped before his injured cavalier. The Fourth were dumbstruck, and silent in their expeditious awe, whereas the Sixth were silent for what had to be entirely different reasons, their mouths untelling lines that gave away nothing as to what they thought of a necromancer stepping to point, brandishing the sword meant to represent their house, but only ever in the hand of their complementing half. “ I am Hao Liang, otherwise known as Cirice, and I stand for the Second House when I say I find offense with your sportsmanship. You cripple my cavalier’s right arm in a match that was to the touch? How does the Eighth plead? “

Finding it mattered little what they decided amongst themselves, he strode another pace forward, swinging the rapier up so that it was propped parallel with his chest and head. With one arm folded behind his back, his stance could only mean one thing: he was determined to fight, be it Catalina of the Eighth or her winded cavalier, still knelt upon the stone, trying to recover from their vociferous bout with Sinh.

“ You call the place but I call the time, and the time is now, Eighth. “

Then Sinh’s voice disrupted the tension, speaking in a volume only Cirice could catch with them at his back. “ Don’t die before I do. “ Cirice smiled, turning his head so that Sinh may catch a peek of the over-confident twist of his lips, and the ferocious gleam alight in his one functioning eye that was usually grinning with the rest of his face. We’ll die together or not at all, he mouthed rather surreptitiously, before someone else called from the crowd. Pushing forward from the confused, stricken herd of House representatives was a flash of red hair that set Cirice instantly on edge, and the necromancer knew he couldn’t be the only one taken aback by the sudden animation, the sudden involvement of the Sixth house cavalier, whose deep voice was rare for them to hear.

“ The Sixth House will arbitrate this match. Necromancy and all its applications are forbidden for the duration of the bout. First to draw blood is the victor. “

Another round of gasps and headshaking, the Ninth in her shroud did an odd fidget, as though she thought to interrupt but thought better of it in the end. She must have decided it futile, with how many of them had never given pause to listen to the Ninth’s sensibilities before.

“ It’s your call now, Catalina, “ Cirice had never been one for showmanship, but it became him as most things thrust upon his shoulders did. He stood, dauntless and ready, the pride and scourge of his House who had to herald him for his unsurpassed aptitude but curse him for his ill-starred lineage. “ Will you accept my challenge, or will you further offend my House while disgracing your own? “

#yo rosemary how do i edit anything on tumblr i'm so confused #i hope u like this btw jsdnfsnfdkjsf #i'm trying to get into writing bigger scenes with more than two people in them at a time #( ❁ ) ; PRIDE & SCOURGE . ( TLT VERSE. )#( CANAAN HOUSE REPRISAL. )

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ginkohs · 4 years

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Lmaooo, the pspspspspsspss is accurate with Luxana, especially since she's an elf and is very distrusting of humans with the exception of Elrich and Nadia (my Hawke btw). But she would definitely warm up to and befriend Kalla eventually tho

Yeah! Kalla is pretty easy to get along with because he has a gentle disposition and he’s kind of the “mom friend” he’s good at bringing people out of their shells ^^

#dauntless-necromancer

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honourablejester · 3 years

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Homebrew Thief Deity

A little bit of an expansion on one of the homebrew gods from this post, building him and a few of the others into a bit of a history and a pantheon. A god for rogues, thieves, urchins, exiles, travellers, and clerics of the grave, trickery and twilight domains:

OREM, THIEF GOD OF THE BOUNDARY

Alignment: True Neutral/Neutral Good

Domains: Grave, Trickery, Twilight

Symbol: A Hooded Lantern

A gentle shadow padding silently through the twilight, his hooded lantern held aloft, Orem is the thief god of the grave, the boundary and the night. Believed to have once been a mortal man, he is the guardian of lost souls, all those who die alone or in dark places, the dim light of his lantern guiding them to their rest. He is the messenger between the lands of the living and the dead, and may be implored to carry messages past the bounds. He is the god of thieves, watching over all who find their comfort and their livelihood in the shadows. He is the gentle warden of the outcast and abandoned, granting shelter and comfort to any who pray in desperation. Orem is the god of the in-between, the guardian of all that is lost or fallen through the cracks of the world, and all who seek them.

TALES OF THE THIEF GOD

God of Thieves

Orem is the god of thieves, and believed to have once been a thief himself, when he was still a mortal man. He is the god of shadows, of seeking, of hidden places and forbidden things. He encourages exploration, trespass and the seeking of knowledge. He protects those who making their living in the shadows. Thieves pray to him for luck, for protection, for that wisp of shadow or sudden noise from another direction that will keep them safe from discovery, and he is often known to grant it. Many a thief has a tale to tell of a desperate kiss pressed to the sign of the lantern, and a sudden stroke of luck that kept them from the eyes, the prisons or the knives of their opponents.

Nor does Orem shy from theft himself, even still. Of knowledge, most particularly, and of opportunity. The Thief God travels the planes at his will, and suffers no power to keep him out. He has walked the planes of the dead and brought secrets and mementoes back to those who seek them. He has walked the hells and the abyss and stolen souls and knowledge and some more intimate things from devils and demons alike. From Oromasdes, the Lord of Wisdom, the Holy Fire, he stole a tiny, flickering flame of magic, and taught it to his chosen, granting them the small but necessary magics of thieves, the slender wisps of illusion and see-me-not. Oromasdes, curiously, was not offended by this, for the Lord of Wisdom is rarely opposed to those who seek and spread knowledge. Had Orem kept that flame for himself, perhaps the Light of Truth might have judged him more harshly for it, but Orem chose to teach it instead, and thus did Oromasdes forgive him. After, it is said, reminding the Thief God rather gently that he could have simply asked instead.

To which Orem is said to have replied, but where would the fun be in that?

God of the Grave

Orem is the god of lost souls and those who die alone, their shepherd and guide to what lies beyond death. He is fiercely and dangerously protective of this duty, and a hidden, implacable enemy of those who would steal souls for their own use. As such, he and his chosen people are ferociously opposed to liches, necromancers and other soul-stealers.

It is said that once, in the early days, when Orem was only newly a god, a great and terrible archlich sought to devour enough souls to fully destroy the boundary between life and death and unleash a plague of undeath across the planes. While the other gods and champions took up arms and stood to fight this black menace, Orem instead took a more secret path. While the lich stood against his fellow deities, blazing with necrotic power, Orem sent a small, fragile party of his own champions to seek the archlich’s phylactery instead. Though almost all of his champions died in the attempt, the last managed to seize the object and bring it to her god’s temple, bleeding and near death herself. Safe and reunited with her fallen companions under the shadow of the Grave God’s cloak, she watched as Orem reached into the phylactery and drew forth and reconstructed every soul that had ever been fed to it, slowly and viciously unmaking the lich to repair all the damage he had caused. When the lich had been broken and siphoned down to only the tiny, stained remnants of his own original soul … Orem gathered it up, quietly and carefully, and stowed it in his own lantern, there to be kept safe and warm for all eternity. His three champions, who had died for his cause, he gathered also, and tucked them gently into his cloak to take them wherever they need go. Even, along with all the souls the lich had stolen, back to the realm of the living, if they wanted to.

It is unknown how many souls are stored in the Grave God’s lantern. Only those that he wishes to keep close, either for their own protection or for the protection of everyone else. The lantern is not a fearful prison, however. Orem is the god of lost souls, and there are none more lost than those who seek to destroy others. Perhaps he hopes that in time, in his company, seeing all that he sees, in the dim light of his hooded lantern, they will come to think as he does.

God of Outcasts

Orem is the god of the outcast, the abandoned, and all those who have fallen between the cracks of the world. He is the god of the lost, both living and dead, and all who have lost their way in the world or in life may pray to him, for the dim light of a god’s lantern to guide them onto the path once more. Even those who do not venerate Orem himself, those who despise him as the God of thieves and the lawless, sometimes tell tales of a light in the darkness when they were alone and terrified, and a tall, grey figure who guided them to safety. Of a grey cloak, warm and welcoming, that draped over them where they scrabbled, freezing and abandoned, and brought them warmth enough to survive that little bit longer. Those who survive where they should have died, who walk away from swamps and battles and slums and mass graves, often whisper of the quiet god who helped them, who warmed them and sheltered them and showed them the way to freedom.

It is also said, however, that there are other entities, spirits and demons and creatures of illusion, who have used the God’s image falsely over the years. Will-o-wisps who have used the hope of his lantern to lure travellers to their deaths, demon lords of illusion who have taken his guise to sow false hope and entrap souls into their webs of deceit. There is nothing, save perhaps the trapping of souls, that will earn the Thief God’s enmity faster. There is no demon he hates more than the Lord of Lies, who has used Orem’s image far too many times to betray those Orem would protect, and done so knowingly, with aim to taunt and wound him. Only the lords and masters of undeath are as antithetical to him, and he hates them with equal passion. If there is one creature in all the planes that the Thief God has sworn to see destroyed, it is this demon.

Those who wield the Thief God’s powers, therefore, those who have learned the magics of illusion and the turning of eyes from him, must be careful to what purposes they put their powers. He does not forgive those who use his power, his lantern or his image to betray those he protects. For this reason, among others, certain fey and demons remain extremely cautious of him.

God of the Boundary

For all else that he is and was and will be, however, Orem is first the God of the Boundary. Between life and death, between light and darkness, between danger and safety. Orem is the god of trespass, of exploration and intrusion, of crossing the line, and there are few beings in all creation as conscious, therefore, of where those lines actually are.

Once upon a time, the story goes, a mortal man met a trapped and dying god. A god of death, who could not die. An ancient, desperate being, alone and in agony. The name of this god is unknown, long lost to time, remembered only by Orem and by those gods who mourned or despised its passing. That god pleaded with the mortal man to take its immortal soul from its body and carry it beyond the bounds of death, into the quiet lands where it could, if not die, then at least know rest. The man was a thief, you see, a wily, dauntless creature, and the god knew that if anyone could find a way to free it from these immortal chains, it was this tiny, curious, fearsome little man. Duty demanded that the god stay, endure, but desperation and despair pleaded that it be allowed to rest. Against all the laws of good and all the forces of evil, it pleaded with this man to bring it rest.

So the man named Orem took the god’s soul, its divinity, and hid it in a lantern, the better to carry it unseen across the dividing line. For who looks for a hidden thing in the light? Who looks for a secret thing in that which reveals the darkness? Orem hid the god’s soul in small light of a lantern, and smuggled it gently into darkness. Into peace.

And when he returned, that thief, from the lands of the dead, he found himself changed. A piece of the god he had helped to die had remained in his lantern, and a piece of the god’s divinity had remained in him. Not a god the dead, not fully, but a god of the boundary. Of the line, of the gate, and of the ability to move across it. Orem became the god of the boundary, the god of lost souls, the guide between the lands of the living and the dead. He became the god who carries those who need it into rest, and the god who, sometimes, allows those who deserve it back to life. The god of thieves, yes, the god of outcasts, the god of the dead, all of these. But first, and foremost, before all things, the god of the boundary. The god of the in-between.

And here, in this, he has his allies. Even among the lawful. He has a strange and special relationship with those other gods who guard the boundaries, who endure when nothing should be forced to endure. Elaia Siveth, who offers respite, healing and death in equal measure, whichever should offer freedom from suffering faster, and who approved of the actions for which he became a god. And Yorm, the Unyielding, who guards the light against darkness, who fights demons and devils, who protects the vulnerable beneath his shielding cloak and his watchful remaining eye. They have a strange bargain, those two. Yorm, bound by law, turns his blinded eye to where Orem needs to tread unseen, and will not leave him to die undefended should the thief be caught. And Orem will not leave Yorm to endure alone, nor Yorm’s people to be ravaged after death. The souls of all Yorm’s paladins who fall to demons are ever safe in Orem’s care.

Notes:

There’s a lot of inspiration from Hermes in this, god of thieves and travellers and guide of souls, with a little bit of Prometheus as well. Oromasdes is taking a lot of inspiration from Ahura Mazda, while Orem and Elaia Siveth have a bit of Janus to them. And I threw in Yorm from this story, because they felt like a nice fit, two gods of the boundary, one lawful, one not, but united in a common purpose. Also, I like the rogue/paladin dichotomy. Heh.

And I like the lantern imagery, the hermit from the tarot, the god carrying souls in his lantern, the thief smuggling things in the light, because who goes looking in what you look with. I can’t remember what book or story I came across that concept in (possibly Discworld?) but it stuck like glue. Not least because I remember an episode of Wild Wild West where the shoddy lighting on that show threw a shadow of a lantern that a character was holding, and that was supposed to be throwing the light, against his shoulder, accidentally highlighting the fakeness of it all. Playing with light and dark and reality and illusion is a bit of a theme for me

#long post #worldbuilding #deities #d&d #homebrew #thieves #clerics #rogues #mythology

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alienturnipp · 1 year

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Final part of my 6 (and more) fanarts meme! Hope they came out well <3

From top to bottom: Lucky Hawke by @blue-eyes-white-privilege69 Celia Mac Tir-Cousland by @dauntless-necromancer Athel Lavellan by @calicocantaloupe Marian Hawke by @sillyliterature Fenya Hawke by @whiskynorocks

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

#dragon age #hawke #lavellan #cousland #celia mac tir cousland #alien turnip's art #blue-eyes-white-privilege69 #dauntless-necromancer #calicocantaloupe #sillyliterature #whiskynorocks #a lot of hawkes and a lot of attitude this time i love them #lmk in the tag or reply etc. if anyone likes me to send you the full-size pic <3

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cullenakingirog · 6 months

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💖Tarot Card commission for @dauntless-necromancer 💖

If you noticed I changed up a few things from logo to layout to the fact that I even painted the background! I figured I should try and see if I have improved in any way and I at least did which I'm glad for hhh

Anyway, getting to draw Elrich again is so much fun plus I loved being able to do his scar properly! He's such an interesting character and the choice of Wheel of Fortune for him is so fitting! I decided a round shield would be his wheel and used the attack on Lothering as the background

This was so much fun to do, thanks so much for commissioning me and I hope you like this!

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

UPRIGHT: Good luck, karma, life cycles, destiny, a turning point

REVERSED: Bad luck, resistance to change, breaking cycles

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

Also got a bit better at shading hair even more so more improvements!

#dragon age #my art #marh art #dragon age origins #dragon age oc #dragon age warden #warden cousland #art commisions #taking commisions #commission #tarot cards #tarot card #tarot #dragon age tarot

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trvelyans-archive · 3 years

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look out

a comm for @dauntless-necromancer of the detective’s daughter miss maxine spending a weekend at the warehouse with unit bravo <3 it was such a pleasure to write for you again !!! i hope you enjoy <3

When Max finishes up science club on Friday, there are three vampires waiting outside school for her.

… That sounds like the beginning of a bad YA novel.

Not that she reads those. Well… she does, just not that often. She’s too busy with homework most of the time – also, lots of them are bad. Besides, she’s glad that she hasn’t had time to read lately, because she wouldn’t want Unit Bravo to catch her flipping through some trashy teen book when they get home from… y’know, killing werewolves or demons or whatever. (Or not killing them? She doesn’t really understand what it is they do.) She hitches her backpack higher over her shoulders, pushes her glasses up her nose and clears her throat as she heads down the sidewalk towards the sleek black van they’re standing in front of.

Nice, Max thinks. Better than Dad’s car.

It nearly broke down on the way to school this morning. Max doesn’t know how she felt about him making the 45-minute drive into the city with it, but he kept changing the subject whenever she brought it up. Actually, he didn’t really say or do anything but go over a checklist of what she needed for the weekend until she was about to get out of the car and he said, “Sorry, kiddo. I’ve just been… on edge lately.”

As if he had to tell her that. She sees him every week – she knows how stressed he’s been. That’s part of the reason she went along with this plan so willingly: she wants to get to the bottom of whatever’s going on with him.

“Max!” The shortest one – Farah – practically pounces on her as she approaches their van outside the school, grinning widely. (No vampire fangs, Max notes. Maybe they only come out sometimes? She has an urge to write that down somewhere. She should definitely start taking notes.) “How are you? How was school?”

“Good,” Max says. “And I’m good. How are you?”

“I’m good,” Farah replies, grinning. “I’m excited!”

“She has quite the schedule planned for you,” Nat says, smiling softly. Max likes Nat the most out of all of them – she’s smart and nice, if a little… boring. But boring can be good, sometimes! “We’ve all been looking forward to your visit, though.”

Max looks over at Morgan, who tosses her cigarette onto the ground and stomps it under her boot, staring at the school with a frown and a furrowed brow.

Maybe not all of them, Max thinks.

“Whose car is this?” she asks, pointing at the van.

“The Agency’s!” Farah hurries to pull the door of the van open and gestures inside. “Nothing but the best for Eddie’s daughter!”

“All the vans look like this,” Morgan grumbles. Farah elbows her.

“Nothing but the best,” she repeats.

Max pokes her head inside – it’s practically spotless and smells like new-car smell (except she knows it probably isn’t). They’re probably just really particular about, like, cleaning them after they use the vans to haul back dead werewolves or whatever. (God, she hopes they don’t do that, and she especially hopes they haven’t done that with this van. She makes a mental note to ask Nat about it later.)

As if on cue, Farah grabs Max’s overnight bag from her hand and tosses it inside the car.

“What are you waiting for?” Farah asks. “Let’s go!”

At first, Max as hesitant to spend her weekend with Unit Bravo. Before her dad finished finalizing plans with them, she begged Mom to take the weekend off work until her mom was sick of her asking. As much as she’s grown to like… most of the Unit, she didn’t know how much she’d like spending three days with them. After all, she still hasn’t forgotten what happened with that freak Murphy earlier this year. She still hasn’t forgot that, whether they wanted to or not, they left her dad out to dry and he got his ass – butt – kicked because of it.

And yet, by ten o’clock Friday night – the time she would usually be getting ready for bed – she’s pretty sure she’s gonna like spending the weekend here much more than she thought she would.

They’ve set up camp in the games room. After Max scarfed down the slightly burnt dinner that Nat made her, they spent the evening playing darts – Morgan won the first three games, to Farah’s annoyance, and then Max won the fourth game, to even more of Farah’s annoyance – and now they’re about half an hour deep into what feels like will be an incredibly prolonged game of pool.

Max’s on Farah’s team, apparently. She thinks it’s because Farah doesn’t want to lose again, but she’s going to be disappointed – Max’s only played pool a couple times before, and Dad is never an easy opponent.

(In pool, at least – she kicks his ass – butt – at chess.)

“Y’know,” Farah says, leaning on the pool table and turning to face Max with a bright smile, “I don’t know a lot about you, Max. Your dad doesn’t talk about you a lot – well, I mean, he does sometimes! But just about how proud he is of you and stuff.”

Max smiles. It never hurts to hear that the hours she spends doing homework every night always pay off. “He doesn’t tell us much of anything else, though, like…” Farah purses her lips, scanning the ceiling while she searches for a question. “What do you like to do for fun?” Her eyes widen with excitement. “We can add whatever it is to the schedule for this weekend!”

Morgan snorts and hits a striped, orange ball, sending it straight into the pocket at the corner of the table. “Not even I have enough energy to put up with all the shit you have planned for this weekend, Farah,” she says. “You think the kid does?”

“I’m not a–“ Max stops herself before she finishes the sentence. “Well, I would love to do anything you have planned, Farah,” she continues politely. Mostly because the more time they spend together, the more dirt she can try to dig up. “I can’t wait to see what else we’re going to do tonight.”

“Tonight? Oh, the rest of tonight is all about pool, baby!” Farah grabs her cue stick and turns back to the table. “We gotta get through the next three games of our tournament before we even think about doing anything else.”

Max waits until Farah’s back is turned to wince. It looks like she won’t be able to sit any of them down and have a serious discussion anytime soon, then. It’s not that she doesn’t want to play pool at all – she’d like to play pool and see if she can find any board games – but she just has more important things to tend to, as well.

She’s not exactly going to say that, though, so when she catches Morgan smirking at the look on her face, she forces herself to smile.

Saturday morning, Max creeps out of her dad’s bedroom wearing one of his old t-shirts and a pair of basketball shorts she found in his closet. She thought about having a shower but decided against it – firstly because she’s too lazy to figure out how the shower in his bathroom works, and secondly because she really wants a bowl of the cereal that she spotted on top of the fridge last night. She pads slowly through the wide, empty hallways, her socked feet thumping softly against the floor, and the kitchen door creaks open as she walks inside, yawning.

Unfortunately for her, she didn’t get a lot of sleep. It’s kind of hard to do so when you’re in some supernatural underground warehouse surrounded by vampires and one of them plays music very loud and very late at night.

“Good morning,” Nat says. She’s sitting at the table with a cup of tea and a book open in front of her – the book looks old. Looks ancient. If she has access to books that look so ancient, then how old is Nat? Max can’t ask that, right? Dad’s told her that it’s rude to ask women how old they are - does that count for vampires, too?

She clears her throat when she realizes that she hasn’t answered yet.

“Good morning,” she replies, tiptoeing over to the table and tucking her hair behind her ear before pushing her glasses higher up her nose. “Can I – uh, have some cereal?”

Nat laughs gently. “Of course,” she answers. “I bought it just for you – the others don’t eat human food very often.”

‘Human’. It feels weird to hear them refer to her as a human. She knows they aren’t humans, of course, at least not anymore, but – they look like humans and sound like humans. She hasn’t even seen a fang yet! (Though she’s not sure whether or not she wants to.) “Oh.” She nods, blushing. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Max can feel Nat watching her as she heads for the fridge, standing on her tiptoes to grab the cereal box. “Does Farah have any plans for you today?”

“She does. Well, I think she does – she said so last night, anyway, when I finally went to bed, but I think I might try and catch up some homework this morning first.” Max opens the door of the fridge and reaches for a jug of milk that looks entirely unopened – Nat really did buy everything just for her, apparently. “I have a journal to write for English, a project to work on for science, some equations to work on for math…”

“Sounds like quite a lot of work.”

As if any of her work compares to the work of top-secret agents who also happen to be vampires. Still, Max sighs and nods. “Yeah, it is a lot sometimes,” she agrees. “I don’t mind it most of the time, though. I like school. But I’d rather just… I don’t know, hang out with you guys this weekend…”

Well… she’s a bit worn out from playing pool and darts as of right now, and she doesn’t want to spend any more time with Morgan because Morgan doesn’t seem to like her very much, but she all she needs is to have some coffee and she’ll feel a lot better. (Hopefully.) (Do they even have any coffee here?)

“Who says you can’t do both?” Nat asks. “I’ll be moving to the library soon, if you want to join me.”

Max smiles. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” Nat answers. “There’s plenty of room for you to do your work, and I wouldn’t mind some company.”

“Okay.” Max nods, looking down at her bowl as she pushes the dry cereal around in her milk. “Thanks, Nat. For, uh, you know…” She shrugs, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “Buying me food and stuff.”

“Of course. My pleasure.”

She goes back to her reading, leaving Max alone with her thoughts and her cereal.

Miraculously, in the peace and quiet of the library, Max manages to get almost all of her work finished.

Well, she saves the last part of her science project for tomorrow, but mostly because she starts falling asleep in her chair at about three in the afternoon and heads back to her dad’s room to take a nap that ends up lasting a lot longer than she intended. Nat’s not in the library when she returns at about half past ten, which is a letdown, both because Max genuinely likes her company but mostly because she didn’t get any information about what’s going on in Wayhaven out of her earlier.

She’s hoping she can get some tomorrow. Unless they have to go into the field and kill (or not kill) some more werewolves, in which case she’ll probably be out of luck.

After scarfing down the leftovers of last night’s dinner, she decides to continue her search for Nat anyway, and while she’s leaving the kitchen she comes across Farah in the hallway. She tails Max around the Warehouse for a little while and asks her what feels like a thousand questions – what class her favourite is, what her mom’s like, what she wants to be when she grows up – and while Max wouldn’t have liked answering them a month ago, she does now without even thinking about it. Playing darts and pool with someone for six hours can really help them grow on you, apparently.

They’re on their fifth lap when Farah stops abruptly. “Alright, Max,” she says. “Think I’m gonna head to Morgan’s room and ask her if she wants to play darts!”

Max cringes – she hadn’t realized how bored Farah might be wandering around what’s basically her own house. She doesn’t seem too bothered by it, though. (Is she ever bothered by anything?) “But you can come find me later in the games room if you’re bored, alright?” she continues, smiling widely.

“Okay.” Max smiles. “Thanks, Farah.”

“No problem!” Farah pats her shoulder before she bounces away whistling, and Max considers going with her for a few seconds before she remembers the importance her mission and prepares herself for another several hours of searching for Nat.

She knows that whatever she finds out is probably going to scare the hell – heck – out of her, but she still wants to know – her dad is scared, too, and she doesn’t want him to feel like he’s alone or like he can’t talk to her about it! Which she knows is a silly thing to think, but she can’t help it. She loves her dad – besides, she’ll be much better off if he can prepare her for anything scary that might happen to her, right?

The way his mom didn’t?

She wanders around for a couple minutes before she can hear the sounds of someone grunting and yelling in the distance, and she starts running towards the sound before she can question it. She doesn’t find any rabid werewolves or anything, though, which she definitely thought she would – just an open set of double doors to her left and someone with a blonde ponytail punching mannequins inside.

Ava.

Max frowns immediately. She didn’t want to see Ava this weekend – out of all the Unit, she’s Max’s least favourite. She dislikes Ava more than Morgan, and considering that Morgan personally doesn’t like Max, either, that’s saying something. She steels herself to run back the way she came when Ava glances over at her.

“Oh.” Her eyebrows furrow slightly. “Maxine.”

Staring at her, Max nods politely. “Ava.”

And then, without thinking about it, she steps through the open doorway into the room, glancing around curiously.

It looks sort of like a school gymnasium, only with lower-hanging ceilings and an army of dummies and mannequins that they definitely, definitely don’t have at her school. The lights are brighter in here than they are in the hallway, and after nearly an hour of wandering through the Warehouse, she half-heartedly raises a hand to shield her eyes, lips pursed.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“Training,” Ava answers.

Training.

Maybe she’s training so that next time some bloodthirsty freak tracks Max’s dad down, Ava won’t let him get taken again. She’s the one who was with him when Murphy snatched him, after all. Max hasn’t forgotten that.

(Dad says that Ava couldn’t have saved him, that something had happened to her before they escaped his apartment, but Max doesn’t care. Her dad matters more than anything.)

“Have you been avoiding me?” Max asks.

Ava’s eyes widen in surprise before she clears her throat and shakes her head. “I haven’t,” she answers. “I had Agency work to tend to today.”

Max toes a crack in the floor with the tip of her shoe. “You didn’t come with the others to pick me up yesterday.”

“I had work to do then, as well.”

“Mmhmm.”

Ava turns back to the dummy, shaking her bandaged hands out before curling them into fists again. “I won’t be able to entertain you, if that’s what you’re looking for,” she says, reaching out to hit the mannequin so hard that it nearly topples over. “I’m sure you could find something to do with one of the other agents.”

“Do you train a lot?”

Max doesn’t know if she’s asking to pester Ava or if she’s genuinely curious. Probably a little bit of both.

“Yes,” Ava answers. It doesn’t sound like she’s going to say any more than that, but Dad has always said that she’s not very talkative. (He says it with a smile, though, which Max doesn’t understand at all.)

“So, you’re gonna keep my dad safe from whatever it is that’s been going on lately?”

Across the room, Ava tenses. It’s visible enough for Max to notice.

“What has he told you?”

Of course, Max’s first instinct is to be honest with her and say “nothing”, but when the realization that she stopped her herself from getting any sort of information hits her, she nearly kicks herself for it.

“Good,” Ava says. “You don’t need to concern yourself with Agency business.”

Max frowns. “I do if I want to keep my dad safe.” Because you might not, she thinks, but she doesn’t say it.

“That’s not your job, Maxine.” Ava says her name like she knows her, and Max doesn’t like it one bit. “I think Ed- I think your father would agree with me on that.”

“But it’s not fair!” she says. “If I’m in danger, too, don’t I deserve to know?”

“That is not my choice.”

Max curls her hands into fists at her sides. If she were in cartoon, she knows for a fact that she’d have steam coming out of her ears. Her dad would say she’s being unreasonable for pinning what happened with Murphy on Ava, but – she got her stubbornness from him, so he’s really the one to blame. Him and Ava and whoever else in the world lets her dad get hurt.

“Fine,” Max says. “But you better keep me safe, then, too, or my dad will never forgive you.”

She swears she can hear Ava open her mouth to say something behind her, but she’s turning on her heel and stomping down the hallway before the vampire can get a word out. When she reaches her dad’s room, she nearly slams the door but stops herself at the last second and closes it slowly, taking deep breaths in and out through her nose so she doesn’t get too wound up.

All she can hope is that Ava doesn’t tell Dad about their conversation. As much as she loves him, she doesn’t love being scolded.

To Max’s relief, Ava doesn’t tell Dad. (At least she hasn’t told him yet.)

She tells Rebecca, instead.

Max is packing her stuff up at the end of the day on Sunday when she hears a knock at the door. At first she thinks it’s her dad – by now, he should be on his way to the Warehouse to pick her up – but when she hurries over to open the door, she sees her grandmother standing there on the other side, instead.

Rebecca smiles kindly. “Maxine,” she says. “May I come in?”

They’ve only seen each other once or twice since their first meeting. She’s another one of the people that Max has a grudge against for how they’ve treated her dad, except this time he seems to hold the same grudge, too.

Still, Rebecca let Max stay the whole weekend and didn’t come to see her until now. She can’t exactly say no.

Max moves to the side and opens the door even further while Rebecca steps into the room, scanning the space with sad eyes. Max guesses from the way she’s acting that she probably hasn’t been in this room much before, at least not long enough to get a good look at everything. Max feels defensive about it for her dad’s sake – this is his space, after all, and he’s not here to decide whether or not he wanted Rebecca to come inside – so she relaxes when Rebecca turns to her again.

“I’ve been meaning to come see you,” she says, her voice soft and tentative. “I’m afraid I’ve just been rather busy this weekend.”

Busy. Max nearly snorts at that, but she doesn’t.

“Agent du Mortain talked to me earlier,” Rebecca continues. “About your conversation with her yesterday.”

Max’s eyes widen in surprise. “I didn’t say anything bad to her, I promise!”

Her grandmother smiles. “I know you didn’t,” she says. “She didn’t say that you did. Only that you expressed a concern for Ed- for your father’s safety. And I wanted to assure you that the Agency is doing everything we can to keep him safe.”

“So he won’t get kidnapped again? Or get strapped to a bed by some bloodthirsty weirdo?”

“He told you that, did he?”

“Yeah. He tells me everything.” Max crosses her arms over her chest. “He doesn’t treat me like a kid the way everyone else does.”

“Well… I suppose that’s fair.” Rebecca presses her lips together. “As long as you haven’t told anyone…?”

“Of course not!” Who would she tell? The girls in her class would never believe her. Even if she came to school with a vampire bite on her neck or carrying a werewolf tooth, they would probably just say that she was faking it to impress the boys in their class.

“Good.” Rebecca nods. “In any case, Maxine, I just came by to promise you that I, personally, will do everything I can to keep your father safe, as will the Unit. Your father – as well as you and your mother – are all under our very close protection. What happened with Murphy…” She clenches her jaw the way Dad does when he’s upset. Max’s heart hurts at the sight. “It will not happen again. I promise.”

“You can’t abandon him.”

Rebecca seems surprised by how firmly Max says it, but she responds with nothing more than a tight nod. “I won’t. I would die before I let that happen.”

Despite that, Max’s first instinct is not to believe her. After everything her dad said about Rebecca, how much can they trust her, really? Even if she’s trying now, it doesn’t make up for everything she missed when Dad was a kid, nor does it make up for the fact that no one will tell Max what’s going on even though she might be in danger, too. But the determination in Rebecca’s words, in her eyes… Max’s seen the same look in her dad’s eyes a million times. Her dad, who she loves to the ends of Earth and trusts more than anyone.

So, in the end, Max can’t help but trust Rebecca, too. Her and the team, even Ava. She just hopes that none of them do anything to break that trust, because after spending eight hours playing darts this weekend, she has pretty good aim.

It’s ten o’clock when Dad and Max get back to his apartment that night.

His car stalled on his way back to Wayhaven – she knew something bad was going to happen! – but thankfully he was close enough to town that he could call someone to tow him back in. They’ve borrowed an Agency van for a couple days that he’ll drive her to school with tomorrow, and as she sits on the counter beside him and watches him put dinner together, she tells him that he should just buy it from the Agency.

“Maybe you’ll get a discount,” she muses, leaning back against the cabinet. “Or maybe if one of the werewolf corpses left a stain –“

“Max!”

“What?”

“They don’t –“ He sighs in exasperation. “That’s not what the vans are for.”

“Sure it’s not.”

Dad laughs. Max can always trust him to laugh at her jokes. She can trust him with anything. She turns to look at him and watches him pour pancake batter into the pan, gnawing on the inside of her cheek.

“Dad?”

“Mmm?”

“Don’t get kidnapped by someone like Murphy again, okay?”

He glances up at her, face softening. “I won’t,” he says. “I promise.”

She believes him. Even if she doesn’t believe anyone else, she believes him, no matter what.

#I HOPE YOU ENJOY pleading emoji #this was so fun i missed writing for you KING.....................#i love miss maxine also i hope i did her justice #my writing #my commissions

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eyeofmud · 4 years

Text

commission for @dauntless-necromancer thank you so much for commissioning me! genre: pwp rating: e wc: 1021

commission info

There isn’t a sky above the home Morrigan brings him to but beautiful green starlight falls on her skin without care for what is and what isn’t. It's been a year of waiting, a year of searching, yearning. Elrich runs a hand over Morrigan’s shoulder slowly sliding the shawl down her arm. Maker has he missed the sight of her bare skin, the warm scent of forest leaves in her hair, the gentle sigh his touch teases from her lips.

Missed her. All of her.

Home through a mirror, Elrich had taken her hand and followed her inside and held his breath at the magic tucked away in a crib. Breathed her in when she walked him backwards to the bedroom. Her smile is delicate now, golden eyes drinking him. It’s been a year for her too.

Elrich slips her shawl off completely, unties the cords holding her breast band in place. Undresses her without hurry because they don’t have to say goodbye this time. They have time to savor. Time to rediscover. Morrigan undresses him in the same manner, her hands tenderly lingering in the dark.

Fingertips press into his skin as if she missed him too. Her lips on his ear, down his jaw, smearing her purple lipstick like bruises in the shape of kisses. Elrich holds her to him, maps the shape of her under him after so long from his side. A lingering exploration. He follows the path of his hands with his lips tracing a year apart in the new scars and stretch marks on her skin.

Lowering themselves to the bed proper. Maroon sheets and warm furs pushed down to the footboard. Soft in every sense.

Gentle touches, fleeting kisses. Morrigan’s skin jumps under his attention, heart fluttering loudly beneath Elrich’s lips pressing to her chest. Hands curving around her ribs, the ring around his finger the only cool thing about his touch. Green starlight beneath a not there sky. Magic in the arc of Morrigan’s spine when Elrich kisses a path from her collarbone to her hip.

Teasing caresses to the junction of her hip and thigh, Elrich wraps a hand around Morrigan’s thigh and squeezes. Waits for her. Morrigan spreads herself out for him without hesitation, draps a leg over his shoulder and smirks at him.

Maker how he missed her.

Kissing the sensitive skin of her inner thigh Elrich thumbs open her entrance. Circles her clit in a caress before sliding a finger inside. Turns his attention to the breathless noises Morrigan makes when he curls his finger and sucks on her clit.

Relentless desire builds in Elrich’s gut, every dream he’d had for a year now writhing under his hands. Under his tongue. His hips press into the sheets but Elrich stills himself, he can come later right now Morrigan comes first.

First but not her last. Morrigan’s thigh trembles on his shoulder, her heel digging into his back as he flicks his tongue. Undone for him. Elrich twists a second finger inside her and tastes Morrigan’s heartbeat. Slick heat in a shared dark. Morrigan’s cries close into choked off moans and the fire burning under Elrich’s skin ignites.

Her fingers find their way into Elrich’s hair. Nails scratching at his scalp with each swirl of his tongue. Under his hand her hips buck and writhe until Elrich thumbs across her clit and her hand clenches in his hair and both her fingers and her hips relax.

Satisfaction burns along with desire in Elrich’s gut now, a low heat flickering to life. He licks his lips, wet desire lingering in the corners of his mouth and at the edges of his mustache. Morrigan tugs at his hair and he follows her direction, lets her pull him up to meet his lips in a searing kiss.

Morrigan’s hand cups his cheek shakily, her thumb resting below the scars of his eye. Kisses tasting of desire. For the first time in a year Elrich remembers the shape of his name on her lips.

Heat coils under his skin, winds tight through him. And with only a hint in the curl of her leg around his waist Morrigan flips them over so she’s hovering over him.

This time her smirk sets him ablaze. Morrigan sits back, thighs bracketing Elrich’s hips, stretches her hands above her towards the heavens they find themselves in. Soft green starlight filters across her flushed skin in an ethereal kaleidoscope, glints on her golden eyes as she sinks down and sits herself fully on his cock. Heat blooming in his chest to match the aching desire.

Breathtaking.

Rocking her hips Morrigan sets the pace and Elrich follows her here as he has every time before. Every time after. Falling into a rhythm together. She lowers her arms in a slow drag of her palms across her skin and Elrich meets her hands at her hips. Her fingers pressing against his ring before tangling them together. Burning together.

Building and building, a fire so bright Elrich can’t look away. Just surrender. Their hips move together in staccato beats in time with their hearts and Elrich’s fingers squeeze around Morrigan’s and he’s been lost since the first time her hand wrapped around his.

But this time they’re lost together.

Their rhythm sputters with Morrigan’s gasp of Elrich’s name and her skin shivers under his hands. Undone for a second time tonight and Elrich isn’t far behind her this time. Breathes her name as his hips buck. Morrigan’s chest heaves with her breaths and she slides off Elrich only to fall into the sheets next to him. Fingertips brushing the smeared lines of lipstick she left earlier.

It’s a quiet thing in the starlight Elrich is starting to believe in. Regaining their breathing, cooling down with tender touches. A reunion of lips and bodies.

Elrich spins the ring Morrigan gave him a lifetime ago around his finger. They don’t have to say goodbye this time. No, this time Elrich kisses Morrigan without fear of the dawn coming. They’ll wake under a sky that isn’t there and can stay in bed in the morning.

#dragon age #dao #morrigan x warden #morrigan #lemon #apostate commissions

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dailyadventureprompts · 4 years

Photo

Villain: The Mirthless Lord

Background: Once a peer of the realm possessed of a loving family and many other privileges, the man who became the Mirthless lord started down his journey to damnation by invoking the ire of the death god. Flush with the hubris of a life full of joy, he felt that the bitter embrace of death had no hold over him, and so scorned the goddess of death on her feast day.

That joy turned to ashes in his mouth as a wasting sickness passed through his estates, killing many, but most specifically subjecting his family to a horrid and wilting death. The mirthless lord watched on, similarly stricken but unable to die even as the flesh rotted off his bones, leaving him as a grief stricken skeleton alone in his plagueracked palace.

As he had denied death, it would be denied to him, his life now a joyless existence free of all the pleasures and happiness he had rejected the god for.

Goals:

The Mirthless Lord has had a long existence since his damnation, and diverts his innumerable days between listless nostalgia and perusing a means of obtaining a final end. Often he will reconstruct scenes from his mortal life, walking old paths or assembling banquets in an attempt to recapture some of his lost joy, only to dissolve into a psychopathic fury when the numbness of his skeletal form prevents him from sampling those pleasures.

A renowned swordsman in life and now possessing an indestructible body, The mirthless lord often acts as a heavy for fiends or necromancers who claim some dominion over death. Though not actually loyal, Mirthless serves as a dauntless minion provided his employer can make good on their word.

Adventure hooks

On the eve of a politically important funeral, the high priest in charge of the grave rights has disappeared. While suspicion grows and rival parties of mourners threaten to come to blows, the mirthless lord begins to torment the priest in hopes of learning the rites necessary to undo the death god’s curse. The party will need to detect the signs of the kidnapping and then search through the temple’s undercroft to find him in time.

in order to prove themselves to the god of death, perhaps to reclaim the spirit of a fallen party member, the group is tasked with hunting down the mirthless lord and putting him to rest.

As an acknowledgement of their achievements, the party have been rewarded with a lordship, a derelict manor house, and its associated lands. After a little snooping they will discover a rumor that the previous two nobles to stay on the estate were gruesomely murdered along with their families. These lands once belonged to the Mirthless Lord, who often returns after years away to deal with squatters and thieves.

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enby-hawke · 2 years

Photo

I was tagged by @alienturnip for WIP Wednesday

It’s Thursday now but time is fake so

This is a commission I’m currently doing for @dauntless-necromancer (you are also being tagged for WIP wednesday)

I will tag @alexiealducsdrawings @hezjena @the-cryptographer @fensyl And anyone who wants to do it feel free to tag me

Aaah @dreadfutures how could I forget you I’m sorry!

#wip wednesday #ask game #I couldn't think of a WIP I'm working on I didn't show in the server stream lol #But I have nothing so you might have seen this

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shoogharashk · 3 years

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30 February 3988

Our story continues! We arrived this morning in the nation of Greentide, in one of their northernmost towns of Port Reice. Upon our arrival, Pog advised us that Sullivan was coming to meet us in person that evening with additional information about one of our leads here. He would meet us at The K’Orc Room, an inn and winery on the cliffs north of town. Sullivan had also paid for lodging there for us for the night.

Port Reice was hidden behind a long key island that buffered the view of the city from the sea. There were low buildings that basically disappeared behind the palm forest on the key, which had an intriguing mixture of families playing on the bayside beach and formidable naval defences including a row of scorpions pointed inland -- presumably to quickly dispatch any enemy vessels that found their way into the bay.

As we docked, Isolt pulled us aside and said that while they are getting used to Garnet’s presence, she and Augmak didn’t trust her to wander yet. Garnet seemed quite disappointed, but agreed to stay in her humanoid form on the ship while the rest of us disembarked. I privately offered to take her along in my pack in her true form, but she refused, saying that she wanted to be trusted and would do as asked.

We disembarked and began to explore the town. A large statue of a human woman ripping a pirate flag in half was explained to me as being of Reice, the town’s namesake and folk hero, who was best known for single-handedly defeating an invasion of over fifty pirates. The dwarf who told me the story didn’t seem to know many details, but I’ll certainly keep my ears open for more information as she sounds quite fascinating. We visited a couple of shops -- the first was Tik Tok’s Timely Arcane Armory offered custom ordering of magical items, with dwarven, gnomish, and goblin craftsmanship and optional delivery by a rather formidable-looking mechanical eagle. The second was a rather shady looking pawn shop run by a fellow called Shylock. He had a number of mysterious items, the majority of which were well out of my price range, but Thea picked up a nice pair of boots that were completely silent on her feet! Will be nice for any sneaking around that needs done. Throckmorton also stopped in there after we did and picked up a small feather token.

Interestingly, the gang of miscreants that gave us trouble in Glory Fall seems to have a presence here. Wanted posters around the town suggest they’ve been responsible for a number of muggings in the area, and showed the same symbol I’d previously noticed on their rings. They are apparently known as the Red Oyster Cult. A reward was offered for a thousand gold pieces in exchange for information leading to an arrest, so we will have to see if we see any further signs of them here.

As sunset approached, we made our way towards The K’Orc Room. A main kitchen/tavern building in the front of the property was dwarfed by the large outdoor bar area in the back with several cabanas and a central bar. Strange lizards whose throat sacs glowed in the dark filled the trees between the tavern and the outdoor area, which fascinated Hyla, and she nearly got her nose bitten off by a lizard who was not amused by her staring and note-taking. I picked up a glass of wine from the bar and was quickly distracted by the band performing.

The band called themselves the Three Scales, and they were composed of a high elf playing a gold-stringed fiddle, a rock gnome playing a little copper finger-harp, and a dwarf with a sparkling silver drum. Their instruments and clothes were clearly quite fine and ornate, which initially caught my eye from across the bar before I could even properly hear them. But when I could. Oh, when I could. My dear friend. They were singing. In. Draconic. I have NEVER heard another bard do this, and their approximation of dragonsong was quite remarkable for beings without the appropriate physiology. I was utterly captivated, and completely lost track of time for a while until well after dark when I saw Pog and Sullivan making their way into the bar.

The two were accompanied by a halfling woman, and I heard a brief discussion in which the woman (who Sullivan called Bettencourt) thanked him for alerting her to information about a fugitive who was hiding in their town, and said she’d keep his apartment under watch in case he returns. She quickly departed without joining our table, and Sullivan sat down at the cabana we had selected. He inquired about our well-being, and about the incident in Marspeck with the necromancer. We gave him a quick synopsis, and him being a well-connected fellow, I asked if he’d heard of the Apocryphage, the group that the necromancer had aspired to join. He advised he hadn’t, which was a disappointment, but hopefully we will hear no more of them regardless.

Sullivan advised us that he’d learned more about Amell Maddock, the smuggler mentioned in Clever’s diaries. He was a former law officer in Emryn, and had fled his post years ago to join his “found family” here. He used his former skills and contacts to become a smuggler and information broker here. He is a wanted man back in Emryn. He said while he had found this information while digging into the name, he didn’t have any further information on Amell’s current location.

Our mission, he said, remains the same. Track down the location of the Fountain of Youth mentioned in Clever’s journals, and bring back whatever we can -- its location, more of the water, evidence of it or even of what causes the fountain’s power. It was during this discussion that he directed our attention back to the bards. They were singing, still in Draconic, but now a song that spoke of the Fountain -- a wellspring in a cave behind a waterfall, where eternal youth was granted for a terrible price. He then left us to our evening, saying he’d be staying at the local embassy if we needed him for anything.

As the band wrapped up their performance and were packing up for the evening, before we turned in for the night, I introduced myself and (quite embarrassingly) gushed for a moment about the rarity of encountering fellow speakers of my native tongue. The elf was called Pascal, the gnome Cabarot, and the dwarf Mogrem. They said they’d learned from a male copper dragon who had stayed at their bard college for a year, and they had learned the song about the Fountain there. While they assured me that it is quite real, and is a place where seekers of the fountain face great trials and must test their resolve against the water itself or never be heard from again, they admitted that they’d never actually heard of anyone coming back from seeking it. However, they also were confident that the fountain was located just upriver from this very town, deep in the jungles and along the cliffs by the River Dauntless. They mentioned several adventurers, after hearing their song, had gone in search of the Fountain and not returned.

Throckmorton made a quick trip back into town to check the local historical records, and did find a pattern of a number of adventurers (not many, maybe half a dozen in the last century, though three were in the last 20 years or so) which had stayed at the K’Orc Room, and who had later disappeared into the forests upriver and never been heard from again.

This will certainly be worth investigating in the morning. However, it is nearly midnight and time for rest. We will continue our search at sunrise.

-NS

#episode 4

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