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whimperwoods · 2 years

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Arms of the Enemy (D&D Whump) - 18

Hi guys, I’m not dead, just been doing other stuff. Also there was a lot I knew I wanted to happen with this one so it took a bit to get it to go.

There is a masterpost for this series, which can be found here.

Castor is a warlock, in service to the Great Old One and the Dark Emperor, in that order. Ed is a fighter, a knight and battle master in the service of the True King of Lumenea. They have always been enemies. Away from it all, they might be able to become something else. Maybe even friends.

(This time: Travel continues to be a nerve-wracking experience.)

tw: aftermath of torture, tw: mind reading, tw: captivity, tw: scars, tw: something about mindmelding, tw: vague presence of fictional deities

taglist: @redwingedwhump, @fanastywhump, @insanitywishes @bluebadgerwhump,@burtlederp, @newandfiguringitout, @kawhump , @extrabitterbrain, @kixngiggles, @whumpitywhumpwhump

***************

Castor slept poorly, waking frequently, but at least Ed seemed to be sleeping well, a dead, lax weight against his chest. Dawn announced itself with a sudden pulse of warmth in the amulet he’d held onto to reassure himself that they only needed to make it to the day. The light of the magic rushing back into it was faint, but with the sun nowhere near high enough for its light to make it down through the well above them, it was bright enough to make him nervous. Their captor would wake up soon.

Unwilling to jostle any of Ed’s injuries, Castor took a slow but deep breath, centering himself before he prodded Ed with his mind instead.

The knight shifted in his sleep, his brow furrowing as he snuggled up harder against Castor. He didn’t wake. Castor sighed, rearranging himself carefully until he could get a hand over Ed’s mouth before he prodded at a less injured spot on Ed’s shoulder.

Ed’s first sound of pain was muffled, but the hand over his mouth scared him. His eyes widened and Castor could feel a pulse of fear from him.

<<It’s just me,>> he said gently, letting go of Ed’s mouth only after he felt him put the pieces together and open his mind up, irritation washing through their connection for a moment before fading.

Now that Ed was awake, the morning seemed even more urgent, somehow. Ed sat up slowly, almost certainly as much from pain as a desire to be quiet.

<<It’s dawn,” he explained, grabbing Ed’s hand and pressing the amulet into the man’s palm, even though both the warmth and the light had faded. <<It’s magic again. We can plane shift away.>>

Ed still seemed groggy, but nodded. <<Where are we going?>>

Castor tried to keep his voice calm, to pretend he knew the answer. <<This was the safest plane I could think of. I think the only place we can go from here is back home. The material plane. We don’t have to go back in the same place we left from.>>

*******

Breathe, Ed thought, Keep breathing. Stay calm.

<<Where on the material plane?>> he asked.

It was only a moment later, as Castor averted his eyes, that Ed realized there wasn’t an answer. Castor didn’t know. He felt stupid. Why should he have expected anything else?

This could be good. It could mean he could go home. Or it could mean nothing. Anything.

He was less confused now than he’d been before, when Castor came for him. He was less frightened. If Castor meant to torture him - well, there wasn’t much point even arguing against it. He didn’t. He wouldn’t. He was just an idiot. Impulsive.

Ed’s mind might as well have been Castor’s, or maybe the other way around, but either way, it felt empty. Hollow.

<> Castor answered quietly. <> Castor seemed to lose the words, but while Ed’s mind (both of their minds?) felt empty, his chest didn’t.

<<You’re afraid, too,>> Ed said, <<Afraid I’ll betray you.>>

The sorrow wracking his chest was probably his own. Did Castor think he didn’t know how much he owed him?

Castor shook his head. <> he waved at Ed’s thigh, where the old burn scars were. <>

Ed shook his head as if that would be a distraction, as if the conversation they were having had anything to do with words. He pushed hard on their connection, trying to force himself into Castor’s mind enough to just stop talking at all.

<<You’re lying.>>

<<Not about that last part,>> Castor said, not bothering to pretend Ed was wrong, but not letting him any farther in, either.

<<You’ve been in my head as much as I’ve been in yours,>> Ed snapped, backing off, <<You know I can’t. Not - like that.>>

Now he sounded like Castor, last night. “Like that.” What did that even mean? He snorted through his nose. <<I’m afraid I’ll choose wrong.>> Ed continued, his thoughts firm. <<But before that, I was afraid you would, so I guess it doesn’t matter.>>

There was a lot he didn’t say, but his emotions were still all stirred up. He was afraid, but not as much as he was tired. Tired to his soul. Tired like crying, back when he was a child, the kind of crying after dark that grown-ups said was fear of the dark, as if they couldn’t remember what it was to just be little, and worn down, and out of reserves. It might have been sadness, but he couldn’t be sure even of that.

His mind was empty. Echoing. Maybe it was just early. Maybe he wasn’t awake yet. Maybe he was dying, now that he didn’t have to fight so hard. So hard for what? How could he have slept so well and still feel so useless, so half asleep? It wasn’t even the pain, really. It was just - something. Something like the days before, in the basement. He couldn’t remember if the feeling had been before he told or after. He couldn’t remember when it was there and when it wasn’t.

His heart answered for him, his emotions still swirling and his mind still empty. <<We’ll find my sister,>> he said, <<The temple. They can’t ->> The words escaped him. <<They’re the temple,>> he concluded.

He could feel Castor wanting to ask which temple, or maybe which god. But then he didn’t. He just agreed.

********

Castor’s heart raced as he and Ed activated the amulet. They shouldn’t be able to do it together, not even with it pressed between their hands like this, and he knew as the world spun around them that whatever it meant to do this together was something he couldn’t come back from.

Castor felt the amulet’s magic drawing on his own attention and focus, but the destination was in Ed’s head, clear as day, a place as much felt as seen, and then they were tumbling into it, landing on the ground surrounded by wheat, both of them on their hands and knees.

Ed cried out in pain, but it wasn’t a new injury, just the jostling of their landing. Castor knew he shouldn’t know that without checking. He cursed lightly under his breath.

His patron’s voice was suddenly present, reconnecting faster and stronger now that Castor was back on the plane where he belonged. <<Ssssssomeone meddlessssss.>>

It was a relief to be closer to the source of his magic, but only a little bit.

<<At least the fields are still here.>> Ed said into Castor’s mind, as if he couldn’t hear Castor’s master here. That was - something, at least.

<<Wwwe will not ttttalk to him right nnnnnow,>> his patron informed him. <<He’sssss the onnnne who - invitessss Her.>>

<<Her?>> he asked.

<<Godddddddess,>> his master commented in distaste as he drew closer, giving Castor the old familiar feeling of something not-quite-him inhabiting the space behind one eye.

Whispering out loud to try to keep the conversations straight, he turned to Ed. “Who did you say we were going to a temple of?”

Ed laughed, without bitterness for the first time, but for only a moment before everything else covered the laughter over, dampening it to nothing. “Oh,” he said, “I forgot about talking. Chauntea. She’s-”

Castor nodded. “Agriculture.”

“Agriculture,” Ed repeated, but then kept going. “Life. Crops. New growth. Control. I dunno. Lots of stuff. Nature but - in rows.”

<<Sssshe does not thhhhhink she issssss the law,>> his patron supplied, sounding skeptical. <<She anddddd her kkkind never do. Exccccept the onesssss who say it.>>

<<Nature in rows,>> Castor answered thoughtfully.

<<Mmmmmeddling.>> his patron concluded.

“I, um-” Castor said to Ed, “Not that it matters, but when you said they were the temple, are you - I mean - Do you have -” He blew out through his lips, struggling for the words. “Are you. You know. Connected?”

“My sister is, uh - a Sister. There. Here. At the temple. But they’ll - I mean, they’re clerics. And she’d never hurt someone who helped me. So it’s - you’ll be safe either way. Both ways.”

<<Ttttttell her ttttttttto leave.>>

“And that’s your only connection?” Castor pressed. “You’re not - not connected yourself?”

Ed’s mind moved in toward his, and Castor’s patron twitched backward in his head, startled. <<Chhhheating.>>

Castor felt trapped, like he was trapped between both other minds.

“What about your magic?” he blurted, hoping if he were a little more clear, Ed would back off.

“Oh,” Ed said, retreating. Castor breathed more easily, relaxing. “No, that’s - I mean. It was only a couple of cantrips.”

Castor wrinkled his nose skeptically. “That thing you did with Amara in the castle was definitely a spell spell.”

Ed snorted. “Ok, but that’s one spell. It’s not like it’s anything. I just learned a little from my sister. And if you tell anybody I’ll kill you.”

The last part had no venom, like he said it out of habit and didn’t mean it.

“Well, did you tell Chauntea that?” Castor asked, B”ecause my patron says - uh.”

His patron hissed in disapproval in his head.

“My patron suggested otherwise,” he finished, hoping Ed hadn’t noticed him wince at his patron’s displeasure.

All of a sudden, a wall went up between them, completely. He didn’t know what was in Ed’s head, at all. He didn’t like it.

<<Stop that, I’m trying to listen to him,>> he said to his patron, <<You said he was a gift.>>

<> the voice replied. But then Ed was there again, on the edge of Castor’s senses, and where before Ed’s presence had felt strangely light, a little bit of hope mixed in with the usual mess, now it was empty again, ringing with it, and he couldn’t tell why Ed’s feelings had gone hollow.

<<Telllllll him to mmmmake her llllllleave us alone.>>

Castor couldn’t, and he didn’t know why. Instead he pushed his thoughts outward, trying to figure out prayer on his own. <<Miss Chauntea - could you give us some space? I’ll - I’ll bring Ed to you like he wants. Or your temple.>>

He didn’t get an answer, not that he could hear like he could his patron, but a gentle breeze did blow over the two of them. Then something was gone that had been in the air around them, something he hadn’t even realized was there, and Ed’s emptiness rang even louder.

<That’ssssss not what Iiiiiii meant.>>

<<Sorry. I’ll, uh - I can check in later? Take him to the temple and then sneak out?>>

It was strange to hear a disembodied voice sigh, no matter how many times it happened.

<<Verrrrry well. But rememmmmmber whose conttttract you signed.>>

Castor nodded, then realized it probably looked odd to Ed, since the knight hadn’t been able to hear the other conversation going on.

He looked over at Ed and the man was looking down and away, studying his own knees.

Well, that was - something. Castor had given up trying to keep his head above water. If all of this was a little beyond him, he could live with that.

“Alright,” he said, trying to force a little cheer into his voice, “Let’s get going, then. You’ll have to tell me how to get us to the temple.”

#castor and ed #whump #fantasy whump #d&d whump #aftermath of torture #aftermath of captivity #emotional whump #maybe?#also kind of plot #why do I have plot?#how did I allow this to happen to me?#anyway might or might not post more soon #might post more late instead

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whimperwoods · 2 years

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Oswin - Fog and Vertigo

Part 9! Oswin Greystone is a wizard, a con man, and, now, a warlock’s pet. He needs to find a way out of it.

tw: pet whump, tw: non-sexual nudity (he’s technically in his underwear), tw: abuse, tw: abuse by a representative of the law, tw: fantasy cops, tw: threats, tw: mental fog, tw: panic attacks, tw: dizziness, tw: vertigo, tw: vomit mention, kind of nothing happens, but kind of something does

There’s a masterpost now!

Taglist: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @starnight-whump

****

Oswin could barely believe his luck as his master’s booted feet retreated down the stairs. His jaw still ached faintly from the captain’s tight grip on it and he could hear that voice telling him, low and growling, exactly what would happen to him if he made a noise this time. He’d started shaking and he knew he’d never stop if he couldn’t get the images his master had painted back out of his head.

He waited, keeping his ears open and focusing on what he could hear in the hope that it might drive the thoughts away and settle his racing heart.

The sounds were the same as yesterday, the low hum of men talking and laughing downstairs with no idea he was here. It was hard to imagine why his master thought they would care, given how little they’d seemed to care about him when he was in their dungeon instead of their attic, but that was another thought that didn’t help.

He focused on breathing. He’d been left collared, but with his mouth uncovered. That, at least, he could live with. For now, he could live with that, and for now he needed not to think about what it meant to be able to live with it. He could calm down. He would calm down.

When he felt confident that the man wouldn’t return any time soon, he rose hesitantly to his feet, biting back a curse as straightening his battered knees sent pain shooting through him.

He felt weak and wobbly, but standing at all had been beyond him not so long ago, so he let himself stand still and breathe and wait for the uncertainty to pass, holding his arms out for balance like a toddler. Gods, what was he? How had he been one thing three days ago and become another so fast?

Stumbling over to his master’s desk was more instinct than strategy. It was solid, heavy, and the right height to help him keep upright. Once he was there, though, there was plenty to catch his eye. He moved some papers off of a map of the city, labeled with a set of symbols he couldn’t make heads or tails out of.

Swaying on his feet, he started rifling through the papers instead, and then the drawers, hoping for anything that jumped out as useful. He could tell he wasn’t thinking straight, that the fear and pain were clouding over his mind, but he forced himself to focus. If nothing else, he would focus his eyes on the pages. If nothing else, he would read the words enough times to know what they were about, generally. If nothing else, he would decide if the things were useful.

It was all slow, too slow, painfully slow, and he couldn’t stand for that long, sinking into his master’s chair almost without noticing.

He barely heard his master’s feet on the steps before the man arrived, and even with the spike of terror that hit him, his mind was too slow to react, and he had time to fling himself from the chair and onto the floor, but not the time to fix the papers that scattered with him.

“Wizard,” his master barked, the anger in his voice making Oswin curl up into himself on the ground. “Were you going through my things?”

Oswin’s mouth went dry, and the fog in his brain rose up to silence him, his mind too muffled to answer.

As his master’s booted feet came closer, it was all he could do to stammer out the truth - “Yes!”

The feet stopped, and Oswin didn’t have the courage to look up.

“What did you say?” the man asked, an edge of danger in his voice.

“Yes, master,” Oswin said, his voice so soft it almost gave out.

“And did I give you permission to go through my things?”

“No, master.”

Blank. Empty. Howling. Why wasn’t his brain more useful? Why couldn’t he think? Oswin realized he was breathing fast, too fast, fast enough to make his empty, foggy head start spinning on its axis. He pressed his forehead to the floor, hard, in the hope that it might stop the spinning.

His master’s feet were moving again, but even if he’d been fast enough to think of running, he couldn’t have known which way was away. He gasped for air, losing himself to the way the world reeled around him.

The quiet thud of his master’s knees landing on the floor beside him made Oswin flinch away, even as he struggled to make sense of it. A huge hand wrapped around the back of his neck, squeezing in a vague threat he felt more than he understood.

He looked up into his master’s eyes, unable to keep his own locked into the cold brown ones that seemed to spin along with the rest of the world, dizzying and impossible.

All of a sudden, his master released the back of his neck and felt his forehead instead.

“You’re not feverish,” he said, “Pull yourself together.”

The shove that sent Oswin sprawling was almost gentle, compared to most of what had come before it, and Oswin laid his head back down on the floor, trying to find words around his panting breaths. “Th-thank you, master.”

“The next time you touch something that isn’t yours without permission, I’ll crush your fingers under my boot.”

Oswin nodded, the motion making the vertigo worse. His chest hurt. Had his master done something to make his chest hurt? But no, that was him. His lungs. His heart. He felt like he’d messed up a lightning spell, like the energy running though him was too much, too fast, too dangerous.

The toe of his master’s boot pushed his chin away from his chest, and Oswin forced himself to look up at the man again, even as everything in front of his eyes continued to whirl.

“If you can look at things for yourself, you can look at them for me. Stand up.”

No. No, that wasn’t possible. For a moment Oswin didn’t move, but then his master’s face shifted, darkening, and Oswin fought his way through the spinning of the world and figured out how to move.

The floor was definitely down. The floor was down. He rolled onto his hands an knees, which meant his hands and knees were down and his head and back were up. He felt his stomach twist, but the good thing about not having eaten since yesterday was that there was nothing in there to rebel against the pain that still spiked with every twist of his back or the spinning of the world.

When he leaned back, onto just his knees, the spinning got worse, and he had to close his eyes.

His master grunted, displeased. “I said stand, pet.”

Oswin couldn’t nod. Couldn’t speak. He knew which way was which, as long as he didn’t think too hard about the spinning, as long as he didn’t try to look. He struggled to his feet, swaying as soon as he was upright.

His knees didn’t feel any better this time, but what was more pressing was that he could feel the world swinging around him, even with his eyes closed. He half-crouched, trying to give himself a wider base to keep from falling over.

Then his master’s hand was on his chin again, pulling Oswin’s face to tilt up towards his own. “Open your eyes.”

Oswin did, looking straight into those cold eyes, and even as he continued to feel everything whirl, whirl, whirl without stopping, his master’s eyes stayed perfectly steady.

Oswin reached up and grabbed his master’s forearm, moving on instinct before he could think about what he was doing.

“P-please Sir,” No. Wrong. Oswin took in a deep, shuddering breath and tried again, “Please, Master, make it stop!”

His voice sounded afraid, even more than he expected. Even more than he felt, because even the fear seemed blurry beneath the vertigo, like that too was wheeling around him at top speed.

His master sighed. His brow softened, the anger fading. The Captain’s eyes were still cold, still mean, but he was less dangerous now, had to be less dangerous when he wasn’t angry. Oswin started tearing up, his legs still shaking and his grip on his master’s arm still desperate.

His master’s other hand cupped his cheek, moving his face more gently this time.

“Make what stop, wizard? What have you done to yourself?”

“The spinning, master,” Oswin answered quietly. “Everything is spinning.”

The Captain scoffed, letting go of Oswin’s face with a little shove that, disoriented as he was, meant Oswin could only stay upright by closing his eyes again and clinging more tightly to the man’s arm.

“Lie down,” his master said, sounding vaguely disgusted. “You’ll look at things for me later. Get some rest.” He muttered something under his breath that Oswin only half-heard. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

It was a relief to let go of his master’s arm, as much as it made him feel unmoored in the time it took him to get carefully from his feet to the ground.

Everything still spun, but the pressure of the ground against his side was reassuring, more reassuring than being balanced on his feet.

“I’m going to leave some bread,” his master sad, “Don’t eat it until the spinning stops. If you vomit, I’ll make you lick it up.”

Oswin couldn’t bear to think of either the promise or the threat. Instead, he focused on the darkness inside his eyelids and tried, again, to get ahold of himself. His master’s footsteps sounded impossibly regular, descending the stairs, but when they were gone the world seemed even more impossible, somehow.

Everything was still spinning when he fell asleep, too exhausted for even the sense that he was about to fall to keep his frazzled nerves from giving out.

#fantasy whump #whump #pet whump #d&d wump #panic attacks tw #dizziness tw #threats tw #police brutality tw #fantasy police tw #oswin series #emeto mention #emeto tw #our boy is not doing great #give him some more days and he'll be able to make decisions again

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whimperwoods · 2 years

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Part 16 of Anna and Gozukk

Is this a time jump that I see before me, its handle toward my hand? Maybe! The group sets out for the oasis.

The masterpost is here and includes a cheat sheet with character names/relationships.

tw: past slavery (series), tw: past abuse (series), tw: PTSD, tw: panic attack, tw: flashbacks, tw: emotional whump

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Tag list: @redwingedwhump, @nine-tailed-whump, @thehurtsandthecomfurts @kixngiggles, @bluebadgerwhump, @dragonheart905, @carolinethedragon, @whumpzone, @newbornwhumperfly, @cupcakes-and-pain, @much-ado-about-whumping, @winedark-whump

****

As the cart rolled along, Anna’s breath caught in her throat, caught in her throat, caught in her throat, until every breath was a sharp and sudden gasp, forcing air into her lungs by sheer effort. Gozukk nudged the side of her knee, offering her a hand, palm up, to hold as he kept the reins in the other. She grabbed desperately for the open hand, taking it in both of hers, and he squeezed back reassuringly.

The clopping of hooves and clattering of wheels were deafening, awful, shattering, vibrating through her until she was certain that if she’d been brave enough to eat breakfast this morning, instead of only pretending, she would have thrown it up.

Gozukk ran his thumb along one of her hands, where he could reach, but her head was still full with the noise of the cart, of being in a cart again, of rattling vibrations and jostling and oh gods, oh gods.

“Do you need to take a break?”

By the time she made sense of Gozukk’s words, she knew it was too late to pretend she didn’t, too late to pretend she’d been thinking about the question instead of barely hearing what it was. She didn’t know when she’d pulled his hand up against her and hunched over it, like a child hugging a favorite doll, but now the cart was slowing, stopping, stopped, and Gozukk wrapped his other arm around her, letting her rearrange half instinctively to curl up against him.

It was only then that she started crying, right there on the front bench of the cart, not even in the back where she’d been - been before - before - when -

A sob wracked her body, sharp and painful, and then there were voices from the cart, voices she couldn’t identify, couldn’t follow, voices that didn’t sound angry, but that wasn’t - that couldn’t -

She gagged, even with nothing in her stomach to throw up, and Gozukk scooped her up, hesitant until she wrapped her arms around his neck, and climbed down off the cart to set her back on firm ground almost before she realized she’d left it.

“Miss Anna, are you-”

Gozukk interrupted Jak before he could get the rest of the question out. “Make sure those reins are secured, please. And help the ladies down, if they want a break.”

Anna’s fingers were tangled in the front of Gozukk’s shirt, and she didn’t know when or how they’d gotten there. She was kneeling - they were kneeling - and her face was pressed to his shoulder and - oh. Oh. He was breathing slowly, steadily, purposefully slow, because it was slower now than it had been before, and his arms were still around her.

As she started timing her breaths to his, calming down, he let go of her with one arm and ran his fingers gently through her hair, lightly brushing against her temple.

There were light footsteps moving behind them, but then the light feet were joined by a heavier set, and a slower one, and one accompanied by the soft thumps of a cane.

Kagnu, the woman she’d just met this morning, loomed over her and Gozukk as she cleared her throat. “I can drive, if it’s better for her to have - help.” The pause was kind, not bitter, and Anna still felt a wave of cold terror run through her as she realized she didn’t know how to refuse being inconvenient, just then.

“You’re a week from that baby at best, and you’ll do no such thing.” Mazogga. Definitely Mazogga. Anna couldn’t even tell if the elder was looking at her, and she found herself blushing, embarrassed to have stopped the whole journey, and only an hour out of camp.

“And when it actually comes, it’ll come.” Kagnu’s voice was gentle, even as she disagreed. “I can do it, Elder. It’s no trouble at all. The aurochs know their own way, so it’s just finding the smoothest path. It might distract me from the jostling.”

Elder Urokka was leaning more heavily on her cane today than she had the first time they’d met, and the rhythm of her footsteps was more halting. “Ah, yes, you’ll have to relieve yourself again while we’re stopped, won’t you? And a few more times, besides, I remember those days. Let her drive, Zogga.”

“Elder Urokka, I’ll thank you to not pretend you’re a midwife just because you’ve had children yourself.”

Urokka laughed, even as Anna shook slightly at what was probably the iciest she’d ever heard Mazogga speak. “And I’ll thank you not to make dire predictions while I’m standing right here, Elder Mazogga. We’re too old to have this argument again.”

“And you’re too old to change your mind?” Mazogga seemed calmer, more resigned.

“Only if you’re too old to change yours.” Urokka’s voice held a smile, and that was at least - was at least - was something.

Kagnu waddled off as Anna got a grip on herself, though Anna couldn’t say whether that was to give her and Gozukk privacy, or to get some privacy for herself.

As she felt herself stabilize, Anna loosened her grip on Gozukk and sat back on her heels, looking down at her knees. “I’m sorry for - I’m sorry,” she said softly, not sure how to put the apology into words.

Jak was hovering behind her, close enough for her to hear him shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Gozukk looked up at him, over Anna’s shoulder. “Jak, why don’t you go get Miss Anna a calm-down cloth and check on the animals while we decide who’s driving?”

“Yeah! Got it!” Jak moved quickly, as always, dashing back to the wagon while Mazogga moved more slowly to stand beside Gozukk and Anna, putting a hand on Anna’s shoulder. It was reassuring, but Anna’s face flamed up in embarrassment. Just because everyone was being kind didn’t mean -

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” she said, half at a whisper.

“The fact that we’re traveling for three purposes doesn’t mean yours doesn’t matter, love.” Mazogga’s voice was matter-of-fact, with none of the mysticism and flair Urokka had when talking about her prophecies, but Anna had learned while they were preparing for the trip that that didn’t mean she’d be any more forthcoming about whatever it was Elder Urokka had seen.

Anna forced herself to smile, and not to acknowledge the squirm in her stomach every time one of the elders made reference to whatever the strange third purpose was. “Thank you, Elder.”

Mazogga squeezed her shoulder. “While Kagnu’s away, how long do you think we have, Rokka? Because from my end, I’d say there’s time still, but we both know babies don’t always wait to come when they’re due.”

“The gods have their ears tuned our direction,” Urokka answered, her voice serious and with less than usual of her customary drama. “I’ll feel better about it at the spring, but we’ll have the time, either way, as far as I can see.”

Mazogga nodded. “So, the driving then,” she said, sounding resigned. “I’m not too old to drive, you know. Just because that young scrap of a cleric likes to help don’t mean I can’t do it. Just have to give him productive ways to chip in so he doesn’t get in the way.” By the end, it was a grumble with no venom to it, and Gozukk was clearly holding back a grin.

“Why don’t we work from back to front,” he said diplomatically. “Figure out if we’ll have one driver or two or a driver and a lookout, based on what’ll make calm in the back.”

Jak practically vibrated with energy as he jumped out of the back of the wagon, carrying a damp cloth. “I can be lookout! I’m a real good lookout!”

His feet kicked up dust as he ran over to Anna, but in spite of his usual speed, he held himself back when he got to her and handed her the cloth, offering it to her instead of thrusting it into her hands.

She wiped her face, reveling in the coolness, but also in the moment of hiding away from the others.

Mazogga squatted down to get closer to Anna’s eye level. “What do you think, dear? Do you need quiet or distractions, in the back?”

Anna blushed, but she was already putting the cloth against the back of her neck and couldn’t think of any graceful way to hide her face in it again. She looked down at her knees. “I - I think distraction, maybe? It was . . . when it was quiet in the front, I could hear -” she shuddered. “I - the wagon sounds are - I don’t know why I’m like this!”

Mazogga smiled sadly. “You do, love. You know. But it’s alright. These things take time. We’d best keep Jak and the Elder in the back with you, then. They are excellent distractions.”

Urokka squawked in protest, but Mazogga looked up at her with a half grin that softened the soothsayer immediately.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like a little mystique and penache, Zogga. We’ve known each other for too long.”

“I’d feel better taking a lookout with Kagnu, anyway,” Mazogga said, her voice conciliatory, “Best to be able to take the reins if her water breaks, even if we both think it won’t.”

“Does that sound good to you?” Gozukk asked, looking Anna full in the face with a soft concern that she knew meant he couldn’t be talking to anyone else, “You and I and Jak and Elder Urokka?”

Anna breathed through her nose, trying to think about the back of the cart as if it wouldn’t be moving, jostling, rattling, impossible. Gozukk and Jak. Gozukk and Jak made her feel safe, and she needed that too much to question it. She didn’t push on the thought, didn’t second-guess it, kept her mind light, dancing over the thought. Gozukk would stay with her regardless. He would stay. She would be safe. Jak. Jak was - “Yes, that sounds good,” she answered.

Jak bounced on his feet. “Oh! We can do more language lessons! Like that one time! Especially because you’re gonna meet somebody from another tribe!”

Elder Urokka nodded. “Don’t mind keeping my leg up for a bit longer. And I wouldn’t mind another look at your palm, child. Might find something reassuring.” She winked, and Anna managed a weak smile in response.

Gozukk got to his feet and then helped Anna up behind him. Still holding her hand, he said, “We can stop again, if we need to. None of us will mind.”

Anna felt her cheeks heat up again, but as she took a steadying breath through her nose, she realized she actually believed him. Strange. She looked him in the eye and nodded. “Thank you,” she answered in orcish, her tongue almost tripping over the unfamiliar syllables, but then managing.

Gozukk’s face broke into a smile. He answered in orcish, but then translated when she bit her lip, his voice warm. “You’re very welcome. We’ll teach you that one, next.”

“<<Thank you>> to that, too,” she answered, the orcish flowing more easily off her tongue this time.

Looking at Gozukk’s tusked smile almost made her feel like things would be alright.

#whump #d&d whump #emotional whump #panic attack tw #ptsd tw #yes I am alive just have been busy

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whimperwoods · 2 years

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Part 11 of Gozukk and Anna

Comfort time! They deserve it. Anna cuddles. Gozukk talks too much. They begin to understand.

The masterpost is here and includes a cheat sheet with character names/relationships.

tw: past slavery (for the series), tw: past abuse,

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

****

Gozukk found himself instinctively hunching inward to protect Anna, rounding his shoulders. She clung to him almost desperately, and he could feel her trembling.

His chest ached. She was shaking, and it was hard not to rush to get her inside, where she might be calmer. But he couldn’t rush, and he couldn’t look panicked or frantic, and he couldn’t frighten her or his people.

He changed his trajectory, taking a longer route around the outside of the camp, rather than charging directly through it. He wasn’t sure he had enough control of his face, or his speed, or his thoughts. He wasn’t sure he knew how to put people at ease, just now, not with the ache filling his torso.

It was a relief to duck into his tent and feel Anna’s grip on him relax, just slightly.

Keep reading

#d&d whump #recovery whump #tw past slavery #idk dude sometimes you reread something you wrote and you just think…yeah

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whimperwoods · 2 years

Text

On A Need To Know Basis

cw: blood, trauma, guilt, panic attack, presumed dead

Whumptober2021 no.16

Kevia huddled in the corner, their eyes trained on the bed even as the woman in front of them wiped their bloody hands with a cloth. They felt numb and detached from the world ever as people came and went from the room. They hadn’t reacted when the woman sat in front of them and began to wipe their hands. She was saying something, but Kevia didn’t care to listen. The captain was alive.

Guilt gnawed at them.

They’d left her to die.

They’d expected the worst when they’d stumbled back to the ship. They were sure as soon as the first mate figured out what they’d done, that they’d killed a man and left their captains body behind, they were sure he was going to beat them. Who wouldn’t be angry? They were a murderer, and besides that, useless. They couldn’t even keep their master alive. What good were they?

Keep reading

#AHHHHH #I’m enjoying this whole series/collection but THAT LAST LINE THO #Jenny Slate scream meme #looking forward to reading the rest later #panic attack #blood #death

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whimperwoods · 2 years

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Ahh, thank you guys for being so nice yesterday!! I had too much of a headache to reply at the time, but I really appreciate it. <3

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whimperwoods · 2 years

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Part 15 of Anna and Gozukk

Finally, a visit to Mazogga! Plus some bonus soothsaying from her best friend. And some plot! Ish.

The masterpost is here and includes a cheat sheet with character names/relationships.

tw: past slavery (series), tw: past abuse (series), tw: mind reading, tw: fantasy religion/mysticism, tw: medical, tw: wound care, tw: discussion of pregnancy, tw: discussion of birth

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

****

Anna’s mind was still half on Jak as she and Gozukk walked to the midwife’s tent. The boy had been so deeply asleep by the time his uncle arrived that Gozukk had been able to pick him up and carry him to bed without him so much as stirring. But at least worrying about him meant she didn’t have to think so hard about where she was going now.

Gozukk’s hand on her elbow was gentle, guiding her with no real force toward one of the tents he’d pointed out as he was showing her around two nights before, and he gave it a reassuring squeeze when they reached their destination, pausing with his hand halfway to the tent flap until she looked up, realized he was waiting on her, and nodded.

The tent was well-lit and clean, occupied at the moment by two old women. Gozukk bowed slightly in their direction, just deeper than a nod, and said, “Elders. This is our new guest, Anna.”

She followed his lead, ducking her head into a deeper bow so she could be sure they knew she meant to do it.

The woman had been seated on a pair of crates, each with a deep cushion on top of it, but at their entrance, both rose to their feet, putting down cups of tea and bustling over more quickly than Anna had expected, especially the one on the left, who nearly flew in spite of the cane in her hand that she leaned against her hip when she came to a halt.

By the time Gozukk finished, “Anna, these are two of our elders, Elder Mazogga and Elder Urokka,” one of them, Anna wasn’t sure which, had made it all the way to them and cupped Anna’s face in her hands.

The two orc women were wrinkled and hunched and might have come across as wizened if they weren’t both still a half head taller than she was, even now.

The woman holding Anna’s face closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to Anna’s, and Anna found herself wrapping her hands around the woman’s wrists out of instinct, before realizing it might not have been appropriate and freezing in place.

“Annuithiel,” the old woman breathed, saying Anna’s full name, for the first time in a long time, and Anna’s own breaths sped up, a rush of fear she couldn’t explain running through her.

Keep reading

#honestly? this one's an I'm-feeling-needy-and-crave-interaction reblog #but in my defense i have a headache and am big enough to admit my own emotions #in other news i was dying to get to this part and i love Mazogga and Urokka infinitely #i knew this scene would feature both of them and they'd be Like This and they'd be proposing the trip but GOSH #it was even more fun to write than I thought it would be #gozukk and anna

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whimperwoods · 2 years

Text

Part 15 of Anna and Gozukk

Finally, a visit to Mazogga! Plus some bonus soothsaying from her best friend. And some plot! Ish.

The masterpost is here and includes a cheat sheet with character names/relationships.

tw: past slavery (series), tw: past abuse (series), tw: mind reading, tw: fantasy religion/mysticism, tw: medical, tw: wound care, tw: discussion of pregnancy, tw: discussion of birth

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

****

The tent was well-lit and clean, occupied at the moment by two old women. Gozukk bowed slightly in their direction, just deeper than a nod, and said, “Elders. This is our new guest, Anna.”

She followed his lead, ducking her head into a deeper bow so she could be sure they knew she meant to do it.

The two orc women were wrinkled and hunched and might have come across as wizened if they weren’t both still a half head taller than she was, even now.

“Annuithiel,” the old woman breathed, saying Anna’s full name, for the first time in a long time, and Anna’s own breaths sped up, a rush of fear she couldn’t explain running through her.

Keep reading

#morning reblog #d&d whump #fantasy whump #gosh is it even really in this chapter or is it too much a bunch of characters and planning a trip?#wound care #medical tw #anyway i'm super happy to have gotten here

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whimperwoods · 2 years

Text

Part 15 of Anna and Gozukk

Finally, a visit to Mazogga! Plus some bonus soothsaying from her best friend. And some plot! Ish.

The masterpost is here and includes a cheat sheet with character names/relationships.

tw: past slavery (series), tw: past abuse (series), tw: mind reading, tw: fantasy religion/mysticism, tw: medical, tw: wound care, tw: discussion of pregnancy, tw: discussion of birth

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

****

The tent was well-lit and clean, occupied at the moment by two old women. Gozukk bowed slightly in their direction, just deeper than a nod, and said, “Elders. This is our new guest, Anna.”

She followed his lead, ducking her head into a deeper bow so she could be sure they knew she meant to do it.

The two orc women were wrinkled and hunched and might have come across as wizened if they weren’t both still a half head taller than she was, even now.

“Annuithiel,” the old woman breathed, saying Anna’s full name, for the first time in a long time, and Anna’s own breaths sped up, a rush of fear she couldn’t explain running through her.

“Yes,” the old woman said, her voice still breathy and strange, “You have come home, child.”

The other old woman swatted affectionately at the seer’s arm. “Honestly, Rok, you’re scaring the poor girl! Soothsay later, once I’ve gotten a look.”

Anna was too shocked to keep ahold of Urokka’s wrists as the old woman pulled her hands away from Anna’s face, snorting without any real displeasure at her friend.

The midwife moved on, slapping Gozukk lightly on the upper arm. “You’ve certainly waited long enough to bring her! I thought I was going to have to come to your tent myself.”

Then Mazogga was in front of Anna, her eyes slightly narrowed as she took Anna in. Anna found herself shrinking, pulling her arms in around herself under that sharp gaze. Mazogga’s eyes were surrounded by wrinkles, but they weren’t clouded in the slightest, and Anna felt suddenly naked, too thoroughly seen.

Mazogga patted her elbow. “Nothing to be afraid of, dear. Elder Urokka just can’t resist showing off for guests. Never has been able to.”

“And I’ve had three marriages out of it!” Urokka announced, “Not that she ever remembers to mention that part.”

Anna stole a glance at Gozukk, and he tilted his head faintly to the side, giving her a reassuring smile.

“Let me see your hand first, love,” Mazogga said, somewhere between a request and an order, and Anna obeyed without thinking about it.

The midwife’s hands were gentle as she unwrapped the bandages across Anna’s hand. “Hmm. Good wrap with the bandages, that’ll be you then, won’t it?” she said, glancing up at Gozukk before she finished talking but not bothering to wait for a reply. “It’ll heal faster with some salves, and not the ones you’ve already got at home.” She patted the back of Anna’s hand before she released it. “We’ll get something mixed up for you. Might as well get started on it now.”

Mazogga took a step back to look over all of Anna at once again. “Now, I’m going to need a look at your back - I’ve heard plenty already, dear, so you don’t have to tell me about it, but I’ll ask my friend to leave if you’d be more comfortable just the two of us. Gozukk will be getting more fuel for the fire, if I’m going to get started early, but he won’t be far away. It was about time to restock anyway, so we’ll use what I’ve still got now and send you back off with the first of the new batch.”

Anna’s head was spinning, but Gozukk had already nodded, as if he were used to it.

Urokka sniffed. “Now, I’ve no interest in poking around injuries, you know that. If you’ll let me stay, I’ll just be over by the brazier making some tea. Ought to get a good reading directly off you, if I can, love. Round out what I’ve already picked up. You are a bit - muddled, aren’t you?”

Mazogga bristled. “She’s just fine! Now don’t you go scaring her.” She turned her eyes back to Anna’s face and patted the back of her hand again. “You just let me know what you prefer, dear. She’s got her own tent to make tea in, if you want the privacy.”

Anna felt tongue-tied, and a look over at Gozukk provided no answers, just a raised eyebrow and a tilt of his head that put the question back on her.

Urokka had already picked up the teapot they’d had over their fire and poured the remainder of its contents into her own cup, to start over with a new pot.

Anna tried to steady her breathing and nodded. “It’s, um - it’s alright. I’m - I’m fine, Elder.”

Mazogga’s eyes softened as she smiled, patting Anna’s elbow again. “I should have known you’d be a polite one,” she said fondly, “Someone would’ve spoken ill by now, if you weren’t. But don’t let her bully you into anything.”

“I don’t bully,” Urokka said, somewhat stiffly, “I just sometimes act on the future before it happens. You can misinterpret it if you like.”

Mazogga leaned forward, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “She does also do that. It’s just not her only trick. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

Anna couldn’t imagine she’d have heard it from anyone else. She couldn’t imagine saying it for anyone to wonder where she’d heard it. She just nodded.

“Alright, then. Let’s get you seated over here. Up on the crate, if you would, saves me bending over so far.”

Djaana had cleaned her wounds like a friend, or an aunt, or a mother. Mazogga moved like a force of nature, and Anna felt like she was being swept along by a swift current. The midwife murmured to herself as she unwrapped Anna’s bandages and examined her injuries, a half-grunted stream of patter Anna could only snatch impressions of. Djaana was getting better, but Dumul was sure to have picked up some bad habits, not that he had come to her first for training anyway, but she’d have to keep an eye out. Master Kir was a long string of things in orcish that didn’t sound like they were good. Anna was doing well, dear, things would be better soon.

The salve Mazogga smoothed across her injuries stung sharply enough, for the first instant, to draw tears to her eyes, but then almost immediately numbed the area, leaving her just with an impression of pleasant coolness.

Mazogga patted her shoulder. “There we go, good girl. That’ll heal you up faster, and not feel so bad in the meantime.”

Mazogga worked quickly, addressing the wounds farther under Anna’s clothes first, so that by the time Gozukk stood outside, calling out that he’d gotten everything for the fire, she was fully dressed and it only took a raised eyebrow and a nod to confirm that he could come back in.

It felt deeply wrong to still be sitting on the little cushion on the little box when Mazogga knelt down beside her on the floor, ready to treat her calves and feet, and it felt even more wrong to be sitting up so high when she called Gozukk over to do the same. Anna’s face flushed deep red, and Urokka made a vague sound of sympathy, pressing a cup of tea into Anna’s hands from where she sat on the other box. “Now, drink that up, love. I want a look at the leaves when you’re done.”

Mazogga showed Gozukk how thick a diffferent salve should go on the faint burns along the bottom of Anna’s feet, but before he touched her leg to try it himself on the other foot, he looked up at Anna to check with her. She nodded her permission, and he squeezed her knee comfortingly and then cradled her foot in one large hand, treating the sole with the other.

Anna drank her tea too fast, ignoring how hot it was in favor of the excuse to hide part of her face and think about anything but the fact that she shouldn’t be here, that she should be the one on the floor, that Gozukk would worry if she hyperventilated, if she couldn’t keep herself calm.

“Now, you’ve always been a good boy,” Mazogga said, to Gozukk, “And I don’t have to tell you not to try to rebandage anything but her hands and feet yourself, but you might as well bring her back by here rather than asking your sister. I don’t know why you think she’s less intimidating than I am. She’s at least a foot taller, you know.”

Urokka had been studying the steam over the teapot intently and grabbed Anna’s hand once she’d taken the empty cup out of it, keeping a firm but gentle grip on Anna’s fingers while she peered just as intently at the dregs in the bottom of Anna’s cup.

“You can do the rebandaging yourself while we’re on the road,” she said cryptically, “She ought to share our tent, anyway. No reason to bring more than two.”

Mazogga’s face darkened, and for the first time, she looked at Urokka with serious eyes, the sparkle she usually turned toward her friend gone. “I was afraid of that,” she said softly, “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Mazogga rose to her feet with surprising grace and shoved gently at Anna’s shoulder, her motions a little more subdued. “All right, dear, up you get, you’re all done. Tell me how those new bandages are when you stand on them.”

“If it helps, she will heal,” Urokka said, her voice also growing more serious, with none of the dramatics from before. “Or at least, she can be going to heal.”

Mazogga sighed as she sank onto the cushion. “Yes, I suppose it’s best to make an early trip. And who knows. We might get some clarity on the rest of it, too.” Her eyes turned back to Anna. “You can put weight on them more easily now?” she asked.

Anna nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.”

“How many do you think, for the spring?” Urokka asked, “I have - several thoughts at once. But you know you’ve always been the one better with timing.”

Gozukk cleared his throat, “Pardon me, Elders, but is it safe to leave with the caravan still set to return?”

“Oh, don’t worry, they’ll be near two months later coming back than they expected,” Urokka answered, “And before you ask about Kagnu’s baby, she’ll be coming along.”

Mazogga sighed. “It’ll be a difficult one, then?”

“The waters will help.”

Anna felt lost again, and standing up while everyone else was seated made her feel like she was being too idle, not moving to serve them, not getting lower out of principle. Her shoulders and upper back felt prickly, and she hadn’t quite managed to calm her blush. She shifted her weight awkwardly from one foot to the other.

Mazogga’s eyes turned back toward her. “Oh, sorry, dear, you can sit back down. We think you ought to have a ritual bath at the sacred oasis, and we think it would be better to take you before the tribe is ready to move in full. It’s not strictly healing, so I’m not going to make a fuss about it if you’d rather not, but Elder Urokka’s rarely wrong when she reads people. And if the omens are that bad for Kagnu, we’ll be needing to go anyway and might as well get ahead of things.”

Anna’s eyes widened. “Is it sacred to - to Kelemvor?”

Urokka reached over and Anna held out her hand for the woman to hold again. “It is and isn’t,” she answered. “It’s more - set aside, in general. To be there is a serious thing. A protective one, or an open one, or both. It’s - hmm.” She looked thoughtful. “It will not fix you. You will not find radiant light there if you aren’t looking, or if you don’t bring it with you. But it will give you - space. You are beset by storms, my dear, and you will still hurt when the storms are gone and you will still have a long road before you, but the oasis is a place where the storm can rain itself apart and pour into the spring and let you breathe. The gods are there but they are - it is not a temple, as the cities have, nor is there an altar like Mukzod’s. But if Kelemvor needs to be there he most certainly will. He’s just not likely to be alone.”

Gozukk sighed. “I suppose we already knew we wouldn’t be near enough the other tribe when her baby came to have the father there. I’ll - Azzor will understand if I wish to go myself, and I can sleep in the cart so we only need one tent.”

Anna’s eyebrow shot up.

“He’s closer to the oasis than he is to us,” Mazogga said. “We’ll send him a message. That’ll set Kagnu’s mind at ease, anyway. They’ve been writing letters, you know. But it’ll be easier to decide where they’ll live or if they want to do it together once they’re face-to-face. And once the baby arrives and isn’t just kicking her, unseen.”

“Two tents,” Urokka said definitively. “We’ll be bringing your nephew.”

“Dumul, Elder?” Gozukk asked, “I’m not sure he-”

“Oh, no, I’m sorry, dear, the other nephew,” Urokka answered, “Dumul knows his way already, bless him.”

“Bless him for a fool,” Mazogga muttered.

“Many things move at once, now,” Urokka said, shooting a glare at Mazogga. “But I can see bits of it clear. Jak will come with us. He’s on the cusp of becoming, more than you’ll have realized. You know how sudden it comes on with some young ones - their sense of purpose.” She smiled, turning to Gozukk. “He does take after you, nearly as much as he does his father, you know. For all your sister thinks Dumul’s the one most like you.”

Mazogga had been studying Urokka’s face as intently as she ever had Anna’s, but she suddenly relaxed in her seat.

“Alright, then. It’ll be good to have an extra set of hands and some quick legs. Best to have someone who can fetch and carry full speed, if we’ve got our hands full.”

“Jak does seem to like to move at full speed,” Anna said softly, sure, right up until Mazogga laughed, that only Gozukk would be able to hear. She blushed again, but the elder seemed amused, not insulted.

“That’ll be his father,” Mazogga said, “But Urokka’s right. He’s eager, and hasty, but there’s something under. Always was. Not so unlike you,” she said, her smile turning briefly to Gozukk, “But he’ll not have the chief’s responsibilities on his shoulders, either. So perhaps unlike in the ways that count, too.”

Anna realized, all of a sudden, that there was no real choice in the matter. She was still in the strong current of the rest of them, but she wasn’t sure she minded. Not if it might mean peace from the storm. Not if Gozukk would be there. Not if the trip they were talking about was needed anyway, and not only for her.

“I can help too,” she said softly, “I’m not as quick, but I can fetch and carry and boil water. And keep an eye on Jak. He - would the water help with his headaches?”

Mazogga’s eyes turned inquisitorial again, boring into her. “It’s not that kind of medicine,” she said, after a moment, “But when we return, I think you’d better come around a few times more. I can show you some things that are.”

Anna didn’t know what that meant, but she knew that even as thinking about it made the pit in her stomach deepen, it also made her feel - hope? She nodded, and Mazogga nodded back, her eyes still locked into Anna’s.

Urokka smiled, murmuring under her breath. “Many things move at once, indeed.”

#d&d whump #fantasy whump #gosh is it even really in this chapter or is it too much a bunch of characters and planning a trip?#wound care #medical tw #anyway i'm super happy to have gotten here #i knew mazogga and urokka were besties and Like That for a long time and i knew they'd say anna should go to the oasis #but it still went some fun places i didn't know it would!#the thing is i love all of them ahhh

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whimperwoods · 3 years

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Oswin - New Day

Part 8! Oswin Greystone is a wizard, a con man, and, now, a warlock’s pet. He needs to find a way out of it.

tw: pet whump, tw: non-sexual nudity (he’s in his underwear), tw: gags

There’s a masterpost now!

Taglist: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @starnight-whump

****

Oswin had always liked the early morning, even when he was young and gangly and sleeping in a dormitory of other wizarding students who woke with despairing groans and pulled the covers up over their heads as they rolled over to go back to sleep.

There had been a particular kind of pleasure in staying awake after he woke, in lying under his blankets, his body still lax and comfortable from sleep, the light hazy with dawn, and him floating in it, awake but not moving yet, taking it in.

It had been his best time for organizing his thoughts, getting his schedule in mind, getting everything in line, meals and classes and projects and perhaps today he would talk to his crush, if they ran into each other between classes, and perhaps if he snuck into the kitchen he could find out early what dessert would be tonight, and nudge the cook toward something with more chocolate.

Now, he was cold, and the floor was hard under his side, and thinking too hard about the minutia of the day at hand was an exercise in futility and terror, but at least the light was the same, and the quiet, punctuated only by his master’s snoring. At least there was still, against all odds, the thing he’d liked the most - clarity.

He knew he was healing, gradually. He could feel his strength returning. He’d eaten yesterday, only once, but that was better than sometimes, lately. He knew the pain in his back would surge up to swallow him the moment he moved, but now it didn’t throb with agony while he was still, and that was something.

He needed to get things in line. Priorities.

He took a deep, careful breath, and then another.

First priority was to find a place he could hide things. He wanted clothing. He wanted his book and his magic focus back. He wanted his component pouches, the ones he couldn’t afford to replace, even if he weren’t here. But there was no point in getting them if he couldn’t store them until he was strong enough to run. Until he had a plan for it.

He thought back through the space, imagining how far he thought he could move without waking his master, weighing the benefits of trying to go a room away, and the drawbacks. Or if he were to move later in the day, when might he be free? What did he know of the man’s schedule? What could he make a point of finding out?

He was nearly organized, inside his mind, when the snores from above him suddenly stopped. He froze, fear flashing through him. Then - damn it, there it was - there came the rustling of his master sitting up, moving to rise.

The captain’s cold eyes locked onto Oswin and he gestured for Oswin to get up onto his increasingly sore knees, not built for so much kneeling and crawling.

Oswin rose, the pain that rippled across his back making his ears feel empty, full of static. It fuzzed out the clarity he’d felt so strongly just a moment before.

His master put a hand under his chin and raised his head, and Oswin forced himself to look into those hard, hard, icy eyes.

“New day, wizard,” he said, voice gruff, “I hope you enjoyed having your gag out. I think you’ll be keeping it on for breakfast, to make up for it.”

Oswin whimpered but didn’t let himself pull away. His master wouldn’t hesitate with a backhand again, he didn’t think.

Then the bit was between his teeth and he was following the captain down the stairs, struggling to keep his mind on hiding places instead of on the welling fear of choking again.

The fire in the kitchen was too bright, flickering and wavering, nothing like the sunlight upstairs, but when his master wasn’t looking anymore, too engrossed in his breakfast, Oswin closed his eyes and pictured that soft light from upstairs, still dawn. Things began to come together again. Breathing. He was breathing. He could breathe. And - and he could find a hiding place to secret things away. At least until his master made him open his eyes again, and face the day that was, instead of the day that might be.

#oswin series #whump #d&d whump #pet whump #fantasy whump #i know this is quite short but it's what i knew i wanted to write next so i stopped pretending i was gonna force it to go somewhere else #next and just did it lol

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whimperwoods · 3 years

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Ok but what is everyone’s comfort media? Because I feel like it says so much about people, some of them are absolutely bizarre and not something that would ever bring me comfort, but I find it so cool when there that one movie that you’ve watched so many time or have such a niche and special connection too.

#90s tv show Due South #the Tim and Ben Do Science bonus/between season episodes from the podcast Stellar Firma #any number of bad medieval themed movies #and a handful of specific episodes of Mash

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whimperwoods · 3 years

Note

Oh! Oh!! You shake the dice can!! You shake the dice can for mechanics!! This is actually the opposite vibe of the Miette meme because I’m happy/excited about it but it’s too late now!!

I don’t DM, I just play, but I do generally prefer playing in higher-magic settings and I think about d&d worldbuilding a lot and do most of my writing in it, and I do indeed have Some Ideas, though I’m not sure it’s exhaustive knowledge.

I think the thing Red mentioned about non-humans in general being rare in Tsanet is really important, because mechanically, several d&d races/subraces automatically get some low-level magic. Presumably, the knowledge of how to handle these abilities gets passed down from parent to child, is genuinely instinctive, or happens at a general community level.

High elves just get “a cantrip out of the wizard spell list” so that’s a little less predictable (and could maybe be something they cover in school?) but drow specifically get dancing lights, and then more than that for adventurers as they go up in power. If your characters are in a drow city or in a community where drow are present, it wouldn’t necessarily be unusual or unexpected to see people casually lighting up their work space with little globes.

Forest gnomes get minor illusion, which I always imagined child gnomes being absolute nuisances with.

Tieflings get thaumaturgy, which even though it’s not particularly powerful has such a wide range of uses that it’s quite versatile.

If you wanna get weird, aasimar have the light cantrip, firbolg have once-per-rest uses of detect magic and disguise self, tritons get fog cloud, and yuan-ti have poison spray, plus animal friendship but only on snakes.

(It’s possible my books were at hand when I saw this, lol.)

My point with this is that if your world has a lot of diversity outside of cities, or if communities of different people live close by each other, there would be people a young sorcerer, etc. could talk to to understand their abilities without necessarily having to Adventure about it. A fishing town by the ocean with regular contact with tritons or a forest town with gnomish neighbors would be better able to handle low-level magic than a purely human community on their own, away from other groups. So part of this question is about how much racial groups separate themselves or how much human is the default. If most towns have a couple of non-human families, it’s going to be different than if they don’t.

I think the other thing to think about is professions.

Bards and wizards have specific training in specific colleges and schools. Is going off to school for those things a career path a small handful of townsfolk might do, or is it frowned upon? What kind of jobs might they be doing when they get back, and to what extent would they be encouraged to come back home with their knowledge, vs. stay in the city and “make something of themselves”? Does the tavernkeeper’s family send their kids off for a year of bard college, and they come back halfway to level one and with some useful skills that mostly work? Do the best and brightest of the town’s kids go off to wizard school until the money runs out and then come home not really wizards but with some skills and knowledge?

Similarly, clerics, paladins, and druids are organized; to what extent is it normal to have a temple or druid circle near a town? I definitely assume more magic from religious communities than is in Red’s particular worldbuilding, in part because paladins and clerics are among my favorite classes to play and I’ve had some other characters raised in that setting who had deep anxieties about not getting the divine magic all their peers got and what that meant for them, which was super fun to play. Some deities are probably not going to have churches out in the boonies, but it’s not unreasonable to think that there might be small communities in holy orders to nature deities or deities of agriculture that could be near enough to be a resource for small communities. If druids are common away from cities, the occasional druidic visitor isn’t going to be a shock to people, and that’s another resource for anybody who finds themself suddenly doing a little magic they aren’t particularly eager about.

Basically, the extent to which someone with innate magic can live a normal life without becoming an adventurer or the extent to which your average person can do and control low-level magic depends a lot on resources. In a setting where outside the cities, almost everyone is human and mundane, there aren’t a lot of resources. In a setting where different communities are closer neighbors or resources are close enough to access, more magic is possible. In one setting, having innate magic means you have to go Adventuring to learn to handle it, in another, that can just be Joe, the dude with weirdly metallic grey eyes who’s fine now that he spent a week with the druids and stopped sneezing out ice, or Jane, that girl who definitely freaked out the first time she made light and we are all a little bit gossiping about whether or not her dad is her real dad, but the priests down the road a pace in that little cloister fixed her right up and she’s got a handle on it now.

Or basically another way, if you want your bartender to casually clean glasses with magic, they went to the city for a year of bard college or wizard school before they came home to take over the family business, but they’re neither a bard nor a wizard, and that’s ok. Sometimes their old school friends come to visit, but they did full programs at school and are very magic and very exciting and the bartender is just normal. The shopkeeper did learn an alarm spell by mail, but the town healer has asked that please anyone else planning to learn magic, no more correspondence courses, there are druids not two days’ walk away from here, and they presumably don’t let you mess up badly enough to light your hand on fire three times in one day and tire out your local cleric, Geoffrey.

[Would like to caveat again that I don’t DM, I just play, so how to do this in a DM way, I could not tell you. I think Red’s idea of just a couple of cantrips sounds like a good way to go and seems practical, but I don’t actually much know how to judge that sort of thing for a DM.]

How do you handle commoners learning magic in your universe? I am working on my D&D universe and am trying to figure out how pervasive the intrinsic magic classes (so everything that isn’t wizards or warlocks) is outside of cities and how commoners could use magic competently without any training.

In this setting I’m using, my 5E world of Tsanet, magic is a good deal rarer than say Faerun. Not every priest or priestess or cleric is one who can do divine blessings, for example, although the ones so gifted tend to rise in rank more often. A village is extremely lucky if their sole wise one is a low level cleric or wizard or sorceror. Generally they’re just someone older, wiser and more educated, or even once in a while a fraud.

“PC” type characters are not even very common in Tsanet, and will get noticed unless they try hard not to be. Nonhumans can’t just stroll into a tavern in this world without getting at the very least a few looks to check them out. It’s overall a lower fantasy setting, but yours doesn’t have to be unless you like that kind of thing!

If you want commoners in your setting to be able to sometimes use small amounts of magic naturally, or as they practice, maybe you could have some rare people be, say call it Gifted: able to do 1-3 Cantrips, then start taking Levels of Exhaustion after doing it more than a few times, depending on how much they’ve practiced their neat trick. They might even make their living with their one cantrip, like Mending for a laundress who can do 1-hour Tailoring for travelers.

Maybe that’s how some wizard and warlock PCs get their start- by finding they had a little knack they could use and wanting more.

Now, nothing brings the Meticulous Experts out of the woodwork like mentioning a Game Mechanic, I swear it’s like cats and a can opener,

so I am sure someone else will comment on this post with exhaustive knowledge of how to do this, if it gets reblogs.

#d&d #mechanics talk #chit chattery

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whimperwoods · 3 years

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Omg I love this answer!

Ed hasn’t sat still long enough to actually think about his assumptions, but when he does, it’s gonna be A Moment for him for sure. He finds this answer weirdly reassuring in spite of it being what he thinks of as exceedingly vague, because he’s fairly certain that the things Castor wants aren’t dangerous things and he’s not going to do bad things to get them if he can help it. But it’s less reassuring that he himself can relate to putting the thing you want over your morality but HAHA he doesn’t need to think about that right now can’t think about that right now (oh gods) THIS IS ABOUT CASTOR NOT HIM HE IS GOOD AND FINE AND HIS KING IS GOOD ACTUALLY SO THAT’S WHAT MATTERS ISN’T IT?

Hi, it’s whimperwoods!

Ed would ask San if he always knew he was evil, if he was evil on purpose or if his patron made him, and if he thinks he’s evil now. He’d also ask, very tentatively, if maybe some of the people he knew and worked with when he was evil might have been good, actually? (Ed is Not Projecting and has No Particular Anxieties About Warlocks, Thank You Very Much)

"Ooh, poor Noble Knight... You got some Hangups on the Good and Evil thing, dontcha? Am I Good? Or am I Evil now? Black or White, Night or Day, no in-betweens for you at all. Tch. What a way to live! If you're not Perfect, you're Damned, is that it? So basically everyone is damned. Sheesh. I'll pass. Sounds Arostian to me.

I've never thought of myself as "Eville", no. I knew I was up to no good and that I was doing whatever I wanted, and that it was probably wrong- definitely wrong- and I decided I didn't care about the morals of it anyway. It got me what I wanted. That was the point. The deal with the Raging Fiend didn't "Make Me Evil", I decided what I wanted and it was a way to get power.

I didn't look at people I worked with and declare them Perfect or Damned, no. Hells only know how good or bad they are on some kind of scale, but mostly? Were were all people who wanted something, wanted it more than we wanted anything else. Most people do want something. But we decided to get it by any means and well, that can lead to unsavory things. So you decide- how badly do I want what I want? What will I do to get it?" He shrugs.

"How about you, Noble Knight? On your two way register are you Good or Evil? Who gets to be Good? And who decides that? Sounds pretty awful. I'll stick to being me, thanks. Whoever he is now."

#castor and Ed #chit chattery #red’s captured series #which btw is super good and some day I will catch up on it

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whimperwoods · 3 years

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Omg so cute! Now I’m thinking about Yves badly injured and under the care of one of the people who as kids used to practice their reading with him when he was recovering, halting and effortful, but now they’re an adult. You just sit right there, Yves, you’ve had a hole through your kidney and I have a new sci-fi novel and I simply must practice my reading. And besides, it’s Literature. And he knows exactly what they’re doing, but here they are, doing it, and then he gets caught up in the swing of the story, read smoothly and expressively, with the little grins and asides and glances over of an adult reading to a person they care about, and for a moment, the passage of time strikes him, for the millionth time, but it isn’t in a bad way. Maybe they were kind of a sickly child and he’s also pleased that they genuinely do love books and he raised a reader? But they do have such fond memories of being read to when they were small, and well… sometimes that’s all it takes.

I am having a phenomenally shitty day and I was just wondering what Yves is like as a caretaker for sick people, especially the kids. Is he good at the feeling your forehead for a fever thing, or does he make you use a thermometer and sit still because it’s still so amazing to have accessible and precise tools? Is he a hoverer with frequent check-ins or a hands off but here’s exactly how to get my attention kind of person? Will he spoon feed people soup? Could he please just put his cool-not-cold hands on my face and leave them there until I feel less terrible? If you’re a sick kid in the house he’s running, do you get to veg out and watch tv or read, or is he an if-you’re-too-sick-to-study-you’re-too-sick-to-play type of parental surrogate?

Alternately, he seems like he would be an absolute nightmare of a patient, always trying to get up. Is that the case? If so, what caretakers does he actually behave himself with/let care for him without fighting it? (I’m not obsessed with Brian in the new part. At all.) Or does he just not GET sick?

Yves is a fantastic caretaker. Especially with the kids. He'll feel your forehead to see if you have a fever, or just sit with a hand there because it's cool and helps you feel better. Definitely a partial hoverer who makes silent check-ins to be sure you're sleeping. Or just in case you need anything. The glass of water by the bedside table stays full. If you need help with soup he will sit there and patiently help, however long it takes. He will make sure you take your medicine whatever nasty stuff you end up prescribed. But he'll give you a ginger biscuit afterward, for being brave.

If you're a sick kid in the Hall, then depending on your inclination and age you may be read Peter Rabbit, Winnie the Pooh stories, Tales of Robin Hood, Treasure Island, the Hobbit, the Once and Future King, or Beowulf. Possibly Midsummer Night's Dream or other Shakespeare if you ask nicely. Of course you can listen to stories when you cannot do schoolwork, and "besides, it's Literature," he'd protest if anyone argues. He may also sneak you a few hours of television watching on the sofa in the Drawing Room. You might have to sit through Star Trek (original series especially). He and Edith used to watch it.

He is very rarely a Patient himself, since he can't get ill of diseases, but he can be injured enough to need time to heal and rest. Many of his past Masters have been sometimes fooled by him claiming to be Fine but some catch on, and learned to force him to take a day off to rest.

A fresh feeding and plenty of rest will fix pretty much any of his problems but getting him to stop trying to do his job or look after other people and rest can be a bit tricky. Miss Edith used to sit and watch tv with him, which is how she got him into Star Trek. Previous Masters have assigned him to lie on the Drawing Room sofa and listen to music being practiced, and give critiques, to sit in a deck chair in some shade and watch horseback dressage and riding exercises to see how a horse is doing, or to listen to the children practice their reading for him, as ways to keep him occupied in a helpful manner.

#chit chattery #yves of blackthorne hall #i love Yves so much

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