#FAKED THEIR CLERIC'S DEATH SO THEY COULD REPLACE HER??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

motheatenscarf · 3 years

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WHO WANT SOME AASHI LORE?

So I’m not 100% sure on this because my DM is a cagey motherfucker who reveals none of their cards (which I love them for but FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF), however, I’m pretty sure Aashi has inherited some sort of necromantic powers and/or curse from her father who VERY LIKELY possessed the Eye of Vecna when she was conceived.

So at the beginning of the campaign, I told Kings, my DM, that the point of Aashi is that she’s a terrible elf who aside from the pointed ears and foresty green eyes is as human as the gruff mercenary mother who raised her. She never knew her father, so Kings had free reign of if/how he would wind up being important. For a long time I actually thought she was gonna wind up being half-Drow since we had 2 Drow in our party (there was an insane theory for a hot minute that our Cleric was potentially her father). The other thing that made her a terrible elf was that she didn’t use a longbow but rather a crossbow, since it fit the bounty hunter aesthetic better, and I justified it by saying she only had one eye and couldn’t aim for shit anymore.

I couldn’t come up with a good story for how she lost the eye, though, so I just connected it to her driving motivation.

She started out the campaign hunting down a bounty on the wizard who burned down the slums where her family ran their tavern from. The city was corrupt as all hell and no one in power would lift a finger to help the victims get back on their feet, so her uncles along with countless others were forced to go to The Pact, a very evil criminal syndicate. They wound up deep in debt and unable to dig themselves out, so to buy them time, Aashi promised to track down a high paying bounty for The Pact if they’d keep their sharks off her uncles’ backs until she returned. They wanted something of hers as collateral to ensure she came back, though, and despite offering plenty of valuable things, the only thing they accepted was one of her eyes.

I chose this to illustrate just how much Aashi was willing to sacrifice for her family, but after we returned with the bounty on Aashi’s wizard nemesis to pay off the debt, Kings had the tricky motherfuckers give her a magical fake one that she could still see out of and was disguised to look like her real one. The “eye” they returned to her was an aberrant insectoid from hell that did a shitton of psychic damage when MONTHS LATER a series of headaches caused Vas and our wizard friend to discern what it was.

So that was horrible, and Aashi was down an eye again. She persevered, however, and even had our wizard friend find a way to transfer the enchantment into a new fake eye so her enemies wouldn’t know she was onto them and so she could buy her uncles time to escape their clutches.

At the time we all figured they only kept Aashi’s eye to keep scrying on her, but would later find out some things that made that less certain. In the meanwhile, though Aashi wanted revenge, but that required fetching her mom from where her mercenary band was hired to stop an insurgent rebellion. While we were there, we discovered that the mysterious rebel leader was none other than Aashi’s father, both of them being played against each other’s forces by a manipulative green dragon we wound up uniting them against and killing.

And Aashi’s dad, who we thankfully did not have to kill, turned out to be a sketchy necromancer wizard, because Kings loves that irony shit, and he also only had one eye, the false one being a black void with a GLOWING GREEN LIGHT coming out of it, as his most unique identifying feature which Aashi’s mother told her about and inspired her to offer sacrificing up her eye to The Pact. He also only had one real hand, the other being a mummified replacement he attached with necromancy to replace a lost one. And then, when he mentioned that it was ironic that Aashi would wind up becoming a Hunter, he mentions that he too is a hunter of sorts, and asks if Aashi has ever heard of VECNA.

🙃

And Aashi, with an Intelligence of 12, is like, “Who dat?” and gets a lore dump on her about how he’s been tasked by his people to go out into the world and be the hands and eyes of the liches who rule his people to look for signs of Vecna’s schemes and put a stop to them.

And all of that is concerning in and of itself, but we’ve grown to trust Kasoreth, Aashi’s dad, against probably our better judgement, and we part on friendly terms with him and promise to be in touch after we’ve removed The Pact from power.

The Pact, however, had fallen on hard times in Aashi’s home town and were forced to pack up and leave after they were caught in the wrath of some roaming paladins. We had to move onto our Barbarian’s story pretty quickly after since it was nothing but dead ends all around and his stuff was time sensitive, but we did discover that a.) The Pact knew we’d be coming after them, despite Aashi’s caution, and b.) they had packed up everything but one artifact which only Aashi caught a glimpse of before their headquarters exploded with us inside them, and it proved that they were connected to an insane conspiracy connecting the drow, memory erasing aberrations that removed people from existence, and quite likely the primordial source of darkness in the world. Which only proved that the Pact were even WORSE than we thought.

So, the facts as they are;

Fact One: The Pact would only accept Aashi’s eye as collateral when it came time to making a deal with them to buy her uncles’ a stay of execution.

Fact Two: Kasoreth has a mysterious glowing green lich eye and hand and a connection to Vecna. That alone is like, three red flags.

Fact Three: Kasoreth’s good eye is brown, as are, according to him, the eyes of what few family members he knows of, and the same can be said of Aashi’s mother and her side of the family. Aashi’s eyes are green. She always just figured it was an elf thing. It still might be. But it’s a weird coincidence.

Fact Four: Aashi has a special homebrew feat granted by our DM called (Un)Dead-Eye where she crits on a 19 when fighting Undead. I just thought it was because Undead were one of her favored enemies. It still might be. But it’s a WEIRD coincidence and the phrasing of it alarms me.

Fact Five: Kasoreth FOR SURE has the Finger of Death spell, we’ve seen him use it. He is a necromancer and might just know it in his own right. But he has a mummified hand and a connection to Vecna. It might be a coincidence! ARE YOU NOTICING A PATTERN, THOUGH?

Fact Six: The Pact, who are WAY WORSE than we thought they were, are not just accruing power and wealth for the sake of having power and wealth, but appear to be in service of some ancient evil, wittingly or not, and are orchestrating the means to some nefarious end. And they wanted Aashi’s eye. Specifically her eye. It mighT. Be A COINCIDANCE. HOWEVER....

All of these on their own can be easily dismissed and might be red herrings, but I am very concerned about what is going on with that missing eye of hers that was stolen and what might come of it in the hands of The Pact, who CLEARLY wanted it for some reason, and I don’t think it was just to keep an eye on a two-bit bounty hunter who didn’t pose any real threat to them at the time.

And every time I ask my DM about it they just send me this gif;

and I send them this one,

and that’s as much as I’ve been able to get out of them on the matter.

But I DID figure out that Kasoreth was Aashi’s father, and I did figure out that the dragon was the one behind the conspiracy in Lasondrand where we met him, and I’m good at figuring out Kings’ narrative beats so far, and I’m like 99% sure I’m right, and I’m AFRAID of what that means for my girl.

Also, after our cleric cast Regeneration to regrow her eye so she could be free of the cursed fake, his player came up with the phrase, “Infinite Eye Economy” which is The Worst Thing I’ve Ever Heard, but also makes me wonder... if that’s maybe going to factor in somehow.... oh god...

#Caitlin Plays D&D #this is The Big Aashi Lore Post #Aashi Singh #Goblin Squad D&D

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crystalessenceswrites · 4 years

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You’re Enchanting--Chapter Two

Summary: Delphine always told Elazar she would do anything to help him if he was ever in trouble, even knowing his knack for finding it. She didn’t expect to be helping him save the world after someone blows up the Conclave and tears a hole in the sky. Nor did Delphine expect to be falling for anyone, let alone a troubled, former templar, while she’s watching her best friend shape the future of their world with a green glowing hand.

Pairings: Cullen/Trevelyan & Dorian/Lavellan

Warnings: none I think? Includes discussion of mage/templar opinions of the other but nothing extensive

Can also be found on AO3

[Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three]

Chapter Two- Focus

“So, you don’t have a clue as to how you got the mark on your hand, except that it happened during the explosion, which also opened the Breach that’s allowing demon rifts to open and terrorize the good people of Thedas. And knowing this, you joined the Inquisition because the mark closes rifts and they want to seal the Breach in the sky and save the world.” Delphine sat on the edge of Elazar’s cot, rubbing her temples. “Do I have that all correct?”

“Pretty much,” Elazar shot her a half-assed grin. She knew he was getting too much enjoyment out of watching her try to wrap her mind around the events of the last week.

“And people are believing that a Dalish elf is the Herald of Andraste?”

Elazar’s fingers lightly traced over the blue ink below his eye. “That has surprised me just as much as you… but it’s better than people calling me some sort of darkspawn.”

“I can agree with that,” Delphine sighed. If becoming a religious icon protected Elazar from such accusations, she would let it stand for now. “Does it hurt? The mark, I mean.”

“Not so much anymore. Right after the explosion, when the Breach was still growing, the mark was spreading. Solas and the apothecary here, Addan, managed to keep me alive long enough to seal it… and once we did, the mark stopped consuming my arm. We think…”

Delphine could spot his fake optimism a mile away, but he wasn’t just trying to convince her that the mark was no longer a danger but himself as well. She hated that he felt the need to do so around her. They hadn’t been apart for that long, had they?

“Well, I guess that’s good to hear. There’s still the fact that it’s there at all, but that’s a problem that needs a solution later on. You will let me know if it starts bothering you again, won’t you?”

“Yes, of course, Del. You’re the last person I could hide it from anyways,” Elazar chuckled.

“That’s true. I can read you like a book.” She grinned back.

Maybe it hadn’t been that long after all.

“Which reminds me! I lent you a copy of Early Orlesian History before I left the Circle. Please tell me you left that in the tower and that it didn’t go up in flames in the explosion.”

The color draining from her elvish friend’s face didn’t give Delphine much hope.

“Ha- I was hoping you forgot about that.”

Delphine pressed her palms over her eyes, all hope of possibly appeasing her uncle next time she saw him was gone. That is if she ever saw him again…

“My uncle lent me that copy! I’ll never hear the end of it from him, ever!” The man could hold a grudge, which stands as quite a testament to character considering her family and their reputation.

“I’ll apologize to your bookworm uncle myself if I must. And I’ll see if I can find another copy to replace it with.” This was not the first time one of his books had been destroyed by Elazar’s mishaps, and apology and a replacement might not cut it this time around.

“Elazar, between worrying me and destroying my uncle’s prized library, you will be the death of me.”

In short order, Delphine found herself in the presence of the Inquisition leadership. Elazar, true to his charismatic nature, cheerily introduced her to Leliana, the Left Hand of the Divine, who eyed her with unabashed curiosity. Delphine was used to being ogled like an exotic pet but considering it was the Divine’s spymaster looking at her with such intensity gave slight cause for concern. Next, she was properly reintroduced to Cassandra, the Right Hand of the Divine. Despite knowing the woman was formerly a Seeker, Delphine was not nearly put off in her presence. Maybe it was the fact that her eyes weren’t nearly as cold and sharp as the other Seekers she’d crossed paths with over the years.

Josephine greeted Delphine with a practiced gleaming smile and a myriad of questions, the first of which was on her relationship to the Bann Trevelyan of Ostwick. She shouldn’t have expected any less from the ambassador.

“He would be my father.”

Delphine wondered if she should be more concerned about the ambassador considering the glee that washed over Josephine’s face at the answer.

“Lady Trevelyan, you and our ambassador are soon going to become fast friends.” Leliana sounded thoroughly amused at the development.

Josephine quickly voiced her agreement before Delphine had a chance to correct the Spymaster. Delphine had not been considered a lady since she was a child, and honestly, she held little desire to return to that position. The only title she savored was the one she had earned through dedication to her studies and craft.

Lastly, Elazar reintroduced Delphine to the Commander, who stood near the back of the room, his hands resting crossed over the hilt of his sword. The stance was as close to relaxed as any templar could allow themselves while still being able to perform their duties. Delphine did her best to keep her skepticism from showing as he greeted her in return. She also tried to ignore the way he looked her over in a not so subtle manner.

“I have asked Delphine to stay and help… after all, she is the smarter of the two of us. She may prove to be more helpful to the Inquisition than I.”

Delphine had never been fond of how Elazar put himself below her. He was just as talented in magic as she was, if not more so.

“That’s not true. We’re no longer in the Circle so I will not have this argument with you again,” she scolded. “And you are the one with the glowing hand in all this, not me.”

Cassandra looked rather amused but did not interject, deferring to Leliana. “I am sure we all agree that any assistance Lady Trevelyan can offer would be most appreciated, Herald. She is most welcome here.”

Cullen and Josephine nodded, the ambassador looking more pleased with the development than the commander.

“With the settled, we should discuss the names that Mother Giselle supplied us with. I believe having the Herald address the clerics is not a terrible idea.”

Elazar had briefly explained why he had been sent to the Crossroads following the developments at the Temple. Delphine was skeptical that any in the Chantry would even dare to gather in public right now.

“You can’t be serious.” Cullen balked, and Delphine had half a heart to agree with him.

“Mother Giselle isn’t wrong: at the moment, the Chantry’s only strength is that they are united in opinion.”

“And we should ignore the danger to the Herald?” Leliana shot back.

“Let’s ask him.”

Elazar shrugged, “what can they do? It’s just talk.”

Had he skipped all of his history lessons while they were apprentices?

“Don’t underestimate the power of their words. An angry mob will do you in just as quickly as a blade.”

Delphine nodded in agreement, Leliana had more than a fair point. “Never doubt the power of public opinion.”

“I will go with him to Val Royeaux. Mother Giselle said she could provide us names? Use them.”

Cassandra was a woman of action, and deserved credit for that, even if the idea did seem rather fruitless. All the Chantry would do for such a meeting would be a charade. Leliana seemed to be of the same opinion.

“But why? This is nothing but a-”

“What choice do we have, Leliana? Right now we can’t approach anyone for help with the Breach. Use what influence we have to call the clerics together. Once they are ready we will see this through.”

Begrudgingly the rest agreed, Leliana and Josephine would begin sending out letters and agents to bring together those they could in Val Royeaux in a few weeks’ time. Delphine offered Josephine any help she needed. She had not seen this list of names yet but it was entirely possible she knew of or was related to one of two of the clerics suggested to be amenable. It was the most she could do, for now.

“In the meanwhile, I plan to return to the Crossroads. There is still much to do,” Elazar declared. Always one to make such decisions on his own. At least that much had not changed.

The pair spent the rest of the day settling into Haven and planning what they could. Due to the already apparent lack of housing it was decided Delphine would bunk with Elazar. Another cot appeared rather quickly and was situated across the cabin from Elazar’s. It was more privacy than she had expected upon her arrival in the small village. Someone else came by not long after with fresh clothes more suited to the mountain winter. Delphine heartily thanked the elvish woman who looked at Elazar with wide eyes.

After bathing, something Delphine needed even more than fresh clothes, Elazar sat with her on her new bed and combed out her long sandy locks. Her elvish friend had been enamored with her hair since they had met. There had been plenty of nights over the years where he would sit behind her while she studied, dutifully combing and braiding. Delphine had tried unsuccessfully, on many occasions, to convince Elazar to grow his own hair out. She thought he would look rather charming with long dark hair. He always shot the idea down, content with his current messy floof.

“It makes me appear more the dashing rogue, don’t you think?”

Delphine would always roll her eyes, “if that’s what you believe, El.”

Maybe he would be some dashing heartbreaker had he been left to live his life outside the Circle tower, as his people intended.

Elazar’s hands lingered across her shoulders as he finished styling her hair. “I missed this- I miss you, Del.” He wrapped his scrawny arms around her shoulders, leaning across her back. “I’m glad you came… I don’t know if I could do this, whatever this is, without you.”

She couldn’t remember the last time he had hugged her. They hadn’t been on speaking terms last time they saw each other face to face. It had been too long.

“Well someone has to keep you out of trouble, El.” She lay one hand over his, rubbing soothing circles across his knuckles. “So, you won’t be getting rid of me so easily again.”

“Thank you, Del.”

Delphine felt much more prepared to face the day as she readied herself the following morning. Requisitions had supplied her with suitable clothing that actually fit, unlike the hastily bought traveling gear Del had purchased for herself upon her arrival in Ferelden. It was much easier to tromp around Haven in fur-lined boots that weren’t threatening to fall off her feet. She admittedly was also more comfortable going about her business in a skirt than the leather trousers she’d been wearing.

“You almost look like a proper Ferelden lady.” Elazar had snickered as she finished dressing.

She rolled her eyes in response. A brown lambswool sweater, cream skirt, and sturdy boots just made her appear ready for the weather, not Ferelden. Perish the thought she would ever be anything besides a Marcher.

After breakfast they parted ways, El wanted to discuss plans for returning to the Hinterlands with Cassandra, while Del wanted to see about having armor prepared. Next time Elazar went out on one of these missions, she wanted to be prepared to go with him. Del would leave nothing up to chance or fate now, she would have her friend’s back, defend it if she must.

Most of her day was spent in lively debate with the blacksmith, Harritt. He was hesitant at first, Delphine assumed because he spied the staff at her back the moment she entered his forge, but began to open up the longer she was able to hold a conversation with him. Back in the Circle Delphine had studied mage armor as a purely academic topic. It was not something they would ever be allowed to make or own as they weren’t permitted to fight, but there had been plenty of books and schematic references in the tower library. She may have never had the opportunity to craft but the theory behind it was one she understood, and it was the theory she needed now. Harritt would concern himself with the actual creation, Delphine simply had to supply the instructions.

Harritt was the first person outside of the Circle who seemed to enjoy, and dare she say, respect her knowledge. For the first time Del wondered if Elazar was right about people outside the Circles. Maybe it was possible for people to find common ground with mages. Could it be that the rebels found sympathy for their cause outside of their own kind? Delphine had plenty of time to sit and ponder the thought as Harritt got to work on her enchanter armor. It would take a few days to complete, as the blacksmith also had to manage the growing need for standard armor and weapons for the new recruits. She was not in any particular hurry and went about helping Josephine the best she could in the meanwhile.

Like everyone else Josephine had plenty to do. There wasn’t much Delphine could do concerning politics, a subject Del was much more removed from outside of mage and Circle politics, but she had decent penmanship and some tact with words. She did what she could helping pen the letters out to the Chantry Mothers, and offered what insight she could on the clerics themselves. One was a distant cousin by marriage to Delphine’s mother and another had been one of her brother’s sponsors when he had pursued his calling. Giving her name to those two letters did not feel like much but Josephine reassured her that every bit of influence that could gather would help.

“You do not understand the power of your name?” Josephine seemed rather confused by it, but Delphine decided it was not something to hold against the Antivan woman. How was she supposed to understand the hesitancy of a noble turned mage?

“It is not a name that is truly mine,” it was difficult to put to words, although it was her name and would forever be the family she shared blood with, any power it held had been stripped away along with her title all those years ago. Most days, Delphine was alright with that fact. “I have not been a proper member of the Trevelyan family since I was sent to the Circle.”

Josephine’s usually bright face dropped, “I see…I did not consider that fact. There is that much separation between mages and their families?”

“Most never see or speak to their relatives after entering the Circle. I was lucky due to my family’s position in the city.”

“I see…”

The Ambassador was rather apologetic the next few times Delphine stopped by to offer her assistance, though there was no need for her to be. She was not offended by the topic. Delphine imagined most had little to no knowledge of what life as a mage entailed. It was not something she’d ever consider holding against the woman, especially when Josephine had been otherwise nothing but kind to her. Delphine wanted to do what she could to help the bustling woman but found there was not much she could take off her hands.

Delphine soon found herself with more time on her hands than she knew what to do with, particularly after Elazar departed for the Hinterlands. It was a different kind of lonesome that Del was not accustomed to. Much of her isolation in the Circle had been self-imposed. This was the kind of where she sat and prayed, hoping Elazar would return in one piece.

Eventually, she fell into a routine, checking in with Josephine and Harritt in the morning to offer what help she could. If there was anything for her to do, it was usually wrapped up by midday, so Del would spend her afternoons sitting on the side of the main steps of the village, taking in what sun she could and watching the soldiers train by the frozen lake. It was oddly satisfying to watch them continuously drill and spar. Delphine had enjoyed people watching in the Circle, this was just a kind of people she had not had the option of watching before. Additionally, it seemed to annoy Joshua. He would often spot her staring and shake his head or act as if he was shooing her away. They had been playing this odd game of theirs for just over a week when the Commander caught Joshua in his usual display of displeasure. After what seemed like a thorough chewing out by his superior officer, Joshua waved her to come over.

Delphine made a point of approaching solemn-faced, worried she too would be getting a lecture from the former templar. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

“The Commander asked to speak with you.”

She must have grimaced because Joshua looked absolutely thrilled to usher her towards the blond soldier.

Delphine wasn’t frightened by the ex-templar, per se, but after a lifetime of being watched by men and women like him, she had been instilled with a healthy sense of wariness around them. It did not matter if she was in the tower or at one of her family’s estates being guarded by one of her uncles or cousins, they all viewed her as a potential danger and they acted as such. She didn’t necessarily disagree with their view. Delphine understood the dangers of possession, but she had no reason to trust someone who already mistrusted her. Delphine had yet to see the Commander interact with any of the mages who remained at Haven, besides in their initial meeting. Most seemed to avoid him, which stood as no surprise. She had yet to see him mistreat one of her kind but that did not mean he didn’t either.

She wanted to make up her mind about the man, but there was a small voice in the back of her mind that urged her to look closer. She had not heard him utter any disparagement towards mages, even in the few war room meetings she had attended in the absence of Elazar. There was also a certain steel that he lacked. He was gruff, yes, the lip scar and light stubble made him appear the rough soldier, but his voice lacked a certain bite that Delphine had become accustomed to with templars.

“Ser, you asked to speak with me?”

In the time she had spent watching from afar, Delphine had concluded the Commander had two kinds of days. On occasions she could read him like a book; these were the days when the stress seemed to overwhelm him physically, leaving him looking sickly and gaunt in his bulky armor. The rest of the time, she could not discern what he was thinking. There was no doubt that the man was strait-laced and knew how to act the part of a leader. As for today, Delphine stood cautiously next to the former templar as he looked out over the training recruits, she could not read his hardened stare.

“The Herald said you two studied together in Ostwick, correct?”

Delphine blinked for a moment, she still did not associate Elazar with his new title, despite the advisors all referring to him as such. “Y-yes. Elazar and I met in the Circle.”

“Then you received some proper amount of training?”

A proper amount of training? Maker’s balls she was an Enchanter!

Not trusting her voice to not give away her frustrations, Delphine gave the ex-templar a cautious nod. She wondered if he was worried that she wasn’t aware of the threat of possession she faced? As if she had not been living with the constant reminder for nearly twenty years.

He appeared satisfied and quickly turned to shout at the soldier currently sparring with Joshua. “You there! There’s a shield in your hand. Block with it. If this man were your enemy, you would be dead. Lieutenant, don’t hold back. The recruits must prepare for a real fight, not a practice one.”

“Yes, Commander.” Joshua quipped before he promptly knocked down the younger man with a shield bash.

Turning back, the Commander seemingly returned to his earlier point. “We’ve received a number of new recruits- locals from Haven and some pilgrims. They are progressing well but some have never even met a mage before, let alone faced one in combat.”

Delphine had an idea of where this was headed now.

“I believe it would be beneficial for the new recruits to practice defending against magic. Would you be willing to assist with this?”

“I…I want to be as much help as possible, ser. But in truth I have next to no combative magic experience.” He was an ex-templar, surely he was aware of the fact that Circle mages were not trained in such magic. Any “combat” primal magic Circle mages knew was self-taught, personally developed, or from banned literature. Delphine had been taught healing, crafting, and barrier magic, disciplines meant to protect and serve.

Yet the Commander looked a bit surprised by her admission. “The Herald said he had been part of the group who rebelled against the templars at Ostwick so I assumed you had as well. Did you not agree with the others?”

Delphine thought it best not to mention that Elazar had been the one to lead the rebellion at Faxhold.

“No, I left the tower before Elazar and the others rebelled. My family is made of templars, ser, I couldn’t find it in myself to fight against those in my Circle either. I took the cowardly way out and ran away so I wouldn’t be forced to choose one side or the other.”

He paused for a moment as if to wrap his mind around the fact that there were mages out in the world that did not inherently desire the death of all templars. “Well, I do appreciate your sentiments. But now might be the time to come to terms with the fact we are in the middle of a war, with a giant hole in the sky.”

“I have been thinking long and hard about that,” Delphine quipped back. She was not so naïve to believe she would walk away from this all without raising her hand against another person. When it came to Elazar, she would do all in power to protect him, fight for him if the need arose, but it was a sense of defense, she did not seek out violence. Yet in this case, the Inquisition was the force trying to quell a rising storm in their world, using her magic in defense of that idea was not inherently violent, was it? And by helping these soldiers with their training, she could possibly be saving lives down the road. Wasn’t that worth it?

“I want to assist you, ser. I’m just worried that despite what training I do have, I am going to hurt an untrained recruit instead of teaching them properly.”

His lips pressed together into a thin line as he ran one gloved hand through his hair. “You have a valid concern, Delphine. The freshest recruits may not be ready to face an untested mage. It may be best to stick with demonstrations for now. Would you be comfortable sparring with a trained templar instead? Someone who already knows how to handle your attacks?”

Delphine was surprised by how quickly he was taking her concerns into consideration but nonetheless appreciated it. Perhaps the Commander wasn’t such a typical templar.

“That would make me worry less. Thank you, ser.”

“You really don’t need to keep calling me “ser,” Delphine. You’re not one of the recruits.”

“Oh, that’s a bit of an old habit, I suppose. Is Cullen alright then?”

“That��s perfectly fine.”

Delphine could have sworn she saw his lips twitch up into a small smile but it was so brief and with the afternoon sun reflecting off his well-polished armor she could have been seeing things.

“Whenever you are ready, come down to the field and I’ll have someone set to run demonstrations with you.”

Elazar returned from the crossroads the following day to find Del throwing balls of fire at a shield wall while Cullen explained how the stance was an effective way to defend against an apostate mage or rouge’s fire attacks.

“Cullen has even roped your friend into training the new recruits.” Elazar jumped about a foot off the snow, not having heard the Spymaster approach. “And it seems to be going well so far. What she lacks in experience she makes up for in talent.”

“She did always have a good grasp on her studies. And she spent more time with her nose in her books than I ever did, if we’re being honest.”

“Are you worried about her Herald?”

“Perhaps a bit. I know she’s capable, more than capable really. But I am the reason she’s here and I don’t know what I would do if something happened to her. At the same time, I also don’t know what I would do without her. She was the only person in the Circle I truly trusted.” And she was all Elazar had left from the Circle. Everyone else they had ever known was gone.

“Well, the faster we can seal the Breach, the faster the two of you can head home.”

“That’s what I hope.”

[Masterlist]

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barpurplewrites · 6 years

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Keep an open mind - Chapter 3

Previous chapters (HERE)

-x-x-x-

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

Belle nibbled her bottom lip as she set her pint down squarely on the coaster. She’d been expecting this question, so had given some thought to her answer.

“I used to, in the same way I used to believe in Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy. Ghosts are just another fairy tale.”

She’d been focused on her glass as she spoke, when she’d finished she looked up and caught a sad smile on Gold’s face. Was he judging her? No, it didn’t look like judgement, or pity, it was sadder, more personal. How odd.

Jefferson waved an expressive hand; “I take the role of Mulder in our little troop, but for magic not aliens, although I believe in them to, it would be the height of vanity to assume we are alone in the universe.”

Belle hadn’t expected anything less from Jefferson. She’d known him long enough to have heard his excited babbling about various unexplained phenomena.

Ariel nudged her shoulder; “I’m a full-on season one Scully. The only things that go bump in the night are dodgy pipes, animals and other humans.”

That surprised Belle; her first impression of Ariel had been of a flighty and fanciful woman. Her skill with sound engineering had shown a strong practical streak, but Belle still would have expected her to believe in all this ghost stuff.

Gold sighed; “Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy are lies we tell children to make the world more magical. Ghosts are lies we tell ourselves to make the world less painful.”

His voice was steady, but the depth of emotion in his eyes was heart-breaking. Belle wanted to reach out and comfort him, but she resisted the instinct. She didn’t not know Gold well enough to know if her actions would be welcome, and she didn’t want to overstep on her first day on the job. There was a story behind his words, one that was clearly personal and painful.

Jefferson cleared his throat and said jovially; “Time for trampoline tennis.”

“What?”

Belle looked around the bar wondering what sort of crazy game that could possibly be. Ariel chuckled; “Don’t worry. It’s what we call bouncing ideas back and forth about the episode. Not sure when we started calling it that, but it’s stuck.”

The other three pulled out notebooks from pockets and bags. Belle felt awkward that she didn’t have anything on her, she’d not been warned about this. She was just about to say she’d run back to the motel when Gold slid a brand-new notebook and pen across the table to her. It was a handsome thing, black fake leather embossed with Bumps in the Night logo.

Gold shrugged; “Should have given you this this morning, to welcome you to the crew, but I forgot it along with my gloves.”

“Thank you.”

Belle was a compulsive notebook buyer. She had some lovely ones at home, far too many still unused to justify buying more, not that that ever stopped her. This one was more of a journal, or project book. The paper was a nice thickness, and lightly lined, ideal for making sketches and for taking notes. Pockets inside the covers allowed for the safekeeping of loose paper and there were dividers that could be repositioned. It was something she would have bought for herself.

Gold smiled at her obvious enjoyment of the notebook. He flipped to the back and showed her the printed pages tucked within the pocket there.

“Our most commonly used resources. We do have a few free lance researchers who help out from time to time, but we’re such a small crew that everyone needs to pitch in. I know the pay doesn’t reflect that, but we normally get a decent end of season ratings bonus.”

Belle nodded as she scanned the list. It wasn’t unusual on small productions for everyone to muck in. The experience was always helpful, and the promise of a bonus was a nice thing to look forward to. The list was a mix of normal web addresses for land registry, archives of old maps and ancestry records, then there were the odder items that she supposed she’d have to get used to in this job; Reddit and Tumblr accounts that focused on ghosts and the supernatural.

“With so much of this being on line I surprised you don’t just give us tablets.”

Ariel and Jefferson laughed. Gold rolled his eyes; “You’re not the first to suggest it. I’m old fashioned, I like writing things down.”

“That and he’s terrible for leaving chargers in motels.”

Gold laughed at Jefferson’s comment; “Aye there is that too.”

They decided to order food before they got started on the trampoline tennis. There was some friendly bickering about pineapple and its place on pizza. Jefferson was dead against it, while Ariel and Belle were indifferent. Gold was for it, claiming that it was vaguely healthy. Food on the road frequently was deep fried, so getting fruit when you could wasn’t a bad idea. A quick look at the menu proved that salad wasn’t an option. Belle made a note to herself to pick up some apples from a grocery store tomorrow.

After everyone had had a slice or two Gold asked: “So, what do we think of our Hanging Figure?”

Jefferson flicked a piece of pineapple off his slice of pizza and shrugged; “I think this one is going to end up being something mundane.”

Gold wiped his mouth with a napkin; “I think you’re right. No deaths in the property, no missing people, nothing that would suggest a ghostly presence.”

“Not even a creepy feeling, just an empty house. Although I wish the owner had left the carpets in place, the echoes we’re getting from footsteps are annoying.”

The heels of Gold’s boots had caused Ariel some major sound problems. Viewers would never know that Gold had done most of the internal shots in his stocking feet. Belle had managed not to giggle at his ghost Pokémon socks, just.

Belle took her camera out of her bag and flicked through some of the photos she’d taken of the window. There was an outline there that looked like a head and torso hanging from a rope. It was visible from all the angles she’d been able to take a photo from, outside and inside. There was nothing on the glass that would rub off, that had been one of the first things Gold had tested. She dipped a pizza crust in the pot of sour cream and jotted down some ideas.

“What are you thinking Belle?”

As was typical of these things Gold asked his question just as Belle had taken a bite of pizza. She chewed and hurriedly swallowed almost choking herself in the process. Gold grimaced and handed her a glass of water.

“Sorry about that.”

She waved his apology away as she glugged the water down.

“No worries, it happens,” – she looked at her notebook, - “If the window hadn’t been replaced twice I’d say that there was a defect in the glass. Is it possible that this is some long running prank and the window fitter has deliberately put the outline there?”

Jefferson thumbed through his own notebook; “Possible, but the replacements were done by two different owners twenty years apart, both used different companies. Nah, I don’t see it. Besides where’s the money?”

Finding out who would profit from potential haunting was the best way to discover the truth. One of the episodes Belle had watched after she’d accepted the job had used this approach to uncover a brother attempting to scam his siblings out of their inheritance by claiming the house was haunted.

Gold tapped his own notebook and shook his head; “There’s nothing like that here. If anything, the previous owners have lost money because of that window, and the current owner is hoping that we find an ordinary explanation, so he can sell up.”

“Okay so that leaves us with damp, or maybe a structural defect in the window frame? Y’know causing the glass to warp?”

Belle felt her suggestions were weak, but everyone else nodded encouragingly.

“We can look into both of those the day after tomorrow, the owner has given us permission to replace the window.”

“I should set up a camera, maybe two, one inside and one out, to film the window over night after it’s replaced. We might see the Hanging Figure reappear.”

She said it with a smile on her face but received serious nods from the others. She was going to need to remember that this gig might feel like a joke to her but two of the people who could fire her believed in this spooky stuff. Just because the content was on the kooky side didn’t mean that she shouldn’t do a thorough job.

While she’d been mental chastising herself Ariel had said something that had made Gold pull a face. Ariel poked in his direction with a pizza crust.

“Look I know you’re not a fan of them Gold, but they’re expected on a spook show, so we will set them up and show that we used them even if we don’t get anything.”

Ah, this was about the EMF and EVP. She was about to ask why Gold didn’t like them, but he spotted the obvious question on her face.

“It’s daft, but those damn machines give me tinnitus, especially the EVP. But Ariel is right they are expected, so we’ll set them up for the overnight, okay?”

Ariel gave him a happy grin; “Good, it’s usually more of a battle than that.”

“To be fair you do normally ask me about it first thing in the morning before I’ve had a cuppa.”

Ariel turned to Belle; “Did Jefferson warn you about that? Gold is a bear with a sore head before he’s had a cup of tea in the mornings. It’s his only diva-like quality.”

Gold gave a over the top gasp and place his hand against his heart; “You wound me Ariel I’m not that bad at all.”

Jefferson and Ariel both cocked an eyebrow and him and nodded. Gold deflated and flapped a hand at them; “Okay maybe I am,” – he smothered a yawn with the back of his hand, - “and I’m going to be much worse if I don’t call it a night and get some sleep.”

It wasn’t late, but it was heading in that direction and they did have an early start the next day. Belle was surprised when Gold collected the receipts for their meal and drinks. That sort of clerical work normally got shunted off on to one of the women. When she mentioned as much to Ariel on the walk back to the motel, she just shrugged; “Gold likes balancing the books, it’s relaxing for him. I suggested he try yoga, but he laughed at me.”

Belle snorted as she tried to picture Gold in various yoga poses. It was all the funnier because her imagination had conjured suit wearing Gold doing yoga. She was still smiling at the idea when she bid everyone good night and headed into her room.

#rumbelle #ghost hunters

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blaxk-lestat · 3 years

Text

Snippit!

Krieg leaped from his throne, arms opened wide. “It’s been so long my son, I hardly recognize you!” He laughed. Amore stood frozen as the ‘other’ king walked towards him. He wasn’t his father, but he looked so much like the way his father used to. Before Ketsu transformed the old king’s body with the curse. Amore felt his heart sink as he realized the man’s eyes were still purple like his father’s once was when he was a child.

This was his father. This was the one that sang him to sleep and held his hand when he was scared. The one that stacked him and his siblings on his head and ran through the gardens. And he had promised to kill him. He vainly tried to hide his discomfort as the man drew nearer.

Krieg slowed as he approached Amore, bewilderment growing on his face. “Son, what’s wrong?” He asked as he cupped the other man’s cheeks in his large hands. “Are you still ashamed of me? Did you come to break my heart once again?”

“No!— no, father,” Amore started, shaking his head. “It’s just... it’s been so long. I’ve been fighting so long I’ve forgotten the joy of being in your presence.” He brought his head to Krieg’s and gently headbutted him. “I’ve missed you, father,” he whispered and kissed the man’s forehead. The king’s eyes began to water. “And we’ve missed you,” he said and hugged the other tightly. Amore hugged back. He’d never imagine hugging his father and being able to rest his head on his shoulder without the goliath picking him up to do so. Krieg let him go and grabbed hold of his hand. “Come with me, your mother misses you as much as I do. It isn’t fair I get all the love!”

The king led Amoré down a hallway to what he assumed to be the throne room. Where he usually saw paintings of farm animals and trophies of weapons his father collected, he saw skulls of former kings and thanes. Amoré’s heartbeat hastened upon seeing Oberon’s name among the skulls.

“Father...” Amoré half chuckled. “Is... that uncle Oberon’s skull on the wall--”

“Please,” the king said through clenched teeth. He turned to Amore, the warmth in his eyes now gone but his pleasant smile remaining. “Don’t bring him up right now. This is a day of happiness, celebration. Oberon was a traitor and his head will remain amongst the others,” he finished. He slapped Amore on the back and hurried him along. “Hurry on, now. Your mother will simply faint when she sees you. I cannot wait!” he said. Amore’s heart sank into his stomach. That was supposed to be a joke, he thought to himself. Oberon wasn’t supposed to be dead. He can’t be dead, not even in this backwards world. He bit his tongue and forced a smile as the man pushed him into the throne room.

Upon an obsidian throne was a willowy woman of long white hair. Her eyes were dark and tired, the dark lines down her cheeks suggested she was crying not too long ago. Amore’s eyes widened as he realized this woman was supposed to be his mother and froze upon seeing her. Her usual flowing white gown was replaced with a black dress and mourning veil she tucked behind her ear. She looked weak, submissive. Nothing like the woman who raised him. With a deep breath he called to her. “Queen Mother, Do you cry for me?” he shouted. The woman looked up from her trance and stared at the man a minute. She raised her hand to him, shaking her head.

“I do not cry for you, I cry for my son. You cannot be him; the Beast brought me back his bloodied coat. Amore Gadreel is dead, and must be nothing but a specter here to taunt me,” she whimpered.The fragility in her voice was enough to make Amore choke. He ran to her and grabbed her hand. He placed it on his chest and held her cheek with his other hand. “What specter has a heartbeat, mother? What powers have you that you can touch a man from beyond the grave and still feel his warmth?” he asked. The woman’s eyes grew wide. She stood up and grabbed the man’s face, then embraced him. She fell onto the man, sobbing frantically. She wiped her eyes and looked over him, her smile was so wide it hurt him to look. She gently tapped his earrings and shook her head. “Where did your father find you, tampering in your uncle’s tomb?” she whispered in Infernal. Amore shook his head. “Pax and I will debrief you later, but first bring her to me,” he replied. She gave him a puzzled look, then nodded slowly. “Of course, of course,” she spoke again in elvish.

Krieg’s ears perked up. “What are you going on about in that dreadful tongue?” he growled. Salem exhaled loudly. “Do not call the only Fog-weaver tradition I have left dreadful, dear,” she said, stern-- but still drenched in fear. She gave the man a harsh glare, making him mutter something cruel under his breath. “I-I’m sorry, dear,” he sighed. “Whatever it is you’re going on about must be private, so I’ll leave you two to it. If you need me, I’ll be planning the welcome ceremony for tomorrow,” the last part was said with a genuine smile, which made Amore more uncomfortable than the king’s fake one. Salem waited for Krieg’s footsteps to disappear fully before hugging Amore once again. “My dearest, never scare me like that again!”she sobbed in infernal once again. “I was sure the beast had killed you. He brought your coat back with such pride in his step-- I just knew he killed you!”

“The beast...Junior! Of course, of course. No, Mother I have not kissed death quite yet, nor will I do so anytime soon,” Amore chuckled. Salem grabbed his face and pinched his cheek. “You sound just like Oberon. Oh, if only he were alive. He’d love to hear how you escaped death. How did you escape death, my dear?” she asked. Amore scratched his head and looked around the throne room. It was eerie how similar it looked to the one at home. The only difference was the size of the throne chairs. The obsidian throne was the same size and height as the oaken one. The only differences were the materials and stylization. The oak throne was still dwarven like at home, but met for a man roughly the king’s size. He then turned to look at the painting that hung around the room. Where he was used to seeing Oberon’s paintings of his father’s progression into the hulking beast he knows and love, it was similar family paintings, but the one he assumed to be Junior was only painted once with red hair, then omitted from the other paintings. He turned back to his mother who became worried again. “Darling, is something wrong?” she asked. Amore shook his head. “Where is Pax? I don’t want to repeat my experience, so it’s best if we talk together.” Salem nodded slowly. “I don’t know if you want to meet her there so soon… She’s currently in Oberon’s tomb paying respects again.” “Take me. I owe him my respects at well,” he said and grabbed onto her arm. Salem took a deep breath. “Of… of course…” She walked him out of the throne room and to the courtyard. The true differences between his universe and the one he currently walked his mother in came from the inner walls of the castle. There were no strings of lanterns overhead nor the babbling of nearby fountains as they walked through the darkness. Nothing but the moon and stars to guide them as they navigated the barren path. No rose bushes on either side of the cobblestone path, no faint smell of fresh fruit, just dirt and well cut grass. Amore looked around in disgust. “I must’ve forgotten that father removed the strawberry garden,” he said quietly. Salem cackled. “I’m more surprised you remember it. The Royal Garden’s been gone since the beast-- Junior. Since. Since Junior was born,” she said trying to focus on what she’s doing again. She then made a sharp left turn into a pillar, disappearing through it. Amore gasped as the woman pulled him in as well. On the other side of the pillar was yet another strange world to him. Light blue orbs flew all around them. It was a heavily forested place. All the vines and flowers he missed from home were all here, in the Fog-Weaver graveyard. Salem continued leading Amore down the path, his feet thankful to be on smooth ground again. There were quiet chatters around them. He looked around to see there were other people of the Mist clan among them, walking around, leaving flowers at graves or talking to tombstones. Every now and again he could see a flash of the grave owners smiling at their loved ones. “Fog-weavers were gifted with second sight, you know,” Salem said as they reached Oberon’s mausoleum. “I can see every ghost but his.” She knocked on the door, and was greeted with a soft voice calling back. “One moment!” a soft voice called back. Amore perked up. “Pax?” he called. The stone door opened and a taller woman of fluffy white hair and reddish violet eyes stood before them. She wore a uniform similar to Amore’s. It was white with gold trimmings and buttons, but instead of pants she wore a long, violet colored skirt. She let out a squeak and hugged Amore, who spun her around before squeezing her in his arms. Salem smiled at the two before walking into the tomb. It was too well lit to be the final resting place of his uncle. Lavender scented candles lined a path to where his glass casket of Oberon Fog-weaver was laid to his final rest. Amore put Pax down and walked towards the casket slowly. Flowers surrounded his casket along with letters written in Infernal as well as protection sigils. Amore’s heart sank as he looked at the man’s corpse. He was laid to rest in his clerical attire; the white robes outlined in green with the runes of his patron, Indranil. The only thing missing was his conical crown -- along with the man’s head. Amore turned away and took a deep breath. “The Trickster God is never, truly dead,” he said as he choked back tears. “I-I’m sure that's true in all universes.” Pax shook her head. “I don’t know how many times your uncle has died but I believe this is his first and last…” “Why… why do you speak to your brother like he is someone else?” Salem asked. “This man is Amore, correct? He is my son?” she asked as she grabbed Amore’s hand again. Amore squeezed her hand tightly. “Queen Mother, I am your flesh and blood but not of this realm. Your son, Prince Amore is with my family where they are caring for him as they would care for me. I, General Fog-weaver am here to help carry a plot his heart could not bear to do. I am here to dethrone your husband.” She slowly let go of his hand and grabbed onto Pax. “He’s another one of your father’s tricks, isn’t he Pax?” she was beginning to slip into hysterics when Pax grabbed the woman by the shoulders. “No, mother. This is not a trick. Amore’s written about this man to me several times. He’s a seasoned war general with more experience and knowledge than Junior. He’s going to help us dethrone father and cure our little brother!” she squeaked. As she continued on, the woman started hopping from one foot to the other. Amore smiled, at least Pax was the same in this universe. Salem exhaled. “That’s fine and dandy but unless this cute little windflower can take down an army of orcs by himself I don’t think even he has a chance against your father and Junior.” “Oh, I have,” Amore said too proudly. “I was sent here for a reason, Queen mother. The only challenge posed here to me is being gentle enough not to kill them.” He smirked as he looked over at Oberon’s body. “He’d say something like ‘I’m getting ahead of myself’ or another poor joke at his expense… if he were alive,” he sighed. “Why did Junior kill him?”“Father forced him to,” Pax replied. “Oberon was working on a sort of device that would make J-junior normal again, like us but… Father didn’t want that. He forced Junior to take his life, and took his head as a trophy in fear that Oberon would find a way back…”“Normal? Did the curse go straight from father to Junior?” Amore asked. Salem shook her head.. “We have no curse upon our family. Junior was born with an ailment. Your father had it too, but got it treated as a child. He didn’t want Junior to get help to see how it would affect his body and… h-he’s a beast now. Claws, fangs, if you thought father was scary—““He’s not. My father is nine feet tall and has two sets of bat wings,” Amoré interjected. Pax stared at him expectantly. Amore only stared back. “He’s got tusks like an elephant too. Other day he got scared ‘cause he thought he had a tail.”“I… alright. Perhaps Junior won’t terrify you as much as I thought…” Pax chuckled. Salem was hiding her face under her veil. “Amoré, could you tell u-us more about your father?” She asked. Amore grimaced at how much of a school girl she sounded upon asking. “I certainly will not,” he spat.

#infernal tongue #mad musings #Amore

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wo-the-wolf · 7 years

Text

The Actor and The Pacifist. Part I

Inspired by a user under the name of FlamingFoxNinja, in regards to human actors and the what if scenario that they are the only ones capable of holding in emotions, faking certain things, and as we in the acting profession like to call it, “Bullshitting,” our way through things. I am a freelance professional voice actor, theater actor, and so on so forth. Hopefully I capture this right in my tired state. ———————————————————————————————

Derrick had been on many a vessel with his traveling companion, Emma. The differences in humans was well cataloged throughout the galaxy, though it was rare to see a female towering over a male. Derrick didn’t mind as he was the voice between them both, considering Emma was quite the shy person despite her behemoth like size at 7 feet tall. This alien Merchant ship was their next vessel to board themselves upon, for their adventures took them farther towards the outer rim, aimed at Algolis V, a hub world for trade and entertainment though notoriously dangerous. “We are going to make such a profit! I tell you this my friend,” Derrick began, “I can just smell it, the credits rolling in will ensure we can make our way back to the Citadel as cultural heroes! Or at least very notable scoundrels.” The last part her mumbled, though his eyes flicked towards a crew member that reacted, thus causing Derrick to grin ever so slightly.

“Hm,” Emma shuffled in the lounge as they watched the non-human crew go about their business, uncomfortable and pulling her armor closer to her. Between the two of them, she was a beast covered head to toe in thick power armor, though her shyness was a quirk she could not be rid of. Derrick took a more modest and light attire with notably flashy colors on his garbs. The prime piece of his attire was a notable black eye-patch with gold inlays protecting his right eye, resting atop a vicious burn scar beneath it. “Me?”

“Well of course I need you here, my big bad bodyguard and old friend, you are the dashing good looks and muscle of our voyages!” He proclaimed loudly with pride, causing any prying eyes to look away at last.

“I don’t like violence,” she muttered through the helmet, the voice becoming partially distorted to sound more fiercer than it probably was.

“Ah but you LOOK like you do,” he whispered and then gestured to her armor, it was far from shiny, and she had always protected her reckless companion well over the profitable years. Despite his attitude, he had a number of connections she used regularly to handle her own personal manners. “That is the beauty of it, of what I learned as an actor,” he took a stand upon his chair, looking as prideful as a man of his 5′3 stature could look without coming off as comedic. “For where we as humans shine is many a specialization.” He leaned forward and grinned, “Mine in its entirety is my powers of hogwash and subterfuge. For even in the army during my time in raids all across the galaxy, battling pirates and bandits, I learned the art of silver tongues is something of masterpiece only we can create! With my skills we will go far in the galaxy!” Derrick was careful in using human slang for lying, seeing the crew around them appearing confused by his jargon caused him to chuckle softly.

“Excuse me, humans?” one of their alien crew members curiously questioned as he spotted them. “I was requested to bring you before the Captain of the ship, something regarding your,” the avian based sentient gazed down, ruffling some of the feathers on its neck, “Your papers? Specifically the documents you provided regarding your legal status to be here?”

‘Rules,’ Derrick thought to himself. “The Sarkian always love their rules,” he cleared his throat before opening his arms and smiling, forgetting at times it could still be considered a threat. “My fine feathered friend we would be more than happy to meet your Captain! A Sarkians’s hospitality is legendary among the inner rim, and I am sure we will be happy to make her friendship.” Emma shook her head and sighed, there he went again attempting to make friends in the worst of ways.

As they passed by a multitude of different species aboard the ship, it became obvious they caught more than a few stares. The rumors of humans being battle hungry Demons was well known, and their survival instincts were something respected and feared. Once they reached the bridge, Derrick adjusted his eye patch and straightened his clothes, “Look presentable, smile, er actually,” he looked up at Emma’s helmet and mask covering the entirety of her face, and she too looked down at him. Even without the mask it was obvious she had raised her brow in confusion. “Better just … Be yourself,” he stated nervously.

“Nervous?” She questioned. What could it be now? Of all things? He was usually good with hiding such things even from her.

“Always nervous before a good performance.” He could tell she was confused still. “I… May have fudged some of our papers so we could get on this ship. It was the fastest way to our destination.” Her heart practically plummeted. They were lying about being here? Oh this was going to be a disaster.

“You are an idiot,” she grumbled.

“I know, but hey … When in doubt, bullshit your way through.” He straightened himself up and smiled as the doors finally opened. “Greetings and most respectable salutations!” Derrick stated as they walked in. She was already stressing by his sheer stupidity. “We have heard that there was an issue with our papers? A clerical error I’m sure!” He stood proudly, absent of the nervousness that riddled him previously. Emma however was becoming upset and discomforted as so many eyes were on them.

“Human,” The Captain started. Her feathers were a brilliant fiery red and orange, with touches of green above the head. Her four eyes blinked together as she raised her three clawed hand in a sign of formal greeting. “You have some explaining to do. First, your names.”

“Why, I am Nathaniel T. Laz’fre, and my companion here is Ulrich Von Xer. We are simple travelers heading towards Algolis V to entertain an extended visit to one of my cousins as she and her wife bear their first child. It is a most momentous occasion for human culture!” His movements and voice boomed with energy, enough to overwhelm and captivate any audience.

But the Captain seemed to be anything but entertained. “Allow me to clarify. Your REAL names.” she demanded with a stern glare.

“I do not follow?” Derrick continued to play the game before him, resolute and unflinching.

“Answer the question, or I will have you put in the brig, without hesitation.” The Captain hissed as she ruffled her feathers in a threatening manner.

Derrick finally broke character and took on a more serious face, an aura of cold surrounded him as his eyes suddenly changed to that of a thousand yard stare. The smile was like glass, and small, showing no teeth as he stared at the Captain. His gazed caused a shiver up her spine, “Ah, I see. Perhaps you were unaware then.” He put his hands behind his back, standing upright and walking along the consoles of the bridge. “We are on an important mission… A bounty if you would,” he sniffled and gazed at the Captain again, standing much closer than was usually allowed.

‘Liar,’ Emma thought as she saw him once again spin a tale of epic proportions, detailing how they had been sent out this far to catch a dangerous foe, responsible for the deaths of tens of thousands. He created a name, place, origins of attacks on human colonies they would not know of. It was a masterpiece that caused the Sarkians’s to believe him, or at least become worried enough about who they were dealing with on their ship. “As for our names, my real name is of no concern. To tell you would be a breach of security I, nor my companion, can accept.”

“I-” the Captain was taken aback by this knowledge, and believed it to some extent. She had heard the stories some humans were good liars, taking the truth and telling anything but it. However his demeanor plus his hulking companion caused her to fear for her crew. “Suppose you may stay… Having a human or two of such caliber as you both would surely be a boon of some kind. I do not wish to cause any sort of diplomatic incident, I am just a merchant after all.” She stated with a reserved posture.

“Thank you, my fine feathered friend,” Derrick smirked, his voice a low gruff growl as the words coldly dripped from his tongue like poison. “We will be no trouble… The Terran Republic thanks you for your assistance.”

With that they left to their newly assigned rooms. “By the Great Mother, what in all four hells are we transporting in those two?!” One of the navigators responding after finally breathing normally again.

“Humans are terrifying … Tens of thousands dead and they send just those two? They must be exceptionally ruthless.” Another rubbed her beak nervously.

“Well… Having them aboard could be safe for the crew.” The Captain tried to reason a positive into the mix, but failed to convince even herself. Once they were in their shared room, Derrick sighed with relief and began to hyperventilate once he had laid down on one of the two beds, “Oh by the skin of my teeth,” he finally caught his breath. “I was certain they had us made… Good on you my friend, looking as imposing and intimidating as always. You are a natural!” He laughed as Emma sat down on her bed.

“You lie well.” She stated, finally removing her helmet as it was only them.

Derrick paused for a moment and smiled, though his eyes were somber. His companion had been with him for years, a decade maybe. Seeing her suffering first hand was still difficult to watch. Her face was burned horribly, eyes replaced by cybernetics from injuries long in the past, and beast claws had left a nasty scar across her face. Though her short raven black hair complemented her bronze skin well, it was clear such scars still made her uneasy when they were looked at. “I do my best,” he responded finally, though his tone was much like his eyes now.

“Do not stare,” she simply replied before laying down in her armor.

“Apologies,” he sighed before laying down as well. “We will make it there my friend… I know you wish to see your brother back on the Citadel.”

“Is it wise to speak the real truth here?” She inquired without turning too him. She merely stared at the ceiling above them, the titanium was a bland color, but these merchant ships of the Sarkians’s were never aesthetically pleasing at first.

“The walls have no ears this time… Trust me, I know,” he stated. Their true intentions. Her dearest friend, a brother by bond, was recently injured. Holovids were one thing, but being there when he woke up in the hospital was another.

“They say he will be receiving a new arm. He cannot afford it.”

“I heard,” Derrick sighed, “I heard… We will get to him, and help remove that obstacle of petty debt. I promise you, my friend.” He said the last word with a sincerity she knew could only be given once in a blue moon. “Now… Rest … It will be at least another 5 rotations before we arrive.” With that, Derrick flipped on his side and fell asleep.

Little did they know, on the horizon of their next jump lay a predator… The predator born not of hungry by survival but the hunger of greed. Three pirate frigates lay outside the next hyperspace exit lane, eagerly waiting for another trade ship to pounce upon. Their blackened ships and twisted designs meant for intimidation and boarding. It would be a terrible tragedy… Or would it? To Be Continued Tomorrow because it’s late AND I’M TIRED AS FUCK.

#humans are space orcs #humans are weird #humans in space #sci-fi & fantasy

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dailybestiary · 7 years

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Kikimora

I’m thrilled that the Reign of Winter Adventure Path and Bestiary 5 introduced us to more Eastern European fey. Particularly because so many of these fey are just the right amount of troublesome. It’s really easy with fey to go too twee (this was a problem in 1e AD&D) or too grimdark and murdery (I love Paizo’s tooth fairies, but not every GM will).

The bird-beaked kikimoras, then, are a Goldilocksian just right. A kikimora will torment his or her adopted family for months and even years, making the house appear dirty, sending illusionary (and real) swarms of vermin, or breaking things in order to be offered bribes to fix them. Worse yet, kikimoras drive away potentially helpful brownies and house spirits, then go about ruining the reputation of these charitable creatures by posing as mean, mercenary versions of them.*

If all this sounds relatively harmless, remember again that this is for years. (A redcap’s attentions may be fatal, but at least they’re over in a night or two.) And when the fey aren't masquerading as brownies, they’re playacting as ghosts…and the prices most exorcists charge will likely beggar a poor family. Even once the fey is identified, its extradimensonal hidey-hole makes it exceedingly difficult to flush out. And even if the poor farmwife could corner the kikimora, a fight with a CR 5 nasty house spirit is likely to be fatal to the average peasant. But that’s the good news: Fighting a kikimora is a perfect job for journeyman adventurers.

The other reason I like the kikimora is that it’s a relatively powerful domestic terror. That makes it perfect for nonstandard, magic-light, or slow-progression Pathfinder campaigns such as the Hogwarts-inspired school of magic or modern private school adventure seeds I sometimes post. And while I’m not the biggest E6 fan around (E6, for the uninitiated, is a take on D&D/Pathfinder that caps out around Level 6, before wizards and clerics get too reality-bending), a kikimora is a truly mystical creature and a proper threat in such a low-powered campaign. Heck, in most campaigns Baba Yaga is a Mythic (Pathfinder) or Epic (3.0/3.5) encounter…but I can easily see a low-magic campaign where she’s simply an Advanced kikimora with some scores to settle…

A kikimora tormented a local brickmaker for years. Then one day he spotted the sigil she used to mark her hidey-hole scrawled into the baseboard. Thinking quickly, he left out a growler full of barley wine. When the growler disappeared, the bricklayer quickly bricked up the wall in front of the baseboard, gambling he could have her sealed in before the drunk fey would notice. Years later, adventurers investigate the bricklayer as part of a murder case/exorcism (the victim was bricked up in an alcove and left to perish, and his starving spirit still thirsts for blood). If during their search the adventurers dismantle the suspicious-looking, out-of-place wall in the man’s home, they release a kikimora driven to near-berserk fury from her long years of confinement and boredom.

On the lam, a gang of redcaps demand aid and shelter from a kikimora, citing ancient fey compacts and invoking the Queen of Air and Darkness. The kikimora reluctantly agrees to hide the redcaps on her humans’ farm, but this becomes more and more difficult as their bloodthirsty natures take hold and local villagers begin to go missing. If adventurers find her in the redcaps’ company, the kikimora is honor-bound to fight to the death (or at least until she can plausibly slip away via invisibility). But if they encounter her separately, the bird-beaked fey (who knows she has a pretty sweet setup already) may agree to ally with the adventurers…for the right price.

Having achieved notoriety in the newspapers for averting a horrible dirigible crash at the London Aerodrome, adventurers are hired as private security for the maiden voyage of the new Geistzeppelin. An already-difficult voyage involving a prickly captain, some would-be saboteurs, and a Sicilian magician’s pet girallon becomes even moreso when it turns out that a kikimora stowaway is loose on the magical zeppelin, courtesy of a hidey-hole glyph scratched on the Russian ambassador’s steamer trunk.

—Pathfinder Bestiary 5 152

*Weird. For some reason I’m having a really hard time avoiding comparisons between these Russian fey and certain misinformation campaigns, fake news websites, and Russian-supported U.S. presidential candidates… Something about replacing noble and beneficial institutions with kleptocratic mockeries of the same… Crazy, right?

My readers: You’re going to use any mention of fey as an excuse to link to that one issue of Dragon Magazine you always link to, right?

Me: …No.

Me: You don’t know me.

My readers: Whatever.

Me: (Aw yiss.)

By the way, sorry for last week’s utterly pathetic posting schedule. A slow recovery from being sick and some bad time management decisions undercut me all week. If it’s any consolation, I also had to skip two radio shows, so everything I love has taken a hit.

#pathfinder #paizo #3.5 #dungeons & dragons #dungeons and dragons #d&d #dnd #kikimora #fey

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