#i cannot turn you into a kobold

[feybeasts]

"omg turn me into a kobold next, Fey!"

"I'd love to be a dragon's kobold tbh"

"ha ha it'd be sooooo great if I was a kobold"

...Be careful what you wish for, dearies. Especially when someone's WIP monstersona is all too willing to oblige...

#fey’s art #sketch #furry #furry art #scalie #fatfur #dragon #this is not serious #please for the love of god do not rp at me #i cannot turn you into a kobold #it's called a dramatic sting #i am just an online art goober with a dragon monstersona

[chernabogs]

Elegy

Inc: Malleus x Reader, Lilia, 1 kobold who deserves a raise Warnings: Little bit of angst/crisis, little bit of fear of death, and anxiety WC: 4.3k.... lmao Summary: Sprites are unpaid therapists, guardians are good at catsitting, and a prince has his third life crisis in 1 year. PART 1 | PART 2

The final part of the series!

He did not anticipate ending up in the mausoleum again, and yet it’s as though something had a lure on him from within, which dragged his unwilling body along until the scent of dirt and death took away all his other senses. The crown prince did not shuffle, but he did drag his feet a little as he disturbs the earth, and his gaze moves across the room. The air is stagnant and makes him feel like a burden for stirring it so. 

The last time he came here was when he was a child. He had plenty of opportunity to come back since then, but every time he would look at the dark entrance into this abode, he would feel a terrible sense of fear which would send him scurrying back to his grandmother with his tail between his legs. The fear has since diminished now that he has endured the events at NRC. Although a sense of unease still stirs in his heart, he forces it down as he sits on a stone bench fixated in the middle of the room and looks to the tombs.

His mother and father look back, expressionless and dead-eyed. 

“... hello.” His voice breaks from lack of use as he speaks to the ghosts that linger. He has said scarce few words since his return to Briar Valley for the summer, instead letting his retainers, and servants, and senate do all the talking for him. He clears away the dryness before continuing. “I figured it would be best to quickly visit and check on you. I see the groundskeepers have done well at clearing away the weeds.”

The stone statues offer no response to his comment as he takes in their features. He has inherited much of his mother, and extraordinarily little of his father. He does have Levan’s ears, and his lips, but Meleanor’s eyes and aquiline nose trump these features and demand observers’ attention. His fingers reach up to touch his face as he looks at hers, mapping their features together as he once did when he was younger. 

Then with a sigh, he drops his hands back to his lap and clasps them tightly together. He has come for reasons other then a familial obligation to check on his parents' tombs. His father had been a Duke, only a rank below his mother’s status, and so he isn’t too sure if his plight is even something he can rationalize to them.

Not that they can hear, anyway. His mother is nothing but dust and his father isn’t even in the bloody tomb. 

“I am having,” he begins slowly, before gesturing outwards. “A crisis.”

Well put. He is certain the mice and kobolds listening to him are nodding in their sympathies right now. 

“I am feeling a lot of things that I am not fully understanding, and I would quite rather brick myself up here then talk about them with anyone.” He already had Lilia giving him looks the entire boat ride back to the Valley. That had been two days of seasickness (which he still can’t rationalize how he has) and unbridled guilt eating away in his mind. “But you cannot comment, so I reasoned yours would be the best ears for listening to this.” 

He hears a chattering from somewhere in the back corner and pauses long enough to frown in the noise's direction. Kobolds, indeed. He would need to pass word to the groundskeepers about that. After the noises cease, he turns back to the tombs.

“There is a human who I seem to have developed quite an attachment to.” 

His mother would have cut him off right about here. From what he’s gathered, she was not the biggest fan of humans. His father on the other hand would have shushed her and bade him continue. Malleus finds himself creating very inspiring visuals in his mind of the entire interaction. 

“At the same time, I find myself seemingly paralyzed—”

“Silly rats, make silly hats!” A sharp, rasping voice causes Malleus’ jaw to snap shut and an unamused look to cross his face. The kobolds, again. He looks over his shoulder to see one of the small, gaudy creatures shambling along after a rat, which is scurrying as fast as possible to its nest. The kobold gnashes its sharp teeth while chanting, “Run, rat, run!” 

Malleus exhales through his nose before turning away for a second time now. “As I was saying, seemingly paralyzed at the prospect of doing anything regarding these feelings. I have lied to them numerous times now to remove myself from situations, and a few times I have acted beneath myself in their presence, and yet they have stubbornly remained by my side. They are sympathetic, and they seem to understand, but they are—”

“Rat! Rat!” The kobold’s shrill voice causes Malleus to grit his teeth again before twisting around on the bench. 

“Oh, for gods sake, I am trying to peacefully have a crisis here!” He finally hisses at the creature, which freezes in its place and looks at him with beady eyes. The rat takes this moment to skitter into a hole in one of the tombs. Only when its tail vanishes does the kobold look at where it last was with a forlorn expression. 

“Rat…” It rasps out. Then it looks back to Malleus. “Starving.”

“Aren’t we all?” Malleus grumbles before turning to the tombs again. He barely gets a word in before the kobold has skittered to his side and onto the bench. He can feel the muscle in his jaw twitch as he looks down at the creature. 

“Young master, hm?” It croaks as it begins tugging on his sleeve, likely trying to see if he has anything to offer. Malleus waves a hand and a plate of meat appears, delighting the creature as it begins to eat. 

“Anyway, I am at a loss.” Is what he concludes with as he looks at his parents once more. “My fear holds my tongue and I sense the opportunity of something slipping further away from me. Perhaps I should have remained sequestered in these halls if only to prevent such a cacophony of emotions from erupting in me.” 

“Fear inhibits us.” The kobold rasps as it pauses between bites. It licks its lips with its blackened tongue and looks up to the prince. Kobolds are cunning creatures, even if they may not present themselves as such all the time. This one assists in cleaning the tombs—for a fee. “What does young master fear?” 

“Death.” Malleus replies dryly, entertaining the kobold for now. He’s already treating his dead parents as his therapists—why not add another thing to the mix?

“Inevitable.” The kobold chokes on a piece of meat before correcting itself and continuing to gorge. It pauses between bites to keep speaking, however. “Why fear what is unavoidable? Silly. As silly as my silly rat. Best to live. Best to welcome him into the home when he comes knocking. Bam! Bam!”

The kobold lets out a shrill cackle, which causes Malleus to shake his head.

“I don’t think you understand the delicacy of my situation. Death will not come into my home before it does the home of my present disruptor.” He scoffs. “I already am surrounded by enough silent tombs. I have little interest in adding another.”

“Young master doesn’t know Death’s schedule. Death could be in his home tomorrow. Death could be in his home right now.” The kobold cackles again as it licks the remaining blood from the plate. “Silly to let Death cage you before he is required to.” 

Malleus falls quiet as he watches the kobold. It speaks so plainly to him, pointing out the holes in his mind’s argument. He knows he’s orchestrating this to keep himself safe from the pain of loss, but it feels as though he’s only hurting himself more by withholding from his wants. 

The minds battle with the heart—a war as old as time. 

“Is young master not hungry?” The kobold asks as its black eyes meet with his. It licks away blood from its fingers. “Does young master not wish to indulge? We fae are creatures of indulgences. Silly, to deny nature. Perhaps young master is my silly rat instead.”

It gives a wide, sharp grin, which Malleus returns with a sneer before waving a hand and vanishing the creature to another part of the tomb. The plate clatters onto the bench next to him, and the scent of copper lingers. 

The kobold had a point, and the more he thinks about it, the more the point makes sense. Death could be in his home tomorrow. Death could be in his home right now. Malleus didn’t know when he would go, nor when the Prefect would go. He couldn’t control that—but what he could control is what he could do right now. His fingers tap a pattern on his thigh as he looks at his parents. 

They married during a war. They had him during a war. They lived every day knowing the same thing he does—that Death could be in their home within a few minutes. And yet, they embraced life anyway. They loved, and were loved, and left a legacy behind. 

Hells. 

Hells. 

Lilia was wrong when he said Malleus wasn’t ill—what he should have said was; “Malleus, I fear you may have a case of idiotitis.”

His parents, still together despite one having gone well before the other. You, still by his side despite all that he’s done. 

Malleus swears under his breath before pushing himself to his feet again. He brushes a few stray vines away from the hands of his mother and father, which are carved to be holding each other before moving towards the tomb's exit. He has a letter to write, a mistake to rectify, and an order for a large quantity of meat to be sent to this tomb.

_____________________________________________________

There is nothing as banal and painful as waiting for a reply. Malleus wonders if he should have telephone lines installed all throughout the Valley, if only to save him the agony of waiting for your arrival. His hands are pressed against the glass of the window he leans on for the third time today as his eyes burn holes into the gates down below. He could have sent you a text by now, asking if you’re on your way yet.

Goddamn phone lines.

“I should get the royal painter.” A sly, teasing voice snaps him out of his focus as he looks over his shoulder. Lilia hovers close by—close enough that Malleus wonders how long he’s been here—with a coy glint in his gaze. “This is quite the artistic scene.”

“I am in misery.” Malleus declares as he presses his forehead to the glass. The hard thunk of his scales connecting with it makes Lilia wince briefly.

“And you’re bound to get a migraine if you do that again. Be patient, Malleus. Prefect did say they would be here today.” Lilia pauses. “With Grim in tow.”

Malleus scowls briefly as he turns his head to look to his guardian again. “You are on Grim duty. Go take him to the ponds for an hour or so.”

“Sacrificing those poor fish to that bottomless pit of a stomach...” Lilia sighs and shakes his head in false despondence. “A noble death they shall have.”

Malleus refuses to deign him with a response as he looks back to the gates. A few of the royal guards are pacing their routes, and in the courtyard below he can see the servants rushing through last minute preparations. His declaration that a ‘friend’ was arriving (because he can’t give away his motives too easily) had sent the entire palace into a frenzy. Malleus had never invited someone over, save for Silver, Sebek, and Lilia.

“You won’t be able to see the carriage until it arrives. The bend on the mountain pass certainly makes sure of that.” Lilia drifts over again and frowns out at the scene beyond. “I do think we should set up a mirror in Black Scale. If you intend to invite more people over, then we can’t keep shuttling everyone through The Leaky Pint. The poor bartender will be overwhelmed.”

The Leaky Pint, the only tavern in the town that surrounds Black Scale, serves as both a community hub and a makeshift transport stop. It’s the only building with a magic mirror since the security risks of placing one in the palace were far too great. Lilia’s point of overwhelming the poor bartender had some merit; if Malleus did intend to start inviting more people—or at the very least, one person many times—it would be good to think of alternative routes.

He doesn’t get an opportunity to consider any solutions, however, as the sight of a carriage rounding that very pass captures his attention. He straightens up suddenly—

—and then feels an undeniable sense of anxiety. It plunges to his core, rooting him on the spot and causing a cold sweat to touch his neck. He stares at the carriage as it draws closer, closer, closer. Suddenly he wishes to make some vague excuse again to lock himself in his chambers and only interact with you when surrounded by scores of other people. Not alone. Not like he intended.

“Malleus.” Lilia waves a hand in front of his face. His gaze follows it slowly straight back to Lilia’s scarlet eyes, which watch him with that familiar seriousness eons of experience can bring. When they meet gazes, Lilia’s expression softens to a small yet warm smile as that hand then ruffles Malleus’ hair.

“All will be well,” he hums, and the way that he says almost makes Malleus believe him.

_____________________________________________________

Malleus doesn’t actually get to see you until the evening, which may have been a good thing considering how long it took him to ease his nerves. This is yet another new feeling that you inspire in him—anxiety. He’s anxious if he looks good enough, anxious about how he is to approach this, anxious about what your response will be.

He spent a good portion of time preening in front of his mirror before leaving his chambers, and he isn’t afraid to admit it.

Yet when he finds you, it’s as though all of this build-up of fear and what if’s are wiped from his mind. You’ve been directed to the greenhouse which contains his portion of the rose garden. Years of plantings are blossoming in the warm summer night, filling it with a sweet scent that can lull one into a blissful peace. You’re sitting on a bench, one arm slung over the back and your head looking up at the sky. The glass is clear enough to see the numerous stars that spill across Briar Valley.

That’s one good thing about the lack of modern amenities within his homeland—the light of the celestial is not hidden by the light of man.

You seem lost in your own world, and for a moment he worries it might be intrusive of him to approach, until you finally notice his idling and a warm smile break across your face.

Gods. When the bards learn how your mere look can make the scion of the fae fold, they’ll have material for centuries.

“Well look who finally decided to say hello.” Your tone is teasing as he exhales and approaches, sitting down on the spot next to you—albeit a bit more gracefully. He can feel the heat of your arm near his back. “Lilia dragged Grim off to go fishing or something. Personally, I think nine at night is a weird time for that, but he was very insistent that the best time to catch the largest fish was right now.”

“Was he?” Malleus hums, utilizing this as a means to ease into the conversation he wants to have. “I would trust Lilia’s judgment on the matter. He has been in Briar Valley long enough to know the most ideal times for any activities.”

“I think Grim was just keen on getting more food. He wolfed down his dinner, and then my dinner, and then the dinner of a few others.” You grimace at the memory. “Reckon I might need to write a few apologies before we leave.”

“I’m sure all will be forgiven.” He’ll make sure all will be forgiven. Respectfully.

The two of you lapse into a moment of silence before you begin launching into how your trip to Briar Valley was, unprompted but certainly appreciated. Malleus listens intently as you regale him of your pilgrimage to the Mirror Chamber at Crowley’s behest (and not because Malleus sent a secondary letter expressing the urgency of your arrival—which meant no two day boat ride). You then detail the arrival to The Leaky Pint, the way you almost missed your carriage because the bartender roped you into helping him, and the several stops you made along the way to take photos—at the carriage drivers’ misery.

As you speak, Malleus finds himself relaxing to the sound of your voice. The way it changes with each emotion you put into your story, as well as the inflections and the quirks it carries. He doesn’t even realize he’s smiling or that you’ve moved closer together until your tale ends with your breathless laughter over Grims behavior during your welcome feast.

“—truly he’ll get us arrested one day. I’d rather it be here, though. At least I know you’d bail me out.” You send him a smirk. “Although I also feel like you’d make me wait a while. Just to keep me on edge.”

“You think me so cruel?” Malleus chuckles softly as he watches you. “I would have you out in a heartbeat, were you to be kept in my cells.”

“How valiant. Be sure to be riding a white horse when you come sweeping to my rescue then, yes?” You laugh and lean back against the bench. Your arm is still draped around the back, still resting against him. Your warmth has crept through his body a bit too efficiently. He feels a burning in his cheeks as he turns his head away.

Another pause of silence falls then, broken by the sound of a distant fountain and an owl calling a mournful song from beyond. He hears you clear your throat as you shift and withdraw your arm.

The absence of your warmth is profound.

“I, um.” You seem to be turning many thoughts over in your mind as he looks at you, waiting for you to continue. “I know this happened a while back now, and maybe bringing this up isn’t the best idea, but the night that you and I were on Main Street together—”

Main Street. You were sitting together quite like you are now, facing each other. His mind had been in turmoil, and your gaze had been on his lips, and it had been too much—at that moment.

“I wanted to ap—”

He cuts you off mid-way through with a swiftly raised hand. The sound of your words catching in your throat and your eyebrow raising dubiously would normally fill him with amusement, but not tonight.

“There are a few things I need to say beforehand.”

Malleus once said to himself that loving you was for someone much bolder than he, but that had been a lifetime ago now. That had been when he was a recently broken boy lying on a hospital bed, trying to come back to himself after one of the most traumatic moments of his long life. That had been before his parent’s tomb, before the kobold, before he realized that to get what he wants he needs to be that bold.

He can be bold. He can be brave. He can say this.

“I was not ill that night, nor are you at fault for that. I was... I am afraid.” He confesses. Your mouth closes and now you wait for him to continue, which he soon does. “You are... gods. You do something to me. You inspire many feelings in me, and it is so overwhelming that my mind cannot wrap around them all.”

Oh, now he feels himself beginning to ramble a bit. This is very uncharacteristic of him. He faults you for this, again.

“I am afraid because I have never wanted something before. Then there you were sitting beside me when I was in that infirmary after everything that happened, and you were just talking about Grim and your day like you did just now, and I,”

He stops again. This is harder than he imagined it to be. He’s usually quite eloquent, and yet right now the words to describe what he wants to say seem to be running paces ahead of him. He shakes his head and looks out to the roses. For a moment, nothing happens, until he feels your warm hand on his arm again and it somehow spurs him to continue.

“You are... a disruptor. I had my entire life planned out before me since birth, and then you came crashing in like a comet, usurping all of that in one fell swoop—and I enjoyed it. I enjoyed your presence by my side during those evening walks, I enjoyed seeing you in Diasomnia, I enjoyed every moment you gave me. Yet that enjoyment was tainted by the fear that those moments would not last forever. You will likely die far before I do, and this thought just sits in my mind whenever we’re together. That this won’t be forever—this won’t last—and it scares me. It scares me.”

Malleus hears his voice break and for a moment he’s startled. His mind wars with his heart again—get control of yourself!—but a stinging in the back of his throat takes him off-guard and his hand flies up to cover his mouth as though in shame.

If it wasn’t intercepted by yours, that is.

“What are you afraid of?” You ask, your voice serious as he finally looks your way. You’re watching him with such focus and such warmth in your eyes that he wants to shrink back, return to his chambers, pretend this never occurred. He doesn’t. Instead, he speaks.

“... you.”

Not death. It had never been death to begin with. What he was afraid of was how much you had come to mean to him, because this was never supposed to happen. You were never supposed to come into his life. You were never supposed to impact him so much, make him want so much.

“Malleus.” Your voice is calm as you hold both of his wrists in your hands. “What do you want right now? What do you need me to do?”

You know he’s shaken which is why you’re letting him control the situation. Your kindness should be sickening, but instead it’s pulling him closer towards you, and in his fit of delirium he speaks.

“Let me know you. Make me remember every damn moment so when the inevitable does come, when Death enters our home, I have something to hold onto.” He rasps. There’s a flicker of fire in your eyes but he hardly lets it ignite before he’s surging forward and finishing what you started on Main Street.

Kissing, to his surprise, is not as the books write it to be. His lips collide with your own and your teeth hit as he kisses you hard, like a starved man before a meal. His eyes shut tight and he holds his breath until he feels you respond as your hand releases his wrist to rest on the back of his head instead. His body relaxes against your touch as you both move to find a proper rhythm.

No, kissing is not as the books write it to be, but this isn’t a terrible thing.

When you finally separate from him, he’s all but ready to move in again, only to have you move so that your lips are against the shell of his ear instead. He can’t help but shiver at the sensation as you speak. “Malleus, breathe for a second.”

Funny words coming from someone who sounds so breathless, but he obliges, resting his face against your shoulder as he does so.

“Listen carefully.” You begin as your fingers slowly thread through his hair. “I will not be going anywhere for a long time. Yes, I will not live as long as you, but I will live as long as I can for you. You wish to remember every moment, so I’ll give you enough memories that you’ll have a new one for each day you remain beyond me.”

Malleus takes in your words slowly. They sink into his mind and his body, and he can feel himself relaxing into your touch. A new memory for each day he outlives you. He can capture those memories, store them in a glass ball so that he may watch them whenever he pleases. You will never truly be gone if you can both make it work.

Semantics dictate that this will be a hard relationship anyway. He is a prince—and heir to a noble bloodline—and you are... well. You. But you are also you, and someone that he’ll go to hell and high water for. Come what may—he will end things with you by his side.

He says your name against your shoulder. Each syllable rolls off his tongue and fills the air like a melody as he withdraws just enough to see your face. You seem surprised—he has never really said your name before—as your hand comes up to wipe his cheek.

Look at him, breaking like a blubbering mess before you over a few reassurances and touches.

He says your name again, if only to see the warmth in your eyes before he moves in to test his theories about kissing once more.

Love is for the lonely.

Love is for fools.

Loving you is precisely how it’s meant to be.

#twst x reader #malleus draconia #twst malleus #i never write kisses and yet... just 1. a treat #bc i made you all suffer through the other parts <3

[thebigbiwolf]

Starvin', Darlin' - Chapter 1

Pairing: Not quite friends to lovers Astarion x OC/F!Tav

Chapter Summary: Astarion knows his power is waning, and seducing their leader Evelyn has gone poorly at best. If he is to keep himself in the tiefling's good graces, he's left with no other options. He must drink from a thinking creature.

Everything goes according to plan... until it doesn't.

Fic Tags: Minor spoilers for Act 1, The Bite Scene, Emotional slow burn, Angst, Teasing, Frottage (god I'm sorry), Pining, This is my first ever fic so idk how to tag things appropriately but you get the gist.

Fic Warnings: Eventual Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubcon (I cannot stress this enough), Bloodlust/Loss of control, Mentions of blood, lmk if you need anything else tagged.

Word Count: 6.1k

Read on Ao3: Here

A/N: I started this as a way to get this fruity fuck out of my head but I think I just made the situation worse. If you know me, no you don't. If you've followed me for a long time, sorry in advance. I may make this a mini-series depending on time and reception, but we'll see! OC is a rogue who seduces men to gain their favor but we'll get to that in later chapters.

Astarion's trance did not come easily that night; his hunger manifesting as a throbbing headache that refused to subside. It had been hours of tossing and turning in his tent, willing his body to settle, forcing himself to ruminate on the past few weeks.

Before he joined this disgustingly merry little group of adventurers, hunting rabbits and the occasional boar had been enough to sustain him. In fact, dining on larger animals had been a significant upgrade from the meager flies and rats he’d become so accustomed to under his master’s rule, but that was before all of this incessant hard labor. 

He could feel his strength waning over the last several days. His senses were dulling, his reflexes numbed. Just this morning, he had failed to gain the upper hand with a particularly nasty kobold. He paid for it dearly when the damned thing all but pummeled him into the ground. 

Luckily, Lae’zel had been there, hammer at the ready to divorce its jaw from its head. Beautifully done, by the way, but his blunder did not go unnoticed. All this sneaking around for barely a nibble during his watch was beginning to take its toll.

Astarion knew he was on thin ice, considering his relationship with their fearless, incomparable leader began with him pulling a knife on her and grappling her to the ground -  in front of the damn wizard, no less. Some friction was to be expected.

But things hadn’t progressed much between the two of them since then. The pair rarely saw eye to eye on anything, and she seemed to have an innate passion for berating him over his unwillingness to stop for every single injured bird or helpless child as they traveled - as if playing the part of a hero was a favorable distraction from the literal time bomb in both their party and their heads. 

“The world is full of potential allies, Astarion,” she had told him, sprinkled with a hint of her usual irritation. “I’m simply expanding our network.” As if a group of starving refugees and mud-slinging tree huggers were going to find them a decent healer any sooner. At this point, he’d heavily considered taking his chances with the goblins. At least they knew how to have fun.

What made matters even more frustrating was that Evelyn was seemingly unaffected by his charms.

Just how exactly was he supposed to secure his place under her protection when the woman barely spared him a second glance? Surely he wasn’t losing his touch. He was a master of seduction. Thousands of others had thrown themselves at his feet for far less effort. He’s had centuries of practice. The mere notion would be ridiculous.

In fact, he couldn’t remember a single moment in the last two hundred years where his advances had been so callously brushed off. Every attempt to make her laugh with his (admittedly morbid) quips was met with her chastising him for being insensitive and making threats to send him back to camp. She dismissed every flirtation, even if her lovely little blush betrayed her. She seemed determined to make him play her little game. He just hasn’t quite figured out what the rules are, yet.

Astarion couldn’t afford to take any more chances. If sleeping his way into her good graces wasn't an option, he was left with little choice. He wanted to make himself indispensable, so he was going to have to take drastic measures to ensure that his strength and physical prowess would never come into question. At least, not again.

He would have to drink from a thinking creature.

The idea of it was as invigorating as it was terrifying. He had spent the last two centuries enduring unimaginable cruelty, starved in ways mortals couldn’t begin to imagine--for years--without any reprieve. 

No, starving doesn’t even scratch the surface. No words could ever describe the tortuous, gnawing, ravenous hunger that consumed his every waking moment under the heavy weight of Cazador’s boot.

Though, Cazador wasn’t here now, was he? 

Curious.

Astarion had spent some time ruminating on who to approach before settling on Evelyn, though his options were limited at best. The githyanki was entirely out of the question; gods forbid he get caught, she would make quick work of him without allowing him so much as a single word of explanation. Shadowheart was…tempting, but that mark on her hand frequently caused her pain, and who knows if that magic would have any affect on him or worse, her taste? And Gale, well, he would rather subsist on a diet of garlic sprinkled with holy water before he put his lips anywhere near that man.

So, Evelyn it was. The tiefling wasn't terrible to look at. She was a younger woman full of vitality, so surely she wouldn’t miss a bit of her blood. He would just have to mind the horns. 

He would be in and out. A quick nibble, then he'd be right as rain. One bite, he tells himself, barely enough to leave a mark. Then, he’ll pass it off and say that they had been attacked by bats during his watch and, not wanting to wake everyone, he quietly dispatched them and saved the day. Unfortunately, not before one of those wretched little beasts managed to puncture their illustrious hero. It was the perfect plan. Infallible. They'll eat it right up.

He continues passing through camp undetected, catlike in his silence, but when he reaches the canvas entrance of her tent ready to pounce, he freezes at the sight of her.

She looked…different while she slept. Softer, gentler, almost; surrounded by a nest of fur blankets, snoozing away instead of attacking his ego. Her hair was puddled beneath her head and horns like dark, red wine; rich and unrestrained by her usual loose bun. 

Another realization hits him: this is the first time Astarion has ever seen her in her sleep clothes, a simple basic black wrapping across her breasts. Practical. Of course.

Her skin is pale enough to rival his own, even with the warmth of the firelight. She’s lying on her side, her uncovered shoulder lightly dusted in freckles, much like her cheeks. Her lips are slightly parted, and in the silence of the night air, he can hear her light, even breaths.

Cute, he thinks to himself. He could almost forgive her for being so maddeningly aloof with a face like that. Almost. 

Astarion leans over to brush her hair away from her neck; the strands softer than he had anticipated. The thrum of her pulse underneath is magnetic. It pulls at his very being, beckoning him closer.

Settling on his knees beside her, his arms form a cage around her body.

He takes in the image of her form one last time and allows himself a moment to savor it. She is toned and lithe, much like himself, but smaller. Perfect. Delectable. 

He bends closer, feeling her gentle puffs of breath on his shoulder; the warmth of her body. His ears ring with anticipation; manicured nails clench the sheets by her head.

She’s going to be so-

Something brushes his leg, hidden beneath the furs.

Her tail. He forgot about her bloody tail.

Evelyn stirs, and fully awakens right as his teeth are at her throat, eyes meeting his. 

Shit.

“Shit.”

With incredible speed, she reflexively reaches for the dagger closest to her pillow, lunging at him. He just barely seizes her arm in time to save himself from being skewered.

“What in the hells are you-” he clasps his palm over her mouth to silence her.

The girl’s eyes are wild with panic, their golden hues burning a hole in his skull. He notices them flit down to where his body hovers over hers before she begins to struggle against him. “No, no, shh,” he whispers. “It’s not what it looks like, I swear.” 

Her expression shifts from panicked to confused. She ceases her squirming. Good. Well, not good, but better. He can work with this.

“When I take my hand away, you have to promise not to scream and wake the whole camp,” he continues, hushed, “unless you’d like for them to find us tangled up in your bedroll. You wouldn’t want to give them the wrong impression now, would you, darling?”

Her eyes widen. Her face flushes deep red, warming his palm against her skin.

There, he thinks, that should-

Her body turns, and suddenly he feels the hard edge of Evelyn’s knee make contact with the corner of his ribs. A direct hit. Pain shoots up his chest as he rolls off of her and onto his side, clutching himself and coughing, heaving air back into his lungs.

She hurriedly covers herself with her sheets, glaring at him as he struggles to collect his breath. He can see her fuming through the tears forming in the corner of his vision. If looks could kill, he’s sure she would have him skinned alive. Maybe use what's left of him to scare away the crows. 

She’s still holding the knife out toward him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? What do you think you’re doing in here?” 

A fair question, one he was not prepared to answer. Perfect. He’s just going to have to wing this. Possibly with two broken ribs. He can’t believe he expected this to go any smoother.

“I-I wasn’t going to hurt you.” He raises a hand and falls back on his thighs with a grunt, grimacing in pain. His other clutches his side, a bit of sweat forming at his brow. “I just…” 

Okay, this is it. He’s got this.

“I just needed, well,” 

Aaaaand,

“Blood.”

There. Excellent form, Astarion. Good show.

“I - You needed what?”

She blinks at him, whether in disbelief or shock, he cannot say.

It takes a moment before his words start to sink in. She takes that time to scan over his body, purposefully. 

He couldn’t quite tell if she was looking for something or if she was deciding whether or not to believe him, but then again, what other explanation could he give? 

He works over his options in his head, considering just how difficult it would be to pass this all off as a terrible joke, but just as he’s about to open his mouth to start on damage control, he hears Evelyn heave a deep sigh. She lowers her weapon, then tosses it to the side, massaging her eyes in frustration. 

Oh. Well, alright.

After some time, he watches her expression soften into understanding as a few notable things dawn on her. He’s never really eaten any meals with them, has he? Then there was the drained boar, which he so carelessly left out by the road.  The damned beast hadn’t even taken the edge off that night, and he was so desperate to quell the nagging ache in his stomach that it lay there forgotten until she found it the next morning. He admitted to her himself that it had been drained by a vampire, after all…

A bit of silence follows.

Astarion doesn’t say a word, doesn’t dare move a muscle. He just allows her the time to process whatever she’s feeling. What’s important is that he’s still alive, she hasn't run him out of camp, and she hasn’t screamed for help. 

He may be able to salvage this, yet.

She scratches the back of her head, carding her fingers through her hair to ease her irritation before finally meeting his gaze.

“Astarion.” The sound of his name leaving her lips pulls him from his thoughts. He can see the disappointment on her soft features just as plainly as he can feel it humming through their psionic link. 

He didn’t think himself capable of guilt, but there was an emotion akin to it brewing within his chest. Ugh. He breaks eye contact, searching for anything to pull his attention away from his discomfort. The miscellaneous bags of clothing and trinkets she had scattered about her tent were just oh so fascinating. And was that a new hairbrush? Hm. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

He’s taken aback by her question. He expected a more offensive reaction. A few insults, maybe ones pertaining to his sharp teeth or bloodlust, but an olive branch?

After all the lies, the invasion of privacy, and the failed attempt at assault?

She really is just full of surprises.

“Well, we aren’t exactly close, you and I. Though, you must admit, I’ve made several attempts to…” He waves a hand between them for emphasis, “mend the gap, so to speak.”

“Well, have you ever considered maybe not being such an asshole?”

Ouch.

But in fairness, no.

“I…” He thinks carefully about what to say next. The buzzing behind his eye socket acts as a threat, reminding him of the very fragile barrier between their minds. Should she choose to dig her claws in and pry the information out of him, she may find more than he's comfortable sharing, so Astarion makes a decision that surprises even himself. 

He chooses to be genuine.

“At best, I was sure you’d say no. More likely, you’d ram a stake through my ribs.” He gestures towards the dagger at her side. “But believe me, I’m not some monster. I’ve never killed another person.”

Evelyn raises an eyebrow at him. 

“Well, not for food,” he quickly corrects. “I’ve been subsisting on animals. Boars—like the one you found the other day—deer, kobolds, whatever I can get my hands on.”

“And what exactly was the plan here? You were just going to kill me and expect the others not to notice?” 

He recoils at the accusation but fights to keep his expression neutral. “I had no intention of killing you. I would never do such a thing.” He leans in closer to her and lowers his voice, as if letting her in on a secret. “We need each other.” 

Evelyn shifts to lean her weight on her arm as she listens, dark hair falling to the side of her shoulder. With the new level of exposure, he can hear her pulse settling into a more comfortable rhythm. 

He swallows. Hard. His hunger is rearing its ugly head again, just at the sound of her.

Oh well, might as well lay all the cards out on the table while we’re at it.

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself, and continues, “As it stands right now, I’m too slow. Too weak. If I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better.” There is a question hidden in his words, a favor to be asked.

She seems pensive as she considers him, mulling over everything he’s said in her mind. She lifts a thumb to her mouth and starts nibbling on her nail, no longer looking at him. Nervous too, no doubt. How could she not be with what he’s asking of her, as if he had any right to ask in the first place? 

“I understand you detest me, but-”

Evelyn appears to snap to some conclusion, sitting up straighter and placing her arms to her sides before she responds.

“No, I should detest you, Astarion, but I don’t. You just don’t impress me.”

Wow.

It feels as though he’s been slapped. He barks out a laugh that’s a bit too loud for the intimate setting, trying to mitigate the damage to his ego. “Excuse me?”

She has the nerve to shrug at him. “I’ve seen every trick you’ve used to fill your little black book, probably a thousand items over. I’ve used them all myself. So, frankly, I'm uninspired.”

For the first time in his undead life, he’s totally speechless. His face contorts in indignation, disbelief. This devil.

There is something dangerous in her expression as she leans further forward, neck tilted, exposing herself to him. Her eyes are hooded, with long lashes casting shadows over her cheeks. Her shoulders relax as she lifts her chin to stare down her nose at him, sneering. 

He works his jaw, clenching the muscles unconsciously.

“Astarion, men are idiots. I’ve spent my entire adult life toying with them and robbing them blind. I’ve heard and seen it all. You really believed a few empty praises and mediocre jokes would have me jumping into bed with you? 

Wha- Mediocre?

He opens his mouth with every intention of retaliating, but Evelyn’s palm unexpectedly rests itself on his calf, and the action stuns him into silence. She begins leisurely dragging her nails up towards his thigh. 

His body responds involuntarily; eagerly, frustratingly, the delicate little motion leaving his skin prickling with excitement. 

She regards his chest, admiring the hard planes of muscle. Then, her attention slowly inches down the toned curve of his abs until, finally, they stop at where his cock hardens disobediently beneath his pants.

“Your pretty face doesn’t detract from the fact that you’re still just a man.”

It finally clicks.

She’s baiting him, attempting to get a rise out of him. 

Hm. Impressive.

Normally, at this point in her little game, he assumes most men would take her flirtations at face value. They would likely mistake this performance as an enthusiastic plea to bed her, but Astarion is not like most men. He sees her little game for what it is and recognizes it with ease because he has spent lifetimes playing it himself.

She leans back, satisfied with her little show, and smirks at him.

“So, you admit I have a pretty face?” He teases, his own smile twisting, becoming more mischievous.

She rolls her eyes, but this time she laughs. It’s a soft sound, genuine.

A pinkish hue crawls up her face and paints the tips of her pointed ears, but he can’t discern if that's supposed to be part of the act or, more likely, an unfortunate side-effect of the living experience. He’s finding it hard not to admire her dedication, regardless. 

Well, that’s quite enough of that. Back to business, then.

“It’s settled,” Astarion clasps his hands together, “I’ll just need to impress you with my more eclectic talents if I am to earn your favor. We can start by gracefully slaughtering a few goblins, depending on how the rest of tonight goes. Which is entirely up to you, of course.”

The tiefling squints at him. “Oh no, if you want something from me, darling, you’re going to have to ask politely. With manners. You have those, don’t you? Familiar with them, at least?”

Under normal circumstances, he would find this amusing; nothing like a little role reversal to spice up the evening. But this feels different, heavier, as if her feigning indifference will alleviate the weight of what he's asking of her.

Fine. He supposes relinquishing a little bit of his pride is a fair price to pay.

He takes a deep breath. "Please." 

"Please, what?" She lifts an eyebrow at him expectantly. "Come on, Astarion. Use your words. I know you’re quite fond of them."

He scoffs at her shamelessness, and for a moment, he honestly considers whether this is worth it, but he can't back out now. He'll make it through this, surely. He's been through worse. 

Through gritted teeth, he barely spits out, "Please, may I drink from you?" 

Gods. He's going to be sick.

"Good boy. That wasn't so hard, was it?" 

He’s going to fucking kill her.

There is an uncomfortable silence that follows. So many unspoken questions and a rising suspense that makes Evelyn adjust herself uncomfortably where she sits. Astarion is also musing to himself, still wondering how it's all come to this. Why did he choose her, again? Something about her not killing him right away? Death may have been preferable to this, actually, but he is pulled back to reality when she finally speaks up.

“So," she's picking lint off one of her pillows, avoiding his gaze as she asks, "how exactly should we do this?”

Well, it occurs to him that he doesn’t actually know. He understands the mechanics behind it, of course, but how exactly were they supposed to go about this?

Should he tell her that he’s never actually fed from a person before? Would it make her more or less comfortable to know that he’s just as clueless about this as she is? 

No. He decides against it. Astarion has always done best when he’s playing the role of the confident seductor. This should be no different. He’ll just treat this as if he’s bedding a virgin: guide her, take things slow, and she’ll no doubt be begging him for more soon enough. It’ll be easy. All she has to do is behave.

“Lie back and get comfortable.”

He moves himself closer to her, settling at her side as she does what she’s told. The flap of the tent remains open, letting in the faintest amount of warmth and illuminating Evelyn’s features. With such close proximity, he can see the gold flames within her irises flickering and dancing, a genetic trait attributed to some luckier members of her race, and a feature of her’s that Astarion would have never otherwise noticed. 

He can hear her pulse quickening as he closes the space between them, lifting himself a bit to settle above her, once again caging her between his arms. One of his knees parts her legs, and he can tell in the quietness of her tent that she’s struggling to hide her uneven breaths. Her stare is intense, but he can’t read the meaning behind it.

He decides to give her another out, just in case. Better safe than sorry. 

“We don't have to do this, you know,” his voice is composed, as if his body wasn't currently screaming with anticipation. “I appreciate the consideration, regardless.” 

“I’m fine.” Her response is clipped, dismissive. Her face remains stoic though her fingers fidget with the blankets at her sides. She had moved the furs to give him better access to her body. The darkness inside him preens at the concept.

Best get on with it, then.

He leans down and, unable to help himself, takes in the scent of her: woodsmoke and the faintest hint of vanilla, which he had watched her pick up from a merchant in the grove just the other day. “For Gale’s cooking,” she amended, when he gave her a questioning look.

He gives her one more moment to stop him.

She doesn’t.

A bit of pressure on the skin before it snaps and gives way, his fangs finally sinking into her. He can feel Evelyn’s body tense at the sudden intrusion. She hisses through gritted teeth, her arms involuntarily raising at her sides, reaching for him, but she stops herself before she touches him. He wants to tell her it's fine, expected, even, the need to ground herself, but all of his higher thoughts are plunged into complete chaos when he finally registers her taste. 

Every cell in his body awakens.

The iron flavor of her floods his throat and sets his nerves ablaze. Its heat fills, expands, and splits every crack in his self control into deep, cavernous fissures. 

A groan escapes Astarions throat before he has the chance to quell it. Of course it would be like this - drinking from a thinking creature. Drinking from her. He understands now why Cazador forbade this. Before, he had assumed it was a matter of keeping his spawn weak and compliant, but this was entirely different. This was far more than a method of control. The bastard had been withholding ecstasy greater than he’d ever known.

A feeling swells in him, crashing like waves through his veins. Warmth. It invades him and fills every fiber of his being. He wasn’t naive enough to believe his first time wouldn't have some sort of great, emotional impact, but this? 

This was everything. How was he ever supposed to come back from this?

"Agh - Astarion," he barely registers her pathetic little whine through the haze. She finally allows herself to grab onto him, the loose sleeve of his nightshirt tightening in her fist. For purchase, he tells himself with what little is left of his consciousness, practical. That is until he lowers himself fully onto her in an attempt to relieve the strain on his biceps.

With no space left between their bodies, he doesn’t anticipate the blazing heat of her core on his thigh, even through the several layers of clothing. She gasps at the sudden pressure,  fingers twitching, nails digging little crescent shapes into his skin. What surprises him most, though, is when the taste in his mouth melts into a flavor so much sweeter. 

Something primal within him recognizes it instantly; it twists in his gut and sits there heavily, as if the emotion were his own: arousal.

Oh.

She is burning for him.

Good.

After all of that teasing, the woman he’s spent weeks enduring endless lectures from actually does desire him, or at the very least desires his body. Which is just as favorable, in his opinion. It’s just nice to know all his hard work hasn’t gone to waste. 

If she lets him live, he's going to spend every waking moment tormenting her over this. His lips vibrate against her skin as he chuckles to himself, causing some of her blood to run down his chin in hot rivulets, blooming new stains onto her sheets. 

He knows he’s had enough. He means to let go, he truly does, lest he end up draining their groups' only hope of survival. Surely that wouldn't go over well with their companions. Pitchforks, and all that. 

But her whimpering, her heat, coupled with the ferocity of his hunger, all provoke a feeling that has been building beneath the surface which he’s unable to name; it's desperate and possessive, a predator guarding its kill from hungry scavengers. The monster in him casts a dark shadow over his mind as he feeds. His body no longer feels as though it is his own, betraying him; a slave to the demands of his appetite. 

He needs her, needs all of her, and he cannot will himself to stop, too lost in sensation and the sound of her mewling to bow to his higher thinking. 

He mindlessly rocks his weight into her and grunts—a slow, unintentional grind against her mound. The motion comes easy to him, like breathing - instinctual. The blunt edge of his clothed cock drags deliciously through her parted thighs. Evelyn’s breath hitches at the feeling, her squirming beneath him giving him the sickest form of satisfaction, but the animal within him demands her compliance.

His hand gathers her loose hair and pulls, growling, warning her to keep still. She whines at the force, back arching. The other grabs her arm, pinning it down, and tightens, thumb gently stroking against her wrist.

"Astarion,"

She’s no doubt making a mess in her smallclothes as she quivers beneath him, all flushed cheeks and furrowed brows. She may deny it later, but her taste tells him everything he needs to know.

Her body is burning against his cool skin, and her gasps are only spurring him on. He laps at the wound, dragging his tongue up the length of her throat, indulging himself in her. It's too much. 

He feels her pulse weakening, her rhythm slowing.

It isn't enough. 

He's about to latch on to her again, teeth at the ready and blinded by his eagerness, when he suddenly feels a piercing sensation behind his eye - the tadpole, he assumes, writhing in panic. Screeching at him to open himself to it. The discomfort is just enough to pull him back into his body. Then Evelyn's voice invades his mind. 

‘Astarion, enough!’

He disentangles his limbs from hers, practically jumping off of the poor woman. He’s gasping for breath as he comes to his senses, the mix of her blood and his saliva staining his lips pink. It dribbles down his chin. He wipes his face with the back of his knuckles and licks them clean.

But then, the cold realization of what he’s done is thrust upon him like a bucket of iced water, shocking him back to the present. He’s going to need to come up with one hell of an apology to get himself out of this one. Or maybe he should just run? Baldur’s Gate is really only a few weeks travel at most. 

“Shit,” he whispers, more to himself than to her. "Are you alright, dear?"

Evelyn's eyes meet his. Her pupils are blown, almost entirely overtaking the gold of her irises when she glances away from him to assess the damage.

"Gods damn it," she quietly groans and applies pressure to the wound, thankfully finding that it isn't too deep or particularly painful. She tends to it, wiping the thin sheen of sweat from her brow. She searches for a rag as she avoids his concerned stare

A deep purple bruise spreads across her pale skin. Small red droplets trickle down the length of her nape, dampening her black breast band before soaking into it and disappearing entirely. He collects himself, willing his mind to cease its incessant urge to lick the damned liquid from her neck. She is flushed and sweating, unbalanced, panting from exertion as much as her own embarrassment. Her dark hair is a tangled mess from his attention. She looks ravaged. 

It… suits her.

Astarion clears his throat, trying his best not to get caught admiring his handiwork.

She was right about one thing. He was, at least in some respects, just a man... 

“Here,” he insists, grabbing one of the smaller furs and holding it up to her. She takes it from him without acknowledgement.

“I -” He begins, but he’s at a loss for words. What does one say in this situation? ‘My sincerest apologies. I don’t know what came over me! I must have gotten swept up in the moment!’ as if that pitiful excuse would overshadow the fact that he manhandled and almost devoured her.

He wants to laugh, but the sound dies in his throat.

He begins to worry that she really may not forgive him. He fears she'll wake the whole camp, or maybe finally cast him out like the monster he is. He wouldn't blame her. She took a great leap of faith in trusting him with this, and he rutted against her like some horny bugbear. Or worse, a teenager, he sneers.

Evelyn pulls the rabbit skin away from her neck, examining it. The brown hairs are matted and crimson, but the bleeding has stopped. She runs her fingers over the puncture marks, feeling the skin dip slightly where his fangs pierced her. She sighs with resignation, surely thinking about how the others will approach her with a plethora of questions tomorrow morning, face reddening at the idea.

“You could have warned me, you know.” She rolls her eyes at him. “I didn’t realize I was agreeing to…all of that.” 

His heart sinks. 

Of course she thinks it was on purpose. I mean, look at him. He’s all but thrown himself at her since the moment they met. He’s spent this entire time playing the part of the rake. It's only natural she assumes the worst.

“Evelyn, darling,” speaking her name aloud brings her focus back onto him. 

The gravity of it is suffocating, condensing the already small space they shared. The tension pulls at something undefinable within him that he thought was long dead—a sincerity that betrays the character he’s been crafting for as long as he can remember. 

It sways him.

More truths to forgive more transgressions, then. A fair transaction.

“I’ve had this condition for over two centuries, but, truth be told,” he clears his throat again, because ugh this is awful. And why does she have to stare at him like that, with her earnest, wet eyes? “You were my first. I’ve only ever fed on beasts.” 

The implication is there: how could he have known?

His confession takes her by surprise. “You don’t…” she pauses, taking everything that transpired tonight into consideration. He must be giving her a look akin to pleading, because she takes mercy on him and disregards whatever question she was about to ask. 

“Please tell me you didn’t do that to the boar.”

Seriously, a joke?

He barks out a laugh before he can stifle it. Whether it's from the sheer ridiculousness of the question or the disbelief towards her acceptance of it all, he truly doesn’t know.

“No, my dear. Just you, and you were delectable.”

Her expression is difficult to read. She’s not looking at him; refuses to, when she replies, “So then, did it work?”

Astarion moves to stand, peering down at her form. He exhales in relief, feeling as though he is a century younger. His muscles are lax; all the stress has been drained from his body. A novel experience. “Yes, I would say so. I feel stronger. My mind is clear. I feel…happy.”

He adds the last word in an effort to appease her, but it does ring true. His main source of joy since he contracted this affliction has been causing others pain, ripping out throats and such. This feels distinctly different, less exhilarating, but pleasant all the same.

“Well, I look forward to seeing you fight.” 

He acknowledges her, then stretches his back out, extending his arms to the sky with his hands clasping behind his head. The motion pulls the rest of his nightshirt out of his trousers and tugs it upward, exposing the hard edges of his hips. He can’t confirm it, but he swears he sees her eyes flit quickly towards them before making an expeditious retreat.

“Shouldn’t take long. So many people need killing.” He lifts the flap of her tent to peek outside. No sign of anyone stirring, and the night is still young. Knowing the wildlife in this area, he may still have a chance to sate himself. With his newfound strength, he may even be able to wrangle up a bear. What a feast that would make.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, you’re invigorating, but I need something more filling.” He bows his head to her in thanks. 

He’s about to step outside, one foot exits the canvas before the rest of him, when it hits him that he feels…odd, uncomfortable leaving her like this. He can’t place his finger on why. He’s ridden atop many women and left without saying a word.

But, he supposes this is dissimilar.

Evelyn listened to him tonight, heard him out when anyone else would have carved him into pieces without second thought. She let him drink from her, forgave him for getting…carried away. 

The most shocking part of it all is that regardless of her dismissiveness, he now undeniably knows that she’s attracted to him. Yet, she didn’t capitalize on the opportunity when it arose to take advantage of his altered state; of his needs. With that, she’s shown him more kindness in the last hour than he’s experienced in his entire undead life. 

He likely owes her for this, of course, but there are worse fates he could endure.

The elf looks over his shoulder at her and catches her watching him intently, as if she wants to continue this conversation but can’t quite figure out what she wants to say. The intensity of her gaze almost forces him to turn back towards her, drawn to her by an unfamiliar ache; a thrill in his spine, the compulsion pulling at his chest like some sort of spell.

“This is a gift, you know.” The words escape him, hanging in the air between them with raw authenticity. He means to make himself sound more frivolous, but before he can edit them in his head, more truth spills from his lips, “I won’t forget it.”

His throat tightens. He considers her for a moment, wondering what he might find if he does turn to meet her eyes.

But, Astarion resists.

She must be exhausted. He shouldn’t take up any more of her time.

He leaves before she can respond. There wasn’t anything left for them to discuss, and he’s desperate to break free from the uneasy weight of her presence.

The second he steps fully outside, he feels as though he can breathe again, not that he needs to, being undead and all. 

What a strange feeling, that was. 

One he decides he’d rather forget. Best to not burden himself too much with it.

The taste of her lingers on his teeth. He finds himself savoring it for a moment too long before stalking towards the forest, confident. Ready to hunt. 

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion fic #astarion x tav #fanfic #bg3 #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate 3 oc #im muting every bit of social media i have after posting this lmfao #evelyn

[redeemers-and-dragons]

Redeemers: Greenest in Flames! Part 4

Temple Bell: RING. RING. RING.

Narration: The Temple of Chauntea is a large square building, made of fieldstone with a peaked slate roof. One of its two bell towers rings, catching a gleam of moonlight every swing, a cry for help. Several groups of masked men and kobolds surround the building, seeking to force their way in, or force the trapped townsfolk out. Jaune and Adam peer over the cobble stone wall that borders the sacred grounds to the south.

Jaune: *Holds onto his holy symbol, stemming his anger at the sight of a religious sanctuary being flagrantly defiled this way.* …What’s the count?

Adam: Two gray masks and six kobolds at the back door. Looks like they’re trying to start a fire.

Neon: *Slinks her way to their sides from the left.* I also got two gray masks and six kobolds with a battering ram at the front doors. There is also a really creepy guy with a white mask. Looks like the boss.

May: *Drops down from a tree from behind them* I also count a wandering parade of three gray masks, ten kobolds, and two guard drakes. Should be coming around the corner… now.

Narration: *On May’s que, a trio of men in masks slowly lead a procession of chanting kobolds, all either stomping their clawed feet and spears or banging their shields with their fists and blades. On either side of the line of kobolds prowls two dog-like reptile creatures that snap, growl, and foam at the mouth, wanting to tear apart anything that even looks their way.*

Gray Mask: *Beating a hand drum.* Do not be fooled by your false idols! Their promises cannot protect you anymore than these doors can. Only the Dragon Queen can spare you now…

Kobolds: Break. To. Bits! Burn. To. Ash! Break. To. Bits…!

The Party: *They watch as the procession turns the corner again, taking their chants of violence with them.*

Adam: Outnumbered 8 to 1. You don’t need to be a seasoned general to know those are unfavorable odds.

May: We just need to get the civilians out. By my calculations they’ll circle the church every eight minutes. That’d be a four minute window at best before the rest discover us attacking one side.

Neon: Well we better attack quickly, because I’m not totally confident in that front door holding for long.

Jaune: *He studies the group of invaders at the back piling hay and dried grass at the bottom of the heavy wooden door, thick smoke rising to the night sky* Alright, then here’s the plan…

~O~O~O~O~O~

Narration: *Caught up in their task of tending to the fire by the back door, many of the kobolds failed to notice the elementally charged crossbow bolt that zipped past them, striking the tinder pile. The resulting explosion sent a shower of burning debris into the air, accompanied by a thick cloud of blinding smoke that engulfed the area, leaving the kobolds and masked men disoriented and struggling to breathe.*

Gray Mask #1: *Cough! Cough* What the hell?

Adam: *Charges in from out of nowhere, shoulder checking the masked man flying straight into the wall of the temple so hard, you’d swear he cracked the stone.*

Gray Mask #2: *Coughs as she draws her hand crossbow on Adam, but has it immediately knocked out of her hand by a nun-chuck.*

Neon: *Spins her nun chuck and hits the Gray Mask right in the jaw, knocking her mask off, then immediately roundhouse kicks a kobold.*

Jaune: *Charges in and shield bashes a kobold then raises it against the spear of a different one, fending the kobolds off until the masks are dealt with.*

Gray Mask #1: *Coughs blood as he stumbles back to his feet, raising a poisoned dagger. Before he can strike, a crossbow bolt nails his arm to the wall. Before he can yell in pain, Adam knocks his head against the wall again, causing him to slump.*

Adam: *Grunts and wields his massive great sword in two hands and slashes through two kobolds in one swipe.*

Gray Mask #2: *Draws a hand ax and swings at Neon*

Neon: *Catches the arm and judo throws the woman over her shoulder*

May: *Runs up and hits the woman with the butt of her great crossbow, knocking her out.*

Jaune: *Gets stabbed in the arm by a kobold’s spear. He uses his sword to cut the spear in half and kicks the kobold back into the squad.* SLEEP! 

Kobolds: *The kobolds scramble to get back on their feet, but the spell has been done. Jaune points his sword at them, commanding them to sleep. Almost instantly, the kobolds start to drool and yawn, falling into a deep slumber before they even make it on their feet again.*

Jaune: *He can barely take a single breath before he orders the team back into action. There just wasn’t any time to waste now.* Adam, get the door.

Adam: *Nods before thrusting the tip of his great sword along the hinges of the thick wooden door. With a show of effort, the minotaur managed to pry the door out of the doorway, causing an uproar of screams and cries of terror from inside.*

Woman: They broke in!

Man: Get the women and children away from the door!

Jaune: *Runs in, weapon holstered and holding up his Talisman of Boldrei.* It’s okay! We won’t hurt you!

Preacher: *Signs a religious symbol in praise.* Oh thank Chanteau, a paladin! Are you here to rescue us?

Jaune: Yes. But we have to go, now! We’re going to the keep! Come on!

Narration: *The preacher urges the rest of the people in the temple to follow Jaune outside, and they obey as quickly as they can. Unfortunately, there were quite a few elderly and injured people amongst the crowd, making evacuation very time consuming. The front door began splintering and cracking under the battering of the invaders, and the chanting of the procession was coming closer towards the back of the temple.*

May: *Peering around the corner at the oncoming mob of hostiles. She dips back and grabs the discarded mask from the ground and a black coat from the unconscious woman, putting them both on.* Contingency time. You think you can out run a couple of drake hounds?

Neon: Please, leading things that want a taste of me on a chase is, like, my specialty. *Takes a quick moment to stretch her legs.*

Narration: *Just as the large group of masked men and kobolds were halfway to the back of the church, they were suddenly halted by the sight of a tabaxi sprinting across their path, and then jumped right on top of the stone wall surrounding the church* Wow! Didn’t know the Ugly Parade was in town! *Laughs and winks as she drops down out of view on the other side*

May: *Limps out in her disguise, bloodied and holding herself up against the side of the temple. She points to where Neon had run off to* What are you doing?! STOP HER! *Crumples down to her knee*

Narration: *Without waiting for an answer, there was a loud roar and the pair of drake hounds burst forth and bound over the stone wall after their prey, followed by the mob of kobolds that were excited for a hunt, and lastly followed by two of the gray masks giving orders to give chase. All that was left was one Gray Mask that rushed to May’s side.*

Gray Mask: *Helping May to her feet* What happened? How did they…? *Anyone could recognize the moment of realization in the man’s eyes even through his scaled mask. It was the very moment he saw the stream of villagers escaping through the back of the church, and also the second before May slit his throat with a knife.*

May: *Covers the man’s mouth with one hand, and wraps an arm around his waist to pull him back around the corner with her before any of the other’s saw. She leaned him up against the wall before taking off her mask and helping with the evacuation.*

Adam: *As the invaders were making headway on the front doors of the temple, he would lift up entire pews and stack them right in front of it to slow them down.* We don’t have much time, Knight!

Jaune: *Ushering an old lady out* This is the last of them! We can-

Narration: *The front doors of the temple managed to be broken open with a loud crash, allowing a man in a White Mask to push his way in, along with a couple kobolds following in behind*

White Mask: You dare stand against the might of the Dragon Queen?! Infidels!!

Adam: *Hefts his great sword* I’ve been called worse.

Jaune: *Draws his long sword* You defile sacred grounds. Drop your weapon or redemption will be out of your grasp.

White Mask: *Draws a large dagger shaped like a jagged icicle* The only thing I wish to grasp is your frozen heart! *Swings his blade, sending a magical spike of ice towards Adam*

Adam: *Tries to duck out of the way, but his large frame was an easy target. The icicle sunk into his shoulder, then shattered into crystalized fragments that rained onto Jaune before he could raise his shield.* GAH!

White Mask: *Smirks* Can’t handle a little bit of ice-?

Jaune: *Channels Divinity* Rebuke the Violent!

White Mask: Huh-? *Before the man had a chance to respond, a brilliant, radiant light emanated from Adam's wounded arm, and gleamed onto White Mask's own arm, aligning perfectly with the spot where the spell had struck. In an instant, the masked man's arm erupted into a blinding explosion of searing, radiant burns.* GAAAH!!!

Adam: *Roars at the top of his lung and charges forward, dragging his great sword into an uppercut that slashes right through the middle of the White Mask and sends him flying up towards the ceiling before landing in a bloody heap on the pile of pews by the door. This sight alone was enough to send the kobolds retreating right back through the front entrance.*

Jaune: *Runs to Adam’s side* Adam! Are you ok?

Adam: *Looks down at his frostbitten and badly slashed arm* Heal it later. We have to move.

Jaune: *Still looks worried but nods as the two of them rush out the back*

~O~O~O~O~O~

Narration: *It took a few minutes for Jaune and Adam to catch back up with the refugees, now hiding by the river with May.*

May: *Looks at Adam’s arm* Shit, what happened to you?

Adam: It’s just a scratch, I’ll be fine.

Jaune: *Sighs* We’ll heal it later, right now-

Narration: *All of a sudden the sound of rustling bushes came from behind them, causing all three adventurers to turn their weapons on the source.*

Neon: *Limping out* Jeez, not even a hello for your favorite girl?

Jaune: Neon! Did you get hurt?!

Neon: No big whoop. Guess those ugly lizard dogs were a little faster than I thought, but I gave them a few good kicks and then the slip. We get everyone?

May: *Nods* Yes. We managed to get everyone out, and then some. *She gestures to a pair of townspeople keeping a hold on the once masked woman they had knocked out in the initial fight, now trying to curse through a gag and pulling at the ropes that bind her hands.*

Adam: You took a prisoner.

Neon: The heck you bring her along for?

May: I figured it was time for us to start getting some answers. This group is clearly well organized and highly motivated by some sort of cause - it's imperative that we know who we are dealing with.

Jaune: *Takes a moment to take in this new development.* May is right. We are not dealing with regular raiders here. When we get back to the keep, we need to interrogate her for whatever information we can get.

Neon: Well, Detective. Who’s gonna play Good Cop and Bad Cop?

#redeemers au #jaune arc #adam taurus #neon katt #may zedong

[pagesfromthevoid]

Enchanted | g.d. | 2

Gale x fem!Tav

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: I told you I wasn’t sorry.

Talk to Me! | Series Masterlist

There I was again tonight

Forcing laughter, faking smiles

Same old tired, lonely place…

“We’ve certainly collected a myriad of companions,” Gale observed as he sat down beside her in camp.

A little over a week ago, Tav had been kind enough to pull him from the wall he had managed to trap himself inside of after the illithid ship had crashed. She was even kinder in allowing him to travel with her, Lae’Zel, Astarion and Shadowheart to find a cure for their tadpole problem. Since then, they had collected the Blade of Frontiers and a devil from Avernus as well and were setting out to locate the druid Halsin in order to help the Emerald Grove.

She seemed ready and willing to collect any and all strays along the way, ensuring that everyone was healed, fed, and given a warm place to rest. Her compassionate nature extended not only to humans but to animals too; she would often pause to tend to wounded creatures found on their journey, whether they were injured birds or owlbear cubs –though that was how they came to have Scratch and the very same owlbear cub she had found outside the goblin camp.

Perhaps that was why Gale was so drawn to her already; she was kind and open in a way that he had never experienced before. Her empathy seemed boundless, radiating from her in moments of danger and transformation alike. Even in the face of peril, she remained steadfast, her gentle demeanor a beacon of hope and comfort to those around her. It was as if she possessed an innate ability to soothe troubled souls and mend broken spirits with just a smile and a touch.

“The more people we have, the more likely we are to be safe from whatever we face in the coming days,” she reminded him, though she did not look up from the violin she had snagged from an abandoned caravan as she tried to re-tune it. She had used it earlier to hit a goblin, and while the instrument still worked, the strings had snapped in the process and she was trying to replace them. “Besides, I can’t imagine leaving any of you to your own devices; you were trapped in a wall. Lae’Zel was in a cage, and Karlach was being hunted by Wyll. I’m afraid if I let you wander, you’ll get yourselves killed.”

The playful conversation starts,

Counter all your quick remarks

Like passing notes in secrecy…

“Oh ye of little faith,” he chastised, chuckling some as he leaned back. “I am perfectly capable of handling myself –though I cannot attest to any of our other friends.”

Tav simply shrugged in response, looking up at him finally with a soft smile. “I’m sure you are, Gale of Waterdeep. With a title like that, I’m sure you’re a fantastic adventurer and this is just another day in paradise.”

Gale simply shrugged in response, though he couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips. They fell into a comfortable silence as she plucked at the strings of her violin, humming a soft tune to make sure the melody sounded alright. His thoughts drifted to his bard –to the note he had given to the little kobold. Had it really only been a few weeks since he left his tower? With everything that had happened, it had felt like months ago that he had sought out his bard and lost his chance.

“I think I’m going to turn in for the night,” she finally announced, standing up and stretching her arms over her head. Gale picked up her violin and held it out to her, smiling some. Tav took it, their fingers brushing against one another just briefly, with her own smile. “Goodnight, Gale. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Tav,” he offered, watching her retreating figure as she slipped into her tent. He averted his gaze as she bent over, looking away with a soft blush when he caught himself staring a little longer than he should have. 

“You’re a bit pathetic, you know that?” Astarion suddenly announced, appearing across from Gale as the fire simmered down.

“Excuse me?” 

Astarion sipped the wine in his hand, waving his other dismissively. “Please, it’s been a week since she picked you out of that wall and all you do is pine after like a love sick fool.”

“I do not pine. Besides –I have no time for any sort of romantic inclinations. Not with our unwanted guest in our heads.”

Gale rolled his eyes, shaking his head. What a ridiculous notion, he mused, thinking that he had any interest in beginning a relationship in the middle of all of this chaos. Even if he did find Tav attractive and kind and a lovely conversationalist – qualities that he couldn't deny – he couldn't afford to entertain such thoughts, not when the fate of their lives hung in the balance. 

Perhaps he did have a bit of a lingering crush on the de facto leader –but that meant little when he couldn't help but stray to the missive he had sent to his bard. Hope flickered within him, albeit faintly, as he imagined her response to his attempt at poetry and his thanks to her. His mind drifted to her every night, even if he didn’t see her face. He didn’t need to know what she looked like when he could hear her voice and recall her words.

Tav was lovely, but she wasn’t his bard and if Gale was to hold onto anything, it had to be her. If anything because the likelihood of ever seeing her again was minimal –less hurt for him and Tav.

“Then I don’t suppose you would be upset if I made time for her, then?” Astarion questioned, brow quirked up with the smirk that Gale had learned meant nothing good.

Gale opened his mouth to tell him, no, I would not be upset but you shouldn’t touch her still but the sentence got caught in his throat as the orb in his chest pulsed suddenly, shooting a sharp pain through his body. Astarion lurched back, surprised by Gale’s sudden cry of pain as the wizard doubled over and fell to his knees. Gods, now was not the time for this to happen –not in the middle of camp; not with everyone around. 

“What in the sweet hells is wrong with you?” Astarion demanded as Tav practically tripped out of her tent to hurry back over. Shadowheart, Wyll and Karlach approached as well.

“Gale, are you okay?” Tav asked, touching his shoulder to lay him on his back.

“I just –,” he gasped, closing his eyes for a moment as he reached up and clutched his chest. Her hand covered his, trying to look over his chest for wounds. When she found none, the pain had subsided enough for him to open his eyes and clutch her hand in his. “I suppose it’s time I tell you all that I might have what is…essentially a bomb in my chest.” She pulled back some, though she kept her hand in his as he loosened the wrap of his robe, exposing the mark of the Netherese orb that climbed up his chest and to his throat. “It’s a complicated story –long, tedious, and terribly boring, truthfully –but I need –I have to consume magic in order to prevent it from getting worse.”

“How do you consume magic?” She asked, helping him sit up now. “Like, we enchant food or what?”

He chuckled weakly, shaking his head. “My research determined that I just need magical items that I can siphon the magic from, to hold it over.”

Tav eyed him carefully, her gaze filled with concern. With a gentle yet firm touch, she flattened her hand against his chest, as if trying to soothe the orb nestled within him with just her touch. Gale could feel the warmth of her palm against his skin, a stark contrast to the icy tendrils of darkness coiling within him. 

He appreciated the gesture more than he could probably express. Her presence alone offered a semblance of comfort in the midst of his torment. But despite her efforts, the touch did little to appease the malevolent orb residing inside him. It continued to pulse with an ominous energy, defying all attempts at pacification.

“I think I picked up a helm,” Shadowheart suggested, half jogging back to her tent to go through her things.

“Oh, I picked up a fancy robe –I bet it’s magic,” Karlach offered, following suit.

“I have this.” Tav unclasped a necklace from around her neck –a simple amulet on a chain. The center held an emerald stone and it was encased in fine gold. “It’s definitely magic –it’s the Absolute Confidence Amulet. Nicked it off my old boss before I left Neverwinter a couple years ago.”

“Don’t you need it?” He asked, though he was already reaching for it.

“Not anymore, honestly,” she reassured with a promising smile. “I’m pretty confident in myself without it.”

Gale nodded solemnly, his fingers tightening around the item clutched close to his chest. With a deep breath, he released the magic contained within the amulet, allowing the orb to consume it greedily. As the magical energies dissipated, the necklace crumbled into pieces, scattering at their feet like shards of shattered dreams.

Tav watched the disintegration of the necklace with a bit of resignation. Despite the necessity of the action, there was a sense of loss in witnessing the demise of the once-cherished item. Yet, her smile held a glimmer of hope as she pulled away from him and stood. 

“Let us know if you need more. You shouldn’t keep this from us,” she lightly scolded, helping him up from the ground. “We’re in this together –I don’t know what I’d do if something were to happen to you.”

Gale nodded, his gaze softening as he looked down at Tav. For the first time in weeks, the pulsing of the orb within him dulled down. 

As she moved to pull away, a gentle breeze rustling through her hair, Gale's heart skipped a beat. In a moment of impulse, he reached out and caught her hand, holding it tenderly against his chest. She looked up at him in surprise, but didn’t move to pull away –instead her gaze softened as she smiled up at him. 

With a silent understanding passing between them, Gale nodded in response to her request, his eyes locking with hers in a silent exchange of trust and affection. In the fleeting moment, he couldn’t help himself as he covered her hand with his once more.

“Thank you, Tav. Truly.”

“Of course, Gale. 

I'll spend forever wondering if you knew

I was enchanted to meet you…

*****

“Gale seems to be quite taken with you,” Shadowheart commented a few days later, when she and Tav were collecting firewood for the camp.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Tav countered, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

“I can’t tell if you’re blind or just ignoring how he looks at you.”

“I am not ignoring him,” she conceded, sitting on a fallen tree and dropping the wood in her hands. “I just –it’s complicated.”

“What, do you have someone waiting for you in Baldur’s Gate?” Shadowheart sat beside her, kicking her feet out in front of her.

“I mean, maybe.”

“Maybe? What do you mean maybe?”

Tav huffed, flushing a bit as she fished through her pockets and pulled out a folded up piece of parchment. She handed it to the cleric then dropped her hands into her lap as Shadowheart read it over.

“This is incredibly cheesy,” she laughed, handing it back to her.

“It is not,” Tav argued, shaking her head and snatching the note back. “I don’t know who wrote it, but I have spent years singing to practically no one and this stranger wrote me a poem to tell me my singing saved their life –I suppose I’m just holding out hope that I find them one day.”

“And in the meantime, you’re going to ignore someone who very clearly is in love with you –for someone who you may never meet?”  Shadowheart gave her a knowing look, crossing her ankles as she did. “Tav –we don’t have a lot of time with these tadpoles in our heads. While I am not saying you should just bed the wizard for the hells of it…I am saying that you should consider yourself fortunate to have someone that wants to share whatever time we have left with you.”

“I thought you were supposed to be the pragmatic, religious one that tells me to control myself?” 

“Usually I would,” but she shrugged and looked over towards where camp was situated. “But it’s hard to be when it feels like we’re on borrowed time.”

“It also helps to use the sexual tension to your advantage,” Lae’Zel suddenly announced, stepping out of the woods. “You two were taking too long. The wizard was growing concerned. You would do well to act on whatever affections he may hold for you while they last.”

“You’re both incredibly unhelpful and strangely horny,” Tav commented, standing up and gathering the wood in her arms again. “I don’t want to use him for anything —Gale is a good person; he deserves someone who can return his feelings entirely. Not someone who is distracted by a mysterious poet.”

“Tck. Githyanki have no use for poets; we say what we mean without masking it behind pretty words.”

“Thank you for the meaningful contribution to the conversation, Lae’Zel. I’m sure Tav is so happy for your advice.”

“As she should be.”

Tav rolled her eyes at them both, walking away as they began their usual bickering. How could they possibly give her advice when it was clear they had unresolved feelings between the two of them? Ridiculous, the both of them. Besides, she had no desire to give into her feelings for Gale (and she certainly had feelings, she couldn’t deny that). They had tadpoles in their brains and were on a mission to practically save the world. It was easier to pine for a mystery poet who may or may not be there at the end than risk falling in love with someone who not only had a bomb in their chest, but could sprout tentacles at any moment. 

No, she was better off without falling for Gale of Waterdeep. 

*****

By the end of their day, Gale and the rest of the merry band of weirdos were exhausted. They had managed to free the Druid Halsin from the goblins (while slaughtering the whole lot of them), only for him to ask them to help with breaking a curse on the Shadowlands. And Tav —Mystra bless her —had agreed almost immediately, without hesitation. 

Bloodied, battered, and covered in dirt and grime, Gale practically collapsed onto the nearest bedroll close to the campfire. He was first on watch tonight, and while he desperately wanted to sleep, he knew there wouldn’t be a chance in the nine hells anyone would swap with him. Tav laughed at him, nudging him with her foot as she passed by. 

“Go get some sleep, Gale. I’ll keep watch,” she offered, lowering to sit at the edge of the roll. 

“Absolutely not,” he argued, sitting up to glower down at her. “It’s my turn, and you took up post the other night when the orb acted up.”

“And I’m taking up post tonight as well. Go to bed.” Her voice was firm and she was pushing him away now to get him to move. “If I get tired, I’ll wake you. Deal?”

He hesitated a moment before nodding once, standing up finally. “Deal. And do not hesitate. If I so much as hear you yawn, I’ll be out here.”

“Here’s hoping you’re a heavy sleeper then.”

Gale pushed her head gently, rolling his eyes at her. She giggled, ducking out of his reach as he retreated to the privacy of his tent. He wasn’t kidding; if she yawned before he fell asleep, he would make her swap out. It was only fair, and he couldn’t bear the idea of letting her stay up without even a short rest.

However as soon as his head hit the pillow of his own bedroll, Gale had to fight sleep. It was tempting, and usually he wouldn’t be opposed to going straight to sleep —especially when it beckoned so clearly —but he really did want to make sure she didn’t need him. Whether he wanted to admit his feelings for her or not, Gale couldn’t help but worry for her. It was almost instinctual. 

After what felt like hours —though he was certain it was hardly even ten minutes —he began to drift off. Dreams danced in the edge of his mind, words to a song he vaguely recognized from his bard. Then words he knew; his words, softly carrying through the night air. 

The lingering question kept me up

2 AM, who do you love?

I wondered till I'm wide awake

Now I'm pacing back and forth, 

wishing you were at my door

I'd open up and you would say

It was enchanting to meet you…

At first, he assumed it was a dream —it wouldn’t be the first time he had dreamt of her sweet voice, echoing his words back to him. Relaxing into the feeling of his bard’s voice, he let it wash over him. Let it pull him into the dream world that he desperately wanted to enter for a little while. It was clearer than ever; her voice was sometimes muffled by the dreamscape but not tonight. 

Please don’t be in love with someone else,

Please don’t have somebody waiting on you…

The addition to his lines confused him, prompting his eyes to open and look around his tent for a moment. Blinking away the new lines —ones he certainly didn’t recognize and had never dreamed of before —he tried to refocus on his bard and her voice once more, listening to her echo his name even if she didn’t know it yet. But the music didn’t return in his head; it was still clear, as if right outside his tent. 

Sitting up, Gale rubbed his eyes in frustration. His exhaustion must be getting to him finally. Truly, he must be hallucinating —

This is me praying that

This was the very first page,

Not where the storyline ends…

“You are absolutely hopeless, Tav, singing that silly little poem,” Shadowheart scolded from outside his tent, though he could hear her retreating to her own. “Goodnight, I hope you dream of your poet.”

Her poet?

Her poet. 

Gale was her poet. 

Tav was his bard. 

“Sweet Hells.”

#gale dekarios x tav #gale of waterdeep x reader #gale dekarios x reader #gale of waterdeep x tav #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios

[howlingday]

Yang Xiao Long: Dragon Master

Yang: (DM) Okay, you guys enter the dragon's lair and you find four maidens moving around here and there. One of them is dusting with a feather duster, another is wearing an apron and carrying an empty pot, and a third is holding a magic calculator and scribbling away on a piece of parchment. What's your next move?

Blake: (Rogue) I go up to the maid and say, "We're here to rescue you. Don't be alarmed."

Yang: The maid looks at you and says, "Rescue? Why would I want to be recued?"

Blake: "Wait, weren't you abducted?"

Yang: "Abducted? Divines, no! The master has blessed us with our dream jobs! I've always wanted to work a high-paying job while employed by a generous and sweet employer! It just turns out the job is maid work for a golden dragon!"

Blake: "So the quest was a bust, huh?"

Yang: The chef speaks up. "I get to cook gourmet food like I've always dreamed!"

Yang: The accountant says, "I manage all the finances like my father always wanted for me!"

Ruby: (Ranger) "So there's nothing for us to do?"

Yang: The maid grimaces and says, "Well, there is one thing we might need help with." She points down the hall where you can hear Draconic roaring. It sounds like two beasts roaring back and forth, and a golden dragon appears following a beautiful, golden-haired girl.

Ruby: As a kobold, do I understand what they're saying?

Yang: Yup, but soon the argument shifts to Common.

Yang: (Ahem!) "IT'S NOT A PHASE, DAD!"

Weiss: (Bard) Oh no...

Yang: The dragon bellows, smoke fuming, (Deep voice) "Come to your senses, my darling! You spend most of your nights bedding most other races in your human form! Where is your dignity as a dragon?!"

Yang: "Well maybe I want to live my life however I want before some necromancer murders me like they did Mother!"

Jaune: (Paladin) I look at the arguing family and say to the group, "Oh, we are so not skilled enough to handle family therapy."

Yang: As you say that, the dragon looks to you and is surprised. "Oh, by Bahamut! We have guests! Forgive me for my shameful display! But I am ever so glad that you are here, noble paladin! Perhaps you can be the guiding light for my daughter?"

Jaune: "M-Me? Uh, sure." I'm gonna roll for Persuasion. (Rolls 17) I say, "You should listen to your father. Love is an intimate emotion, and you should save yourself, body, mind, and soul for the one you can spend the rest of your life with."

Yang: The dragon smiles and says, "Yes! Exactly!"

Ruby: I'll roll, too! (Rolls 13) I say, "It's fine if you want to experiment, but don't rush into something you might regret. After all, people with different views hold different values."

Yang: The dragon tosses his head and says, "Er, true, but I don't think that's the message I want for my daughter. But you are no less true."

Blake: My turn. (Rolls 6) I say, "Look, sweet thing, sex is awesome, but it's not something you should do all day. After all, you don't want to spoil a good thing by doing it too much, right?"

Yang: The dragon bellows, "Now wait just a minute!"

Jaune: Uh, Weiss? Maybe you want to add something here? ...Weiss?

Weiss: (Smiles, Sets down her scroll) I stroll out of the bedroom, completely satisfied. "Sup, ladies~?"

Yang: Snrk! Inside the bedroom, you hear a satisfied moan. "Divines, I've never felt so good~!"

Jaune: WHAT DID YOU DO?!

Yang: The dragon rears his head! "HOW... HOW DARE YOU!"

Ruby: Oh no... Get ready to roll, guys!

Yang: The daughter stands in front of him! "Daddy, no! I love her!" She grabs you, Jaune. "Paladin, bless our marriage!"

Jaune: "Uh, that's more of a Cleric thing, but sure! Done!

Weiss: Wait?! What?! I run out of there, shouting, "I'm not ready for that level of commitment!"

Yang: The daughter transforms and chases after you, laughing! "You cannot escape true love, darling~!"

Yang: The dragon dad sighs.

Jaune: "Uh... It's an improvement, right?"

Yang: The dragon dad sighs.

#rwby #yang xiao long #d&d #dungeons and dragons #jaune arc #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #doodlepoodle

[kobold-wyx]

CK3 charity stream breakdown

cw: cannibalism, child harm, cancer

1. start with 400 points, basically witch+basic traits and stats in wales

2. the king of england invites me to a grand tournament and then literally dies in the first match

3. i hurriedly figured out how to gain congenital traits by eating children via witchcraft progression, and claim the kingdom of wales

4. I founded a coven and sold my seventh child's soul for an extended life

5. EATING SO MANY CHILDREN. YUM

6. i found out the king of the isle of man has the ring of life but couldn't figure out how to take it

7. i started exclusively destabilizing england by eating royal kids and murdering every adult that came to power

8. i am infirm

9. i figured out how to steal the ring of life on my deathbed. i succeeded and killed the previous owner, the king of the isle of mann. i am now functionally immortal

10. i killed england's royalty so much that my grandson's wife inherited the title randomly, and my grandson became the king of england so i stopped destabilizing england as it was now ruled by kobolds

11. the witch king was clubbed by a boat mast while relaxing at sea, was barely rescued, and suffered so much brain damage he is now incapable and cannot cast magic nor brew the potions that would cure himself. however, the instinct to abduct and eat children remained, and he often staked out the lands for his desired plans to work. no agents betrayed him. they saw the utility in his plans, despite his new mental handicap.

12. while incapable my kingdom rescued the now very-destabilized england from 4 simultaneous wars. kobolds are victorious. flanders is annihilated.

13. the witch king turns his attention to norway and begins killing adults and eating noble children to destabilize the invaded scotland territory controlled by the norse

14. i was abducted

15. they took the ring

16. fuck. at least i can hunt the nobles of norway

17. i must remind my grand daughter acting as regent who i am, and that her attempt to wrest my power away from my ownership will not be tolerated, nor punished. despite the fact that she is running it entirely without me. i trust you and will never harm you but you will never own it while i am alive, for even without the ring i will not die without a fight.

18. my body is suddenly entirely comprised of cancer. i will be dead within the year.

19. i die begging for my family coven to feed me the last prince of norway who eluded my grasp. my grandson of an unbroken line of primary heirs takes my title, and is left with a utopic paradise for himself, his surviving family, and his people. he is unable to thank me for the cost i was willing to pay.

but, the great grandson cannot look past his ruined family's lives at his ancestor's hands.

#crusader kings 3

[brineffxiv]

This dungeon was superb. The music, the environments, love it all.

And, after beating it into submission, we're got our mother porxie!

This first batch of porxies is destined for our friends in Limsa Lominsa.

Where, by fortuitous coincidence, Merlwyb is currently meeting with representatives of the Kobolds and the Sahagin.

Finally, you see it. I cannot even tell what makes one people a "beast" and the other a "man". The Hrothgar especially blur the lines, yet we do not argue them not to fully be people. I suspect it's got more to do with convenience than with anything else; when we wanted what they had - their land, their resources - we deemed them animals and took it from them. Learned prejudices keep the bloody cycle turning. But it doesn't have to be this way. You - we - can still change it.

You have a long way to go, but that you are willing to open this dialogue - you especially, who once spurned our advice on the same topic - is a good first step.

Merlwyb has a pirate problem. In that some of her pirate factions are refusing to attend the negotiating table. First among them are the Bloody Executioners, whose acting-captain Sicard is refusing to even speak with her. Looks like the Scions are on the case!

After some sleuthing we turn up information that seems to reveal Sicard's crew is stealing crystals from the Kobolds in lieu of raiding the now-absent Garlean ships. And they are making a small fortune. We set up a meeting with one of their crystal dealers... But our only non-recognizable face, G'raha, is not particularly adept at subterfuge.

G'raha, I think he's onto us.

Yep, totally onto us.

So this is Sicard. Turns out he's a big fan of ours. And he points out that technically speaking, as things stand, he's not breaking any rules.

That's a really good point, G'raha. If Sicard has nothing to hide, then why is he hiding?

Sicard agrees to meet with the Admiral, and the Admiral invites us along as witnesses. The meeting will take place on the Bloody Executioners' home turf; the Astalicia.

#ffxiv liveblog #rhesh'a tag #master matoya #merlwyb bloefhiswyn #g'raha tia #sicard #thoughts on lore

[pathfinderunlocked]

Unlocked Ghoul - CR1 Undead

A Pathfinder Unlocked take on a ghoul.

Artwork by Will O'Brien on Artstation, from Empire of the Ghouls, copyright Kobold Press.

Unlocked Monsters are my series of redesigns for official creatures that I think are cool and iconic monsters, but could be drastically improved in terms of gameplay enjoyment. I can't think of a better target for this kind of redesign than a CR 1 monster that gets multiple attempts per turn to paralyze a target for multiple rounds. Losing a turn isn't fun, losing a bunch of turns in a row is especially not fun, and at this level, your party members don't have any way to remove the effect.

You can replace paralysis with ghoul strike on ghasts or any other type of ghoul, and it should work equally well.

Ghoul - CR 1

This humanoid creature has long, sharp teeth, and its pallid flesh is stretched tightly over its starved frame.

XP 400 CE Medium undead Init +2 Senses darkvision 60 ft.; Perception +7

DEFENSE

AC 14, touch 12, flat-footed 12 (+2 Dex, +2 natural) hp 13 (2d8+4) Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +5 Defensive Abilities channel resistance +2 Immune undead traits

OFFENSE

Speed 30 ft. Melee bite +3 (1d6+1 plus disease and ghoul strike) and 2 claws +3 (1d6+1 plus ghoul strike) Special Attacks ghoul strike

STATISTICS

Str 13, Dex 15, Con —, Int 13, Wis 14, Cha 14 Base Atk +1; CMB +2; CMD 14 Feats Weapon Finesse Skills Acrobatics +4, Climb +6, Perception +7, Stealth +7, Swim +3 Languages Common, Necril

SPECIAL ABILITIES

Disease (Su) Ghoul Fever: Bite—injury; save Fort DC 13; onset 1 day; frequency 1/day; effect 1d3 Con and 1d3 Dex damage; cure 2 consecutive saves. The save DC is Charisma-based.

A humanoid who dies of ghoul fever rises as a ghoul at the next midnight. A humanoid who becomes a ghoul in this way retains none of the abilities it possessed in life. It is not under the control of any other ghouls, but it hungers for the flesh of the living and behaves like a normal ghoul in all respects. A humanoid of 4 Hit Dice or more rises as a ghast.

Ghoul Strike (Su) A target struck by a ghoul's bite or claw attacks must succeed on a DC 13 Fortitude save or be affected by a ghoul aura for 1d4+1 rounds. While affected by a ghoul aura, the target takes a -6 penalty to Strength and is overwhelmed. The save DC is Charisma-based.

Any living creature that moves adjacent to a target affected by a ghoul aura must succeed on a DC 13 Fortitude save or also take a -6 penalty to Strength and be overwhelmed until the ghoul aura ends. Moving away from the target with the ghoul aura does not end these effects.

An overwhelmed creature is staggered and cannot concentrate. If an overwhelmed creature attacks or casts a spell, it falls prone and becomes helpless until the beginning of its next turn after doing so. Effects that would remove or prevent the paralyzed or nauseated conditions also remove or prevent the overwhelmed condition.

#d&d #pathfinder 1e #undead

[dzamie]

so! Thoughts on my lil guys? And also, you said you wanted a reminder to do the second half of basic decisions of ur OC list

They all seem pretty neat, though I must admit that, as a long-time furry, I greatly prefer the fox and the dragon :D

Thanks for the reminder! A shame I can't start the numbering at 13, but...

Azurel Dracolis - Large blue dragon. Also Dzamie's dragon transformation and my primary RP character. Generally in control of the situation, and rather protective of his loyal kobold den, the VitAzurels. Has been known to kidnap a princess or prince, and gets either a ransom or a meal out of them.

Rinta VitAzurel - Kobold mage, equipped with a staff directly from Azurel's hoard! She learned through some books he has, and has a penchant for size-changing magic... though prefers to use it on other people. Before Azurel sent her and Kassar to join a nearby city's Adventurer's Guild, she tended to shrink intruders and either swallow them or stick them between her legs. A bit of a dragon fanatic, even for a kobold.

Kassar VitAzurel - Kobold fighter, given sword and shield from Azurel's hoard. Sent with Rinta to become an adventurer, is a bit more... understanding of non-kobold beliefs, and generally tries to keep his fellow bold out of trouble.

Grace (slime) - Slime griffoness who hangs around in Azurel's lair. Friendly, outgoing, and loves physical contact. Often horny. Perfectly safe to be inside, unless you keep on insisting that you're trying to kill her. That gets your body turned into hers, fatally. Cannot fly, but can either puppet around whoever's inside her, or let herself be moved around by the same.

Grace (not) - Experimental fursona. She's on this list because I've drawn her once or twice. Generally a bit perkier than Dzamie and Azurel. Not an RP character.

Rekus - Dragonslayer-in-training panther, a bit gullible. Good fighter, unless he's up against a dragon. Admittedly don't have a strong personality for him.

Sinera - Fox mage, possibly the second living katul (the furry species) to learn magic, taught by Dzamie. Uses a brush or pencil to draw sigils in the air. Again, not much personality.

Galleon - MLP griffon, a bit cocky. Has quick claws and surprisingly good flight control for a non-pegasus. Has a good nose for finding legal means to keep his omnivorous diet - or at least keeping out of trouble with the illegal means.

Razzle - size-shifting Salazzle, and Dazzle's twin. Rarely uses her pheromones, but does have a bit of an ego (doesn't take it out on people directly, but she's no stranger to an "everyone will be mine!" villain soliloquy). Has basically no sex drive. Possibly ace?

Dazzle - size-shifting shiny Salazzle, and Razzle's twin. Basically the stereotype of a horny, enthralling Salazzle. Envies Razzle a little since Razzle doesn't rely on pheromones to get people to like her.

Wendy - friendly lemon shark (has stripes tattooed on her back for the "tiger shark" joke), works at an aquarium as a show diver (hops in to feed the fish and give relevant facts to visitors over the speakers). Occasionally picks up a side gig as a moat shark for a villain, or rescues shipwreck survivors as a hobby - though she does first ask if they'd rather she eat or save them.

Cerise - Velociraptor pack leader (Jurassic Park style raptor), marked by a dark red stripe down her snout and back. Able to read English, and takes great pleasure in outsmarting humans, often fatally.

#text #asks #rawrs #ignisuada #ocs #oc: azurel #oc: rinta #oc: kassar #oc: grace #oc: rekus #oc: sinera #oc: galleon #oc: razzle #oc: dazzle #oc: wendy #oc: cerise #reference #furry #dragons #kobolds

[tetsuotools]

Alright op drop the stormbleeze hcs

hoo boy are you ready I don’t think you are ready

saying I have too many is an understatement. frankly I don’t have enough

i obviously can’t remember all of them but be ready for a long ass dump regardless o7

-lazarus is the type of guy who can keep his composure and is either relaxed or just level headed in most situations but anytime it involves chandrelle it’s over for him (he loses it)

-puppy + kitty dynamic ok

-i feel like I’ve posted this before but chandrelle has “the” smile that makes him crack and it’s less of like. The ingame smirk sprite and much more of a genuine smile yknow

-t4t bi4bi i says what i says

-lazarus had bigass crush on her during SoL but took him a minute to realize. Probably didn’t help that she played along with it/somewhat shared the feelings

-he definitely shunned her a lot during VG , probably tried to throw away his feelings for her but unfortunately for him there was still a little speck of hope that one day they could turn everything around and that’s what got him to open up alittle more at the six pint

-chandrelle couldnt ever reflect on what she did because dumbass vallamir would always say something snarky/make her feel embarrassed (he’s in her brain… lol) so she just kinda sat in her own tears because of it

-adding to the angst, because she was shut up by lazarus so quickly after she tried to reconcile with him she legitimately thought it was over. Then she put vallamir in the Tube and regained the confidence she needed lmao

-therapy for them is just holding eachother for a prolonged amount of time because they needed alot of time to just make up for everything

-i like to think that reginald put lazarus’ sword in chandrelles room because he was sick of seeing the tension and nothing happening so he purposefully put it in there

-there’s a moment of dialogue if you go the long way in the cave during SoL where they have an exchange and chandrelle goes “it felt good to slay a few kobolds though, didn’t it?” And lazarus begrudgingly replies “.. I think you should have left me under that rock this time” and my infected brain takes that as him being so stunned by his silly little girlcrush that he goes into denial mode LOL

-chandrelle is overprotective of him. Not in an unhealthy way but more in a way of just, how she can’t ever lose him again

-touched starved lazarus. that’s all.

-lazarus knows that chandrelle doesn’t like the setting but he’d still much rather be in a sort of rpg kind of world than ever go back to vg. Chandrelle can kind of sense this so she makes sure they never go anywhere that reminds him of that

-lazarus cannot believe that she likes so much he thinks so low of himself that he can’t fathom that chandrelle cares about him that much (at least for a little while)

-lazarus lowkey dreads taking his helmet off because chandrelle always likes to mess with it like she can’t even control it it’s just her instinct to Pet the Lazarus

that’s all I can get out (for now >:] ), thank you for sending this in! Hopefully you enjoy reading some of these, im glad I can finally dump these to people that will listen

#the hex #chandrelle stormblaze #lazarusbleeze #stormbleeze #tooldumps

[alpaca-clouds]

NaNoWriMo Day 5

I had to skip NaNo yesterday, because by the looks of it I got COVID again, just like last year around this time. And yesterday I just slept through most of the day. Really most of it. So, no writing happened yesterday.

Today, too, I have to stop in the middle of a chapter, which I usually don't like. But I am still trying to figure out a bit how the action in the next chapter is going to go. Because yeah, there is gonna be action.

Wordcount: 23 300 / 50 000 (+4696)

Chapters: 10.5 / 23

Favorite Bits

“How did you sleep?” Astarion inquired. “Fairly good, as always,” Tav said. “I took longer than you to fall asleep, though.” He sighed and Astarion knew quite well, why. “You were thinking about those drow.” “Yes, of course. If anything… I hope we can go there next night and find out who is behind it.” “And get the drow I saw out of it, I assume.” “Yes, that was the plan.” Another sigh came over the bard’s lips. “I need to go tell Karlach, Wyll and Shadowheart. I think depending on what we are dealing with…” “Come on, it cannot be worse than anything what we dealt with before.” “Even the mightiest paladin might get slayed by a single kobold if he becomes too haughty.” “Oh please, keep those pearls of wisdom to yourself,” Astarion muttered, though he did so with a grin. “I am just saying, that even after everything we need to be careful. Not get haughty. Not be mindless.” At this Astarion could not help a chuckle. “May I remind you, Tav, darling, that it tends to be you who usually runs into danger without a second thought – at least when it comes to saving people? I have stopped counting how many times we needed to save your sorry ass.” “I am trying to learn,” Tav replied. “Trying to be more patient.”

There was this one thing, that was driving him about as insane as the memory of his former sire. A thing, that interwove with said memory often enough. The one thing, he did not really understand and was afraid to question. But even now he did not understand what Tav actually liked about him. Because Tav was this silly, heroic man, who wanted to save everyone. Literally everyone. Of course, Tav had been very receptive towards his flirtation back then. But at the time Astarion had assumed, that for the most part, this man was just a bard, who was thinking with his sexual organs rather than anything else. He had not questioned it too much, because it was just how he had expected things to go. His calculation had been to seduce the man and get his protection in return – especially as everyone else somehow was listening to that idiot. What he had not expected was for this man to actually care about him – and even less to actually start caring about him in return. But why? Why was this idiot like that? Why had he been there for those last seven months? No matter how horrible Astarion had been. Did that idiot really care about him, or…

“You just needed to say something,” Wyll muttered. “We could have brought food. Something proper.” “Really, Wyll,” Shadowheart noted, “you know Tav – and Astarion. What did you expect from those two.” Karlach chuckled. “You are being mean, sweetheart.” “No, I am being honest. You were not there that first night before we found you guys. Tav tried to cook. He tried.” Kantei started laughing. “He is not that bad.” “He just randomly threw stuff into one pot and expected it to magically turn into stew!” “Well, he probably didn’t have cheese,” Aarton observed. “He is pretty good as long as he can put cheese into everything.” “That is not what I would consider good,” Shadowheart muttered – and just a bit, Astarion had to agree with her. “Weren’t you a follower of Shar?” Lakrissa said. “I mean, isn’t Shar all about the ‘absence of things’? I cannot imagine followers of Shar to eat well. True beauty probably lies in the absence of flavor or something.” This got Shadowheart to blush just a little. “Well, we at least had proper stews.”

(And yes, there is a whole chapter of twelve characters just ripping into each other.)

#nanowrimo #voice of the voiceless #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfiction

[demonhimbo]

so many cool things are happening in marosia rn gimme a sec while i ramble:

so my lil baby boy kobold, Biter, went on a trip with his half-brother Kov and cousin Myra. Kov had a vision of a town getting hit by a tsunami, so the trio decided to go help any survivors. They got there, the town was ok, so they did what they could and then started to leave. On the road back, someone from the town booked it after them to be like “yo, hey, that volcano nearby is gonna erupt soon- you folks won’t make it home in time, come back to the city”.

Two gods (Ambition and Vice) joined together to turn the city into an island to save it, but the townsfolk had to build these huge obelisks around the town to help ‘em channel the power. The kobold trio helped build one of these towers, went back to the town, and then it all kicked off.

But instead of getting sent to the island, they were dumped into the middle of the ocean, between the new island and the mainland. We all get a lil DM message basically saying “hey, pick now. if you choose Island, you cannot return to the mainland in your lifetime, and you will be changed.”

Naturally, that sounded fun as shit. We picked the island option.

Upon heading to shore, our cart (being pulled by an elephant) moved faster, the elephant transformed into a fuck-off huge hermit crab. And then BAM the three of us got turned into avians.

But special avians. In marosia, the races have strict design limits-- for avians, you have to stick to birds, naga are reptiles, kobolds are amphibians, etc etc.

The avians we became have serpentine and bird traits, just like the god of Ambition. Shit is cool as fuck.

Anyway, we had a very sweet little scene with Kov and Biter on the shore getting used to their new bodies, and now we’re on the road to the city. I legit cannot wait to see where Biter goes next, his journey’s been SO COOL.

#marosia is VERY slow a lot of the time #but when shit picks up it fucken ZOOMS #Biter is my sweet creature #I do not love him as much as Gale but Biter is very very good #ask me about my maro characters ha ha jk unless...?

[blueberryraptorcrumble]

DnD:

So I finally got to play, I missed sesh 1 and intros last time so I got to play remotely today. Party this game is a dwarf cleric, a human fighter, a teifling warlock, a dragonborn paladin, a kenku rogue (absent), a tortle monk (also absent), and a warforged druid (me).

We’re on a mission to figure out why the crystals that transport people to the citadel are acting up? I think? We all mysteriously ended up there from all over, many have no memory how or why. My own character Ino indeed has amnesia and also cannot remember the purpose for which she’s made. (Hints say this might be plot important but I don’t know more than that)

So we get together (those that were here) and are told we should investigate this marketplace. I guess that’s where we were found when we were transported there. Turns out something’s been going on with the merchants- produce stolen, stalls damaged, weird fires. We break up a fight between a gnome and kolbold who’d been long time feuding, each blaming the other for the happenings. We find evidence of clementines, which is weird because they’re super rare here. The weird fruit leads us to this weird pepper guy who was initially kinda sus.

Pepper guy says we should compete in these ‘games’ or contests to get some rep so we can get more info from the shopkeeps. So we entered this contest that happened to be run by peppers guy (again sus). Specifically I believe it was the human fighter, the dragonborn and the warforged who entered this contest, the contest being to eat super spicy peppers. Yes I the warforged who doesn’t need to eat entered a pepper eating contest and won. (These were sussy magic peppers though, they did nearly poison the party that ate them.) The clementines as it turns out are served here, they get null the effects of the sussy peppers.

After contest we decided we should chat with the pepper guys brother who runs pepper guy’s shop. (Because pepper guy was pretty sus and we wanted to ask about the sussy peppers). He didn’t know about the sussy peppers but he did say pepper guy has been acting kinda weird. We hear a commotion from the kobold’s stall- apparently it’d been destroyed. Attacked it looked like by something invisible and furry. We show the fur we found to a guard who sends us over to a silk merchant. We go to talk to silk lady but she’s being attacked by her own caterpillars! (These are fuckhuge giant magic caterpillars)

Sadly despite our best efforts we weren’t able to save the silk lady, though we did defeat the pillars. Turns out nearby was a little fae creature, a wynling? A party member lassos the thing and we were able to intimidate and bribe the thing with a few goodberries to show us his boss. Guess who his boss was? If you guessed pepper guy you were correct! He was hella sus and tries to kill us with a few more fae creatures. We ended up killing the dude and finding a clue to what we were initially looking for.

And that’s were we left off. Was fun!

#raptor crumbles #dnd

[sleepymorningmumbles]

Collection of some character quotes that I love very much.

(Mostly consists of season 4 because that’s when I started actively taking notes)

“Sometimes you have to try.” - Brock 50

“I don’t think I’m powerful I think I’m powerless!” - Zolf 54

“If you expect me to fear death you’re going to be sorely disappointed.” - Zolf 61

“I’m not undead. I’m just, vitally challenged.” - Sasha 73

“... this is not a great time for vague threats, how about you make an explicit one.” - Hamid 86

“You can’t clean something up in the darkness, you have to bring it into the light, you have to face it. You have to tell someone, you have to let people help you.” - Hamid 90

“You are more important than a thing!” - Grizzop 112

“I think I broke Apollo.” - Edd 120

(season 4 under the cut because it ended up being very very long)

“I don’t want to get used to losing people.” - Hamid 129

“There are very few problems that explosions cannot sort.” - Cel 131

“I’m very good at building one-use machines. Two-use machines, much harder.” - Cel 131

“I’m saving my panic for later” - Azu 145

“PRONOUNS ARE THEY THEM!” - Cel 151

“I’ll always have faith, I just don’t always know what to do with it.” - Zolf 152

“If you're mates with mercenaries, you go to alo- well, you don't go to a lot of funerals, usually, cause there isn't much to bury, but you got to a lot of memorial services..." - Cel 152

"Y'know, I just want you to know that whenever I refer to you as "Little Buddy" I'm not referring to the size of your heart" - Cel 152

"It wasn't a good choice but I  think it was the right one"  - Zolf 153

"Sometimes you can't save the world, but you can save a person."  - Sasha 156

"I did not try to kill you... I, enabled the means for you to die."  - Shoin 156

"Being in charge doesn't mean that life gets easier cause you have more people to help you, it means that life gets harder because you've got more people to help" - Skraak 157

"Just um, when I open this door, I might be shot. Don't worry about it." - Zolf 159

"I'm not going to tell you that grief gets better but, like Zolf said, it gets different." - Azu 160

"We all make mistakes, and choices that don't go very well. But there's always the opportunity to make better ones,..." - Azu 160

"This isn't about getting back what's lost, it's about defending what's here… We're not getting back what we've lost, but there is still a world to save, Oscar" - Hamid 164

"Some of those losses you live with, and you grieve, and some of them are just happy lessons, and like, it's up to you to decide what kind of relationships you are open to" - Cel 165

"I'm not trying to die Zolf I'm trying to live" - Wilde 166

"By kobold standards you're a terrible tailor… A pocket without a button is a broken shelf" - Skraak 170

"It's okay to not be okay right now" - Azu 174

"I know I'm not always gonna be the strong one, but right now I can be" - Azu 174

"Healing and patience are often as one." - Aphrodite 175

"I'm saying, that right now, you can depend on me to protect you, and I'd quite like to see you stand up." - Azu 177

"Sometimes things don't get finished, and that's okay." - Cel 177

"I don't remember our conversation, but I remember what it meant." - Wilde 179

"Do not seek lessons where there are none." - Sumutnyerl 182

"Yeah we live or die together we ain't leaving anyone behind." - Zolf 185

"My turn." - Hamid 187

"If you're trying to guilt trip me you gotta up your game." - Zolf 188

"Because you gotta try." "Why?" ['Feryn'] "I mean, I don't think you actually need a reason. Because you do. Because that's what people do. Because if you don't try, things can't get better. For you, or for the people that come after." - Zolf 189

"You're not so much a "man on the floor" as a petty little dictator with a, sort of,  kink for obfuscation." - Wilde 193

"Well, if I had to pick a group of people who I'd end up, y'know, facing the end of the world with, you are who I would choose." - Wilde 194

Why would I kill him. He wouldn't know how angry I am if he was dead." - Sumutneryl 195

"Solitude is not always punishment" - Sumutneryl 205

"I think a lot of people do very terrible things thinking that they're doing good... - people think that they're doing the right thing, that can do the most harm, driven by riotous zeal" - Cel 205

"Not leaving you!" - Cel 207

"Get the others out of here and stay safe… right it's your turn now" - Zolf 207

"You don't belong in the next world" - Zolf 210

"To absent friends. To the best people I have ever known. To a world that doesn't yet deserve, the caliber of heroism we're about to bring it." - Wilde 212

"To what comes next." - Hamid 212

#rqg #sasha rackett #zolf smith #hamid saleh haroun al tahan #grizzop drik acht amsterdam #rqg azu #rqg wilde #skraak #rqg sumutnyerl #rqg quotes #rusty quill gaming

[jaderavenarts]

Here's the full comic I did for @rqgzine, based on a scene from episode 152! It was also my first time helping mod a zine and I'm incredibly proud of everyone involved <3

Image description below the cut:

[ID: A three page digital comic.

Page one:

The first panel shows Hamid and Cel riding horses side by side towards the viewer and away from Shoin's lighthouse, following a dirt trail with tall grass and shrubbery on either side. They are turned towards each other and smiling. Hamid is a halfling wearing a dark purple suit vest with a white collared shirt, a green cloak with gold accents, and gold cuffs. He has brown skin with draconic scales on his cheeks, short slicked back dark hair, and dark eyes. Cel is a half elf with the tip of their right ear missing, wearing a long gray-brown coat, a light blue shirt, and goggles on their forehead with green lenses. They are pale with blue eyes and have blond hair with white streaks that stands upwards. Cel says, "Hey there, little buddy!" Hamid replies, "Hey, Cel, I just wanted to-"

The second panel shows a close up of Cel on a solid storm-gray background and forcing a smile as they say, "Oh it's another heart-to-heart. Love these. Great."

In the third panel, Hamid scratches his cheek with an index finger and gives a slight smile, “Yeah, I know you already had a chat with Zolf. I just wanted to see what you’re thinking about doing next, I guess.”

In the fourth panel, Cel pauses with the horse’s reins in their hands and starts to look a bit sad, then they say, “I-I’ll be honest, little buddy. I think I’ve got a lot to think about.”

The fifth panel shows Cel in a similar position to panel four, but more distraught. The background is a solid dark gray.

The sixth panel has Cel in a similar position to the previous two panels but they’re distraught and talking with their hands. The dialogue balloons swirl around them and the background is nearly black. “I spent years keeping my village safe, and not fighting back. I could- I could maybe have gone in there… and probably have died. But I could have followed them. I could have gone back and maybe… I could have ended this a long time ago, if I- if I had…”

Page two:

The first panel of page two shows Hamid looking concerned, “...That would’ve been a huge job for one person.”

In the second panel, we see both Hamid and Cel. Cel leans over to correct Hamid with eyebrows raised and a hand pointing to their chest as they say, “Yeah, I can be a huge person.” Hamid smiles and thoughtfully holds an index finger to his chin and says “That’s true.” Cel adds, “I can be very big.”

For the remainder of the page, we see an image of a distraught Cel grasping the reins and looking down overlapping three panels. The first panel shows silhouettes of kobolds locked in cages, and the text reads from Cel’s dialogue, “And I- all that time, he was hurting all those kobolds. And all those people I was scaring off, I was so confident that they were leaving…” The next panel shows the silhouette of a person with a sword and a person with a syringe flanking the silhouette of a brain in a sphere with blue veins on it, and the text continues, “They were going back to do more terrible things. And so I don’t know if looking after my village is enough, but…” In the final panel of this section, the background is black with only the text, “Little buddy, I am old. I have seen a lot, and getting involved has often hurt people more than… … Not getting involved… is good. Y’know? It’s very easy to become the monster when you get involved. And I’ve been the monster before, little buddy.”

Page three:

In the first panel of page three, Hamid’s eyebrows are furrowed as he says, “I know what you mean, I’ve had to-” Cel has a determined smile on their face as they hold up an index finger and says, “I cannot overstate how literal I am being when I say I have become a monster.” Hamid replies, “Oh. Uh. Okay.” Cel adds, “Morally, as well, that’s complex, but I mean quite literally.”

The second panel shows Hamid looking down pensively, “I just know that what we’ve been through, there’s been a lot of costs. I mean, I’ve lost friends, I’ve lost family…”

The third panel is a close up of Cel’s side profile, the dialogue between their head and the dark background behind them, “Yeah that’s all stuff I Don’t wanna do again, either, y’know? If you’re mates with mercenaries, you- well you don’t go to a lot of funerals, usually, because there isn’t much to bury. Lots of memorial services and lots of not knowing. But maybe I don’t have that much of a choice.”

The fourth panel zooms out to show Hamid and Cel on their horses walking to their right, the grass and clearing sky behind them. Hamid says, “For me, despite everything I’ve lost, I would do it again because I believe what we’ve done has mattered. But I can’t make that decision for you. I just want you to know that whatever you decide we’ll be there to help.”

The fifth panel just shows Cel with a soft smile looking towards Hamid, touched.

In the sixth panel Cel has a genuine smile as they point towards Hamid’s chest. Hamid looks down at their finger in slight surprise. Cel says, “I just want you to know that whenever I refer to you as ‘little buddy,’ I’m not referring to the size of you heart.”

The final panel shows Hamid with his hand splayed on his chest, his eyes big and shimmering like he’s about to cry, and flowers of emotion behind him. He is so moved by Cel.

End ID.]

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