#i probably made fjord to short | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wizardnuke · 4 months

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this is a short essay response of a meta this is batshit insane. im still on my shadowgast honeypot meta. this makes no sense. i have. citations.

also i wholeheartedly believe that up until the nicodranas incident, caleb was never fully himself around essek because 1) his latent spy training alarm bells went off as soon as he met him 2) caleb is an ex-volstrucker in an "enemy country" where he knows there's an empire mole and knew that essek was hiding something. he didn't know what. i don't believe that he thought it was All That. but caleb is extremely paranoid. right are we following. meanwhile he and the rest of the m9 were getting into essek's head bc essek had thee distinct disadvantage of being 1) alone 2) very nervous all the time 3) juggling contact with the bright queen and da'leth and just like, having a Bad Time, and the m9 popped in and he realized "ohh some people don't spend their lives in social espionage hell" and proceeded to, not at first but eventually, also assume that caleb was included in that statement (dairon implied that someone, likely the empire mole, had to have given that volstrucker the shank, and it's not confirmed that essek did but like. he did. and then he got over that paranoia a little bit because caleb is a good actor) and anyway my point is. i don't think essek really saw caleb outside of that double honeypotting scheme (which was beginning to devolve into a one-sided honeypot, with caleb still on the job while essek was slipping) and half-made plans to get caleb killed, and probably the false security of working with him (and veth) to make that spell, My Point Is. essek slipped. essek fell for it. he didn't fall in love with caleb, but he liked him and saw him as a peer and a friend.

and then the first really barefaced, honest thing that caleb ever said to him was "yes, friend, what are you doing?" echoing essek's mention of having friends to da'leth, and then following that with "i would love for you to see the sunrise, so if there is a reasonable explanation, we would love to hear it" anyway the first time that essek really saw caleb as who he is- an actor stepping away from a role, a spy, a grim counterpart to jester's concern and compassion ("what are you doing?"/"do you want to sit down?"/"i hold his hand")- and someone who still despite all that wanted to think the best for essek because he had more or less up until that point fully duped the m9! caleb didn't suspect a thing, he was just being paranoid!

the. the first time that caleb dropped some of the act- he went from honeypotting him to handling a crisis, the crisis being "essek is freaking the fuck out and we don't have time for this, we are actively in peace talks and essek could blow everything up if he slips, so im going to say what he needs to hear", paraphrased from a talks machina that's probably off yt and i don't really care to look up, but he wasn't lying to him. he wasn't telling him that it was all okay, because it wasn't, but "the difference between you and i is thinner than a razor" is caleb recognizing what essek is and saying that he's barely any different, both in terms of atrocities committed (whether that's true or not is another story but my point is that caleb believes it) and in terms of the game they were playing - essek lost that game. bad. he lost it real bad.

essek sees caleb for the first time when he's been caught and the person that he thought of as a friend sits in front of him and flatly tells him "i am going to kill you unless you give me a reason not to, right now". that's caleb. that's Caleb Widogast™. that's the guy that made a deal with beau and fjord that they would keep each other on the right path. that's the caleb that wants to get rid of ikithon. that's the caleb who misses his parents. that's the caleb who has hope for astrid and wulf. he wants to have hope for essek too- "you were not born with venom in your veins, you learned it". he's not lying about having hope for essek, he's lying about how much hope he has. and he's trying, desperately, to instill some of that hope in essek. and isn't that. like. thee caleb thesis. determination, despite a lack of hope. "you and i are both damned, but we can choose to do something and leave it better than it was before".

#umm caleb is sooo much. he is so. single-mindedly determined to change the empire while he also 100% thinks he's a horrible person #that is some insane cognitive dissonance. i adore him #<- and that relates. to his dynamic with essek. it does #'you were not born with venom in your veins' he's lying and hes telling the truth and that applies to both him and essek. i hope this helps

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utilitycaster · 1 year

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Hey, random, but - have we had any meta about Fjord’s rejection of “Stone” vs Ashton continuing to use “Greymoore” and their apparent comfort with it?

I know the situations aren’t really one for one, I just find it kinda interesting. Hope you’re having a good one. X

I haven't written any but others probably have, or you can infer it from meta about Fjord and his changing attitudes towards his last name (which are only made clear in works from after the beginning of Campaign 3, which might be why there aren't many comparisons made). Also, the main reason is answered in your question: these aren't one to one scenarios.

From everything we know, Greymoore was a fairly standard orphanage - not great, but not abusive or exploitative as Driftwood Asylum was - and Ashton made a number of friends there with whom they've since lost touch following the incident at Hexum Manor. I think it's fair to say that Ashton might even consider his time at the Greymoore State Home as perhaps a pretty decent part of his life overall. And "Greymoore" itself is entirely neutral - it's the name of the institution, with no particular meaning. It's just the last name they have, and as we see in Bassuras, it's treated as entirely normal and expected.

Meanwhile, Fjord's gone back and forth on his name. He was given the last name Stone and told it was because he was unwanted. He initially wanted to drop it entirely when he first joined Vandran's crew, but Vandran told him that not only did he need a last name for the ship's record, he also told him that stones are in fact, incredibly important, in what might have been some of the first kind words Fjord heard (Mighty Nein Origins: Fjord Stone). Then, after years of being a parental figure to Fjord, Vandran used magic, and Fjord never had a chance to ask him about it before the Tide's Breath sank. The year that the Mighty Nein were together is actually the only year in Fjord's life when he didn't use the name "Stone", likely due to a combination of the complicated feelings he felt towards Vandran during the campaign, and the fact that it was generally a time for reinvention and self-discovery for him following a drastic uprooting of his entire life. He then, by the time of the Mighty Nein Reunited, has slowly started to reclaim the name, which, not coincidentally, takes place after he's had a chance to talk to Vandran and understand him and after he's developed a sense of self worth. I also think that while Fjord's worship of the Wildmother is very different and entirely unrelated to the Stone branch of Clay, Dust, and Stone, I think it's fair to say that seeing people using the last name "Stone" as a point of pride and devotion might have also helped him see the name in a new light.

But for a short answer, it's as simple as the fact that Ashton was not made to feel bad about the name "Greymoore" and Fjord was made to feel bad about the name "Stone."

#answered #greatgodempresspan #critical role #fjord stone #ashton greymoore

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pickle-in-a-pickle · 3 months

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I have to ask about "the rabbit hung in the air as tom held it by its ears" !! 💖

and also...i see you...concertante (in D major).. i know what you are 👀

Despite the nefarious sounding title, it's probably the fluffiest thing in my wip folder lmao. It's a short drabble I wrote on a whim about Tom and Harry hiking in the mountains (while having next to no knowledge about how to hike properly) when I was feeling particularly vibey one day.

A small snippet (contains very vague descriptions of gutting a rabbit):

The rabbit hung in the air as Tom held it by its ears. Harry continued to look at it in distaste, scrunching up his nose at the sight.

“Do you have to hold it like that?” he asked, turning back to stoke the small campfire he had made while Tom had been absent.

“How else am I supposed to do it?” Tom huffed, sitting down next to him. “Without me, you’d starve to death, you know.”

Harry snorted in response. “Doubt it.”

Tom frowned but didn’t push further. He set the carcass on the ground and begun to cut it. Harry watched how the flames cast shadows onto the walls of the cavern, painting them in black and orange. He only turned away once the smell of iron filled his nostrils.

“You done?” he asked Tom who was now arranging the guts with something akin to fascination on his face. He looked up at Harry’s words.

“Yes,” he said, lifting a pile of meat that looked ready to be cooked over the fire. “You need me to do that as well?” Tom’s tone was mocking when he asked it.

Harry scoffed. “Please, the last time I let you cook, neither of us could finish the meal.” Tom frowned but handed him the meat without any more complaints. “And take those out,” Harry said, pointing at the guts still lying on the floor. “They’re already beginning to smell.”

Tom got up, leaned down to pick up the entrails, and came uncomfortably near Harry with them. “As you wish,” he drawled, leaning so close that the intestines hanging from his arms almost brushed Harry’s cheek. Harry shuddered and pulled away. Tom laughed – real and hearty – before walking outside. Harry puffed up his cheek in annoyance as soon as he was gone.

He focused on tending the fire again, trying to get the biggest flames to die down so that they could prepare the rabbit without burning it. By the time Tom returned, the meat was already sizzling above the hot coals. Tom had clearly washed himself down by the river they had passed earlier, as there wasn’t a speck of blood or any other fluids from the rabbit in sight. Before sitting down, he poured water onto the patch of ground where he had gutted the carcass.

“Smells delicious,” he commented absent-mindedly.

Harry hummed. “And you wanted to be the one to prepare it.”

Tom scoffed at that, Harry snickered. “You know I didn’t.” He finally sat down next to Harry, looking at the coals. “Yours tastes better.”

Harry couldn’t help the slight blush that rose to his cheeks. “Thank you,” he answered, suddenly feeling too abashed to look directly at Tom.

Next to him, Tom begun to cut the bread he had taken out from one of their bags. “I still believe you’d starve without me, or” – Harry was about to argue, but Tom lifted his hand – “at least you’d be miserable,” he finished.

Harry rolled his eyes, not bothering to fight the urge like he knew Tom would have preferred to do. “I would’ve been just fine,” he argued anyway.

“Whatever you say,” Tom answered, not buying it at all.

The rabbit began to look ready, and Harry finally lifted the pieces off of the coals. “Here,” he said, handing half of it to Tom. In exchange, Tom handed him a piece of bread. They ate in silence. Tom was chewing each bite meticulously, while Harry was staring at the dying embers, lost in thought. They had been trekking for a couple of days now, and there were still about three days left if the weather was in their favour. The mountains they had chosen had been just as scenic as they had been promised, and Harry was ecstatic about reaching the big fjord the following day. Tom had been less enthusiastic about the whole trip, but Harry had managed to convince him after promising he’d get to choose a location for their next holiday. A promise he’d likely end up regretting, but looking at the valley that opened just behind the mouth of their cave, it all felt worth it.

Tom twitched beside him, signifying that he was finally finished with his meal. “How was it?” Harry asked, taking the paper plate from Tom and throwing it into the embers, setting them alight again.

“Good, but you already knew that,” Tom replied. There was a smile playing on his lips.

They cleaned up, waited for the flames to die down again, and finally, set up the sleeping bags. The weather was warm even after dark, so Harry didn’t pull his hand back when Tom reached for it.

“Good night, Harry,” Tom said, his voice barely above a whisper.

There was a soft smile on Harry’s face as he responded, “Good night, Tom.”

The moon was casting hazy shadows onto the walls.

I have a little bit more written but I didn't really have any plans for where I was going with this, so we'll see if I ever get back to it or not.

And yes, concertante is slowly coming along 👀

#asks #tomarry #snippet

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saphirered · 1 year

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Hello :), id love to request a kingsley x reader where theyre a member of his new pirate crew perhaps first mate after he steals that ship from fjord at the end of campain 2

Sorry for the wait on this one! Too many ideas to approach this request turned into procrastination but I finished it! It's pining, it's sweet and fluffy. Hope you like how it turned out! And right in time for the Mighty Nein reunited! 😘

He still doesn’t quite know how this happened or when and don’t get him started on the why’s because every time he tries listing them, he can’t put actual words to it; you’re just everything perfect. When did he turn into some fictional cliché? His fellow chaos maker tiefling would use this to fuel her next novel to be sure. Captain falls in love with his first mate. A match made in hell. Perfect. Just perfect. Kingsley’s tried to play it cool but during mealtimes he finds himself sit next to you, relishing in even just smalltalk. When you have a shift together he’ll be paying more attention to you than to what he’s supposed to be on watch for. When another totally unavoidable skirmish arises, he worries for your safety and always makes sure he’s within some kind of reachable range because he feels safer when you’re near. He trusts few people, and you are no exception. You’re all pirates after all. But unlike anyone else, he actually wants to trust you. He wants to be able to count on you, as you can count on him. Were he ever to tell you this, you’d laugh in his face of course. The last deckhand that did, you literally laughed in the poor man’s face. He’d rather not be verbally torn apart and take that wound to his heart.

You look over the waves, your post at the helm is one you take seriously. You always have. You’re the goddamn first mate of this ship. You do your best to ignore the staring of your captain who is rather disinterested in the suggestions of the bosun, and favours simply nodding or humming along, when he looks past. He’s focussed on you. You feel heat rise to your cheeks but luckily the appearance of such could be brushed off as the harsh wind cutting at your face. Those ruby eyes, you cannot set out of your mind. Are you not doing your job correctly? Are your capabilities being brought in question? Is there doubt in your loyalty to this ship, to this crew? Did you do something wrong? Are you no longer worthy of this position? All these questions are easier to ask, to consider than to admit to the truth you’re denying; that’s the stare of admiration. There’s a tap on your shoulder and you nearly jump out of your skin. It’s just the helmsman ready to relieve you.

You retreat into your own mind, build a shield to keep your thoughts from going rampant as you make your way down the steps onto the main deck. It’s probably a good thing you have got your sea legs because a particular wave has some catch themselves just in time. Kingsley, who you missed was midway towards you, lunges and barely manages to catch himself on the railing of the stairs. You didn’t even realise he had moved, but now he stands in your path. Quickly you respond out of reflex, catch his other arm, and help him back to stable feet. Everything around feels numb but the moment you touch him, feel his hand wrap around your lower arm, as you balance him, your cold skin burns and find yourself short of breath, eyes wide.

“Looks like I can count on my first mate to save me collecting my teeth from the deck.” Kingsley appears as short of breath as you. The moment you’re sure he’s stable again, you pull your arm from his grasp and step around him without another word, making for the stairs down below deck. The tiefling watches you go, and you move so fast, or perhaps his mind has slowed that much. He can’t say anything else, do anything else. You’re gone and he won’t follow.

So ends another day. And he’ll spend the next night staring at the ceiling of his cabin, unable to take his mind off you; the electricity that ran through his veins when you caught him, and the numbness when you let go. It may sound cliche but when he stood so near to you, when you held onto him, he felt as if he had never seen the world in colour, had never used his senses to their full extend, suddenly everything made sense yet nothing at all did but he couldn’t care less, and when you rushed away, you took that feeling with you and he felt lost again. He’ll day dream about that feeling because he could not find sleep until the early hours of morning. He’s completely and utterly in love with his first mate. No way around it anymore.

————

Kingsley dodges a punch as someone tosses a chair at another drunkard. The tavern took a turn for the better when an incredibly dull night turned into a bar fight, and a glorious one at that. He’s pretty sure he’ll be covered in bruises, the bloodstains he’ll never get out of his shirt, his knuckles are busted, and his nose just might be broken, still he is filled with cheer and adrenaline. The next punch to the gut sparks it only further as he counters by grabbing the arm, getting close and delivering a punch straight to the face of his opponent. Knocked out cold. Next. He’s distracted when he sees a familiar flash resembling your shape, legs wrapped around someone’s shoulders as they desperately try to throw you off, but you hold on tight, even when your back hits that thankfully sturdy table. This time you let go and deliver a perfect kick to the throat and get back up to tackle the next one coming at you. Then for just a brief second things go dark as pain erupts through his head. He recovers, looking for the source to see the blurred form of some kind of brute. Did he just get punched in the face? His ears are ringing. Just barely does he manage to deflect the brunt of the next hit.

You let out a battle cry as you kick low, high and strike. You’ll have to admit that when this fight started you were exhausted and didn’t feel like getting into the fray. You don’t exactly know why it started but your captain seemed to be one half of it and then it became crew against crew, and the rest of the bar got pulled in. Your exhaustion faded quickly when some poor sod made the wrong call and made you spill your drink. Screw exhaustion. That’s what you told yourself because in reality, you felt your blood boil when Kingsley took a foul hit. You’ve been on a good track record for the past few minutes. Sustained some damages yourself, but nothing you couldn’t handle. You’ll probably be sore in the morning and have some bruises to show for the eventful evening but such is your life. Everyone needs a good bar fight every once in a while. Every once in a while you’d check up on your captain, search for him in the room. When you have the opportunity to do next, you see him cornered, disoriented and opposing a man twice his size. He takes another hit and is thrown against the table, it shattering beneath the impact of his weight.

The groan on his breath is cut short as air escapes his lungs and he’s coughing. He barely has time to recover or get up when he’s grabbed by the front of his shirt, the movement registering a second or two later than it should. The brute in front of him has no intentions of letting him go it seems. Squinting he’s pretty sure this is the first mate of the captain he went fist to cuffs with in the first place. Maybe this wasn’t one of his better ideas. Does he have any regrets? No. That captain is short a couple of teeth. Serves ‘em right. Though, given his place now, he might be short a couple of teeth. The punch is incoming and while he does his best to deflect, there isn’t much he can do to turn this into a favourable position for him, so he prepares for the impact best he can though he doubts he’ll be awake to make any counter move. Then, it rains something, shatters. Glass. Glass shatters above him. His opponent goes dazed and the hold weakens. Next a fist swings to bring home the attack and the brute hits the floor with a heavy thud. He’s grabbed by the front of his shirt again and when he thinks the next blow is coming, he just focusses in on your face. With force you get him to his feet, never letting go of the red stained linen as you pull him along, dancing around other fighting patrons until the cool night’s air hits him. He hears shouts behind, but you run, and thus force him along until the sounds muffle and he walks the plank onto the ship.

Out of breath you set the tiefling on one of the crates on deck as you bend over, take a deep breath and straighten again. Kingsley watches as you run a hand through your hair, and wipe some remnants of blood from your cheek. Your gaze turns to him, analytical. You check him for injury, step close, hold his chin, move his face, touch some scrapes to which he hisses in discomfort, then look him straight on. You hold his nose between both your index fingers and give him a serious look. He can feel the crunch back in his skull as you reset it. He tastes metal on his tongue. Blood. You press a scrap of cloth to his nose and when his response is too slow for your liking, grab his hand and make it take over the position you held it in.

“You good?” You ask. You sound mostly neutral, as if you would have after any fight he’s gotten into. There’s a hint of exhilaration. Good to know you had your fun too. What strikes him though is the concern that’s hidden beneath. You’re actually concerned for his wellbeing?

“Yeah.” He groans leaning back only for you to interfere. Right. He’s sitting on a crate. “Saved me yet again. What would I do without you?”

“You’ve got brain damage. And you’re drunk.” You roll your eyes.

“I’d hate to tell you, but I’m perfectly sober. The brain damage? Now that, I won’t make any statements on.” Ever the witty remarks you snort and cross your arms.

“Oh really? Captain Kingsley, started a bar fight perfectly sober? What would the people say?” You retort. Maybe it’s the buzz of what little alcohol you did manage to consume, or the adrenaline beginning to wear off but it’s so easy again. You don’t feel like you’re running away from a truth right now. This moment, is just so easy.

“There’s the sass I love.” He grins. He’s missed this. The times where you’re so easy going. You’ve been avoiding him, you’ve been distant and he’s missed this nature of yours, the one you reserve only for public settings and anything not to do with your person. And yet you close up again after that comment. Your shoulders move in and you rub your arm, only to be reminded of the forming bruises when you find your skin tender.

“Do I want to know why this fight even started?” You try to change the subject, ignore the comment, pretend it was never said. Love. Love. Love. The word echoes through your mind. Kingsley sighs deeply and the usual attitude dissipates for a slightly more serious one.

“I don’t think you’ll like the answer.” His eyes cast downward. At first you’re brushing it off like a child being caught doing something they shouldn’t but then you see it for what it really is; avoidance. Like you’re avoiding certain things. Your heart clenches. You bite your tongue. No more running. May this tail-end of an adrenaline rush give you the courage to see this through.

“Humour me.” He looks up and you see his eyes. Gone is the playfulness he usually displays, or the self-confidence and pride. The fuel of an epic bar fight is not enough to linger.

“A captain from another ship had some choice of words about someone I happen to care about.” Kingsley admits. “I asked the captain if he’d like to take back his words. He did not.”

“So you punched him in the face?” He drops the rag from his nose, the bleeding stopped and wipes away the remaining blood best he can before he simply shrugs. It’s not like he’s going to deny it and he’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

“They were some very offensive words. I take it to heart when my first mate is brought into question.” You thought you could brush over the implication it might have been you, not wanting to get any false hope but this blatant confirmation, that’s it. A small smile creeps onto your features and a warm and fuzzy feeling spreads through out.

“So what you’re saying is, you knocked out another captain because they insulted me, spiked the ire of their crew until a tavern brawl erupted in which you took a further beating to the point I had to save your ass before their first mate could return the favour?” You step closer and closer until you’re right in front of him. Kingsley looks up at you nodding along and getting smugger with the second. That pride returns.

“When you say it like that-“ You press your lips to his, your hands falling to his cheeks when he responds to your affections gleefully. Without breaking the kiss he scoots over on the crate and makes space for you. You sit next to him, thigh pressed against his, as you feel a warm palm against your cheek, and the other brushes along your arm, onto your shoulder until it settles on the small of your back and pulls you closer.

Many things run through his head and most thoughts come as fast as they go because he has no room for anyone but you in his mind. At surface it’s easy. The taste of your lips; remnants of the ale mixed with some metallic taste of blood either yours, or his or both. Then when he feels daring enough to brush his tongue against you and you respond favourably he continues. He feels your arms move from his cheeks where they cupped his face curve around until you wrap your arms around his neck and allow yourself to move closer against him. He runs his fingers along your cheek, into your hair where they tangle, the other pressing against the small of your back, brushing along in gentle circles. Secondly words finally appear in his head, cohesive strings of thought; why did he wait so bloody long? This now, this moment is a blessing but if this is how you feel, and might have felt ever since you retreated from him, he should have done this earlier, should have confronted you earlier and cleared up that misunderstanding.

Thirdly, Kingsley wants this moment to last forever. He’d fight an entire armada on his own if it meant you would grace him a kiss, even just a single one. But you do pull apart. Forehead against his, eyes still closed, he takes in the proximity to you. previously when you had a moment of physical closeness, you’d bolt the first chance you got. He hopes you won’t. He hopes you’ll stay. But he still makes it clear; if you think this a mistake, something you regret now, you can. He would never hold something like that against you. Sure it would hurt his feelings, but such is the way of life. It’s not just his word that matters here. If you are not one-hundred percent behind this, then it simply should not happen. He wants to be sure you don’t feel there’s no way back, that you feel trapped or like you have to but then he feels your lips peck his once final time before you pull back, unwrap your arms from him as he lets go of you. What he does not expect is for you to grab onto one of his hands, and pick the rag with the other, only to press it to his nose again.

“Your nose bleeding again.” You try to hide your gentle laughs as he just shakes his head in amusement causing you to reach out quickly and hold his head still. Kingsley responds but you can’t make out the words so when you raise an eyebrow he pulls the rag away once more, holding you at the wrist ever so gently.

“Injury. Forever to ruin the moment. At least I have a good healer.”

“I’m a pirate. Not a healer.” You deadpan. “If you’d like me to go fetch the healer I’m sure he’s deep in his cups but should be perfectly-“ Kingsley grabs your hand when you poke at one of the forming bruises.

“Oh, you think you’re funny now, aren’t you? Don’t backtalk to your captain.” You wipe away some more blood, and prevent any further response.

“My dear captain seems to be incapacitated.” You hum. He pulls away the rag again. This time the bleeding seems to stop and you feel safe to put it down.

“Well then, first mate. I’m pretty sure that puts you in charge. What are your orders?” You grin and tap your chin.

“I’m sure I can think of something.” You purse your lips every so lightly and Kingsley takes the opportunity to peck them in jest. He’ll have some ideas. Some inspiration for you. The ice has broken and with it all previous tensions. The morning can only tell how things will be when you’re both down from your adrenaline highs and when the world has returned to normal, or as normal as can be on this ship, given that Kingsley did just spark a conflict between his crew and another but he couldn’t care less. He lives in the moment and this is a good one. You’re living in the moment too. You can talk later about how much your lives have been one romantic cliche for the past few weeks.

#critical role x reader #kingsley x reader #mighty nein x reader #kingsley tealeaf #critical role #mighty nein #mighty nein reunion #critical role fanfiction #critical role fanfic #the mighty nein

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mareastrorum · 7 months

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WIP Wednesday: The Fool and the Soldier, Ch. 6 (Beach)

The Fool and the Soldier is now up on AO3, updated every other Friday. This is an off-week, so here is a snippet from next week’s chapter! Commentary on Chapter 5 will go up on Friday.

Fanfic Summary: Mollymauk Tealeaf survived the Mighty Nein's encounter with the Iron Shepherds on Glory Run Road, but a short time later, a spirit began hunting him, claiming that he stole his body. This Campaign 2 AU begins with Episode 26 and continues on from there.

The afternoon sun burned warmly overhead. The salt in the air, the chill breeze, the cries of gulls—the sea was close by, likely visible in the next clearing. For the first time in months, Fjord felt truly giddy with excitement. He had never truly had a home, and this felt like a homecoming.

But there was a sour tinge to it all. He pulled the letter from his bag of holding—his personal trophy from the Iron Shepherds—to refresh his memory.

Many thanks to you Ionos, for dealing with the thieves who appropriated my possession. Reliability like this will prove profitable for you and your house should you continue to be. One half of our agreed payment is enclosed with the other being paid upon recovery of the Cloven Crystal. It is imperative that you find this bauble and return it to me. It has great sentimental value to me and my family. This rendering should suffice to guide the discerning eyes of your hunters. Time is of the essence. Should I not have it by the end of Quen’pillar, I shall be forced to end our agreement and seek a business relationship elsewhere. I warn you: we are fiercely loyal to those who appease us, and staunchly resentful to those who do not. When recovered, please deliver to Marius LePual at the Wayfarer's Cove. Tell him you have a gift for the Captain. Avantika

Two weeks too late for that. Fjord only hoped the lead had not run dry. Marius LePual probably wasn’t still waiting around, but maybe the Nein could track him down somehow. If he was a runner of some kind, he’d be known to the wharfmaster or other dock workers.

“That’s nice,” Caduceus said, pulling Fjord out of his thoughts. They had just crested the hill to see the shore and the walls of Nicodranas, a few of the piers visible just off to the side. The winter sun had lowered enough to create a trail of shimmering light across the choppy water. There was some rough terrain before the sandy beach, but it wasn’t too far off the road.

Fjord took a deep breath of the sea air and smiled. “Indeed. I missed this.”

“I don’t know what smell I expected, but this wasn’t it,” Molly commented from the side of the cart, sniffing periodically. “Salty, but kind of like… plants? Moss? But thicker.”

“Better the beach than a city shipyard for your first experience,” Fjord replied. An idea popped into his head, and he did his best not to shift his expression. “The smells of rotten wood and spoiled fish never leave the shippin’ docks, and that can color your opinion. Beach water doesn’t taste nearly as bad as port water either.”

“Good to know before we arrive,” Molly half-hummed as he looked over at the shore. Fjord pinched one of his fingers to help keep from breaking into a smile. Gods, he hoped that would work.

Before long, the Nein made their way to the beach, leaving the cart and horses just shy of the sand. Caduceus checked on the animals—Fjord wasn’t entirely sure if he could actually speak to them, but it kept them calm enough—while the others began pulling off their boots and outer garments.

Oddly enough, Caleb seemed mesmerized. As soon as they stopped, he walked off toward the water as he stripped his clothes and waded into the waves, stark naked, without a word. Then he disappeared under the surface.

“Be careful, Cay-cay!” Nott called worriedly after him. “Water’s dangerous!” As she said that, Caleb suddenly reappeared on the water, floating on his back. Nott whined slightly, gripping her cloak.

Fjord smiled. Maybe this would be a good chance to help the goblin with her fear of water. “See, Nott? Easy as pie.” She grimaced at him and began collecting the human’s clothes. Well, if Caleb going in the water wasn’t going to convince her to try it, Fjord wasn’t going to either.

“I’ll check on him!” Molly called out excitedly, already tossing the last of his clothes off as he rushed after Caleb. (Why was everyone going in naked?)

Fjord shook his head and walked after them after leaving his boots and gauntlets in the cart. Molly soon dove in, then almost immediately resurfaced and got to his feet, coughing. Fjord resisted the urge to laugh, settling for a shit-eating grin.

“That’s awful!” Molly griped, hair drooping over his eyes as he sputtered to get the taste out of his mouth.

“I didn’t say it’d taste good, just that it’s not nearly as bad!” Fjord called, unable to keep the satisfaction out of his voice.

Molly spat out the rest and flipped his hair over to clear his face. The tiefling gave a quick glare at Fjord before he shifted to a tight smile and nodded. “I’ll remember that, Fjord.”

“Sure, Molly.” Fjord nodded back and chuckled. He checked behind him to see that the rest of the Nein seemed to be enjoying their time. Beau had traversed one of the jetties to sit and… meditate? She looked oddly peaceful. Caduceus planted himself in the sand near the water to build something, the incoming tide slowly inching closer to his work. Jester had begun training her blink dog, Nugget. Nott was hiding behind a small rock, watching the overhead gulls closely as they began swooping down at some food on the beach.

No one else wanted to swim? Well, their loss.

Molly swam a short distance off, interested in something below the water. Caleb still buoyed in silence, now about two dozen feet out.

That mischievous itch cropped up again. Fjord summoned the falchion and used the enchantment to teleport next to the man, instantly startling Caleb, who began to flail in the water.

Fjord spoke up, “Whoa, hey! All right there, chief. Okay, all right, you’re good. Sorry.” He almost meant it.

“You can’t— just sneak up— on a person,” Caleb complained between hoarse inhales and coughs.

Fjord grinned. “Sorry, I just figured you want some company. It’s really tranquil, isn’t it?”

Caleb gave a knowing look and began treading the water. “Oh, it’s very quite nice.”

Just as Fjord was about to respond, he felt an appendage wrap around one ankle, far too long to be a hand. In that split second, it occurred to him that it could be a tentacle, but octopuses and squids didn’t grow that big. Before he could speak, something grabbed his other leg and dragged him into the water.

A moment of panic. His armor enchantment helped him to swim, but it didn’t grant him water breathing—he needed to break free and fast. He began a front crawl, surprised that he easily broke away from whatever it was. How had it dragged him below if it couldn’t hold on—

Once Fjord turned underwater, Molly smiled smugly at him as he waved both hands and his tail at the half-orc. That fucker.

Fjord surfaced and took a breath, smirking in Molly’s direction as he came up as well. “Alright, we’re even then.”

Molly blew a raspberry. “Hardly!”

Caleb muttered something in Zemnian to himself and sighed.

The next two hours pass by mostly in leisure, when Molly wasn’t up to some mischief. Caleb stayed out on the water, calmly floating, staring up at the sky. Beau had left the jetty and seemed to be trying to coax her owl to do something. Jester, her crimson weasel on her shoulders and puppy in her arms, took a break to check in on Caduceus, who had built… something. Almost resembling a hill, and that was being generous. But there were some shells decorating the top, and that was about what could be expected for a first time building with sand. Unfortunately, the incoming tide soon destroyed it anyway, so Jester went back to training Nugget and Caduceus waded contentedly in the shallows. Nott had managed to shoot a seagull or two, and the peacock (Afternoon Tea? Fjord had lost track of its latest name) had decided it was its duty to chase all the other gulls away. Molly wandered between the groups, paying no mind to his nudity for the most part, but eventually putting some pants and his tunic back on once the late afternoon breeze got too chilly. By then, Caleb had wandered back to the shore, put his clothes back on, and took a nap in the cart bed, a hint of red on his nose and cheeks.

It wasn’t a proper day at the beach if it didn’t end with sore muscles and a slight sunburn.

As the others began to wind down, Fjord walked the beach to look for anything that the others might find interesting. Caleb had mentioned his striped stone with a circle all around the center was lucky. There was some seaglass because of the proximity to the harbor, but they were mostly pieces too small to be worth collecting. Eventually, he spotted a smooth green stone with a snakeskin pattern in it, some parts of it matching his skin tone. It took a moment to remember the name: serpentinite, supposedly protective against poison, but that was just superstition. It was only a pretty ocean rock. Fjord flipped the stone over, inspecting it as his thoughts drifted off.

His name was Fjord Stone according to some records in Port Damali and a few harbormaster ledgers, but it wasn’t like that had bound him to it. There were times when he despised the name, when he took pride in it, when he felt nostalgic for it. Thirty years of indecision.

It was just a name. It was more than a name. It was only a word. It was the most important one he had. It belonged to an untold number of orphans. It was his and his alone.

Who am I?

“Hey, Fjord!” Molly yelled from a distance. “What’s this?”

Fjord looked up to see the tiefling had wandered off to something near the jetty Beau had since abandoned, Caduceus standing next to him and looking down. Another prank, maybe? It didn’t seem like Caduceus to join in on that. Fjord pocketed the stone and approached warily, but both men were too enamored with inspecting a collection of animals and plants caught in a tide pool, which was slowly resupplied with sea water as the waves gently moved in. His suspicion faded away.

“That’s a tide pool,” Fjord explained. “The water line shifts in and out twice each day, and sometimes there’s pools deep enough to hold water between the tides.” He pointed out a few residents he recognized: kelp, anemones, snails, mussels, sea urchins, sea stars, and abalones.

“That’s great,” Caduceus drawled, quite satisfied to merely observe. Molly almost reached for each one, but Fjord wasn’t going to let the tiefling get stung by half of the creatures in it. He wasn’t sure who he was, but he knew he wasn’t cruel.

Maybe, once Fjord had answers to what had happened on the Tide’s Breath, he’d sort out who he was supposed to be.

#critical role fanfiction #wip wednesday #TF&TS #the mighty nein #fjord stone

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wintershades · 1 year

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Here’s an extra ridiculous excerpt from the latest chapter of A Novel Guide to Courtship and Counterfeiting, which finds Jester and Fjord on a Tusk Love-themed date. :)

As they lounge around after their picnic, Jester realizes that they’ve arrived at a certain, uh . . . climax . . . in the story.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

With a laugh, Fjord rested back and turned his gaze to the canopy again. Jester felt no need to fill the silence that followed; she was content to listen to the wind in the trees, and to braid blades of grass, and to let her mind wander as she watched the sunlight draw its designs on Fjord’s skin.

What a day it had been! They’d roamed the orchard. They’d had their picnic. Next, they’d probably—

Jester stopped.

The grass unfurled in her hands.

Because right then, she realized: They’d reached the part of the book where Oskar and Guinevere made love for the first time.

In the story, it happened in a sheltered part of a grove, upon what was described as a bed of the softest grasses. The scene—which was recognized as one of the finest in erotic literature, and was marked by a dogeared page in Jester’s own copy—was replete with the aroma of flowers and every imaginable metaphor for picking fruit.

Seven whole pages of tender caresses and silken kisses and honeyed words of affection!

The sheer stamina of it all!

“Are you okay?” Fjord asked, startling Jester back to awareness. “You look really flushed.”

“Oh—um—you know—it’s just all these layers! It was cooler when we left, and—I should have picked another outfit.”

“Well, then. Let’s get you out of it.”

Fjord spoke these words in such a cavalier fashion that, for a moment, Jester’s brain entirely short-circuited. She froze in place, watching as Fjord sat up and began to gather their things.

“Right now?” she squeaked.

“Yep. I’ve got the perfect place in mind.”

“Somewhere more private?” she supposed. Fjord paused, and then he gave a shrug.

“I mean, it’s not super private.”

Oh. Oh, gods.

Jester rolled off the blanket so that Fjord could fold it up, and she sat facing away from him. Why was it so hard to look at him all of the sudden? . . . Why could she hear her pulse in her ears? . . . This was her area of expertise, acquired through years of intense study and observation! She shouldn’t be nervous!

But like so many other things she’d experienced since she’d come to Port Damali, it was very different when it was happening to her.

“Ready?” Fjord said, not long after.

He was standing next to her, offering to help her up. Jester accepted, and as they began to walk along together, she cursed her hands for getting so damnably sweaty.

Guinevere never had this problem, did she? . . . She would never perspire; she’d only glow or appear dewy. Her flawless skin would acquire a pretty flush, and only two paragraphs later, she’d be described as smelling of lilies and honeysuckle.

You know what? Jester thought to herself. Fuck Guinevere.

Presently, Fjord circled around to take Jester by the shoulders and guide her forward. As he moved from her view, she felt all the more aware of him: the span of his hands, the gentle pressure of his touch.

“It’s not much further,” he said. “Now—close your eyes.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

#critical role fanfiction #fjorester #sofw writes #sofw wips #😏

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grayintogreen · 2 years

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If everyone in the Mighty Nein ended up joining the Claret Orders and multiclassed, which hemocraft-based classes do you think they would dip into?

I had this post all plotted out in my head until I realized you said multiclass not full on "Claret Order AU" which changes everything and actually made it harder. The short answer is probably "Fjord got bitten by a werewolf and ended up becoming Order of the Lycan because the other option was probably getting merced and the rest of the Nein drank the literal kool-aid in solidarity, so NOW WHAT??"

I think Caleb's fine as he is. He might just learn some blood mage spells. Caduceus would die if he had to take a martial class so I think he'd stick to just being a grave cleric. He's a descendant of the Raven Queen's champion, which is like being a descendant of one of Jesus's disciples in my Very Catholic view of the Orders, so I think he'd get to do whatever he wants forever for that reason.

Beau and Yasha I feel pretty solidly on being Order of the Ghostslayer out of respect for Molly, especially because it would allow Beau to seek out more information about Lucien (let's assume that this AU occurs like... before the pirate arc or somewhere thereabouts in the timeline) because she's grieving and she doesn't know what else to do.

Nott, because this is an early canon AU, is absolutely Order of the Mutant. That's just alchemist bullshit.

Jester would probably just slip into Profane Soul and keep Artagan as her patron for that too. I assume that since Otis had a Great Old One patron, the Orders just don't care as much about that kind of thing as long as you go to Raven Queen mass every Folsen.

The answers actually wouldn't be that different if it was just a full Claret Order AU, honestly. It's just that Jester would have been a straight Profane Soul Order from the jump and I think Yasha should be Order of the Lycan. (The reason she's not multiclassing into it is because I think it's funnier if Fjord got bitten by a werewolf and caused everything to happen so much, and I like the idea of Yasha wanting to do the one that "Molly" was in as a way to be close to him in some way.)

#my asks

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zeephyre · 2 years

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i've been going through the critical role campaigns for a while now, and i've barely made a dent but im having so much fun. im slowly learning the rules of dungeons and dragons (its not perfect but im picking stuff up little by little).

i started the vox machina campaign a little after i finished the first season of the actual animated show, but i got a few episodes into the briarwoods arc and stopped bc i wasn't feeling too great for a while and the idea of going through all the episodes made me anxious for some reason. probably my embarassingly short attention span.

THEN i started mighty nein to give myself a fresh start, and im at episode 10 right now. i REALLY love this party, and I'm feeling antsy to just be able to consume every single episode in the matter of minutes but thats not possible 😭😭😭😭

my favourite party members from mighty nein are caleb, molly and fjord - all of them are amazing, ESPECIALLY jester, but those two take the cake. idk why im making this post, i just wanna share this new special interest.

(also im interested in the idea of playing d&d myself but im too scared to go that deep bc i dont wanna be like...bad at it.)

#the mighty nein #vox machina #critical role

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thevalleyisjolly · 2 years

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widofjord, maybe?

Ooh, thanks Thane!

when I started shipping it if I did:

Pretty early on in Campaign 2, because I remember being invested enough by Episode 44 that I got in a tangle with particularly aggressive Fj*rester fan.

my thoughts:

It's about balancing each other out, keeping each other in check, that slow to grow but mutual respect and acknowledgement of each other, how neither of them would claim to be leaders and yet both take up unofficial mantles of responsibility, taking the hurt and injustice and trauma of their pasts and figuring out who they want to be here and now. Not narrative mirrors- but maybe parallel paths, two people sharing a common road, falling into equal step for a while.

what makes me happy about them:

The way they started out, so wary and suspicious of each other, like two cats circling, and then the way they became, the trust and the respect.

what makes me sad about them:

On a meta-ish level, that we saw less of their interactions/relationship later on in the campaign?

things done in fanfic that annoy me:

I haven't actually read a Widofjord fic in a long while, but I guess anything that overlooks how messy and complicated these boys are? Fair do's if you just want to read them boning or being cutesy in a modern AU, no judgment here. I'm just a fan of early-stage Widofjord, where they're still sizing each other up, butting heads (but oh, it's so good because you can see where both of them come from and neither is wholly right or wholly wrong), recklessly pushing each other on.

who I'd be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other:

I love Shadowgast for many of the same reasons that I love Widofjord, so Essek and Caleb for sure. There's also an absolutely tragic lack of queerplatonic Fjord/Caduceus out there, which I think could be super interesting to explore. I actually don't mind in-game canon Fj*rester, I just can't stand what some very loud elements of the fandom have made it.

my happily ever after for them:

I actually like them as an impermanent ship, I don't think a relationship has to last forever in order for it to be meaningful, and I think a 'happily ever after' for these two would probably look like a period of time (long or short) where they're together, learning from and building off of each other, before a mutual agreement to remain friends. So kind of like canon Shadowgast.

who is the big spoon/little spoon:

I don't see there being a designated regular big spoon/little spoon, but Fjord does often end up being the big spoon more often than not.

what is their favourite non-sexual activity:

Testing the limits of their own abilities (and I don't mean that in a sexy way). Listen, they're both very curious and intelligent people, they would absolutely spend hours figuring out exactly how an eldritch blast ("Aæeldreitchh bleyaaaaast") works, what exactly it's capable of, where its limits are, if there are any ways to expand what it can do, how to change the colour aesthetic...

Which reminds me, both of them know the importance of presentation and aesthetics, so they also like dressing up. Caleb will go out shopping with Jester and Caduceus, and Fjord will mix and match and arrange what he brings home into fetching ensembles. Although Caleb does have a sense of style and will frequently make his own suggestions, "sleek wizard chic" does not a varied wardrobe make. Sometimes you want a cozy cableknit sweater for settling down with a good book or walking around the deck of your ship!

#thanks thane!

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ofsvnlightt · 3 months

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Was that [TIAN XIWEI]? Oh no no, that was just [JESTER LAVORRE], a [CANON CHARACTER] from [CRITICAL ROLE]. They are [unknown/TWENTY FIVE] years old, use [SHE/HER], and [ARE] aware that they are not actually from Washington DC. Too bad they can’t stray from this city for long.

did i choose this fc just so i could use this gif? ......maybe

How long has your character been here: she was here for a while, then gone for a while, and now she's back. in total, she's probably been in dc for about a year and a half. for this current reappearance though, only a few months.

Job: freelance artist

Where has your character been pulled from in their fandom: after the events of the uk'otoa two-shot

Has magic affected your character: only a little. she still knows everything of her time with the mighty nein from the main campaign and the first m9 reunion. she does not have her memories from the second reunion, the echos of the solstice. also, the magic of the city did make her human. she is no longer a blue tiefling. she does still have her cleric magic though.

Anything else? yes, actually. this may get lengthy, but i'm going to try my best to stay succinct. the summaries i write below are going to be from her pov, not full explanations of the episodes, to (hopefully) make them shorter. i'll try my best lol.

tldr: jester is from the second campaign of a d&d live play show called critical role. she was created and played by laura bailey.

let me introduce you to the mighty nein! it consists of seven (technically 8) members: her, a tiefling cleric fjord, a half orc warlock/paladin caleb, a human wizard beau, a human monk yahsa, an aasimar barbarian veth, a halfling rogue caduceus, a firbolg cleric kingsley, a tiefling blood hunter/rogue, formerly mollymauk, a tiefling bloodhunter (click the bolded link below to clarify this distinction)

everything below this you do not need to read if you don't want to lol

here is a masterlist with all the posts i made about her memories throughout the campaign - all 141 episodes!

now for the uk'otoa two shot, 2 of the 3 reunion episodes. (this is where it's going to get looong): following the events of the campaign, the mighty nein have all settled down and split off to do their own things. in the short 6 months they've been apart, fjord, jester, and kingsley (previously molly) have started a small shipping company and they themselves still sail the nein heroz often.

one day while off at sea, they get attacked by a storm giant and cultists looking for the 3rd cloven crystal to unlock and set uk'otoa free. the ship gets totaled but to spare the remaining crew and jester (she had really low hp), fjord gives up the crystal. the two of them, kingsley, and the remaining crew get in a dinghy and row to the nearest island to sleep and figure out what to do next. before bedding down for the night, jester uses sending to call caleb to let him know what's happening, and then veth as well. caleb rounds everyone (veth, beau, yasha) up and teleports to where the other three are located - the twinward isles - somewhere in the lucidian ocean, just west of port zoon.

after some discussion and a scry, the nein teleport then polymorph to get to the cyrios end forest, where these minions of uk'otoa are trekking through. after some time of their own journey through the jungle, they finally make it to some temple ruins. they all climb to the top, planning to ambush the scions and minions. [this is where ep 1/the first half of the reunion ends.]

easily noticed by the storm giant, combat starts immediately before the nein can actually prepare the ambush. the storm giant destroys the top of the temple and jester casts earthquake, wanting to collapse it. realizing they need to go inside, jester only lets the quake last a few rounds before ending the spell.

killing the giant and a couple scions, the nein make their way to the bottom of the temple to try to collect the cloven crystal before anything happens. they're too late though, seeing one of the last remaining followers put it into the floor of the temple - the final key in its place, uk'otoa is released. due to his old pact with the leviathan, fjord can sense that it's south of where they are, roaming in the lucidian ocean.

after some discussion and ruling out darktow, the nein decide that caleb will teleport them to nicodranas where they see ominous storm clouds in the distance and hear that people have been having visions of a creature with many yellow eyes.

they secure the aid of the drensala vis and its captain, adella to weather looming storm and go after uk'otoa. they get a long rest and just approach the edge of the worst of the storm as they wake up. as they enter the worst of it, fjord casts underwater breathing on the nein and the crew of the ship and jester casts waterwalk. she also casts control weather to try to calm down the storm a little bit.

Tidal waves assail the ship, but thanks to Jester’s water walk, they can get close to Uk’otoa and attack the various portions of his serpentine body. The numerous eyes are harder to hit, but striking them keeps his fury at bay, which causes lightning attacks when the fury builds. Attacks rain down on Uk’otoa from the Mighty Nein. Caleb polymorphs into a blue dragon and Fjord casts cone of cold, freezing various sections of the body in the water.

the nein harry the sea leviathan. one of many clutch moments being beau being able to give uk'otoa vulnerability to lightning, making dragon!caleb's attacks more lethal. the biggest clutch moment coming from the queen herself. jester sent out her duplicates the turn before and when the group needed it most, she cast mass heal, getting all 7 of them nearly back to full health.

uk'otoa's health continues to diminish. with two swipes of her sword, yasha nearly ends the leviathan. there's a whole team joint-attack, but ultimately, the killing blow goes to fjord.

the serpent falls beneath the waves, but he still needs to be locked away - for good. now a dragon turtle, caleb takes fjord far below the water, and with a boon given to him in the temple, fjord seals uk'otoa in the depths of the sea. As the runes spread over Uk’otoa’s body, he and Fjord are yanked to the bottom of the ocean. Soon, the body vanishes and three new Cloven Crystals float in the water, restarting the cycle anew. Fjord grabs the crystals and casts far step, returning to Caleb. They return to the surface together and reunite with the Nein.

Fjord takes the Cloven Crystals and sends them to separate locations. One goes to the volcano in Rumblecusp, one goes to the Cobalt Soul, and Fjord keeps the third location secret.

epilogue: Jester is the arts and crafts teacher at veth's summer camp, finding a love for it and opens her own art studio in Nicodranas – Dicks and Other Things. Her graffiti becomes famous around Wildemount. (a la banksy)

and that's the uk'otoa two shot! holy cow, this is much longer than i expected it to be, so i'm glad i'm leaving out the solstice oneshot for now. i'll do that in a month or so when i decide to update her memories lol.

#hw: intro #long post tw #🍭 little sapphire :: jester #🍭 let's chat :: jester

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utilitycaster · 2 years

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On a tangent to recent discourse: What do the dnd rules say about a patron physically controlling the warlock? Are there conditions to be met? Does the DM have to roll something? Is it something that’s addressed when creating a character? Or can the DM just choose to do it when they want to?

I think this was the first time it happened to Laudna and I only remember one instance with Fjord (Labenda swamp IIRC). Funny that they both involved magic rocks.

This is a great question! It is largely left up to the DM's discretion and good judgment. There are no official rules I know of for DMs, though the Player's Handbook says "Work with your DM to determine how big a part your pact will play in your character's adventuring" (PHB, 106) and the flavor text for warlock generally covers the possibility that you could have a contentious relationship. Also worth noting - the idea that you can end up in a pact without necessarily realizing? It's all there in the book. "Sometimes a traveler in the wilds comes to a strangely beautiful tower, meets its fey lord or lady, and stumbles into a pact without being fully aware of it." (PHB, 105)

In general I would say that if a player is playing a warlock, the DM should make the expectations clear: your powers have a source that is both external and highly conditional. While clerics and paladins typically have powers contingent on a broad code to the effect of "do good, protect the innocent, smite evil", warlocks may have something as specific as "perform this ritual at midnight on the winter solstice or I take away all your powers". This is something the DM should state in a session zero or in personal discussion of creating the character/multiclassing into warlock.

Additionally, the DM should provide warnings. We actually saw this for Pike - a cleric - in early Campaign 1, and then in Campaign 2 with Fjord, and then this week with Laudna:

Pike killed someone who was trying to get away and wasn't really a direct assailant, and her holy symbol cracked. Her powers remained, because she was a cleric of a deity of forgiveness, but it was made clear that Sarenrae was disappointed and it served as a signal that further consequences could ensue if this behavior continued (which it did not).

Fjord chose to keep the final key to Uk'otoa's seals and not unleash him. Uk'otoa first threatened him in dreams and took away his powers temporarily. When Fjord continued to defy him, Uk'otoa took away his powers again, at which point Fjord officially broke the pact. Uk'otoa continued to have assailants pursue Fjord so long as he possessed the Cloven Crystal. And earlier, in regards to the crystal in the swamp, Fjord was told "this seems familiar" (with zero checks, I should note) and he (as controlled by Travis) then chose to touch it without waiting for Caleb to identify it, at which point he has a compulsion and Matt narrates the rest.

Delilah has previously warned Laudna about revealing her existence (in 3x6, around an hour and ten minutes in) and, for an experienced player (like Marisha), Matt telling her how Laudna feels should be a clue to said player. Like with Fjord, it was an unprompted "this is how this object makes you feel" with no checks, which, in this case, was repeated several times. And then Laudna (as controlled by Marisha) decided to ask Imogen for the rock and touch it.

So: in short, this is something that happens in RP but a good DM will hint that something is up with this and the player then makes their choice.

I would say for a longer-term DM control situation that should be talked about behind the scenes and there should probably be some saves involved (see: Yasha being compelled by Obann) but basically the implication with warlocks especially is "you fuck around, you find out" and this is a risk in playing one.

#critical role spoilers #d&d mechanics

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bardly-working · 1 year

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🤡 👀

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

So I have this fic. It's a written transcript of the Nein being debriefed after they turn over the Beacon in episode 65. And just... the whole thing is absolute goofy chaos but written like a bunch of bureaucratic forms. This is one of my favorite lines, especially because it's right after the rest of the Nein giving some sound reasoning and calm explanations for Yeza's situation:

“He is not a criminal, he’s a good man, how dare you, I’ll fucking kill you—!” [Detainee became volatile, Lt. Rokahmi brought in to subdue]

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

...well the problem is I have 34 of them.

The one closest to completion is probably my short fic about Luc coping with his trauma (and his parents' trauma) after the campaign. The one that is in progress but partially posted is my multichapter fic, "Never Rested, Never Still," which is a Jester-POV fic where she and Fjord babysit Caleb while he's trying out feeblemind-as-therapy.

Fanfic Writer Ask Meme

#fanfic ask meme #cr fanfic

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theartingace · 5 years

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Some warm hugs for a cold day <3

And as congratulations for all us critters kicking ass on the KS, we all deserve Caddy hugs! New stretch goal! Firbolg hugs for all!

#critical role #fjord #Caduceus #caduceus clay #half-orc #firbolg #dnd #big fuzzy hugs #to get us through winter #and seasonal depression #i probably made fjord to short #but i don't care #better size for cuddling #beau is just fun-sized #II FORGOT TO TAG #BEAU #beauregard

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mllekurtz · 3 years

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Prompt meme from that slow burn list! If it catches your fancy for shadowgast:

- "I'm not in love with you." "Good."

- Flirting with your lover from across the room (optionally adding to this: perhaps in a public setting, perhaps when they should probably be paying attention to other things)

(Hope the work week is less stressful for ya 💕)

It's Thursday and I've had a free afternoon and a mostly free morning so far, I don't know what's happening but it feels very good!

Anyway, here's Wonderwall a fill for your second prompt, flirting with your lover from across the room. Thanks to @kmackatie for taking a look at this and making sure it made sense! ♥

(post-canon, pre-relationship shadowgast; short and sweet, no CWs except for the scandalous wizard flirting)

It happens while they’re all together for the traditional Mighty Nein Annual Reunion.

Nobody’s sure who started it, or when it became a thing, but Caleb is glad it did. This time they all travelled and teleported to the Clays’ temple in the Blooming Grove, happily disrupting the peace of the graveyard with a loud, chaotic dinner.

Caleb is recounting their latest Aeor expedition to the rest of the group, who’s in general way more interested in the scuffles they’ve had against the Aeorian hunters than the groundbreaking magical equations that have been unearthed.

Everyone’s heart is light with laughter and, in many cases, wine; which is probably why Essek, who has been listening quietly with a soft smile on his lips, eventually pipes up. “Speaking of, Caleb.” When he looks up, he sees Essek twist his hand in a familiar gesture as he reaches inside his pocket dimension. “You wanted to copy that equation, no? Take my spellbook, before we forget.”

As the spellbook lifts from Essek’s hand and falls into Caleb’s, Jester’s gasp is the loudest, but not the only one in the room: a chorus of yells and questions rises from the table.

“Oooh, Essek, did you just give Caleb your spellbook? Just like that?”

“Do you two have something to tell us?”

“Is this how wizards do it?”

“I didn't know wizards could touch each other's spellbooks.”

The flush in Caleb’s cheeks is only partially due to the alcohol. Across the room, amidst the chaos, unperturbed lilac eyes hold his gaze. At that last remark, though, Essek turns to Beau. “It’s not very common, that’s true. But Caleb is welcome to touch my spellbook any time.”

This causes even more yelling, as well as exaggerated gagging noises from Beau. Caleb has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from grinning, especially because he knows Essek enough to recognise the spark of mischief behind the unruffled façade.

He rubs his thumbs on the spellbook, which by now he has held many times and knows almost as well as his own. “How forward of you, Herr Thelyss. These things are usually done in private.”

At this point, Jester has slipped entirely out of her seat. “Ca-a-a-leb, is this foreplay? Are you having sex right now? In front of us?”

“Jester, this is clearly not what’s happening.” Fjord gets thoroughly ignored.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Beau actually covers her eyes. “At least get a room first.”

“We should get a room, Essek.” Caleb doesn’t fight the smile that tugs at his mouth. “This table is too cramped for spell-copying, after all.”

Essek, who’s not wearing his mantle, crosses his arms and leans against the back of his seat with a nod. “Indeed. These things do tend to get messy.”

Beau’s eyes have murder in them when she peeks through her fingers. “Now you’re just fucking with us.”

Cad takes a sip from his glass and smiles. “I think it's nice.”

#critical role #cr ficlet #my fics #shadowgast #the mighty nein #writing prompts #thanks so much for the prompt sky! ♥

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mareastrorum · 10 months

Text

WIP Wednesday: TF&TS (Alfield)

Here is a scene from an early chapter of a longfic I am working on.

Fanfic Summary: Mollymauk Tealeaf survived the encounter with the Iron Shepherds, but a short time later, a spirit had begun hunting him, claiming that he stole his body. This Campaign 2 AU begins with Episode 26 and continues on from there.

This fanfic will be posted on AO3 starting in July. (OH GOD, THAT'S SO SOON. OH NO.)

Alfield was still in the process of rebuilding since the last time the Nein had stopped in town. They had arrived via the Amber Road shortly before dark, then briefly met with Bryce Feelid and had made their way to the Feed and Mead. Bryce joined them after a meal. It was kind of nice when people were grateful for their work, even when they got paid for it anyway.

Beau was also happy to indulge in the free drinks offered by the other patrons. Molly snuck some coins into their pockets as they walked away, but eventually he was tipsy enough that the only reason they didn’t return the coin was the awkwardness.

“You doing alright, Molly?” Beau prodded. She almost followed up with an instinctive disclaimer that she didn’t care, but, well, she did. Why was it still so hard to remember to be nice?

Molly hummed a question back, but didn’t wait for her to elaborate. “We’re finally back on the road, so I’m celebrating!”

Beau raised a brow. “Celebrating being on the road?”

“Damn right,” Molly replied as he lifted his tankard in a toast. “Staying in one place for two weeks was far too long.” Beau rolled her eyes, but tapped her own against his and took a drink. The others joined, if they could reach, but the rest on the other end just lifted theirs and sipped. “To adventures and low profiles!”

Beau snorted and took a second drink. After the fiasco in Shadycreek Run and then running into Cree again at Zadash, she couldn’t blame Molly for wanting to slink into anonymity. However, he also was the most ostentatious of the Nein. If anyone was going to be recognized on sight, it was going to be Molly.

Jester, Fjord, and Nott discussed getting past the Wuyun Gates with Bryce at the other end of the table, though Beau had little to add. Bryce was pretty cool for letting the open discussion of mail fraud go by. Most Watchmasters had a stick up their ass about that sort of thing. But now that she thought about it, Molly, Nott, and Caduceus probably didn’t have any papers. Beau flipped through her notebook quickly to see if she had anything that might be useful for forging.

“Hey, Molly, Caduceus, do you have like, papers for traveling?” Beau asked as she looked up.

Molly shrugged affirmatively. “Oh, sure. Had to put some together at the carnival ages ago. Plenty of Crownsguard found it thrilling to pester us whenever we got near the garrisons or the capital.”

“Ah, I don’t know what that is,” Caduceus answered with a smile.

Beau sighed. “We’ll figure something out. Molly, gimme yours and I’ll see what we can do for Caduceus. We can probably copy what you have and just switch some stuff around to fix it up.”

Molly fished in what seemed to be an endless number of pockets in his coat, then handed off the papers. His eyes didn’t have pupils, but Beau got the sense that he spaced out a moment afterwards.

“What papers do people need for traveling?” Caduceus inquired.

“Just bullshit for leaving during a war,” Beau answered as she looked them over. “It’s usually checking for spies and deserting soldiers. We’re so far from the front lines that it’s probably not that big of a deal.”

After a brief review, Molly’s papers were actually decent forgeries. They had all the right seals to permit travel across the Empire with the carnival. The band had traveled in a circle around the Silberquel Ridge, though it seems they skipped large cities like Rexxentrum and Zadash. Beau started scribbling notes of what the Nein should include for any papers they might forge.

“That reminds me,” Molly started with a subtle drawl, “Mister Caleb, I’ve got a bone to pick with you about your book.”

Beau rolled her eyes yet again without looking up. She knew that Caleb had gifted a book of fairy tales to Molly. She’d been rather surprised to find out that Molly had not only accepted the gift, but actually read it. Or part of it, anyway. She had thought the day spent at the Valley Archive in Zadash would have put him off reading for a good while. Or forever.

“Was?” Caleb asked, an eyebrow raised. “It’s your book, Mister Mollymauk.”

“Yeah, but you gave it to me,” Molly stated matter-of-factly, “and one of the stories in it is wrong.”

Beau shifted her attention to Molly and Caleb. The carnie was going to argue with a Zemnian about Zemnian fairy tales. She grabbed her tankard and took small sips to hide her expression.

“Wrong?” Caleb replied, almost looking offended now with two brows raised. “How can one of them be wrong? They’re stories.”

Molly sat up straight and emphasized with his hands. “Your book has a story about ‘The Scorpion and the Frog,’ but it’s supposed to be ‘The Scorpion and the Turtle.’”

Beau focused intently on Molly’s face as she took a long drink from her tankard. It was possible that he was just pulling Caleb’s leg, but Molly actually looked serious. Well, as serious as Molly ever could be outside of a fight. And she faintly recalled that he had mentioned a fable about a scorpion back when he chastised Nott for some of the drama that happened during that Knights of Requital job.

Caleb’s brow furrowed as he pondered that a moment, then looked back at Molly. “No, you are mistaken. The tale is ‘The Scorpion and the Frog.’ It couldn’t be a turtle. The lesson is that one should not trust bad people because they cannot resist their nature, even if betrayal is against their interests.”

Now Molly looked offended. “That’s a terrible lesson. That’s the sort of shite the people in charge want the common folk to buy into. No, it’s ‘The Scorpion and the Turtle.’ The point is that sometimes you have to trust untrustworthy people, or else you’ll just be stuck alone.”

Beau stifled a laugh and took another swig of ale. Oh gods, Molly had not thought that through entirely. She said nothing though; she wanted to see how Caleb would handle this.

Caleb’s face fell to confusion as he thought it over. After a moment, he asked, “Well, what happens in your story?”

“The scorpion rides on the turtle to cross the river, then stings her, and they both die,” Molly explained confidently. “But it was still better to at least try, rather than stay where they were by themselves.”

“But the turtle could have crossed on its own, while the scorpion needed the turtle, ja?” Caleb inquired. “So the turtle did not need to trust the scorpion to cross the river.”

“Well… yes,” Molly agreed hesitantly, some of his confidence fading.

“And how did the scorpion sting the turtle when it is protected by a shell?” Caleb pressed.

Molly stared back at Caleb in silence, opening his mouth to speak, then closing it after saying nothing, and then his face seemed to express the various stages of grief over the course of a few seconds.

Beau exploded with laughter, nearly spilling her tankard, but she managed to set it on the table to save it, then leaned on one hand to try to calm down. She barely heard a “Fuck you, Beau,” but she could not collect herself to give her usual response. After giving her abs a good warmup, Beau managed to bring it down to quiet snickering and looked back at the two. Molly had a tight, frustrated grin while Caleb seemed quite amused and victorious with a small smirk.

“So who told you the version with the turtle?” Caleb asked.

“Ornna,” Molly replied while shaking his head. “Godsdamnit.” Caleb chuckled, but did not say anything further.

Beau snickered and went for another drink of ale, only to find she had finished it already. She looked over and waved at the barkeep, pointing at her tankard for a refill, but he pointedly turned away from her to help another customer. She frowned. “Yeah, he— uh… Crute? Yeah, Crute might be kinda sore about Jester breaking that window with her spell.”

“Oh, well that’s unfortunate,” Molly noted as he turned to look. He finished off his drink, then stood up abruptly. “Well, I’m in need of another drink, and his beautiful face is sure to cheer me up, so I’ll see about smoothing things over. Besides, we need three rooms, right?”

Bryce perked up at that, briefly looking over, “Oh, that will be covered for your stay. Please, let Crute know to see me about that.”

Molly squinted. “Are you paying for it, or is the Starosta?”

Bryce chuckled, “The defense fund is covering it as thanks for your prior defense of the town. We may be shorthanded, but the Crown has provided plenty to hire hands as needed.”

“Excellent!” Molly grinned wide and headed off. Of course he was happy to spend the Crown’s money.

“Molly, get us another round too,” Beau called after him.

“And, uh…” Caduceus began.

“And something for Caduceus!” Beau added. Molly waved her off and leaned over the bar to snatch Crute’s attention as soon as he reached it, though she could not hear the conversation at that distance. She shook her head and looked back at the others as a brief check before she went back to the papers.

“Like, see it see it,” Fjord said to Jester. Bryce had a hand over one eye, slowly shifting to cover both. Nott was looking at Jester with curiosity, and Caleb was turning red. Beau raised a brow. What were they talking about now?

“Like, penises?” Jester asked, waggling her eyebrows. “Wieners? I’ve seen so many penises.”

“Really?” Fjord seemed half-appalled and half-unconvinced. Beau smirked deviously. Oh, this would be fun.

“Jester, what’s the best penis you’ve ever seen?” Beau interrupted.

“Hold on hold on hold on—” Caleb suddenly jumped in as Fjord also tried to intercede.

The explosion of overlapping conversation was everything Beau had hoped for. Caleb attempted to divert the topic to voyeurism versus experience. Why was Caleb so interested in people’s sex lives? Fjord tried to pin the question on Beau instead. Jester clearly enjoyed the chaos, prolonging the discussion by answering every side question they threw her way, which only disoriented them even more. Nott just drank from her flask and admired the insanity. Caduceus looked so confused. Bryce was staring straight ahead and trying to pretend they weren’t there.

Oh man, neither Caleb nor Fjord wanted to know the answer. They were both totally sweet on Jester and did not know how to handle it. Well, it’s not like Beau could blame them either, she was adorable.

“Yeah, what’s your best dick?” Beau insisted once the distraction had gone on long enough.

“My best dick?” Jester giggled.

“If it’s too hard, you can do top three,” Nott suggested with a snort.

All three women dissolved into a giggle-fest. Caleb turned red and hid behind a facepalm. Fjord sighed and resigned himself to the embarrassment. Caduceus watched, still lost.

“Okay, honestly?” Jester said, looking around quickly, then turning back and wagging her eyebrows dramatically. “I saw Molly’s when we were in the bath house.”

Beau had no idea what face she made as she momentarily closed her eyes and laughed, but she hoped it conveyed how much that was the most amazing answer Jester could have given in that context.

“Was it? We all saw it, but how did it compare?” Nott asked.

“Molly's was pretty good,” Jester answered noncommittally, though she gave a nod.

“In terms of just being giant or, like, well-proportioned? Symmetrical?” Nott kept pressing.

“It was really nice and it was a good color,” Jester elaborated sweetly.

The whole time, Beau was squinting to try to contain her giggling to a reasonable volume. Jester and Nott knew exactly what they were doing with this conversation. The faces on Caleb and Fjord were priceless. Especially when Nott suggested “giant.” Beau had not expected Nott to be such a shit-disturber.

Once they recovered some composure, Caleb and Fjord tried diverting the conversation again, and Beau could not catch her breath.

At that point, Bryce spoke up, with some moderate color on their cheeks, “Well, folks, I think this is my cue to get some rest. It’s been great catching up a bit with all of you. Stay safe.”

The Nein bade Bryce goodbye, though Nott threatened to kill them if they tried to pay for their drinks. Bryce looked a bit concerned and conceded, then left their coin at the bar anyway with a polite and slightly mischievous smile.

Molly was still at the bar, apparently making no progress with Crute. That carnie was nowhere near as charming as he thought he was, and Beau was pretty sure that he was just diverting Crute’s annoyance with Jester to himself rather than absolving it.

“I know this sounds petty,” Fjord requested with a low voice, also glancing in that direction, “but could y’all do me a favor and not tell Molly about this conversation?”

“What? Why?” Jester asked petulantly.

“Because I have to room with him and the nudity is awkward enough already,” Fjord answered flatly. Nott scrunched up her face.

“I mean, he’d probably use it as an excuse to show off more than he already does,” Beau agreed, stifling a laugh. “That wouldn’t be all that conducive to finding good jobs.” Though really, Beau just wanted to avoid the preening. It would never end. Molly did not need that sort of ego boost.

“Yeaaaaah, that might be trouble with some kinds of work,” Jester said thoughtfully, though she was clearly weighing whether she wanted to see the madness that would result from telling Molly.

“You could always tell him later, Jester,” Nott chimed in.

“I could!” Jester laughed.

“I don’t get it, but alright,” Caduceus added, still digesting the insanity that just occurred. He’d get used to their weirdness eventually.

Of course, Caleb just switched topics rather than answer, “Anyway, Jester, do you have a good sense of how Nott would fit in at the Menagerie Coast?”

Nott derailed the conversation completely to show off her “skin mittens” as Jester called them, and they were appropriately horrifying. Molly eventually returned with a tray of drinks (he was surprisingly graceful after so many drinks) and three keys for their rooms, insisting that he had smoothed things over with Crute. The side-eye that Crute kept casting their way suggested otherwise.

Beau shook her head with a smile and enjoyed her ale. These misfits were so much better than putting up with the snobs at the Cobalt Soul.

* * *

Fjord was immensely grateful that his and Molly’s room had twin beds. Caleb and Nott had offered to share with Caduceus since theirs also had twin beds, so it was just the two of them this time while the Jester and Beau had the room with a single bed.

Once the door was closed, Fjord saw to doffing his armor. It fit well, but loosening the snug pieces was always such a relief. Maybe he’d see about getting it refitted in Nicodranas.

“So, Fjord,” Molly started suddenly, “why did everyone keep looking at me while I was chatting up Crute?”

“Hu—what?” Fjord stumbled, trying to appear clueless. Shit, he already fucked that up. He stayed focused on getting his shoulder guard off, hoping that Molly would leave it alone.

“You all kept looking my way,” Molly repeated calmly. “Why?”

Fjord looked up at him to see the tiefling had a knowing grin, though still flushed slightly from all that drinking. Did someone already tell Molly? Or was that just the drink and he was being a brat? Fjord couldn’t be sure. “Well, you were taking quite a while, and we were keeping an eye out.”

“All at the same time?” Molly leaned closer, narrowing his eyes with suspicion.

“We didn’t all look over at the same time,” Fjord insisted, though he honestly did not recall. Godsdamnit, he did not want to deal with Molly peacocking around if he found out about that stupid dick conversation.

“You did,” Molly insisted with suspicion, though he still had his mischievous grin.

“Uh…” Fjord mumbled. “Well, I guess you did come up in conversation.” He was trying to stall for time, but no good explanations came to mind.

Molly grinned wide. “I did, did I? What about?”

Fjord dropped his hand from his shoulder as the armor came loose. Shit. He explained slowly, trying to come up with something to throw it off, but his mind drew blanks. “The subject of… of men’s genetalia came up, and given Jester’s background growing up in a, uh, where she did, Beau asked Jester what the best she had seen was.”

Molly stared incredulously, unblinking, arms crossed.

“She said yours, alright?” Fjord confessed as he lifted both his hands in concession. Godsdamnit. Molly was going to be insufferable about this for who knows how long. And walking around naked even more than usual. Maybe Fjord could convince Caduceus to room with him so he could room with Caleb and Nott.

Molly stared him down for several seconds. “This is payback for telling you my glass swords were magic, isn’t it?”

“What?” Fjord blurted out. “No, I’m serious.”

“Listen, you’re normally a decent liar,” Molly reasoned as he put a hand on his chest, “and I love the appeal to my ego, but c’mon. That’s not believable that you all happened to have that conversation while I was dealing with Crute.”

Fjord felt slightly annoyed that Molly thought he was so deceitful—and secondly that he was also bad at it—but that was easily buried under shameless gratitude that it still achieved what he wanted. And it meant he didn’t even have to put on an act anymore. “Really, Molly. You could ask any of the others, even Beau.”

“Aha!” Molly exclaimed as he pointed at Fjord. “You’re trying to set me up to piss off Beau!”

Fjord sighed in exasperation, “Fine, don’t believe me then. The rest would still back me up.”

“No, no, you’re not getting me that easily,” Molly crowed as he walked over to his side of the room. “You need to work on your pranks, Fjord, that was just uninspired.”

Fjord shook his head and mouthed “thank you” to the sky at whatever deity had been watching over him just then. He went back to removing his armor and hoped th— no, Molly was already stripping to nothing. Shit.

* * *

“Hey, Jester.” Beau prodded as she did her evening stretches. “Do you still have a crush on Fjord?”

Jester was already curled up in the blankets on the bed. Their room only had one, but it was large enough that they had plenty of space to share. She had been sketching in her notebook, but she sat up with a coy smile. Jester adored girly talk, and while it wasn’t always Beau’s top interest, a thought had occurred to her.

“Mayyyyybe,” Jester drawled coyly. “Why? Did he say something about me?”

Beau took a moment to think of how to phrase this. She was still trying to become comfortable with correcting her own social stumbles, and it was difficult to sort out how to be gentle about pointing out others’ mistakes. She preferred being an asshole about it, but she didn’t want to be an asshole to Jester.

“Well, uh,” Beau tried to couch it with some of her own awkwardness, “Isn’t it kind of, you know, messed up that you basically said Molly’s dick is better than Fjord’s to the entire group? I mean, that’s gotta wound his pride, even if it’s just based on looks.”

“Oh, shit, I did huh,” Jester said as her eyes went wide and her mouth hung open a bit.

“Yeahhhh.” Beau nodded, waiting to see how Jester would react.

“Um, well, ac-tu-al-ly,” Jester enunciated slowly for emphasis, “you know, some dicks are good for one thing and not another, and there’s definitely some…”

Beau had thought of several ways this conversation could go, but an in-depth analysis of penises based on Jester’s observations at home had somehow not made the cut. She had never had any interest in them beyond bored curiosity, and Jester was apparently an expert. Beau listened for about a minute before she truly could not stand to hear more about dicks.

“Y—you know what,” Beau interrupted, still trying to be polite and only half-succeeding, “I kinda didn’t think about how this conversation would proceed, and now I’m thinking we should just, y’know, not talk about that. That— That’s on me, that’s my bad. Totally my fault.”

Jester had been earnestly listening to Beau speak, but as she had continued, that soft smile had turned into a pointed, impish grin. Oh, shit.

As the conversation turned worse, Beau could only sigh.

I did this to myself, godsdamnit.

* * *

“Man, everyone got really awkward during that conversation about dicks,” Caduceus noted as he, Caleb, and Nott got ready for bed. Their room had twin beds, and Caleb had intended to share with Nott so that Caduceus had one to himself. Unfortunately, all of the beds were too short, so Caduceus was setting up his bedroll instead so that the others could each have their own.

“It was a strange conversation,” Caleb agreed, a little flushed and stubbornly not making eye contact with the other two while he looked over his spellbook. Nott inspected Caleb’s face and posture closely. She seemed to be trying to piece things together, but Caduceus had the feeling that she had not quite caught on. But she was certainly going to try to help anyway.

“Don’t worry about what Jester said, Caleb,” Nott said matronly. “I’m sure your dick is great for a human’s, probably one of the best. Jester’s just biased towards tieflings.”

Caduceus watched as Caleb’s face flushed to melon pink and then a tomato red as Nott spoke. Caduceus said nothing, but the embarrassment reminded him so much of Clarabelle teasing Colton. It was harmless fun, and would probably do Caleb a bit of good. He needed silly types of humility, not the self-sabotaging depreciation that he seemed to prefer.

“I would very much like to stop talking about this please,” Caleb replied flatly, still refusing to look at either of them.

Caduceus knew that he was much older than any of the Nein by several decades, but that younger brother instinct was kicking in. He could give into temptation sometimes.

“I’m a bit confused about what makes one dick better than another dick,” Caduceus commented to Nott. It wasn’t really a lie, but that wasn’t the point of saying it either.

“Welllllll…” Nott drawled excitedly as she clapped her hands and rubbed them together, preparing herself for a lecture.

“TIME FOR BED!” Caleb blurted suddenly as he threw his blanket over himself and faced away from them.

Caduceus chuckled a bit and let it alone. He shrugged good-naturedly at Nott and bid them both goodnight. He missed his family greatly, but he wasn’t lonely with this group. He felt certain he had the right companions for his quest.

#tf&ts #wip wednesday #the mighty nein #mollymauk tealeaf #I rolled for Molly's insight to see if he believed Fjord #I ROLLED A NAT 1 #THE DICE GAVE ME PERMISSION

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