#idiot necromancer mentioned

[meanbossart]

Hello hello!

I have to say that ever since I discovered you here, I can't get away from your art! I just adore uncanny things of all kinds…. AND as a social worker I just love it when people put so much thought into the psychology of their OCs. It makes me feel less weird when I write little psychology papers about my own characters.

Anyways! I had this super stupid idea for a picture~ So-. Here we are! After some Tavs made fun of his scars-… from one Drow Durge Creep to another.

Provided, of course, that DU Drow and Lux don't immediately try to kill each other. x)

Although Lux's not a normal Drow either - I like to play with clichés -. So, as a Drow woman, she is much smaller than most men (146 cm [4'7]) and rather reserved when dealing with others. If I could have put her strength stat below 8, I would have ò_ó She's just a skinny ass necromancer.

Besides, she never really met other Drow before she goes into the Underdark with Astarion in the post-game. Because she was raised in Candlekeep after Bhaal threw her somewhere and before she caused the first bloodbath.

So-… she'd probably rather stand behind someone and stare until she's approached-… than actually ask him out for a drink. lol.

Otherwise… Happy Easter to you!

AAAAAAAAAA LOOK AT THESE TWO MESSED UP FUCKERS!!!! They look adorable together, and Lux seems like a real... Uh... A real charmer. I'm sure an encounter between them would be the most harmonious wall of silence and awkward staring the world's ever seen. She's so short too that this behemoth of a man might confuse her for a deep gnome or something, so perhaps they could have an amicable start pfft.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR KIND WORDS, AND FOR TAKING THE TIME TO DRAW MY IDIOT WITH YOURS!!! I guess I could mention here that I'm a psych school dropout to try and explain away all the psycho-analysis that goes on in this blog, but honestly I would probably be doing this regardless, it just turns out I prefer to pick brains that I made myself (and it's free too, unlike college).

Happy Easter to you too, and thank you for the important work you do!

#ask #gift art #other tavs #DU drow

[beevean]

I write very slowly. But I am making progress. Here's some... uh... cute Isaactor? Inspired by the scene in PtR where Isaac brings hands into their laboratory, and Hector gets a better look of the downward spiral he's facing.

~

The humans were becoming bolder and bolder. Foolish, even. Marching towards Lord Dracula’s castle was akin to knocking on Death’s door and pressing your throat on his scythe. Hector did not understand: he only sent his Devils to deal with them as he was told. They would have soon joined their companions in decorating the castle’s courtyard from pikes. Lord Dracula’s message was hard to misunderstand.

Hector was engrossed in finding a way to reinforce a tabar with adamantine, when a flapping of leathery wings and a cooing distracted him.

« Good job, baby, now give Daddy what he needs… »

Hector turned around to ask Isaac to not distract him while he was working, and he saw them.

Hands.

A cascade of hands fell from Abel’s clutches in a wheelbarrow. Greyish, severed neatly, not stained with blood – they had been taken after death.

Queasiness rose from his stomach.

« What is this? »

« My loot! » Isaac laughed like he had just said the funniest joke in the world, but Hector did not get it.

« What for? Do you plan to resell them? » he insisted, though it made no sense. Necromancers had no need for hands alone: their specialty was stitching up dismembered corpses. Hector had witnessed the process, the creation of bloated, multi-headed bodies manipulated like puppets by magic as cursed as his but with none of the elegance. He couldn’t say he was impressed – his Devils were far more sophisticated than those creatures – but Lord Dracula had requested the help of every inhabitant of the castle, even the lowest.

Isaac looked at him as if he were a dim-witted child, before answering: « It is the proof that we are carrying out Lord Dracula’s will. I wish to show them to Him, so that He’ll be satisfied with our work. »

« But there is no need for that. He trusts us. »

This time, he only received for an answer some muttering from a no longer cheerful Isaac. Hector did not insist, because his attention was caught by the “loot”.

The pile of hands were scattered in the wheelbarrow, almost looking like large, macabre spiders. Some still had swords in their grasp, in the rigid hold of rigor mortis; they could be reused. Many had rings, not opulent like those of priests, but sober, wedding rings. The calluses on the fingers and broken nails spoke of lives spent in the fields.

Hector picked up from the pile two hands clasping each other: one was slender, feminine, and the other was plump and much smaller. It was difficult for him to swallow.

« This was uncalled for, Isaac. »

His friend’s face clouded over. It was a sullen, nasty expression, that did not quell the nausea clawing Hector’s abdomen. « Why? Don’t tell me you’re growing soft. »

« You wish, » he snorted. « I’m just saying that it’s unnecessary. Lord Dracula only ordered us to kill anyone who stands in his way; at least grant them dignity in death. »

« Oh, you mean like Lady Lisa, left to bleed out like a pig?! »

Hector froze at Isaac’s scathing words.

It was forbidden to mention Lady Lisa’s name, but she was a tangible presence in every wing of the castle, in every painting that decorated the corridors, in the empty plate that Lord Dracula always left for her. Lady Lisa had died a terrible death, unworthy of a Countess and the kindhearted woman as she was.

Would such a kind heart have appreciated the way they were honoring her memory?

« No, of course not, » Hector stammered, « but… look, they brought children with them. They seem be running short of grown men. And… I don’t think… »

« So? Should I feel sorry for this scum? Idiots. » Isaac had an ugly sneer on his face. « Serves them right for daring to turn their backs on Lord Dracula. »

But they didn’t. We destroyed Targoviste months ago. These... are just desperate people.

He bit his tongue. He could not hear their screams from inside the stone walls, but still the resounded clear in his ears. The sobs of husbands who had lost their wives, much like Lord Dracula, the wails of the mothers who had watched their children being torn apart. For what sin? It wasn’t their sin…

«Lord Dracula better not hear you right now, Hector, or He would be very disappointed, » hissed Isaac, venom dripping from the last word.

His Lord’s disappointment was the last thing he ever wanted.

Hector looked at the two hands again, the bone fragments protruding from the wrists, the bruises mottling the skin. Moved by revulsion, he threw them back into the pile: they separated and bounced away from each other. Yet, the clammy cold of death clung to his flesh: he rubbed his palms together to get rid of it, unsuccessfully.

Lord Dracula would not approve of this senseless act, surely. He was a reasonable Lord, who never took more than his fill, who punished those who wronged him and rewarded those who deserved his generosity, like Hector and Isaac, nothing more and nothing less.

That was the Lord he knew. The roaring monster with wild white hair and burning eyes, who had declared that no one shall survive his wrath, was not him.

No, Hector grabbed his elbows, he had to understand… Lord Dracula was in the throes of grief. Who wouldn’t be? It broke his heart to see him slumped on the throne, when the flames of Hell burning from within suddenly went out and revealed the man hidden behind them. Hector wanted nothing more than to bring him comfort, as much as it was feasible… and Isaac too, in his own way…

« Hey. » Isaac’s voice and hand, too soft to be really him, called him back in the laboratory. A rare gift, that Hector accepted. « Hey, why the long face? It’s alright, I was exaggerating. Think of it like this: they’ll go to Heaven soon. So, in a sense, we’re doing them a favor. »

« Some good it will do to them, for what Heaven’s worth. » Hector rolled his eyes to the sky he harbored no respect for. « To worship for eternity the One who allows his creatures to spread so much misery… » He chuckled. It was a jarring sound. « Good thing we’ll never have to worry about it, right? »

«Ah, they can have it, » said Isaac nonchalantly waving a hand. « I have no intention of sitting around God and singing praises for the rest of time, that sounds dreadfully boring. We’ll be the ones making a Heaven of our own, Hector! »

Isaac grabbed Hector by the shoulders, like when they were children and his friend came up with another brilliant idea to get them into trouble. But at least his face was glowing again; Hector couldn’t remember the last time he saw such joy light up in him.

« What? »

« Yes! We will make this world our Heaven! A world where only the two of us, and Lord Dracula, will exist, and we will forge it in our image! No one will chase us and hurt us anymore! God will no longer punish us for being born! We will be able to study and create and be the masters of all knowledge and life! We can just… live, together. » Isaac's nose almost touched Hector’s, and a feeling he couldn't name colored his cheeks. He could see his reflection in the large, clear eyes. « What do you think? »

And for a split second, Hector was a child again, like when Isaac welcomed him into the castle with a smile and his heart thrummed and for the first time he understood that he wanted to live.

« Promise? » he asked, his voice soft.

Isaac sealed the promise with a kiss.

He was still his dear Isaac.

Hector held him close, and the tension in his muscles and stomach melted away in his warmth. He had no idea what Heaven was like, he would never know, and he didn’t care. But if it was spending the rest of his life with his friend, it didn’t sound boring at all.

#beev's writing #castlevania #akumajou dracula #hector castlevania #isaac laforeze #isaactor #hehe the little game references :3 #feedback is appreciated! even just “the quotation marks look weird” lol #this is a weird transitional point for hector and it's hard to grasp #as for isaac i love him

[ping1n]

Today something very strange happened in my fortress.

A while back we had a forgotten beast attack. Fire breath, deadly blood, etc. Bad time.

Before my military (specifically the shitty branch comprised of poorly trained idiots with spears, not my actually valuable soldiers) arrived, one dwarf (named Litast) was caught and had their head melted off by the beast.

However, caught in the crossfire were my two miner necromancers (which is a whole other story), one of which, before he was incinerated, raised Litast as a forlorn corpse.

At this point the military arrives, kills the thing without too many casualties, a few more people get their heads melted off by the blood. It takes a me a little while to notice the new undead.

Intelligent undead in dwarf fortress are pretty fucking incredible. All of them are extremely strong and nigh unbreakable, while retaining the loyalties they had in life. So logically our new zombie is assigned to the legendary swordmaster squad, despite her complete lack of sword experience.

All proceeds as usual, until one day I send the swordmaster squad to raze a necromancer tower. As soon as they leave the map, I get a notification saying Litast' ghost has been put to rest. When they return, she's missing, with no mention of her death in the battle report.

This is already really weird, but I shrug it off and begin training a mortal dwarf to replace her.

Fast forward to today. I'm assigning more metalsmiths to my fortress. And one of the first names on the list is Litast. This is very clearly the same Litast - she has the title I gave her and her name is cyan like an undead. At first I assume this is a bug in the labour screen, but then I find her in the citizen menu. Turns out, shes been chilling in the fortress the entire damn time.

But something is odd about her.

Intelligent undead cannot feel anything. But when Litast listens to a performance, she's delighted. She is euphoric when intoxicated. She feels empathy when discussing problems with an acquaintance.

Intelligent undead are incredibly strong and nigh unbreakable. Litast is weak and frail.

Theres only one conclusion to be made - Litast, died twice, has finally, truly, returned to life.

#df #dwarf fortress #dwarf fortress stories #will edit with screenshots when im back at my computer

[optiwashere]

Handholding, 49 for Shadowheart and Asheera? 🥺 (always soft for them tbh)

Thank you for being soft for them because I am too (shocking I know!) And thanks for the request 💜

I'll have to take a break for the night, but I'll work on more tomorrow and any others that come in! Don't be afraid to send some in :)

You can send in one of these prompts + a ship/platonic pairing and I'll write a li'l ficlet!

---

Hand-holding 49 (taking the other's hand to look for injuries)~ CW for blood, some canon-typical violence implications, and references to my fic It is the Wound She Gave Me.

With the necromancer dead on the stones, Shadowheart sighed. One step closer to realizing her purpose. Who she was meant to be. All that remained now was to take the Spear her Dark Lady had bestowed upon, the Mistress of All Nights to Come would finally recognize her as—

A pained gasp stole her attention away. The whisper in her mind told her to ignore it.

Asheera panted out another sharp sound, like blood was caught in her throat. Or a punctured lung. Shadowheart moved without thinking, the whisper fading in her mind even as it raised in volume.

"Are you hurt?" she asked, falling to her knees.

"I have suffered worse," Asheera muttered. She coughed and a black splotch fell onto the floor. "Nothing a touch from my god can't help."

"You think me an idiot, then? Come. Here." Shadowheart took her hand and pulled her up as best she could. "Gods, you're heavy as an ox."

"Stronger too. Healthier. Just give me a moment."

"I will not wait for you to bleed out while you fumble to lay hands on yourself," Shadowheart bit back. Though their relationship was mired in her own faulty memories and the Gauntlet's psychic urging, Shadowheart wasn't about to watch her... the woman she cared for bleed out. Not again.

Just the thought brought her back to the cells under the goblin camp. Shadowheart shook it away and began her casting of a healing spell.

Only then did she realize that she still held Asheera's hand. Their fingers interlocked together, the plated gauntlet slipped between her leather glove. She squeezed and touched the wound on Asheera's hip. A dip into Shar's spring of the Weave brought violet threads to stitch together the slash.

"How does that feel?" Shadowheart asked her, forgetting that Astarion and Gale were just right next to them. "Asheera, breathe for me."

Asheera sucked in one long breath and exhaled. Her muscles flexed and flowed under Shadowheart's healing hand and Asheera's hand in hers tightened the grip they shared.

"Feels good."

"You're better. No more bleeding."

Asheera nodded, the color returning to her dark olive green face. "No more bleeding. Thank you. You didn't have to do that."

Was I supposed to watch you die in my arms, again? But Shadowheart didn't dare voice that. Instead, she asked with an incredulous voice, "What was I going to do, sit here and watch you collapse from blood loss?"

"Your Lady of Loss probably would've preferred it," joked Asheera.

"She will learn to accept you. She must."

As Shadowheart stood she no longer needed to help Asheera. The half-orc stood tall, her armor gleaming with stains of her own blood. She retrieved her two-handed sword and resumed her position at the front of the party, Astarion rolling his eyes and mentioning something about 'melodrama.' Gale simply gave Shadowheart an awkward smile as they both left the room where Balthazar's body would rot once more.

My Lady, you will suffer her.

A cold whisper answered in her mind, "And what do you think you can you do if I do not?"

The question was another of the small knives that cut at her since waking in the nautiloid. The first was Asheera's calm insistence against the Sharran faith, once annoying and now carrying some truth now that Shadowheart saw the untold misery in Reithwin.

Another of the knives to which Shadowheart had no defense. Cutting apart what she thought she was little by little. Edge by edge.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #shadowheart #shadowheart x tav #asheera x shadowheart #oc: asheera #my fic #anotheropti prompt fics #music to go with this one: the cure's pornography fits well

[dhr-ao3]

The Innkeeper [Traducción]

The Innkeeper [Traducción] https://ift.tt/HMmnO4A by JENNIFERSIZA Dimitriv había sido el guardián de la posada durante varios años, sin encontrar nunca un heredero que tomara el relevo, dejándole a él -con su vida inmortal- la vigilancia de la posada y de las criaturas que se acercaban en busca de santuario, comida o simplemente una charla. Pero todo cambia cuando encuentra un bebé en el umbral de un suburbio, en una fría noche de invierno, llevándose al niño y dándose cuenta rápidamente de que ha encontrado a su heredero. Desbaratando bastantes planes en el proceso, a la vez que se hace querer por la Muerte por llevarse a su Elegido para que crezca donde pueda marcar la diferencia. Words: 2076, Chapters: 1/35, Language: Español Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage Categories: M/M Characters: Harry Potter, Dimitriv, OMC, Fenrir Greyback, Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Sirius Black, Amelia Bones, Remus Lupin, Severus Snape, Pandora Lovegood, Eileen Prince, Albus Dumbledore, Luna Lovegood, Lucius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, Narcissa Black Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Bellatrix Black Lestrange Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Voldemort, Harry Potter & Dimitriv, Death & Harry Potter, Magic & Harry Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Fenrir Greyback/Dimitriv, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy Additional Tags: Creature Sancutuary, world building, Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Harry doesn't grow up with the Dursleys, the inn, Creature Harry Potter, Necromancer Harry Potter, Azkaban, Sirius gets free sooner, Sane Tom Riddle, BAMF Harry Potter, Ron Weasley Bashing, Ron Weasley Being an Idiot, trigger warning, Rape/Non-con Elements, Chapter had a mention at the start, Underage - Freeform via AO3 works tagged 'Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy' https://ift.tt/q79sgdy April 13, 2024 at 01:42AM

#IFTTT #Dramione #Draco x Hermione

[darklordazalin]

Azalin Reviews: Darklord Morgoroth

Domain: Avonleigh Domain Formation: 643 BC Power Level: 💀💀⚫⚫⚫ Sources: A Light in the Belfry (2e), Ravenloft Dungeon Master's Guide (3e), Secrets of the Dread Realms (3e), VRGTR (5e)

Morgoroth is briefly mentioned as a “villain necromancer” in van Richten’s latest guide. When I say briefly, I mean his name is called out in a list of villains in the good doctor's description of the Shadowlands and nothing more. He is also no longer listed as a Darklord. It appears that this disembodied voice was downgraded to a third rate villain.

Morgoroth was the omnipresent Darklord of Avonleigh. At least until someone decides to assemble the thirteen pieces of the broken mirror that contains his essence and bring him back to his full potential, which is that of a rather powerful wizard. Morgoroth was not an easy Darklord to find information on. The main source is A Light in the Belfry, which, I believe, is the only module in DND that features an audio CD. So, instead of box text for the DM to read aloud to the players, the text only includes “play track X”. Having no accompanying text in the module itself, the CD was a necessary component to track down some information on this elusive Darklord. But, I am nothing else but persistent when it comes to my research.

Avonleigh is part of the Shadowlands and in an eternal twilight, never experiencing true day or night. There are no settlements in Avonleigh, with its denizens being made up mostly of the spectral undead and various beasts that inhabit the Phantasmal Forest. The only building is Tergeron Manor. That is, if you consider an uninhabited, crumbling and decrepit estate a building. Though it is a suitable dwelling for our fractured Darklord.

Morgoroth was one of those love-sick fools that did a bunch of idiotic things in the name of “love”. Morgoroth was a powerful wizard and tyrant of a distant land who attempted to redeem himself by traveling to Avonleigh and putting aside his evil ways. If I could roll my eyes, I would be doing so right now. Naturally, the holier than thou Shadowborn family forgave him and the siblings, Ferran and Aurora, took him in. Ferran was a Paladin of The Circle, an Order of do-gooder knights formed by the Shadowborn clan.

Morgoroth developed feelings for Aurora but she was destined to join the priesthood, which required a vow of celibacy. Why do Deities and holy orders so often have this requirement? It seems like they’re just asking for trouble as such an easy vow to uphold often leads to highly foreseeable complications. Morgoroth, in an attempt to be a “nice” guy, didn’t tell Aurora about his feelings until he did...He decided to tell her the day she made her vow of celibacy. Perhaps he was waiting for the most dramatic moment to confess his love? And in a rare instance of Darklord lore, Aurora loved him back but was SO upset about him telling her too late that she fled from him. Morgoroth assumed she fled in disgust and quickly turned back to his evil ways. I’ve not experienced a loving relationship myself, but I do not believe sex is a necessity for romantic love, but frail mortal minds often blend love and lust into one confusing ball of emotions.

From Morgoroth’s actions, he killed Ferran and abducted Aurora. The Circle attempted to rescue Aurora, but as things normally go for The Circle, they were all destroyed in the effort. Sure way to win her heart...abduct her, don’t listen to her thoughts and feelings, and lock her in a tower while you kill every single member of her faith. This mass murder pulled Morgoroth into the Mists. To taunt him, the Dark Powers placed Aurora in a stasis within a glass coffin. Morgoroth attempted to escape his new prison by opening a portal in a mirror, but it backfired and instead he was shattered into 13 pieces. I cannot relate to this at all…

As Darklord, Morgoroth is fused with Tergeron Manor where he constantly bemoans his love for Aurora and attempts to kill any heroes that stumble into his Domain instead of, let’s say, attempting to influence them to piece together his mirror and bring him back? Morgoroth’s powers as a disembodied Darklord are rather underwhelming except that he can, if he wishes, prevent any Necromancy spell cast in his Domain. The other powers appear to be designed to give him a more spooky aesthetic - extinguishing all non-magical lights in the manor, conjuring a cold wind, annoying the living with his disembodied voice, manipulating reflections, and so on.

Morgoroth is a watered down version of the Necromancer of Dol Guldur, though quite formidable if you're foolish enough to piece together his mirror and bring him back into his full power...which, in all honesty, what Adventurer group wouldn’t do this? How does one rate a shiver up your spine created by a lovesick moron? I don’t know. Two skulls?

#darklordreviews #azalin rex #ravenloft #morgoroth #Avnoleigh #shadowlands

[victoria1676]

Yo yo! Been abit busy lately with school atm but I have come back to bring out another brainrot!Anywayyy, still brainrotting bout Y/N being a Grimm Reaper/Necromancer n shit but m just imagining that since Y/N is wielding a Scythe, I was thinking that the Scythe that Mumza gave her isn't just any other ordinary scythe but the scythe has few bits of abilities on its own. Like a living weapon perhaps, only responding to its owner, can float idling, etc...

But one of those abilities is that you can fly on it like a witche's broom and since Y/N has wings, it makes it alot easier to access to the wind force. And she can very much sit on it like its a normal chair or some shit literally! And I can just imagine her sitting in her scythe floating about. Not to mention that the weapon she wields is bigger than her, in a maximum height. Whenever height you are or prefer, the scythe will always and will be taller than you. No questions asks.

But mostly there is downside of this ability, and something or someone cannot resist. We all know Y/N's brothers ( Wilbur & Tommy ofc ) will absolutely attempt to steal her scythe to take it for a test drive just like you stealing a car at 3 in the fucking morning. But when I said the Scythe is not an ordinary Scythe, but a living weapon? Yeah, it would absolutely backfired. Poor boys gotta get their bones crack through the flesh in a sentence, yeeshh..

You can very much imagine of any possibilities on how those two little idiotic shits would get themselves into trouble, and m also picturing Tommy dragging Tubbo & Ranboo along as well. Just for them to join in the fun, or nightmare...

But as for genshin on the other hand, some might get curious. Especially for our boy Rubedo, you know how it is bout the two knuckle heads goofing off about. And m also thinking about how chat would also fly down and perch on the blade of her scythe. I mean, they're crows after all so ✨S H I N Y✨ and I can already see that coming, just Y/N having a stroll through any nations, just as long as there are plenty of space to hover or float around for the scythe to freely levitate a few meters off the ground. And it mostly depends how people of tevyat get quite curious n thinking that the Scythe of Y/N's is a scared weapon so no touchy touchy. But we all know the curiosity kills the cat ( sorry Diona.. ) and some characters will go as far as to try getting a little bit of a touch on a blade or the handle. But whenever the tried, the living weapon will very much scurry or float away from them. Until it got to Y/N's hand where it belongs.

But eh, thats it for the night for now. I'll try to figure out how it'll work next time ig, but anyway! Sorry that this is a long one, still, good evening n m signing off! — @paprqvii

Also a little rough concept art sketch bout what m talking bout 4 now :

Uwah sorry i toke so long to reply to your ask! TAT

But wow that was long HAHAHAHAH but still i really like the concept ngl ^^

But the way you combind Your idea of DSMP/SBI reader being Necromancer/Grim reaper in the Sagau is

Your on a roll with this idea Toffy XD

#sagau #genshin impact self aware #genshin self aware #self aware genshin #genshin sagau #genshin impact #genshin self aware au #self aware au #genshin impact x dream smp crossover #sagau dsmp reader

[skulduggery-pleasant-bp9]

Part 5 – A bit of Background to Erskin

WARNING!: Mention of suicide, Mentally unhealthy and emotionally unstable Reader, Cursing, mention of murder/killing, AND MORE ! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED !!!

Read THIS to understand why the reader has a name !

Our faforite subject...DRAMA.

After they finished eating, Valkyrie and Vile finished their round of eyes of Kali, then got Melancholia clothes for later to put on and played with Erskin drinking Ludo, without shot glasses of course. They didn’t plan to get drunk after all.

After two more hours, Melancholia suddenly started to wake up. Lord Vile grumbled and hissed in pain as he made the flesh melt away and became a skeleton in the armor again. He stood up and towered over Melancholia. Soon enough she opened her eyes and when she saw Vile tower over her, her eyes grew wide, freezing in fear.

She spotted Valkyrie and Erskin too and she tried to throw shadows at them, but nothing happened.

“W-what ? No ! Where…?!”, she yelled in fear and confusion.

Vile lifted the blanket and took a look at Melancholia’s body again, to make sure no more carvings were left behind or returning.

“Fight me and I might get forceful, Miss Clair. You haven’t seen me be forceful yet.”, Lord Vile threatened darkly.

She froze up and looked at the three of them.

“What the hell did you do to me ?!”, she yelled in horror.

“We removed your carvings from your body. It would have killed you at some point. You were too unstable to be a Death Bringer and the sigils made it just worse. Now let me make sure nothing stayed behind. Otherwise I will get forceful.”, Vile explained.

“WHAT ?! I was PERFECT !”, she yelled.

“You were a lost cause.”, Lord Vile replied and checked her arms.

“I wasn’t !”, she protested.

“You were working like a broken battery. When you used too much of your abilities you discharged and were in immense, unnecessary pain and when you recharged you felt a wave hit you, but it would discharge very quickly as soon as you used it. It is like a battery that is broken and can’t be fixed. It discharges randomly and when it is used too often. You would have exploded and never been able to open the Passage.”, Lord Vile disagreed.

“I was WORKING on it !”

“You CAN’T work on it. A real Death Bringer doesn’t have such issues in the first place. I would know. I AM the Death Bringer after all. I just refuse to do what these idiots of Necromancers want from me. The Passage isn’t all that great. Nothing would change. No one would envelop to better or worse. We would be stuck forever on the same page. No one would be able to have a family of their own. Nothing new would happen. It would get boring really quickly. It. Is. Not. WORTH. It.”

Melancholia fell silent at that. She never thought about those things before.

“I suggest for you to go see Kenspeckle and a Sensitive for a while. You need emotional and mental recovery. You might have seen Craven only doing what was best for you, but he did sadistic, forbidden, criminal things to you and your mental and emotional state needs help to recover from all the trauma. You hear me, child ?”, Lord Vile asked.

Melancholia looked at him and nodded.

“Not a word about Skulduggery and me to anyone. We plan to tell everyone when the time comes. You understand ?”

She nodded again.

“Good. Then I will leave you now and Skulduggery can take back over. Until we meet again, Valkyrie, Erskin.”

“Bye Vile.”, Valkyrie said.

“Goodbye you old sock.”, Erskin joked.

Lord Vile snorted and let the armor melt away. The skull fell forward and after the armor was gone, it rose again. Skulduggery came back and looked at the three of them.

“I am pretty surprised that he kept his word…”, he then said.

Erskin scoffed.

“I am pretty surprised as well, that he let you go again. He is way more decent than you.”, he said and then left the room.

“That was a poor choice of words Skul. You know how protective Erskin is over Lord Vile. And I can see why. He was very nice actually. Just like you were when we met the first time.”, Valkyrie informed.

“It could all be show.”, he denied.

“Like you pretend all the time that you are fine, since the Faceless Ones ?”

Skulduggery stayed silent at that. She gave him a glare. He sighed and looked away.

“Fine I will shut up about it. Now what of our guest ?”

“As Vile said, to Kenspeckle’s. He might be able to help her a bit to recover.”

“What about Erskin ? Will he come as well ?”

“I will ask him.”

With that she left the room, going to Erskin’s. She knocked and then entered his room. He looked at an old picture with a grim face.

“Hey…”, she said softly.

“What do you need ?”, he grunted.

“Do you want to come with us ? We are bringing Mel to Kenspeckle.”

“No thank you. I don’t want to listen to Mr. Perfect and his complains about his counterpart any more than I already have to. I think I rather kill myself.”

She frowned and was silent for a bit.

“Are you that mad at him ?”, she asked.

“Sometimes, I wish I never missed him when he died. He was always so collected and ready to rescue others. But since that day…the day his Family died, he died and came back…he is different. He became irresponsible and uncaring. He just lets everything go with a shrug of his shoulders. When he was alive, he would have scolded you and me on a daily basis. Like, we can’t just kill someone, never judge a book by its cover, everyone deserves a second chance, just because they were bad at the beginning doesn’t that mean that they can’t change, don’t attack people as long as they don’t start a fight with you, don’t run head first into danger and all that shit. He would have scolded us like a Dad. It all went missing when he came back.”

She stared at him with wide eyes. Erskin let tears slip when he said all of that.

“It was one of the many reasons I looked up to him and saw him close to a Father figure. He taught me cause and consequence, strategy, when to act and when to let it go, what was right and what was wrong. He tried to keep all of us safe. Where did HE go ?”

“So he…didn’t go back to at least a bit of normal ?”, she asked.

“No. He didn’t. When he came back, I hoped that he would…you know…be at least still 50% of the man I used to know and partly grow up with…But there wasn’t even 20% of him left. I don’t know how the others see it, but I see it as clear as crystal. It is night and day to me. He tried to keep me away from the war, you know ? He didn’t want me to join. I did anyways and he was very unhappy with me, told me I had no idea what I will have to see…naïve as I was, I told him that I knew. I thought I could deal with it all. He was right…I had no clue and I was left traumatized.”

They didn’t know, but Skulduggery listened in on them. He just stood near the slightly ajar door, listening, not moving.

“Were you hoping he would replace his kid with you ?”, she asked Erskin.

“God no ! I wasn’t even hoping to be adopted. But…I guess he partly did ? He was the one who took me everywhere with the others and himself alone, he taught me a lot on his own…I did feel like he adopted me at some point. I don’t think he noticed that though. It was war and he always stuck together with the people that were on the same side as him. I think it was normal for him. But as a 16 year old that never had loving nor caring parents, it was a big thing to have someone suddenly care.”, Erskin chuckled saddened.

“Your parents never loved you ?”, she asked.

“No. My Mother was an abusive, manipulative whore and I never met my Father. I have no idea who he was, nor do I have a name. My Stepfather was very abusive too. One of the many things that made me run away with ten years of age.”

There was a silence and Erskin sighed shakily.

“I was practically in the world of Mages in infant age. I was still considered a ‘Baby’ as I joined. I thought I couldn’t see more horror than the shit I was already forced to face, since I was three years old, from my own Mother. Skulduggery warned me. Told me I was practically still a Baby and that I shouldn’t be joining a war with that age. But I really wanted to help and I saw no value in just sitting around and doing nothing. He helped me with my abilities a lot, so I can control them very quickly and got way more powerful than a 16 year old was supposed to get. But I really needed it in the end.”

“Was he against a lot when he taught and trained you ?”

“Yep, he was. I was not allowed to drink, not allowed to stay awake as long as the rest of them, was not allowed to keep watch at night, was not allowed to be alone on the field, nor was I allowed to leave the camp without anyone with me. He was also against me knowing how to handle a gun, but Vex and Hopeless talked him into it, for my own safety.”

“Wow…very responsible of him.”

“Yeah. It was annoying back then to me, but…it felt nice to finally have someone that looked after you… My Mother didn’t give a shit, she never checked on me and my Stepfather kept me awake all night or tore me out of bed in the middle of the night. It was…the first time someone cared a bit about my health.”, Erskin said softly.

“Let me guess, when they got angry you called them by their last name, in fear they would hurt you.”

Erskin shook his head.

“Not quite. When they were angry, I wasn’t allowed to call them Mother, Father or by their first names. It was always Mister and Misses. I was to only address them by their last name when there was more than one person in the room, or strangers. I was not allowed to utter a word of their abuse or I would get it tenfold worse. I was not allowed to ask for help to get me out. I was not permitted to let anyone know that they were my parents. I was nothing more but a butler. Not even that was right, but they couldn’t say that I was a slave.”

Valkyrie covered her mouth in horror.

“Your own Mother treated you like that ?”, she asked in horror.

“I was never wanted by her. Because I was unwanted, but still born, she wanted me to make it up to her. To show her I was worth her time. I never reached it, though. Even if I did everything right, she was never proud. If you thought I got once in my life a hug or a small praise from her, you are deadly wrong. I was always the useless, waste of space and time child.”

“Did really no one ever love you ?”, she asked.

Silence.

“I…I had an Uncle. He barely came to visit, but he did care, I guess… He never really showed it, but he knew about the abuse and when he was around, he made sure nothing happened to me the whole day. He helped me around too. But…I had no idea where he lived, so I stayed a stray kid.”

“Did you ever have a birthday with him ?”

“No…When my Birthdays came around in that house, I got more abused than usual as a present…A constant reminder that I am nothing but unwanted. Well…besides that ONE last birthday in that house…I had a gift on my bed… It had no name on it, so I don’t know if it was from my Uncle.”

“What was in it ?”, she asked.

He gave a sad smile.

“An animal plushie. It was handmade too. I hid it away from them, never had time to play with it, but I loved it all the same. When I ran away, I took it with myself and used it as a small comfort. I lost it one day and never found it again, sadly.”

“Did the Dead Men ever celebrate your Birthday ?”, she asked him.

“Well…yes and no. I never told them my Birthday. I hated my Birthday. They celebrated it though, just on a different date. The day I joined the Dead Men unofficially, was the day they decided would my Birthday be. We barely had time in the war to do much for one another’s big day, but we tried.”

“Who wanted to give you a Birthday party ?”

Erskin laughed softly and wiped his tears away.

“Saracen, Vex and Ghastly to be honest. They annoyed Skulduggery until he agreed. They only insisted on it, because I was still so young. It was war and there was a high possibility that every day and Birthday could be my last, so they wanted to make every day and Birthday as great as possible.”

“What did you get ?”

“Mostly clothes from Ghastly, weird stuff from Vex, Saracen always tried to get me stuff that could help me in the future, Anton gave me a hug and a card most of the times which is a lot from him he doesn’t like hugs, Hopeless got me new ammo and once or twice also knives and daggers, Erskine got fancy looking stuff for me and Skulduggery, when he was alive, always tried to bake a cake for me. When he died and Larrikin was with us in the mud, he always tried to get a pastry and give it as a cake. He was very sweet and nice. Such a goofball.”, he chuckled.

“Mud ?”

“I call the difficult war times, mud. We had to mostly hide in mud and stuff, so yeah.”

“Oh…”

She then looked at Erskin again.

“Then when did you join the Temple of Necromancers ?”

“Well…I stayed a few more days maybe two months longer with them after Skulduggery’s return, and then I went to Ghastly’s Mother. I needed advice of what to do and that I thought I was going crazy. I saw spirits…Even Skul’s, when he wasn’t back.”

“Really ?”

“Yeah. She said it is a Necromancy trait and I should learn some of it. It might help me in the future and so I did. I went to the Temple and they took me in and educated me. Vile came two months later. I was just like him, a fast learner and we quickly were equally powerful, but he easily overpowered me at some point. I tried really hard to make friends with that idiot and nothing was for naught.”

“But one day they kicked you out.”

“Yes… Lord Vile told me what he was planning to do and I wanted to be a part of it, to get revenge on Serpine. But they figured it out and threw me out two months too early. Vile taught me everything he still learned before he, himself, dropped out and went onto the battlefield. I returned to my siblings and the Dead Men then.”

“You had siblings ?”

“Yes. Two males and one female. They are not worth mentioning though.”

“When did they join ?”

“Fifty years after I joined the war. I wish they never did.”

“Because they died and you were sad ?”

“No. Why would I be sad with traitors that Vile warned me about ?”, Erskin scoffed.

She stared at him in shock as he said that they were traitors. Skulduggery was in disbelief.

“What…?”

“I told you, rats were hard to detect. All three of them were rats.”

“So they worked for Mevolent ?”

“Oh you wish they did. They worked for our dear, beloved, abusive, good for nothing Mother.”, he spat out.

Her eyes went even wider at that.

“She knew you were still alive ?!”

“Of course she did. There was never a body. To be honest, I didn’t think she would care to look for me. But she only did to kill me anyways and she failed very much in that.”, he chuckled darkly.

“Tenebrae did mention that you are hard to kill.”

“Ah, yes. He did that slimy Bitch. He can curl up and die in a corner of his fucking Temple for all I care. He could choke on a stick right in front of me and I would laugh.”

“How did Vile find out about your Mother and your siblings trying to kill you ?”

“She wanted to use him as a tool for her own shit and told him everything, because she thought she had him under her spell. Sucks to suck for her.”, he said laughing.

It only gave Valkyrie more questions, but she didn’t dare to ask them. She could push him into silence again. Erskin looked back at the picture in his hands.

“I am thinking about burning it.”, he informed her.

“May I see it ?”, she asked.

He gave it to her. When she looked at it she saw Ghastly instantly, Anton too, his face was obvious, Vex’s smile was easy to recognize, Erskine had almost the same hairstyle too, Saracen was in between a man Valkyrie never saw before and Dexter Vex. The man didn’t really smile but also didn’t frown. Erskin almost seemed to look the same in that picture. Only the clothes were different.  And then there was another man she never saw before, he had a warm smile while he looked at Ghastly and Erskin. Ghastly had put his arm around Erskin and pulled him close, which made the boy smile brightly.

“Who are these two people ?”, she asked and pointed at the two men she never saw before.

“The one that tried very hard to smile is Hopeless. He never could smile on command, just as Anton. The other one was Skulduggery when he was alive.”, Erskin told her.

Her mouth fell open and if she would have been a cartoon character, her jaw would have been on the floor. Then she snapped her eyes back at Erskin.

“Why would you burn that ? You all are so happy and it is the last memory where Skul was alive and well !”

“Exactly. A constant reminder, that he once WAS that man and that he NEVER will be that man AGAIN. Why cling onto such a silly memory ?”, Erskin asked her.

“Erskin, you aren’t thinking straight. You are mad at Skulduggery and I understand why, but you don’t have to destroy memories that you valued so much, only to later most possibly regret it.”

“I am not MAD at him ! I am still GRIEVING over someone WHO DIED A LONG TIME AGO ! Sure I am mad for a second when he talks bad about Vile, but he doesn’t KNOW the truth YET, so I understand why he acts like this ! I am grieving EVERY FUCKING DAY, since he DIED, the person that I looked UP TO ! This fucking photo is a constant reminder of WHO THE HELL I LOST THAT DAY ! HOW MUCH I LOST THIS PERSON ! It is a constant scar that gets ripped open again and again ! A constant reminder that I FAILED TO SAVE HIM ! I WAS TOO LATE ! I FUCKED UP !”, he yelled at Valkyrie with new tears in his eyes.

“That you were…too late ?”

“I had the antidote ! I made Anton, Dexter and Ghastly help me as fast as possible and I went on a hunt to find him ! I didn’t tell them why I hurried so much, nor what the potion was for ! When I had his location and the antidote, I hurried as fast as I could, but I came 20 fucking seconds too late !”

Silence.

“You knew about the trap ?”, she asked him.

“No. But I was there as well. I saw him running off and leaving us behind. It seemed like he was chasing someone and I followed. I…I never saw him so rageful before…It scared the shit out of me, Valkyrie. You never saw him THAT pissed off.”

“You saw Serpine kill his family and you didn’t do anything ?”

“Val, I was a Teenager ! Not even, I was a kid ! It was the first time I saw Serpine do that, I was frozen in utter horror ! I wanted to move, I wanted to shoot him ! But my body wouldn’t move ! I had no idea how to get out of that situation ! I could just stand there and watch !”

“You saw it all…”

Erskin looked away from her.

“It was all my fault. I will NOT deny that. I know for a fact when Skulduggery finds this out, he will never want to see me again, if he doesn’t consider killing me already. I was there, I could have done something, and I couldn’t fucking move to do anything. And I messed up my last chance by 20 seconds. All of the Dead Men knew, on the day Skul was burned, what I was trying to do. They all did. God…I couldn’t look them in the eyes for years, after my failure. All I wanted was to stop existing.”

She didn’t say anything. Skulduggery was in utter shock and Erskin was hugging himself tightly.

“I really tried to make up for it… I just…how do you fix something like this ? I practically HELPED to kill his Family, without meaning to ! Ghastly found out about all of that with Anton. They told me for years that it wasn’t my fault that I froze up, that they would have too, but-but what if they were lying to me all along ?! God they must have been disappointed with me ! Do you have any idea how many times Ghastly and Anton told me to just tell Skulduggery already ?! That he would understand ?! At first I believed them, I really did, but when he came back and was so hell bent to kill Serpine for revenge, I backed out ! I couldn’t tell him ! How would I have explained that ?! As soon as you mentioned his family, he would have pulled the trigger on you ! How was I supposed to explain ?! He would NEVER forgive me, nor would he want to make the effort to understand ! This was his FAMILY ! Not just some random people ! He…he would never want to see me again.”

“Hey, hey…calm down. I think the same as Ghastly and Anton. He would understand. He would need time to get around it and to process that information, but he would understand.”, she tried to soothe Erskin.

He shook his head wildly.

“He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t ! All his rage would return and I would be so fucking destroyed to have all his anger thrown at me ! I can’t see that rage again, Valkyrie ! It scarred me the first time and it scares me since ! Ghastly and Vex know how emotionally sensitive and unstable I am ! Skulduggery doesn’t know that. If he would shout at me again, like he did three weeks ago, I might have a breakdown and NEVER recover from it !”

“Did you…have a breakdown once before ?”, she asked.

He looked away.

“Ask Anton, Ghastly, Dexter and Erskine. I…I need to sleep right now…I’m over thinking again and it will cause me a panic attack. Have fun with Kenspeckle and Melancholia and get home safely….Maybe I will see you tomorrow… Or next time something serious is going on. I-I need a break.”

“What about the picture ?”, she asked.

“If you don’t want me to destroy it, then keep it. I…I will ask for it when I want it back…”

‘Spying is rude, Skulduggery.’, Vile tutted in his head.

‘Shut it. You knew this, didn’t you ?’

While he talked with Vile in his mind he silently left the hallway and went back to the living room, watching Melancholia sit on the couch, dressed in the clothes Vile and Valkyrie picked for her to wear. They fit her perfectly.

‘Of course I did. He told me everything after he knew that I was NOTHING like you.’

‘He is scared of me.’

‘No. He is not scared of YOU. He is scared of YOUR RAGE. He just doesn’t show it. That’s why he is always so blunt with everything and is quickly angry. You are not the man he used to know. Who he needed in the war. That man died, didn’t he, Skulduggery Pleasant ? That man died when his Son died. Am I right ?’

‘I don’t think I changed that much after death.’

‘You acted way more like a Father when you were alive. You scolded Erskin, like he was a kid. You fed him, protected him, cared for his wounds, cared for him in general…you treated him like your own kid. He grew to like you as a father figure, something he never had before. You even bothered to celebrate a birthday just for him. No one else ever did that for him before. I would almost bet that he didn’t just see you as a father FIGURE, but as a real Dad. And then you were snatched away from him. He wanted to help you, pay your kindness back in saving you, but he was too late. When you came back, you were cold, distant, ignorant and just not who you used to be anymore. You didn’t CARE anymore. Since that day…Erskin blamed himself for everything that went wrong.’

‘I wasn’t cold at all. I needed time to process-‘

‘Stop lying to yourself. You didn’t process ANYTHING. As soon as you came back, all you cared about was killing. You forgot about Erskin. You forgot that he was only a child. You forgot that you were the ONLY one that had a very strong bond with him. You forgot EVERYTHING about yourself and Erskin’s relationship. It led him to a downfall, something you swore silently to yourself, you will never let happen. You didn’t see all the red flags, didn’t hear his cries of help and closure for you. You. Let. Him. DOWN.’

‘I didn’t let him down ! I-‘

‘He is scared of YOUR rage. He is scared to tell you something that was out of his control. He was scared to tell you about me and him knowing each other. He was scared to mention your family. He is scared to let you know anything, that could trigger your anger. He wasn’t scared in the past. He told you everything that was on his mind and was necessary, when you were still alive. He would have told you about me, if you would have been the same after death, but you came back totally changed. He would only tell you any secrets he has now when you were really six feet under. But not while you are still roaming around here. Your Rage was scarring to witness and he saw it. It destroyed him mentally and emotionally. And after you came back, you didn’t bother to talk to him much. Everyone saw him suffering, but you didn’t care.’

Skulduggery was silent and looked back into the hallway where Erskin’s room was.

‘The special bond you two had is damaged and it gets worse each day. You were the one he looked up to and trusted you the most. You rarely got angry and that was one of the many reasons he talked to you so much. Now you are in constant rage. Don’t you remember how hard it was to get him to trust you in the first place ? I remember it clear as day.’

‘He barely talked, then he would never answer our questions about his past. He was a troubled kid and it took so long to get him to talk and to not pretend anymore. He was good in it. A real faker.’

‘Well, now he is even more skilled in it. He trusted me with a few things. I was less anger driven than you, but it wasn’t the same for him. He wanted to talk with YOU. He needed closure from YOU. Not from me. But you never saw how damaged he was and how he continued to crumble. And now…he hid away entirely from everyone. It is rare that he falls apart like that and reveals what he really feels at the moment. He thinks that you gave up on him, that he was a lost cause after all and you never tried assuring him that everything was okay. He feels used, betrayed and stupid for trusting someone…for hoping that after death when you returned you would still be there. He decided to take steps in directions he shouldn’t have and he had no one to guide him anymore.’

‘What did he do…?’

‘…How many times do you think he tried to commit suicide, Skulduggery ?’

At that Skulduggery froze in utter shock and horror. Erskin tried WHAT ?

Masterlist HERE !

#valkyrie cain #erskin is male!reader #male!reader #skulduggery pleasant #derek landy #read warnings above #not the canon au #Skulduggery Pleasant x Reader Universe

[echowilds]

y'know i just realized that 'characters whose internal magic system is fucked' is a bit of a theme for me

hanni

as aurene's champion they're always soaked in her magic. they aren't really branded but you can definitely tell they're a dragon champion based on their magical signature

as i mentioned before, they absorbed a part of balthazar's magic, which changed their own magic's signature more towards fire

but even before that they unconsciously started walking a very perilous line as they absorbed a lot of latent natural magic just by being the idiot who jumped at any weird magical stuff happening (and ate a good amount of it)

on more grim days they're just waiting to go up in a big explosion

but it's fine! they're working on a solution with taimi! everything is going great!! (sometimes they wonder what would've happened if they jumped in front of ankka's extractor instead of aurene)

they actually used to dabble in alchemy and elixirs but balthazar's magic messed it up entirely for them and most of what they brew now ends up as great explosives but isn't doing what it's actually supposed to do. at least the pact demolitionists are always happy about the results

leikkya

the experiments she was subjected to as a kid included her getting exposed to a low amount of magic continuously for years

while her body had gotten used to it over time, the abrupt cutoff after being freed messed her up again

i'm not entirely sure yet how i want the effects of that to go about but she might be a little addicted to magic. only a little though. it's fine

and two more peeps under the cut because this whole thing got so long

sade

while nowadays their weapons of choice are a disapproving frown, harsh words and noticable disappointment, they used to be an exeptional warrior

they're also old as fuck so when it comes to magic seem to have only improved, both in their control of it and the amount they can wield

but re: that being messed up

there were Things Happening and a sacrifice (though more borne out of a desperation not to die) that didn't work quite as planned and they got the whole magical essence of their closest friend a companion dumped into their own

which generally wouldn't be too big of a problem, but things can't be easy around here. the internal magical essences of the two aren't exactly compatible due to being of very different species and there still being a certain amount of intent left in the dead companion one's

they've had many years to get used to the dichtomy and figure out how to make it work for themselves but it can still flare up from time to time (and fire magic in the archives would be utterly disastrous)

it also seemingly came with immortality. joy. (it's actually just an extremely long lifespan and a.... let's call it failsafe against dying)

laerus

he's probably the least affected in his personal use of magic by the Events That Happened To Him To Make Him That Way out of all my characters but still

glossing over some stuff right now to keep this from devolving into a whole essay he has some souls attached to him (and is attached to them in turn but only emotionally)

there was a failed ritual and lies and betrayal by someone they all trusted and now laerus is the only one with a body, the voices of his allies in his head and some 'minor' temporal displacement

technically he's kind of a revenant now? but none of the other's were really all that powerful magically (and still aren't) and mostly it's made him really good at strategy, human royal ceremonial tasks and observation (spectral eyes that can see behind him are eternally useful). it's also distracting as hell

he's still mainly a necromancer, his soul and magic just have more people attached than what's common

it has made magic trickier for him since he needs to make sure he isn't drawing on the others' magic, but mixed into the usual necromancy green is some blue colour wise

#watch me drop a whole heaping of headcannons about magic in gw2 and then don't explain any of it #well more allude to it but whatever #i promise hanni's section sounds more bleak than it actually is #also i'm using essence here bc i can't think of a better word right now. think of it more like blood but weirder #gw2 #hanni melachondre #leikkya #sade cloudkeeper #laerus dragonfinder #yu's ocs #yu's commanders

[demonprincezeldris]

It wasn't long until Merlin stormed back in with the mirror the spirit had been sealed within in hand, a very curious Escanor, Ban, and King tailing behind her and peeking through the door. She turned to Meliodas, holding the hand mirror out.

"Captain, normally I'd never suggest this hut it's become clear that we won't be able to properly function in this team if we don't know your needs. Take it."

"Absolutely not, Merlin!" Meliodas immediately retorts, glaring at the mage, "You put that thing back where it came from! I'm not doing it and especially not in front of the others!"

"I spent the past several hours trying to stop you from going into a total magic shutdown because you neglected to mention a weakness that you're people suffer from that most other magical creatures don't, I'm not budging in this!"

"Wait, the captain is a magical creature!?" King yelped, earning an employee in his side from Ban. The damage is done as Merlin noticed them,

"Out! The three of you get out right now! It will be difficult enough getting this idiot to do what needs to be done without you lot spying on us and making the captain even more stubborn about it!"

"What needs to be done!?" Ban scoffed, "whatever that is can be done with us here, right? It's not hurting anybody..."

"Ban... listen to me. The captain is a magical creature of the darker persuasion, that makes it so that he requires certain needs that most other races would find disgusting at best and completely immoral or monstrous otherwise." Merlin carefully explained, ignoring Meliodas' yelp of protest as he realized what she was saying as she pinched the bridge of her nose, "This is not by his choice. He was born to this race and as such is forced to act in this way to survive and he's been spending the past several months,"

At this she turned to Meliodas, glaring at hin heartedly,

"And it had better be months and not centuries like I suspect your neglect to be or else,"

Turning back to Ban, she continued heedless of Meliodas' guilty flinch.

"Neglecting to fulfill which led hin to this situation. The matter of the necromancer spirit merely was the catalyst of an underlying problem."

The group was silent for a bit as they took in the mage's words, as well as their Captain's betrayed expression. It was clear that what Merlin said was true and that Meliodas hadn't wanted them to know. King swallowed, nervous,

"Wh-what is it he needs to do?"

"I don't need to do it," Meliodas tried to protest only to be cut off by Merlin holding up the mirror, silencing him with a glare. It was clear she was unhappy with her father and that this was a non-negotiable conversation.

"An apparently very obscured fact about his people is that they hold an important part of the life and death cycle, protecting the living from malevolent spirits as their... natural predators. Naturally, our dear captain is nervous about having anyone learning he requires the consumption of souls to survive and thus decided the natural course if action was to keep that fact hidden... by starving himself of them."

Everyone was silent as Merlin finished, Meliodas looking guilty as he looked at the ground. "It's not right for Cap'n to disregard his natural instincts," Ban muttered. "Even if he is judged for it. You can't help what you're born as."

"Yeah," Meliodas muttered, "but you have to realize that my race was seen as the villains. While you all may see it as simple survival, others in the past saw it as disgusting. Our very way of survival, feeding. Fuck, even our choices for lovers was looked down upon by the other races! So as to not receive any criticism or hatred, I simple rejected myself. What my instincts were telling me what to do-."

"And being something that you're not. Acting like a human when in reality you're not," Merlin finished bitterly. "And hurting yourself in the process." She shoved the soul towards him. Meliodas made a face, turning his head away. "Eat the soul, Meliodas."

#Meliodas #nnt #merlin nnt #Ban nnt #King nnt

[alittlewhump]

Unbidden - Epilogue 18

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Content warnings: fantasy religion mention

The soft hiss of a slow, steady rain on the roof provided a pleasant background for relaxed conversation in the late afternoon. It also happened to be the reason the conversation was taking place at all. The priest's travelling cloak steamed gently as it dried out by the side of Morgan's hearth.

"No," the priest said, smiling faintly, "I doubt you'd have read about it. The locals claim it's only started growing in the past few years. Ever since an angel visited, if they're to be believed."

"An angel," Morgan echoed, sitting forward in his seat on the other side of the table.

"So they say. Fell there, injured. This whitebell, as they call it, supposedly sprung up where its blood soaked into the ground."

"Fascinating. But the specimen didn't survive transport, you said."

"No, regrettably." The priest shook his head with apparent disappointment. "It suffered supernaturally rapid deterioration. Something to do with the provenance, I'm sure. I'm planning to experiment with preservation methods for further study."

The ensuing discussion of the strengths and drawbacks of drying, pressing, and liquid preservation was wholly engrossing. So much so that Morgan didn't notice the sound of steps coming up the path before the bell on the door announced a visitor. The priest cast a cautious glance toward the sound. Morgan did the same, but this visitor made it unnecessary as she began speaking immediately on her way through the storefront.

"Did you know that Pansy's goat is afraid of thunder? Because he is, and he got tangled in her raspberry bush trying to hide from it. He's an idiot. It took me - oh, you have company," she said as she passed through the doorway and caught sight of the men at the table. "Didn't mean to interrupt."

"That's quite all right," the priest said. "We're just passing the time. I won't keep your herbalist from you."

"Oh, I'm not here for business." Blaise favoured Morgan with a warm smile. "Maybe I'll join you for some tea, yeah?"

"Of course. Help yourself," he said unnecessarily, since she was already crossing behind the priest to fetch herself a cup. She faltered slightly on her way back to the table, her expression hardening as it lingered on the priest. Now, why would she – ah.

A set of clavicles decorated the upper back of his shirt, their delicate curves tracing twin paths outward and down from the column of his spine. The placement suggested someone who did not expect to see a great deal of physical combat; Morgan had guessed him to be a specialist in poisons, which their discussion had not contraindicated. But the bones marked his station unmistakably, and Blaise had complained loudly and often about the Order of Rathma since Morgan's departure from it. Perhaps she could be persuaded by observing the peaceful nature of the conversation.

"We were just discussing how to preserve samples of a new plant," Morgan started.

"Yes," the priest chimed in, "your herbalist is very knowledgeable, for such a small town." The flattery was likely just meant to set Blaise at ease, but Morgan allowed himself a brief, pleased smile regardless.

"Travel a lot, huh?" Blaise's tone was cheerful. "What is it you do for a living?"

"I'm something of an amateur botanist myself, actually," the priest said.

"Oh, really?" Blaise replied, a sharp edge creeping into her voice. "That's interesting. You don't see a lot of botanists with bones sewn on their shirts. Is that coming into fashion now?"

The priest went still. "I don't suppose you'd believe me if I said yes," he hazarded.

"Blaise, it's all right," Morgan reassured her.

She didn't take her eyes off the priest. "Don't suppose I would. You can try again if you want to tell me the truth, though."

He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I'm just a priest. Honest truth."

"That's better," Blaise growled. "Now get out. You aren't welcome here, necromancer."

"Blaise, stop. Please." She finally spared Morgan a glance, anger written in the furrow of her brow. "Everything is fine," Morgan explained. "There's no need for hostility. He hasn't done any harm."

Her anger shifted toward incredulity. "Hasn't done – Morgan, how can you say that? That fucking Order has done enough harm for a lifetime!"

"This man has not raised his hand against either of us," he returned. "His creed isn't relevant."

"I'll go," the priest interjected. "The rain's let up now and my things are dry enough. I want no quarrel with you."

"Very well," Morgan ceded. "You'll find no quarrel with me. Travel safely."

The priest looked briefly surprised before smoothing his expression back into indifference. Blaise glared silently at him as he gathered his cloak and beat a hasty retreat, but did not move to pursue him. Instead she turned to Morgan with narrowed eyes.

"What the hell, Morgan? Why were you just talking with that guy like nothing was wrong?"

"Nothing was wrong," Morgan replied. "He really is an amateur botanist. I don't get to discuss horticulture very often."

"Botanist nothing, he's a necromancer!"

"We weren't discussing that."

"Morgan, those people hurt you. Why would you let them in here? I thought you—" Blaise snapped her mouth shut, clenching her hands into fists and then releasing them before she continued more quietly. "I thought you swore not to interfere with them."

Morgan observed the corner of the table briefly. She had a point, but he'd already determined that he wasn't breaking his oath. "I'm not interfering," he explained. "I can't interfere if I don't know their goals. I offer the same services to everyone and I don't discriminate, and that doesn't interfere with anything. You know how they're regarded," he added.

"Yeah, I know," Blaise grumbled. "Maybe it's for a good reason. It doesn't mean you have to help them. You don't owe them anything."

"I do, actually. After a fashion."

"What," Blaise said, tone flat. She folded her arms.

"They were like a family to me," Morgan elaborated. "My exile doesn't change that. I owe them the same respect I'd show anyone else."

"Some family! They didn't even want you, Morgan, they lied to you and – whoa, whoa, hey," Blaise cut herself off as Morgan crossed the room in several quick steps, escaping to the garden.

He'd always known that he was unwanted. It was an observable fact. Recorded, even. It wasn't new information. There was no reason for it to upset him. No reason for it to feel like a mace to the chest to hear Blaise say it aloud. No reason for him to flee, as though it was possible to outrun the truth. No reason to weep about it. So he swallowed past the tightness in his throat and willed himself not to, clenching his good hand until his fingernails bit into the flesh of his palm.

"Hey. Morgan. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said it like that." He didn't turn as Blaise's footsteps approached behind him. "I just meant they didn't treat you like family, you know?" She laid a hand on his shoulder. It did not ease the tightness in his muscles as it usually would. He was taut as a bowstring, almost shaking with it.

"They–" Morgan's voice cracked under the tension. He forced a deep breath into his lungs, then out, before trying again. "Priests of Rathma are decent people. I will not hold one man's decision against the rest of them."

"Maybe you should. Nobody stopped him from sending you out to fucking die–"

"It was not their place. You know that. We've discussed it." Morgan stepped away, toward the low stone wall bordering the garden. Although he hadn't managed to break the skin, the indentations in his palm still throbbed as he unclenched his hand to press it flat against the cool, damp stone.

"Yeah, and it's bullshit. Family stands up for each other. They don't deserve for you to call them family. They haven't earned it." Blaise came to lean on the wall next to Morgan. He wasn't ready to meet her gaze yet.

"They tolerated me for over three decades despite my gross ineptitude," he said, trying to keep his tone level. "That speaks a great deal more to the degree of their charity than one decision made by one priest for the good of–"

"Wait," Blaise interrupted. "Three – thirty years? Really? You can't possibly be that much older than me."

"No." Morgan's fingertips were beginning to ache from how hard he was pressing them into the stone. He did not relax them. "I spent most of my life with the Order. My parents surrendered me to a priest when I was an infant."

"They what? Why?" Blaise's horrified tone rubbed him precisely the wrong way. As though it had never occurred to her, as though she herself hadn't called him a ghoul, taken one look at him and–

"Think about it," Morgan said, wincing as the sharp peevishness of his voice hit his ears. "You know what I look like," he reminded her more gently, still looking down at the stone wall. "You're used to it now. But imagine if you had a union with another normal, healthy person and it produced something like this." He gestured loosely to indicate himself. "Small. Weak. Sickly in appearance. Pale as a waterlogged corpse, when both parents were dark skinned. Not at all what their baby was supposed to look like. It would have been shocking for them. They could be forgiven for thinking themselves cursed. I'm fortunate that when they summoned a priest, he was willing to take me in lieu of pay. I would have been destroyed otherwise."

The only warning Morgan got was a short, audible inhale from Blaise before she was on him, squeezing him to her chest in a fierce embrace. One hand gripped the back of his head, crushing his nose slightly against her sternum. What was she–

Oh. The realization froze Morgan's heart in his chest. The tremors in her arms around him, the irregularity of her breathing. Blaise was upset. Worse than just upset, she was crying. He'd gone too far in his fit of temper, said something – oh, yes. Of course.

"I'm sorry," he said, stroking his hand up and down her back in a pale imitation of the way she soothed him from time to time. "I'm sure any child you ever bear will be normal. Better than normal. Strong and healthy, just like you. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm–"

"Shut up," Blaise hissed, squeezing him tighter. "That's not–" Her shoulders hitched sharply as she sucked in a shuddering breath. "Just shut up for a minute." Her voice was thick. Morgan closed his eyes. A verbal apology wasn't going to be enough. Of course not. He'd asked far too much. It was one thing to know him, but quite another to imagine bringing something like him into the world. How could he have been so careless? The matter of progeny was close to many people's hearts; she hadn't mentioned it, but that didn't mean it wasn't important to her. How could he make amends? Each possibility that presented itself was too small to match the scale of insult he'd unthinkingly done her.

The longer Blaise held him, not saying anything even as her breathing evened out, the deeper Morgan's stomach sank. A light rain began to fall again as he continued to awkwardly rub her back, unsure of how to improve the situation but unwilling to stop.

"Do you want to go back inside?" he ventured. "It's cold out here. I can make you some tea, or something to eat." He could at least try to improve her immediate happiness, and work out something more substantive when she wasn't so distraught.

"I want," Blaise said, then stopped. She shifted her grip to Morgan's shoulders, pulling back to look him in the face. Her expression was dark. He braced himself for whatever she might say next.

"I want you to tell me where to find the Order of Rathma."

"What? No." That didn't make any sense. It wasn't even related to what had upset her. He couldn't give up that information, no matter how much he wanted to atone for distressing her so badly. Her grip turned bruising on his shoulders, but he bit back his complaint. If being a little rough with him helped her feel better, he could handle that.

"They don't deserve your protection," Blaise snarled, "no matter how important they were to you. I'm going to burn them to the fucking ground. Fucking – just tell me. If not for yourself, then for the other children!"

Morgan searched Blaise's face. The new direction of her anger was completely baffling. "What are you talking about? What children?"

"Nobody, and I mean nobody, is so righteous they can justify using child soldiers to do their dirty work. Sorry," she added, guilt creeping into her anger as she loosened her grip, "I just – you're so blind to the harm they're doing! How do you not see it? You're so smart about everything else!"

Understanding, or at least a possible explanation, began to dawn on Morgan. "You think the Order of Rathma makes a habit of recruiting children?" he clarified.

"Yeah, that's what you just told me," Blaise said.

"They aren't Templars," he scoffed. "No, Maltorius took me to study, not to tutor. The Order does not initiate anyone who cannot consent in sound mind. Children are of no use to their goals."

"Except you," Blaise retorted skeptically.

"I rather think not," Morgan said, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "If anything, I'm proof that taking children runs counter to their aim. No, I was the only child ever present for any length of time. The priests were all adults. They didn't even allow me to attempt initiation until after my fifteenth year. There are no child soldiers. They aren't hurting anyone."

Blaise spun halfway around, raising her arms in a gesture that spoke of frustration, then turned back toward Morgan. "They hurt you!"

"That's in the past, and it's not important. Their purpose is to keep humankind from harm," he reminded her. "Hurting people is not their intention."

Blaise pressed her hands to her face and gave a long, muffled groan. "Look, it's not – ugh, give me a minute. Do you have any wood to chop or anything?"

"Yes," Morgan said bemusedly. At least this change of focus made sense; Blaise sometimes liked to deal with her emotions through physical exertion. It was kind of her to turn her ire toward a different target, even though he was its cause.

Morgan watched from the shelter of the lean-to as Blaise channeled her apparent frustration into splitting logs. The muscles of her arms shifted smoothly with each swing of the axe, tensing to transfer their enormous power into the tool, relaxing momentarily before she wrenched the blade out of the chopping block to knock the pieces aside and set up another log.

There was a new scar along the line of her tricep, interrupting the otherwise fairly smooth texture of her skin. As incredibly strong as she was, she was still fallible, still had vulnerabilities. And if she ever approached the Necropolis with malicious intent, she would be killed without hesitation or remorse. Even strength as great as hers would be no match for the dozens of highly skilled mages who made the underground city their home. The thought sat heavy in Morgan's chest, a leaden weight between his lungs. He would do everything within his power to prevent Blaise from seeking out the heart of the Order of Rathma. She was tenacious when she had a goal in sight. If he couldn't dissuade her with logic, he would have to follow her. Most likely die an oath-breaker in an attempt to protect her. What a fittingly deplorable end that would be. One final failure to crown a lifetime full of them, never able to do a single thing that really mattered.

"The sawyer's mill," Blaise said, interrupting Morgan's contemplation. She rested the axe on one shoulder, her free hand on her hip.

"The sawyer's mill?" Morgan echoed. He rubbed his arms in an ineffective attempt to ward off the damp chill. The flesh of his left arm tended to be cooler than the rest of him anyway, and its hand did not impart any warmth to his good arm.

"Yeah. It runs on a water wheel, right?"

"Yes," Morgan said. He enjoyed watching the mechanism at work, when he had the opportunity.

"And when it's running, it cuts whatever goes through the saw, right?" Blaise gestured with her free hand, making what Morgan guessed was an approximation of the saw blade.

"Yes."

"I'm splitting these logs on purpose," Blaise said, "and the mill does the same thing but not on purpose. But the logs wind up split either way. It doesn't matter if it's on purpose or not."

Ah. She was drawing a parallel, trying to illustrate her perspective. Morgan considered. "That's true. But the logs aren't living. They can't grow back together, no matter what split them," he pointed out. "There's no sense in getting angry at the sawmill for cutting timber. It's just doing what it was designed to do. You couldn't deactivate it for that. People still need it."

Blaise grunted in annoyance and returned to her chopping with a furrowed brow. She didn't pause again until there were no more logs to split, catching her breath for a moment before turning to face Morgan.

"What was it like?" Blaise asked quietly. A damp curl of hair stuck to her forehead, planted there by the exertion and the light rain. "When you were little," she clarified as Morgan did not answer immediately. "How did they treat you?"

"I never wanted for anything," Morgan said. Blaise raised her eyebrows skeptically. "I was fed and clothed, and permitted run of the city. I have no complaints about my youth."

"That's not what I meant, though. Like, what happened when you got hurt? Or – I don't know, when you had a nightmare? Were they nice to you?"

"Nice isn't relevant to a priest of Rathma. But they taught me to be self-sufficient," Morgan reassured her quickly as her expression darkened. "The first time I was able to describe that I'd had a nightmare, Maltorius began teaching me to meditate. When I was injured, he taught me to treat the injury."

Blaise did not seem reassured by this. "And if I wanted to talk to this Maltorius, where would I find him?"

"You'd find him a poor conversationalist. They wouldn't permit you an audience with his remains, anyway."

Blaise made a dissatisfied huff and turned away to stack up the wood she'd split. Morgan watched apprehensively. It was very tempting to help her, but she probably needed to expend the energy on her own. She likely still needed to work through some emotions, especially since he hadn't made up for the way he'd originally upset her. It seemed she had moved on from that, but all the same it would be better to make amends somehow.

"All right," she said, setting the last piece of wood neatly in place, "tell you what. I'm going to go into town and pick up something nice from Daveth for us to share, yeah? Then we can dry out by the fire and go to bed. I'm sleeping here tonight." She dusted off her hands and flashed Morgan a smile that lifted the weight inside him all at once, replacing it with the warm, flickering light of relief.

"All right, yes," Morgan agreed quickly. She couldn't be that upset if she still wanted to be together with him right now - to eat, to sit, to sleep. He was fortunate that she was willing to overlook the distress he had caused her. Well, he was fortunate in many ways when it came to Blaise.

She swept him into another tight hug, nearly lifting him off the ground with her easy strength. Morgan closed his eyes and squeezed closer. The cold of the rain faded into the background of his awareness, no match for the warmth of their embrace as he paired his breaths to hers. Steady. Consistent. Dependable. Yes, he was fortunate in many ways indeed.

#my writing #story: unbidden #fantasy religion mention #this man definitely had a fine and normal childhood #as far as he knows

[dorics]

NONA SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

anyway i am sure everyone else figured this out already but i think the nun in john's stories is cristabel. this makes sense because we have all the other early necromancer/cavalier pairings (augustine/alfred, gideon/pyrrha, cassiopiea/nigella) but mercymorn doesn't have her cav, unless it's the nun. alternatively, the nun is annabel/alecto, but cristabel means  “beautiful christian” and cristabel is described as  “a fanatic and an idiot” in harrow the ninth, which makes me think the nun is cristabel.

i do also want to reread specifically the john sections to see if there's any mentions of or allisions to cyrus and valancy, because i find it particularly interesting that the only characters that explicitly get their canonical names in the john sections are ulysses and titania, and they ascend after cyrus and valancy, when the rest of the characters we see in john's section ascended before all the others.

#nona the ninth #nona the ninth spoilers #nona spoilers #the locked tomb #gideon the ninth #nona the ninth theory #tlt tag #text post tag

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

my overthinking has got the best of me, and reared its stupid head towards Tumblrs eating asks thing, I tried to just wait, but it's almost time for me to sleep so, did you get my ask mentioning the seven specializations of my noble Necromancer idiots (affectionate)? if not I have it saved on my own little discord server for saving things

Slerapy anon

and also did my comfort request get through? no pressure brains just being dumb and cut its own brakes and even just asking relieves some anxiety

Oh yeah I got those both. I'm sorry about your cat btw, I hope you find them!

#clanask #slerapy anon

[bam-monsterhospital]

sorcerers are the only mages, apparently

Elder scrolls online rarely ever acknowledges the choices/customizations/achievements of the player character. this is old news.

However, every once in a blue moon the planets align, something breaks, and the game actually reluctantly sees the existence of the player character! But because it's eso, it immediately fucks it up.

Take ember's recruitment quest in high isle for example. She's a mage doing a spell and jumps to mage-splain magic at you (in a world where everyone is always doing magic and everyone has access to the slightest bit of magic all the time forever). Her dialogue assumes your character is a magic-dumb warrior vagabond who has never seen anyone do a spell in their life. Pushing aside the fact this choice does not work in the elder scrolls world, zenimax online studios does not give a shit if you are the master of the mages guild skill line, a seasoned member of the psijics, are hauling a magic staff around on your back, have magicka as your max'd out crazy stat, or even if you are specced into all the magic magickyness your class can provide. Zos expects you to be a warrior vagabond idiot. You MUST be magick-splained at.

There is a single exception to this where your character has the option to say 'hey ember, i know about magic, i do stuff, maybe i can help with this heckin spell rather than doing grunt work?'. You know what the qualifications are to be able to have this option? Your class must be 'sorcerer'.

"What's the problem" you might ask, 'sorcerer' sounds like a mage-y class right? Yeah, in any other game it would be; but the problem with eso is the classes do not matter, and every single class has magic and can fill the mage role. Not to mention sorcerers can also fill the warrior role and not be mage-y at all.

So when ember is faced with, say:

a redguard necromancer who can magickally revive dead players in an instant with his slotted ultimate

a dunmer arcanist, who's entire class revolves around a scholar/researcher archtype that delved into otherworldly magicks mortal minds should not know

a breton magicka-spec'd dragonknight who has a magikca self-bomb slotted and completed the mages guild entire questline

a stamina-based altmer who mastered the psijic skill line and questline

a magicka-based redguard warden with slotted mages guild glyphs, frost magick, bug-summoning, and magick-storm-calling...

all warriors. all magick-less idiots who have never seen someone cast anything in their lives.

but my argonian stamina-based sorcerer bounty-hunter with bow, longsword, fighters-guild skills, and not a drop of magickal expertise in her?

Master mage. Master magician.

#thanks zos #it's so ridiculous #no rpg allowed #eso #elder scrolls online #high isle #ember #mages #rantings #ramblings #i've said before i wished companions could react to more stuff #and ive dragged bastian with me on this quest before and it'd be cool to have him talk about magey things for this #but i also just did this quest with azandar who i think would love ember #and man what a missed opportunity there #mages talking to mages

[qzwrites]

nykalaeni/astarion 2.5

i forgot i wrote this and don't want to re-number all the posts lmao

something that frustrates me sometimes about role-playing games is the assumption of motive behind an action? and role-playing another autistic person whose desire for diplomacy does not actually stem much from idealism so much as an obsession with getting all the information and coming to a fair resolution, i was uhhh frustrated with the assumptions the companions put on things like "agreeing to help people".

-

Nykalaeni smiled at Jaheira politely. "Would you excuse us a moment?"

"Go ahead."

Nykalaeni grabbed Astarion's arm and dragged him into the corner of the room. "Are you an idiot?" she hissed.

Astarion looked taken aback. "I beg your pardon?"

Nykalaeni pinched the bridge of her nose. "Ever since the wreck," she said, "you've been complaining about every remotely nice thing I say yes to doing."

"I simply think it's a waste of time--"

"You--" Nykalaeni forced herself to take a breath. "Astarion, I know you're aware of the concept of lying."

"You haven't been lying," he said. "We have been all over the bloody Sword Coast, doing one good deed after another."

"Yes, but I don't know that when I say it," Nykalaeni said. Astarion frowned at her. Nykalaeni sighed. "The easiest course of action is nearly always to agree with whoever you're talking to," she said. "I have also agreed to do horrible things for the Absolutists, without actually doing them, because it is easier to agree with people. People like being agreed with. They like to think you're on their side. That doesn't mean you have to be."

"Yes, fine," Astarion said, "I suppose you have also agreed with goblins and drow and necromancers only to later betray them. We've still gone out of our way to help people when it brings no benefit to us."

"Which is why I asked if you're stupid," Nykalaeni said, feeling her temper slip out of her grasp. She fought to keep her voice down as she went on, "Every single time we have done a 'good deed' it has immediately benefited us! Helping the refugee tieflings earned us several valuable allies, not to mention the good and services they have continued to provide on the road. When we helped the Fists put out that fire, we received valuable information about an Absolutist stronghold and their movements. When I took us 'out of our way' to help Wyll track down Karlach, we not only gained Wyll as an ally, but also Karlach, and I would say they have been pretty beneficial, Astarion!"

Astarion rolled his eyes. "So we've gotten lucky," he said.

Nykalaeni gritted her teeth. "Again," she said. "It feels like you're being willfully ignorant about this. I know you're not stupid, so I don't understand why you're such an asshole about this in particular."

"You have no idea how these things will turn out when you agree to them," he insisted. "Sometimes we don't see any benefits until much later, and we could just as soon have not gotten allies or rewards or what have you."

"No, we--" Nykalaeni cut herself off. "Oh," she said. "Do you really think that?"

"What do you think I've been saying," Astarion said, throwing his hands in the air.

"No, I--I guess I didn't understand," Nykalaeni said. Gods, he really was stupid. How had he gotten along in Baldur's Gate being this ignorant? The gods knew she had struggled for the first years of her life, before she realized how useful other people could be when you didn't ignore them all the time. "Astarion," she said. "People's goodwill is a resource. When I agree with people, they like me more, and are more willing to help us in the future. Being helpful is an extremely safe bet for increasing our chances of survival. Even when we fail, having tried--or even simply letting them think we tried--and sometimes even listening to them complain--they're still predisposed to think better of us and help us later."

Astarion cocked his head to the side. "My dear," he said, "are you saying you're nice to people specifically to get them to help us?"

"Why else would I be nice to people?" Nykalaeni asked, before she realized what she had just said, and grimaced. "That came out wrong," she said. "Obviously being nice to people is good anyway."

Astarion looked delighted. "Yet that wasn't your first choice of words," he said. "Darling, do you not actually care about the people we help?"

Nykalaeni crossed her arms over her chest. This was a question with a wrong answer, and historically it would absolutely not have been safe to answer honestly. But Astarion seemed to prefer that to the "correct" answer, and he had been honest with her about things other people would doubtlessly consider flaws. So she admitted, "Not especially." She added quickly, "But it rarely costs anything to listen. And the favorable response is pretty significant."

"All this time, I thought you were a sentimental idiot," Astarion said, almost laughing. Seeing it, Nykalaeni relaxed. Even knowing he was unlikely to call her unfeeling or callous, she hadn't truly believed he wouldn't judge her. Eyes practically twinkling, Astarion asked her, "This is a logical, unemotional choice for you? Truly?"

"I suppose it would be fair to call it a habit at this point," Nykalaeni said. It was the logical choice, but she'd been doing it so long it was her default response. Listening non-judgmentally, agreeing with people's complaints and requests, let her gather as much information as possible before making a decision. "But it is the most rational course of action in most circumstances. I mean," she said, shrugging, "we wanted to rescue Halsin from the goblin camp anyway, to consult him about the tadpoles, so the fact that it would keep Kahga from sealing the Grove and help the refugees was a bonus. Letting the tieflings think they played more of a role in the decision might be disingenuous, but now they're all willing to vouch for us."

"You're actually quite cunning," Astarion said. He looked at her fondly. "I appreciate the explanation."

"So will you stop snarking about me agreeing to hear people out?" Nykalaeni asked.

"Absolutely," Astarion said. He beckoned her closer with a crooked finger, and Nykalaeni took a step in, relieved. He gave her a regrettably short kiss, then smiled at her and said, "We should get back to it, then."

After that, of course, she still had Lae'zel and sometimes Shadowheart grumbling about the pointlessness of her generosity. Lae'zel approved of righting wrongs, but she didn't like the idea of being diverted from their goals. And often Shadowheart's complaints seemed rote, the sort of thing one would expect a Sharran to say. Nykalaeni was no longer as annoyed by it as she had once been, because she knew Lae'zel ultimately trusted her, and she strongly suspected Shadowheart's complaints were not sincere. Astarion had been the one whose objections bothered her the most, even though he never really offered any alternatives or seemed at risk of leaving the group, because Nykalaeni felt like he should understand.

It also helped to hear Lae'zel mutter something about something being a waste of time, and Astarion go, "Oh, hush, she's being clever."

"How so?" Shadowheart asked.

"Don't you see it?" Astarion replied. "Hmm. I thought it was obvious."

He was such a jackass sometimes, Nykalaeni thought, smiling to herself.

#bg3 #nykalaeni #astarion was not especially attracted to nykki until she was like sure i'll let a strange priest flog me and he realized she was a freak #and i think this :) is where he starts being like oh no i like her so much #nykalaeni and the bad bitch she pulled by being autistic lmao #why ELSE would i be nice to people she said and he was like oh actually i love her? #fanfic

[the-grey-wizard]

The Gr(a/e)y Councils Guide to different Magic practioners (a tier list)

It has come to the Council's Attention that some Magical Practitioners are unaware of the difference between the various types of Spell Casters, so we decided to give a quick (non-exhaustive) Guide:

A Tier: Wizards: While some innate power is required to *be* one almost every human has that amount of innate ability. What distinguishes a Wizard is that they gain power through study, formulaic spells and ruins, etc. Wizards are the best type because the only limiter is the intelligence of the Wizard, not some in-born mana pool.

B Tier: Alchemists, Magical Tinkerers, etc. Basically overly specialized Wizards. C Tier: Clerics and Druids. Both gain their power through long devotion and love of a higher power (some god for clerics, nature in general for druids). While their power is not in-born, they don't sell their souls for power, and they do require an immense amount of dedication to gain their power. They are a lower Tier than Wizards in their magic is dependent another party that may stop providing power at any time, and the magic they can perform is *increadibly* limited. Druids can only perform nature magic (which is admitedly a fairly large group), and Cleric's magic that has to do with their gods. Sad. D Tier: Sorcerers (type 1): Their magic is innate, they can be fucking lucky idiots. They suck.

F Tier: Warlocks. Oh you found a Grimoire that allowed you to sell your soul for power? GREAT IDEA. Taking the easy route and being condemend to an eternity of torture afterwards. Imbeciles, the Lot of them. Go fuck yourselves Warlocks.

Witches: Oddly, there is no consensus on what defines a Witch. Some say it is just a female Wizard (The Gr(e/a)y Council of Wizards holds "Wizard" to be a Gender Neutral Title, like 'President', therefore rejects this definition). Others say it is a Binder of Spirits, using natural spirits to perform their biding, which is the same as Sorcerer Type 2 (aka, pre dnd ish definition). This is a B Tier, kinda good, but still not doing shit for yourself. Another definition involves using natural magics from Herbs, animals, and mother nature. This is basically a rehash of above types, but specializing. Meh.

Not Mentioned: Bards, Necromancers, Enchanters, etc. They are all just specific subtypes of above groups.

#wizard posting #If anyone takes this seriously and actually gets annoyed #that says way more about you then me