#scourge of the fey

[deconstructthesoup]

I saw a D&D AU with the Voices, and I decided that I also wanted to do a D&D AU with the Vessels, so here goes:

*cracks knuckles*

The players are the chapter 2 vessels, who have joined together after they were each mysteriously attacked---and nearly kidnapped---by worshipers of a primordial god only known as The Narrator. Even though they're all vastly different people with vastly different motivations, they have to work together in order to figure out how they've somehow angered a long-forgotten god.

The Tower is a scourge aasimar and an Oath of Conquest paladin, who devoted herself to The Apotheosis, queen of the gods and the embodiment of justice and retribution. She acts as the self-appointed leader of the group, even though a good chunk of the other players are having none of her self-righteousness and narcissism. She doesn't believe that the Narrator actually exists, and considers the quest to just be another heretic-killing spree.

The Adversary is a tiefling Ancestral Guardians barbarian, who grew up in a rough-and-tumble all-barbarian community and is slated to become its next leader. She's just happy to travel around the world bashing heads, and she winds up clashing the most with Tower---mainly due to their very different backgrounds. She genuinely doesn't care who or what the Narrator is, and just wants to kick ass and have a good time.

The Spectre is a ghost and a necromancer wizard, who actually died when she was attacked and has brought herself back in order to track down her killer and to take her revenge. She kind of lost herself in the ivory tower of academia when she was alive, and part of the reason she's sticking with the others is so she can actually form connections before it's truly too late. She's studied several old cults in her time, but the only thing she's found of The Narrator is an old painting of a crow with sharp teeth...

The Nightmare is a dhampir and an Undead warlock, who draws her magic from the dread vampire queen who turned her. She is no stranger to being hunted, for people fear and shun vampires and their spawn, but she knows full well that this time is different. And during the attack, she managed to devour a dream of her would-be captor, getting a little glimpse into the ancient powers of the god that wants her gone... and, well, who can resist the allure of taking down a being as old as time?

The Witch is a tabaxi Circle of Spores druid and an Arcane Trickster rogue, who's been living on her own in the woods after suffering a great betrayal and heartbreak that damaged her trust in anyone. She's only working with the others because she believes she'll get further if she does, and while she initially intends to backstab them once they're no longer useful, she finds herself growing closer to them as their journey continues. All she really wants is to go back to her old life... but her goal may change as her walls begin to come down.

The Prisoner is a human Armorer artificer, who once angered an archfey and was cursed to always be bound in chains. Undeterred, she turned this to her advantage, reforging her chains into armor that she could use as a weapon. She starts traveling with the rest purely due to self-preservation, as every time she resolved to just hide, The Narrator's worshipers found her again---but she's definitely the practical mind that they needed.

The Damsel is a half-elf College of Creation bard and a Beastmaster ranger, and she's a princess whose kingdom was usurped by an evil family member, leaving her on the run. She's very naive about how the world works, mainly due to being sheltered her entire life, and is sure that this situation can be solved with a nice conversation. Thankfully, she has someone to help her...

The Beast is a fey that was cursed to take the form of a barely-sapient panther, and she barely recalls her life in the Feywild. Still, she has a soft spot for the innocent princess she came across in the woods one day, and she will protect her for as long as she can.

The Razor is an elf Soulknife rogue and a College of Swords bard, and she's actually a pretty well-known circus performer. She's absolute chaos personified, and she really doesn't give a shit about The Narrator either way---she's just ready to kick ass, stab people, and hang out with her new best friends. Even if not all of them are super into being friends with the crazy blade lady.

And last but not least, The Stranger is a changeling Divine Soul sorcerer and a Grave Domain cleric, who unknowingly draws their power from the long-forgotten goddess of change, transformation, endings, and new beginnings. They woke up one day with no memory of who they were, and were immediately attacked for reasons they could not explain---so, needless to say, they're pretty traumatized. It also doesn't help that they don't even know what they really look like, so they're constantly changing to reflect what people expect of them... which isn't the most healthy thing, but they're an amnesiac, give them a break.

So... yeah!

#the chapter 3 vessels are either gods or monsters #slay the princess #dnd #stp the tower #stp the adversary #stp the spectre #stp the nightmare #stp the witch #stp the prisoner #stp the damsel #stp the beast #stp the razor #stp the stranger

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Reader : Born In The Dawn Chapter 33

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Story Summary: Locked inside a dark room in a dungeon, kept alive only for your power, you believed you’d never see the daylight again. That is until the Weeping Monk finds his way down and steals you from your captors. It is the beginning of a journey that leads you through hardship and newfound hope, but nothing is assured in a world that is changing for the Fey. The magic that runs in your veins is drawing out the worst the world has to offer, does it include the man who pulled you from the dark?

Chapter Title: Madrock

Notes: 👀

Warnings: Grief. Violence. Torture. Sexual Assault. Rape Threat. Gore. Enemies To Lovers. Pining. Trauma. Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Gore?. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn…

Word count of this fic: +200K

Chapter:  33/41

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It was early in the morning when you grabbed the satchel from under your bed and counted the coins you still had hidden away, it was more than enough to purchase some clothes at the market in Madrock. You shoved a flask of water in there, and some bread from the kitchen as you passed by it to head to the stables.

Ser Florent bid you a good morning. “Off to Madrock, I’ve heard.”

“That’s right. Have you seen Lancelot.” You asked.

He gave a nod. “I’ve seen him. He is in the stables readying the horses. Have a save trip, y/n.”

You smiled back at him innocently. “Thank you, Ser Florent.”

The knight went on with his day and you headed to the stables. As Ser Florent had said, Lancelot was readying the horses outside. He was inspecting the saddle of your mare and praising her for letting him do so.

Determined to make this trip a little more interesting, you decided to be flirtatious. You stopped beside him, letting your mischievous smile win his attention over.

“I thought of you last night.” You hated how warm your cheeks got after saying it.

He did not expect to hear this, his eyes snapped to your face instantly. You saw them take your expression in, as if he wanted to see if you were jesting or not.

He looked around him to see if anyone could overhear this, then turned to you with hope in his eyes, “You did?”

Your mouth opened to answer but the words got stuck in your throat, you nodded instead.

Lancelot’s eyes darted around again, before locking on yours, “Good thoughts?”

Seeing how very nervous he was getting, cured some of your own nervousness.

“Many.” It was more a whisper.

He looked over the mare’s saddle for a moment.

So many things were running through his head, and all of them would have once earned him lashes of the scourge.

He turned to you when he saw no one. You barely managed to respond in time, when he cupped your face, and avoided the kiss from happening by escaping from his hands.

“Lancelot!” You squeaked. “I haven’t told my parents yet!”

He rolled his jaw whilst getting himself under control again.

You bit your lip and got closer to him, wanting to share a close moment regardless. “Come here.”

He did not even look around for curious eyes first, the request was all that had mattered. You drew him into an embrace, reminiscing of the night spend in his arms. He really did try to make it appear like a friendly hug to others who might see, until his head tilted just enough to brush his lips to your neck. It was a bold action, a first for both. The feeling it send through your body made you want to lean your head back to give him more access.

He proved to be strong enough to pull away before it could tempt him further, but not without locking eyes and letting you see how much your little flirtation had done to him. You breathed shakily, reading his eyes and feeling the sensation in your body increase, it got so strong that stepping away was the only way to get it to lessen.

That faint change of scent…

“We should get going.” You stepped around him to get on your horse.

Even he could feel the shift in the atmosphere between you, it took him a moment to move again.

He walked towards Goliath slowly. “I will wear a veil in Madrock, I believe it to be too large of a city to be discreet without one.”

The lingering feeling in your body made you short for words. “Good plan.”

Before he got on his horse, he looked at you a little curious. You held the reins in your balded fist, close to your low abdomen where the feeling had settled in. Thankfully he did not question you, even though the question was present in his eyes. You rode in silence next to him, feeling the sensation subside.

Once down the hill, you told him, “We’ll travel along the riverside. I know the way from there.”

His question took you off-guard, “Good. Are you alright?”

You quickly nodded, wondering if he could truly tell that something was going on with your body. Of course you knew what it was, it matched the descriptions those romantic books spoke off, but feeling it was something else. Your own thoughts were making you look guilty without ‘crime’.

Lancelot refrained from asking again and stayed silent as you rode through the village. Villagers greeted you, and him. And when the second person wished him a good day, you smiled proudly at Lancelot.

Even the woman you had seen in the fort with him greeted him before quickly being on her way again. You pushed that pinch of jealousy down before it could reach the surface. Still, he looked to see your response to it, a look you avoided like the plague. He was biting his tongue, the grin was enough.

Together you passed the trees who hid the Fey hide-out in them, and vaguely spotted the Faun Woman you had spoken to in the trees.

“We’ll pass the barn before we get to the river.” You informed him, “Did you bring some useful things with you too?”

Lancelot’s expression answered it before he did. “I have my weapons.”

You sighed, amused by the answer, “Apart from that?”

The cheeky twit asked, “Is my company not enough?”

You snorted a laugh. “It is for me. I hope my company is enough for you too when you get hungry, because I won’t be sharing the bread I brought with me.”

He fired back with. “I know how to use a bow, I can hunt if I wish to eat.”

You knew he was teasing you with your lack of experience in archery. “Tread carefully, Ash Man.”

He smiled victorious. “I spoke to Mirena this morning, to ask her what exactly it is that she is sending us for.”

Oh, gods…

You already guessed the answer you’d get, “And what did she tell you?”

He winced a little at the memory. “She told me I would find out once we return, and not to open this package at all.”

You looked at him expectantly. “What else?”

He looked over at you riding beside him, whilst ducking under a low hanging branch. “And not be ‘nosy’.”

The poor Ash Man was yet to learn how stern she could be on certain matters.

It was your turn to duck under a branch. “Fear not, Lancelot. If she disliked you, you would know it.”

He didn’t doubt that one bit. “She is a strong woman, like her daughter.”

Such flattery, and it wasn’t even midday yet. You couldn’t hide the smile it caused. “She is. We are.”

He loved that proud lift of your chin as you said it.

The barn came into sight and awoke your competitive spirit. “I bet I can get to the barn before you do, my mare seems eager to stretch her legs.”

He leaned closer to his horse’s ear, “Hear that, Goliath?”

Without warning, you spurred the mare into gallop, determined to win. The speed at which she ran was impressive to say the least, it felt like you barely held on to your soul in the saddle. Like a bird in flight, the mare galloped across the field, leaving the forest behind her. The cold wind ghosted through your jacket and chilled your skin. Oh, how you loved the freedom that nature had to offer.

The barn was close, Goliath caught up with the mare like a lost shadow reuniting with her. Your eyes were fixed on the old barn, the whispers of the Hidden were in your ears, the mare sensed your intent and gave one finally effort to keep her shadow at bay. From the corner of your eye, you saw the black steed slowly but surely fall behind. Her thundering hooves came to a slow halt once the barn was behind you. Lancelot and Goliath stormed past you, before slowing down as well. Your heart was hammering in your chest, and you began to praise the mare for her achievement.

Lancelot rode over to where you were, looking quite impressed but mostly stunned. “Astounding gallop she has.”

You laughed joyfully at seeing the slight frown on the Ash Man’s face. “I stole a good horse.”

He could only agree on that. “You did.”

You steered closer to them, reaching over to scratch Goliath’s neck just behind his ear. “You’re a good horse too, aren’t you? You sweetling.”

He watched you coo lovingly to his horse. Goliath turned until he could lick at your hand in return.

Lancelot let it happen. “You are spoiling him.”

“Jealous?” You flashed a grin.

He tilted his chin to the sky, smile tugging at his lips. He reached over and fished the reins from your hands, you kept your hold on them but he did manage to get you closer, your leg was touching his. The mare gave no objections to getting closer to Goliath, she rubbed her nose against his.

“She is quite receptive to advances today.” Lancelot said while never taking his eyes off you.

You squinted your eyes at him, “Are you talking about my horse, or me?”

That slight tilt of his head and those challenging eyes answered it. You rolled your eyes at him and steered the mare away from them.

“She deserves to be named.” He called out after you.

That was true…

“Any suggestions?” You asked.

He handed you back the responsibility. “She’s yours to name.”

What sort of name would suit one like her? With her desire to run free and fast?

“Aella.” You decided. “It stands for strong wind.”

He repeated it. “Aella? A fine name.”

You praised yourself. “It is.”

Lancelot made a sound that sounded somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle.

You rode next to him again, “Why did you name him Goliath?”

He saw the river. “It comes from a story I have read as a boy.”

Not many named their horses, forming attachments to them especially in war was not advised. For him to have done so, meant he respected Goliath as a living creature.

After a while of riding in silence, you arrived at the river and began to follow it.

“Do you intend to tell your parents?” He suddenly asked, and upon seeing you look confused he clarified what he meant, “About us.”

It saddened you to tell him. “I want to. I just fear how they will respond.”

He was not looking forward to that moment either. “It does not have to be soon, it can wait.”

Guilt settled in you. “I’m sorry. You deserve better than someone who has to hide you from their family.”

He would not hear it. “We would not have to hide this, had my past not forced it on us. If anything, you are the one who deserves someone you don’t have to hide.”

There was not a single doubt in you that your heart had made the right choice to lock him inside of it. “Enough… I choose you, Lancelot. Even if they’d force me to give you up.”

It visibly affected him to hear you be so devout in your love for him. He got so quiet…

“They are your family…”

“And you are my heart.”

His eyes found yours, so intense and full of admiration. The silence that fell lasted a while, the horses walked at a comfortable pace beside each other.

Madrock was not so far, you’d reach it in the mid day. The sound of the streaming water of the river was pleasant to your ears, songs of birds filled the sky.

“May I ask about Matthew?” Lancelot asked, breaking the peaceful silence.

You gave a shrug of the shoulder. “I will not stop you.”

He proceeded with caution, “The friendship between you, am I correct to believe it is strained?”

It was hard not to feel used emotionally by Matthew, even if he hadn’t meant it. “We’ve agreed to keep a distance. I think he no longer wants to put effort into our friendship now that I don’t stroke his ego anymore.”

He winced slightly, hating how sad you had sounded over it. “I am sorry, I had hoped it did not have to be this way. But I do believe it is for the better, he was not careful with words.”

You inhaled deeply, nodding to yourself. “When you were sparring with him, you said something to him when you got him to the ground. What was it?”

Lancelot barely bit back the smirk. “He was being reckless. I told him it reminded me of the man that I once was.”

Ouch. Matthew must not have like to hear it.

“You might as well have spat in his face.” You mumbled.

He saw no issue. “He needed to hear it.”

That was true. Had Lancelot been less in control of his temper when Matthew had taunted and tried to hurt him, things could have ended very different.

You let out a small sigh. “It’s for the better.”

Even if you would miss the years of your childhood that Matthew had been a part of, those times were gone. That feeling had gone…

You could not force someone to remain friends, friendship needed nurturing just as much as love did. It was for the better.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~♧~~~♡~~~♡~~~

By late mid day you paid the man, standing by a hitching post in Madrock to watch over the horses, a silver coin for his trouble. Lancelot had put a veil on again to cover most of his birthmarks from sight.

The veil sat just a little too low and you adjusted it for him without warning. After you’d done that, he folded his hands behind his back. It was something he often did when he didn’t know how to respond.

You put a hand over your satchel, making sure it wouldn’t get stolen. “Let’s visit the market first, after I find some clothes we’ll head to the blacksmith.”

There was no argument from him.

People were strolling through the market like ants, while it was useful to blend in with the crowd, it was also a bit uncomfortable to have people walk into you every few seconds. It wasn’t long before Lancelot was close enough to act as a shadow to you, at least preventing your back from getting walked against constantly. Going from stall to stall was fruitless in your search for what you needed.

“Over there.” Lancelot had noticed a small stall near hidden in the shadow of a house.

He led you through the crowd and halted at the stall. The vendor, an elderly Manblood woman, immediately began to chat with him and left you to browse her wares in peace. The poor Ash Man’s replies were short, small talk was not one of his talents. Still it did not demotivate the woman from continuing.

“Married?” She asked him with a smile that gave away exactly why she was curious.

Lancelot made eye-contact with you, looking quite uncomfortable with the woman’s blatant vying for his attention.

“No.” He answered her truthfully.

You turned to tell her one thing, never sounding unfriendly, but you were firm about it. “Mine.”

Seeing him uncomfortable, and retreating in the shell of his mind to avoid confrontation, was were you drew the line. The woman quietly stammered something that must have been an apology.

You held up the vest and shirts that had caught your interest. “I’ll take these.”

He couldn’t pull his eyes away at the sudden change in your behavior. That possessive tone, the resolve to gaining control over the situation so fast.

~“Mine”~

He caught himself looking around the area, for a place where two could be alone. The idea had entered his thoughts and he forced it out, scolding himself for thinking like a man who could not keep such desires under control.

You paid the woman for three shirts and the nice dark brown leather jacket. The innocent question came when you saw the Ash Man stare at you, “Did you want something?”

For a second he thought you had read his mind, then realized you were speaking of clothing…

His answer was delayed, and came when looking away. “No.”

Maybe he didn’t dare to ask?

“Are you certain? The weather is getting colder.” You touched his hand. “Gloves?”

There was a slight tilt in his brow upon feeling it. “Perhaps…”

The woman was quick to present a basket with all sorts of gloves, a pair made of leather with wool inside caught your eye and you presented them to him.

“Try them on.” You suggested, seeing him look almost shy to do so.

He plucked them from your fingers, deliberately moving his index against them. They fitted him well, and he approved of them.

You handed the vendor the coin for the pair. “We’ll take them.”

The woman folded the clothes neatly and handed them to you. “Have a good day!”

“You too.” You thanked her before leaving the stall.

The clean fabric of the new clothes felt great, unfortunately you couldn’t change into them yet. With the clothes you returned to the horses, and stuffed your purchases in Aella’s saddle bag.

“Do we know where the blacksmith is located?” Lancelot asked.

“Not yet.” You went over to the man looking out for the horses and asked him if he could give some directions.

The ones he gave were pretty hard to follow, but it was better than nothing.

When moving through the crowd again, you felt a slight tug at your jacket, and upon looking saw that Lancelot was pinching some of the leather between his fingers, “Scared you’ll get lost?”

He nearly rolled his eyes. “I would prefer not having to search for you if we get seperated.”

You said nothing of it anymore and tried to recall the directions the man had given. Apart from some mistakes, the directions were accurate and led you to the blacksmith’s home. Lancelot walked up the steps leading to the front door and knocked a couple of times. It took a while for the door to open and you grew worried that there was no one home. From his expression, he feared the same.

Just when he wanted to knock again, the door was opened by the young blacksmith who stood shirtless in the doorway, stains of ashes and sweat were all over his chest.

The man looked Lancelot up and down, taking note of the quality and quantity of the weapons he carried, “What can I do for you?”

The Ash Man gestured in your direction, to which the blacksmith shifted his attention to you.

You stood on the first step. “We are send here by my mother, Mirena, to retrieve a package for her.”

The blacksmith descended the steps, looking you up and down with a smile, “Dawn Folk, eh? Follow me, it’s in my workshop.”

Lancelot came down from the steps as well.

He tried to hide how he rolled his eyes at the blacksmith’s lustful gaze you had received.

The heat of the forge filled the air in the workshop, no wonder he did not wear much. The man lifted open the lid of a large chest and took something out that was wrapped up in cloth and rope. “Here it is. Thank your mother for me, and if there’s anything else needed, she knows where I am.”

You took the wrapped package from him. “Thank you, Sir. I will.”

The blacksmith turned to Lancelot for a second, chuckling. “I’d ask if you’re interested in some new steel, but you look like you have enough.”

It was alright with you if he wanted something new as well.

“If you want…” You told Lancelot.

He politely declined the offer. “I have no need for more weapons at this time.”

The blacksmith walked past you, back to his house. “If you change your mind, knock on my door any time. Safe travels!”

“Thank you!” You called out after him.

The Ash Man put a hand on your back for a moment and you began to walk beside him. Looking down at the package, you grew more and more curious what it was that your mother had asked the blacksmith to make. “I wonder what it is. It doesn’t feel heavy.”

He took the package from your hands. “We shall not open it.”

You groaned in annoyance. “I wasn’t going to!”

He send you a look of doubt. “Time to head back to the horses.”

The package was perhaps safer in his hands, you wouldn’t open it, but taking a peek…

There were less people roaming the village, most would be returning to their homes soon. It was why the red stood out so much in the crowd and halted the both of you.

“Paladins. Shit.” You looked around you for a way to avoid being seen by them.

Lancelot grabbed your hand and pulled you with him into a dark corner between a house and an empty stall. There you stood against the wall and waited for the paladins to pass by, a group of them had finished their trading with the vendors of Madrock. This place was not safe for Fey, like many others weren’t.

As they got closer to walking by, you worried about it, “Don’t you think it will look suspicious if they see two people just standing here in the shadows?”

He looked around for another option. “We cannot move from here without them seeing us.”

If there was an excuse for the two of you to be in the shadows, the paladins would not be so quick to investigate.

Something came to your mind. “I have a plan.”

“Which is?” He urged you to tell him.

The paladins were near, and just as they began to walk by, you turned to Lancelot to grab hold on his jerkin and pull him close. You pulled down the veil and cupped his neck in one swift motion, your mouth was on his before he could ruin the plan by letting them hear his familiar voice. Past him, you saw that they kept walking.

Your mouth parted from his. “This makes it less suspicious.”

All he did was nod, his eyes were fixed on your lips.

That look…

Oh… you were in trouble…

Your back was against the wall of the house not a breath later, his body pressed against yours as he stole the air from your lungs with his kiss. There was a certain urgency in the passion, his hold on your waist kept you close.

You stayed alert, listening for any signs from the paladins that could tell you if your plan wasn’t working. They stopped, and you feared it had failed, then they began to chuckle and walk away.

It took some power of will to turn your head away to look. “They’re gone.”

His bottom lip touched the shell of your ear, traveling down to the spot between your ear and neck.

Maybe he had not heard. “Lancelot…they’re gone… it worked.”

By now you realized he was very aware of it, he just didn’t see the need to stop what had begun. Being kissed along your neck was a new experience, the ticklish feeling made you squirm and try to hold in a giggle. But trying to squirm away was futile, his hold on you got firm and you found yourself trapped between him and the wall. He pinned you against the bricks while letting his mouth explore your neck feverishly. It was the slight push of his chest into yours, when he let his body lean into you fully, that brought the gasp out of you. The rise and fall of his chest met your own.

Desire hit his stomach at the sound falling from your lips. His heart was beating so fast that he accepted death by it’s unmaintainable pace if that was what it took to experience this.

Your hand snaked into the hood of his cloak, and your fingers curled into the back of his hair, luring out a content deep hum from him. You were torn between wanting him closer, and knowing this was not the time nor place.

There was little volume to your voice, that sensation you had felt earlier came back with a vengeance, “It’s too dangerous to stay here like this.”

He still heard it and lifted his head from your neck, brushing his lips to your temple as if to apologize for his boldness.

That warm timbre carried his voice, “You are trembling.”

You were even holding on to his arm to keep yourself steady and now that he had noticed it, were determined to gain control over the sensation.

By slowly moving out of his hold, you managed to come back to your senses a little. “Let’s head home, before those paladins return.”

His nostrils flared a bit whilst he tilted his head to the side, he was inhaling to pick up a scent, you could tell.

There was that faint change again…

“What is it?” You grew curious.

Those blue eyes narrowed slightly, then blinked. “Nothing. I thought I smelled something.”

He put the veil back on and beckoned for you to walk with him again, which you did. The Ash Man couldn’t hide from the world how gleeful he was after having a moment alone in that corner with you. And you tried to hide how fidgety you were after it.

Once you were back at the horses, and had inspected to see that none of your things were missing from the saddle bags, you thanked the man responsible for watching over them. You rode out of Madrock together as the sun began to set, it would not be long before it was dark now. Lancelot had moved the veil from his face the second the village was behind him.

While sitting in the saddle, the reaction that the kiss had caused on your body was evident, it had settled itself in your lower abdomen. And whilst you knew that it was a normal thing to happen, there was still some embarrassment felt over it. He did not seem to share the same struggle, or perhaps he was able to hide it better. But you, you were quieter, feeling almost guilty for something you could not control. Love and desire filled your very being at the sight of him. He had been a monk for so long, the last thing you wanted was to shock him with this knowledge.

“What has you so quiet?” He asked.

It was too hard to resist jesting instead of being truthful, “Worried that I am thinking about the blacksmith?”

The Ash Man took a deep breath and looked at you in wry amusement.

Before he could answer, you reassured him with an alluring smile. “Don’t be. It’s not the blacksmith I’ve been thinking about.”

His expression changed fast, that striking color of his eyes moved over your form like a breeze.

“Who then?” He could not believe he was brave enough to ask.

All you did was smirk and then spurred the mare on to ride ahead of him. The Ash Man didn’t let himself be left behind and spurred Goliath on to match the pace.

Oh, how he wished you had answered it…

Maybe it was best you had not, his thoughts were still in somewhat of a frenzy after the encounter in the village.

“What do you think is in that package?” You asked.

He would not be nosy, as promised to Mirena. “It could be anything. Maybe she asked the man to repair something for her.”

You hummed, it was a possibility. It seemed that you would have to hope that your mother would tell you what was inside there, or it would become one of life’s mysteries to you.

The frogs living by the river made themselves known as you rode alongside it. As expected the sun abandoned the lands earlier than it had done during summer. It would be a while before you’d get used to it being dark early again. The gentle wind was chilly, and having a jacket with a big tear through the sleeve did little to keep you warm, the worn-down shirt wasn’t helping either.

Halfway home, you halted. “Do you mind if we stop here for a moment? I’d like to change into other clothes.”

He saw no problem. “Alright. I will tie the reins. Go on.”

Your feet were on the ground first, he dismounted as well and came to take over Aella’s reins. You ruffled through the saddle bag, fishing out the newly acquired jacket and a shirt, then you stuffed your satchel into it.

After taking off your jacket, you asked, “Can it fit in Goliath’s saddlebag?”

He nodded, looking at you quite timidly. It dawned on you that it might seem to him that you were going to take off the bodice and shirt right there in front of him. The burning in your cheeks began, but you pretended not to be as shy as you felt.

“I’ll uh… go over there…” You gestured to the trees that would offer enough discretion in the darkness of the evening.

“Do you need help?” He blurted out, then felt mortified for doing so.

Help? With what? Undressing and changing?

It wasn’t meant to come across as such, but it surely had.

You were merciful upon seeing his cheeks begin to flush, he had meant well. “I think I’ll be alright. But if I do, I will call for you.”

He was grateful for sparing him, and he led the horses away to tie the reins to a tree nearby. As you headed to the trees, he took seat against a large oak.

In the following minutes, he was tantalized by the images that came to mind while hearing you change in the discretion of the forest. He was biting the inside of his cheek, causing small pinches of pain in the hope it would keep his mind from wandering. It did not work.

Minutes later, you returned in the clothes that felt warmer than the previous ones. After putting the old shirt in Aella’s saddle bag, you approached Lancelot who showed no intention of getting up from the ground just yet.

You were still closing up your bodice again as you stopped at his boots, “Resting for a moment?”

His hood fell back a little further when he looked up at you, “Sit with me. Unless you are in a hurry to return home?”

You saw the charming smirk, but also the spark of mischief that made his eyes glimmer like the stars above your head. Playfully, you lightly kicked your boot against his. When you did it a second time, he seized you by the ankle

“Sit.” The smirk had an edge of danger to it now.

You got the feeling that he would have gotten you to the ground one way or another.

“Fine.” You pulled your ankle free and took seat on his left side against the oak tree.

His fingers pinched the leather of the new jacket at the shoulder and pulled you closer by it.

You pried his hand off of it. “You’ll crease it!”

He highly enjoyed the response it got. “You did not mind the former one creasing when I touched it.”

“That one was old.” You brushed a hand over the leather to smooth out the spot he had held.

He tilted his head, as if he was contemplating something.

The way his eyes were fixed on you was getting you nervous, “What?”

His torso turned to you and his hand hovered over your front, were it briefly stilled, then it slowly moved the left lapel of the jacket away from your chest. Blinking down at it, you saw him move his hand under your jacket.

Your breathing became shallow when feeling him take hold of your waist. “What are you…”

His voice was calming as he pulled you closer. “Preventing a crease.”

You looked up at his face and saw his gaze drop. There was no warning, he crashed his lips down on yours, fingers reaching up into your hair where they caught just enough of it to gently pull your head back with.

His mouth was possessively gliding over yours, matching the repressed hunger in you. But you were too taken off-guard to immediately respond. It was what led to you reacting in a way that you hoped would help you gain the upper-hand in this.

You bit down on his bottom lip. Not too hard, but definitely enough to warn him that you were not one to just surrender to this. Lancelot pulled back just an inch, his hot breath warmed your nose and cheeks.

“Did you just bite me?” He asked incredulous.

You fired back arrogantly, feeling his fingers in your hair hold you in place, “Did you just kiss me?”

He looked down at your lips, clearly not scared away by that bite, and he kissed you again. This time slower…

So intimate that you struggled to breath normally, your chest heaved against his as it got closer and closer to you. A quiet curse slipped out of your mouth when the feeling in your body returned like a spreading fire.

Your tongue touched his upper lip like it was by instinct, he deepened the kiss as if to invite it to happen again. With shaking breaths, your mouths parted. In that moment he must have known how willing you were. It did not need saying that the feeling was mutual, you could feel it in him.

He craved the feeling that began in him with every kiss and every touch. Craved to feed and surrender himself to it.

He caressed your jaw, like he feared you would fade away. “Tell me to stop.”

Because he could not bring himself to do so now, only you could.

When you shook your head in refusal, the tip of your nose touched his. You didn’t say anything and pushed your chest to his, offering your neck to him while teasing the locks of his hair.

It was an offer he did not deny himself off.

Taglist:

@ourlazydetectivekitten​​ @the-great-adventures-of-me​ @linkpk88​​  @fxrchxldws​​  @elenaoftheturks​​ @slytherlight​​ @beananacake​​    @crystallizedtime​​  @moonlightaura03​​  @angrygardendeer​​  @have-aheart​​   @5am-cigarette​​ @arcanenature​​  @thewinterskywalker​​ @notyourwildestdream​​ @coloursforyourportrait​​ @koressecretidentity​​ @nike90​​ @n1ghtlux​​ @rachlovesactors​​ @luckyzipperscissorsbat​​ @morena-doing-stuff​​  @the-fangirl-diaries​​ @gipsydanger17​​ @heavenly1927​​  @phantasmalbeiing  @labyrinthonmymind  @asarcastic-thiamstan​​  @rainyv-skies @kissingandromeda @stclairesplace @​​katjusja @isla-bell-blog @beebeerockknot

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist of this story.

#the weeping monk #weeping monk #cursed netflix #cursed #weeping monk x reader #lancelot x reader #weeping monk x you #cursed lancelot #lancelot #the weeping monk x reader

[thedragonagelesbian]

Cyrus Hawke | Wood Elf | Gloomstalker Ranger/Champion Fighter | He/Him | ~250

What is your Tav’s…

FAVORITE WEAPON: sword + shield, although he's currently wielding the myrkulite scourge flail for the extra necrotic damage + the adamantine shield. I like giving Cyrus the Pelorsun Blade in Act 3, but I kind of want to stick him with the Sword of the Emperor bc. I am not immune to reclaiming weapons out of spite and saying 'i will do better with this' and also getting to kill the Emperor with its own sword.

MOST PRIZED POSSESSION: Cyrus has two things left from his parents that he's been able to keep through everything: an iron dagger from his father enchanted against fey and an Evermeet family heirloom locket from his mother.

DEEPEST DESIRE: When Cyrus left Iriaebor, he thought he was getting his deepest desire: to live his life on his own terms. It took having that life turned upside down to realize how much his solitude had cost him, despite how often he had told himself that he was better off alone. He still wants peace and quiet and to stop hurting, but more than that, he wants those things with Wyll.

GUILTY PLEASURE: super long & luxurious baths

BEST-KEPT SECRET: In addition to being the Champion of Iriaebor, Cyrus was also known as its butcher for his role in slaughtering the enemies of its ruling lady, to whom he was once sworn as a Paladin of Devotion.

GREATEST STRENGTH: Resilience

FATAL FLAW: Self-reliant to a fault

FAVORITE SMELL: Lavender

FAVORITE SPELL OR CANTRIP: Hunter's Mark (killing you killing you killing you), with Goodberry as a runner-up. Not that he has that spell in-game anymore but he will always have it in my heart and I wanted a space to share my headcanon that (a) goodberries' taste is dependent on the caster and (b) Cyrus' goodberries taste like lavender, with a strong initial cedar scent and a slightly burnt aftertaste.

PET PEEVE: Lying

BAD HABIT: Not accepting help

HIDDEN TALENT: Despite his equivocating and his complicated history with it, Cyrus is actually quite the talented dancer, once he's had the time to enjoy it for himself.

LEISURE ACTIVITY: Gardening

FAVORITE DRINK: Non-alcoholic-- tea; alcoholic-- brandy

COMFORT FOOD: Barley & mushroom soup

FAVORITE PERSON(S): Wyll

FAVORED DISPLAY OF AFFECTION (PLATONIC AND/OR ROMANTIC): Service & physical touch; Cyrus has become a very private man with his affection, but everyone knows the lengths he goes to to keep the camp and their supplies in order, and the longer everyone journeys together, the more evident it becomes that Cyrus is quietly keeping track of everyone's health needs and is always ready with medicinal teas and herbs when they're called for.

As for physical affection, that's still an honor only bestowed upon Wyll Ravengard, but Wyll knows that as soon as they're alone together, he is getting hugged and cuddled and smooched and massaged and adored non-stop.

FONDEST CHILDHOOD MEMORY: The first time he can remember his parents saying they were proud of him. After a narrow and dangerous escape from his father's archfey patron when Cyrus was maybe 10 years old, his mother thanked him for making things so easy by not fussing or complaining, and his father told him he was doing such a good job as the light of his family's life.

I was tagged by @the-eldritch-it-gay (thank you!! <333) and will tag @hexblooddruid @covenscribe @ididitforthedogs & anyone else who wants to fill out a lil Tav questionaire

#cyrus bg3 #cyrusXwyll

[lunearobservatory]

Hello, in the tags of your post you said to ask you about your DND au, please tell about the DND AU

OH MY GOD. Okay. OKAY. I have so many race class combos, and even a pretty decent storyline? The story is batshit and rly loose rn, so for now I will share the race class combos for the fellas i Do have, not all of them have subclasses but most do

PLEASE if you dont see ur favorite guy here OR you want to hear more about ur favorite guy in the au in general. ASK ME ABOUT UR FAVORITE FELLA PLEASE. I have extensive notes its insane

California - scourge aasimar, (cringefail) bard/bladesinger wizard

Texas - minotaur, barbarian

Florida - summer eladrin elf (?), wild magic sorcerer/arcane trickster

Lousiana - tiefling, circle of spores druid

New York - human, ascendant dragon monk

Gov - porcelain warforged, oath of conquest paladin. Made by PA

Pennsylvania - human, battlesmith artificer

Alaska - firbolg, fey wanderer (antler faewild gift)

Colorado - human (afflicted), drunken master monk

Rhode Island - lightfoot halfling, swashbuckler/battlemaster

Connecticut - forest gnome, swashbuckler/fighter

Massachusetts (half brother Maine) - half wood elf (human father), artillerist artificer/clockwork soul sorcerer

Maine (half brother Massachusetts) - wood elf, beastmaster ranger

Kentucky - centaur (mountain pleasure horse) nature cleric

Michigan - water genasi, circle of waves druid

Ohio - fire genasi, wildfire druid

New Jersey - tiefling, soulknife rogue 

#oh no you caught me on my bulllllssshhhiiitttt #if you ask abt someone and also want me to try and draw them?? ask me that too also #yea!!! #lune talks #welcome to the tabletop au #wttt #wttsh #ben brainard #welcome to the statehouse #welcome to the table #when ppl ask me things

[dailycharacteroption]

Green Scourge (Druid Archetype)

(art by Jim “Dreadjim” Ling on Artstation)

It can sometimes be hard to remember with all the heroic and not-so-heroic violence of the game that divine casters, at their cores, are usually something of guides and protectors. Even an evil cleric protects their flock, even if it is only for selfish reasons of power or to sacrifice them later, to say nothing of a paladin’s goal as a protector first. Druids too are protectors, albeit mostly of nature itself.

However, every divine order has it’s exceptions that focus on destroying the foes of what they protect over directly protecting them, which may or may not lead to problems if their laser focus on that goal undermines the ultimate goal of protection or doing what is right by their estimation. We’ve seen this represented in archetypes before, and today, it’s a druidic one!

The so-called Green Scourges are the hunters of the unnatural, particularly aberrations. Whether they are mutants spawned from some corruption, alien lifeforms that disrupt the balance as any invasive species might, or an outright blight on nature itself, these scourges seek to destroy them and other similar blights such as undead, oozes born of foul magic such as actual blight oozes, and so on.

They might be encouraged to do so by more militant orders or by orders large enough to warrant having specialized subgroups within, or they might be loose cannons whose power is shaped by they ways they wish to use it, making their elders worry that they’ll go too far.

In any case, the result is a druid that is surprisingly deadly in direct combat without having to wild shape, though they still have access to that.

While most druids are able to expend spells meant for other magic to conjure allies from the natural world, green scourges instead do so to arm themselves, either turning a simple wooden weapon into a deadly implement, on conjuring forth a sword-like projection of fire. While this is all simple druidic fare, where this gets interesting is their ability to expend higher magic to get even more powerful weaponry, adding base enhancement and magical abilities to these supernatural weapons to fit the situation. What’s more, if they add an enchantment that adds elemental damage to a flame blade, the blade itself becomes that damage type, allowing them to wield blades of frost or lightning. However, there is a baseline cost in the spell level increase, so don’t expect to become too powerful too quickly. Also, note that the list of possible enchantments, while effective, is a bit limited, with aberration bane being the only option, and the list being a bit short overall.

They also train in recognizing aberrations and their signs of their passing, to better combat their foe.

Though they specialize in fighting aberrations, sometimes it is good to be hidden from a variety of foes. As such, these druids learn how to suppress their own scent, hiding it from foes that might detect them.

Just as other druids are resistant to plants and the fey, these mystic warriors tune their resistance to be against their hated aberrant foes.

This archetype is interesting. While it is clearly focused on aberrant foes, it is not so specialized as to be unusable against everything else. Moreover, this archetype begs for you to create a melee druid build that can do so not just with wild shape, but in their true form as well. With that in mind, your feats should dive into that as much as you can, while your daily spells should probably be a mix of support for that as well as variety for the challenges of the day, including combat spells that help inhibit foes before wading into combat. Also consider whether you want a domain that can buff you further, or a companion to flank with.

There are plenty of reasons to want aberrations dead, seeing them as a threat to the natural order, personal tales of revenge, and so on, but something to remember is that not all aberrations are necessarily unnatural or harmful, such as flumphs. Does your character make that distinction? Might that be part of their character development?

Despite their serpentine forms, nagas are considered aberrant creatures, which marks them for purging by the druidic guardians of Velshaka Rainforest. As such, any naga venturing into the jungle from their empire is sure to bring strong nagaji bodyguards with them in case of ambush.

When reports surface of a humanoid mole-like creature, Gevos of the Circle of the Scourge arrives seeking to destroy whatever unnatural mutant has crawled forth, but what he fails to realize is the creature is a muldnal, an agathion from the upper planes. Can the benevolent celestial convince the druidic assassin of his good intentions, or will he need help from goodly allies?

When the outlanders came from across the sea, they brought with them their faith, one that gave reverence to beings from beyond the starts, which they called upon to aid them with their many eyes and mouths. However, the indigenous people of the land have a response, orders of wise ones who command nature and bring it’s wrath down on upon the invaders and their monstrous bedfellows

#pathfinder #archetype #druid #green scourge #naga #nagaji #muldnal #agathion #Monster Hunter's Handbook

[cullenakingirog]

Y'all the day i play BG3 I am gonna be so annoying about it

Gale's getting a They/Them homebrew fey bae with a really messy family history + a bloodline curse tied to tragic romances

Astarions getting the softest most pacifistic She/Her Aasimar Scourge wife who is struggling to keep her Scourge instincts in check but the gods take control and shit goes down (ft. How to Break From The Gods' Influence with Gale Dekarios and Miscellaneous.)

And Karlach is getting a He/They Druid Satyr bby who has no issues beyond wanting to protect his colour-named family (Starring: Bulawan, the Bear Prince -as dubbed by his sisters - and his little sisters totally not named after Snow White and Rose Red)

Yeah I have whole ass plans dammit I just need to play the game lol

[loveiatar]

big muse infodump while i work on individual muse pages

abdirak

the alpha muse on this blog (i'm so sorry). we all know and love him. my special boy.

at a young age he was kidnapped by a hag and whisked away to the feywild, where his magic was nursed until he was 'ripe' enough to eat. abdirak is a wild magic sorcerer by birth.

he has the feylost background and the feytouched feat. because he spent such a significant portion of his life in the feywild, his eyes are an unnatural silvery-blue color, and his ears are slightly pointed. he has a naturally high charisma, and people often find themselves charmed by him, since he was raised by the fey. he returned to the material plane sometime after the events of the campaign the wild beyond the witchlight, and has ties in with one of the main plotlines. he was freed by the witch queen, zybilna.

time passes differently in the feywild. by the time abdirak returned to faerun, he was a young man. however, his human family had already died of old age. devastated, abdirak wandered for a long, long time.

he was found by a follower of loviatar, who took him in. she helped him release some of his pain through scourging, which awakened something in him. abdirak took a week-long pilgrimage with the follower to one of loviatar's few shrines, where loviatar touched his mind and claimed him as a cleric.

ever since then, abdirak has been one of her most beloved followers. not her chosen, but certainly someone who has a special relationship with her, given that he is able to give her blessing to those who perform well enough.

haarlep

haarlep was initially a member of mephistopheles' court. and by member, i mean they were mephistopheles' incubus before they were ever raphael's.

they aren't a devil or a demon, they're just a fiend. they original from the abyss and were taken captive during the blood war, several hundred years before being given to raphael.

they were spoiled in the way a lapdog is spoiled. they weren't surprised when they were handed off like nothing, but they were disappointed.

especially because raphael had them change their name and appearance.

haarlep does pretty much everything they can to scorn raphael at every corner. but they do have a soft spot for their brat. :)

dirk

dirk is a 322 year old eladrin beastmaster ranger.

he was a denizen of the feywild. once.

before he was dirk, he was faerunduil inawynn, the youngest son of house inawynn. the inawynn house are the guardians of the queen of the feywild, zybilna - the witch queen's rangers.

dirk was nonfatally injured during one of his patrols, though his leg was cursed to never heal. instead of acting like a normal parent, his father, who only viewed his offspring as disposable weapons, banished dirk to the material plane some 200+ years before the events of baldur's gate 3. dirk has been wandering faerun for that entire time, never settling down.

at some point, around 5 or so years pre-canon, dirk met millie while taking a stop in baldur's gate. millie stuck around and didn't stop bothering him, so dirk just gave up trying to dissuade them to leave him alone.

eventually, the two of them fell in love and became permanent travelling partners. they're very pda in camp. everyone hates them.

they're recruitable by the ruins by the nautiloid crash site, where dirk will be helping millie off of the ground. they will also be immediately suspicious of the player and any companions.

you can get into a polyamorous relationship with them. poly rep in camp, please.

millie

millie is a 104 year old cambion college of valor bard.

they are the only heir of the archdevil valec, who is asmodeus' head torturer. as a result, they were expected to take over their father's position.

however, their human blood ran stronger than their devil blood, and they plotted to escape and eventually did so. as punishment, the moment they appeared in the material plane, a failsafe that their father had enacted years ago triggered - a brand on their chest locked away all of their devil abilities, essentially removing all inherent cambion magic besides some weaker spells that most tieflings possess.

as a result, millie was forced to learn from the ground up. they became a bard, at first to relearn magic, but they grew a deep love for the craft.

for years they performed in baldur's gate, until they met dirk, a brooding eladrin. they pestered him nonstop. and then they fell in love and became travelling partners.

they disguise themself as a mephistopheles tiefling, their wings remain hidden and glamoured away.

deyemon

deyemon is a 19 year old human monster slayer ranger.

he is a member of a group of gur nomads, the starblade family, who are looked over by a literal star of an aasimar, known as the starblade.

he's been through some SHIT, man. he has a glass eye and a metal prosthetic arm crafted by an artificer.

you can recruit him in the druid grove, where he's recovering from his fall from the nautiloid.

mercutio

mercutio is a 25 year old half-high elf reborn phantom rogue. that's a mouthful.

he grew up on the streets of baldur's gate. at age 16, he was murdered in a wrong place, wrong time situation. his death was overlooked, since nobody would miss him.

however, he came back to life with no memories of what had happened to him. he walks the line between life and death. he does, however, have occasional flashbacks to the face of a white-haired man crawling the alleyways, luring away his friends at the dead of night...

mercutio can be found by the ruined docks just on the beach outside of the crash site, where he's getting his bearings. he will be very sympathetic towards a durge who shares the amnesia, but otherwise he will threaten a tav who approaches him.

durge

durge is a 32 year old half-drow half-tiefling path of the beast barbarian.

durge, contrary to popular belief, is NOT my dark urge. he is a bhaalspawn, but not the bhaalspawn.

he exists in my descent into avernus campaign as the chosen of bhaal. in the context of bg3, he is not a chosen and is instead the canon dark urge's friendly rival and can be an ally.

durge has two hands, and he's dating a banite (chosen of bane in-campaign), zenith ganthar, a shadar-kai cleric of bane, and a myrkulite (chosen of myrkul in-campaign), desdemona ventrue, a vampire half high-elf oathbreaker paladin/shadow sorcerer.

#out of character. #abdirak // about. #haarlep // about. #dirk // about. #millie // about. #deyemon // about. #mercutio // about. #durge // about.

[senatushq]

"Seems to me, the last person standing gets final say on who is right or wrong." - Corellon Larethian, God King of the Seldarine

Anyone with intuition could feel it, demons were the most sensitive to the shift, spirits especially. The Inferno was gone and the gods, demigods, and various aspects who relied on the comforts of Elysia, Elysium, and the other afterlives no longer could. The Archfiends had chased many from their divine homes, and the Inferno had dissolved entirely; the Otherworld was flooded with demonic forces. Where The City of New Dis once stood was a crater, a hole punched through the foundation of the Otherworld, through the Underdark, and into the outer rings of the Abyss below. 

The Court of Drow came upon it first, they’d been charged with securing the boundaries of the Otherworld from creatures like the amphisbaena or Koh; entities along with countless other Fiends previously kept at bay by Titania’s protection. Where once the might of the fey shielded the mortal realm, now it fell to the workings of sorcerers and priestesses; Lloth’s will. Fiends that crawled from the Lake of Dis below were hunted, captured, or dispersed by the forces led by Somniar, Felandaris, Amadeus, Nyloth, Severon, Faerinaal, and Nidhogg. Sorcerers through their training contended with the magic of the Abyss, demonology was a focal point for their arcane training, and shielding the hidden ways into the mortal realm as well as the Court itself was a simple enough measure. 

What remained was the truth that entities like Archfiends would continue to crawl from the Abyss, or send their emissaries in their place. While it would be difficult for these forces to step into the mortal realm physically; the Greater Demons and Original Vampires had proven that it was still possible through possession. Another truth was that they were not alone, the Draconic God Oztalun was revived, risen in new Abyssal glory. Druids could feel his return and would feel their sense of indebted loyalty towards the deity once more. 

From the distant places of the Otherworld, Titania’s erasure eliminated the last of her longstanding protection, the eyes of many turned their gazes towards the mortal realm. From long-forgotten places they had already begun to stir: Oberon and his lorendrow who sought a home free of plague, and the Dark Seldarine who’d been silent for ages had begun to whisper once again. Eilistraee had already made herself known, Vhaeraun had forged an aasimar into a scourge, and as Lloth wove from the Demonweb Pitts, her generals gathered again. The dark elves could feel this just as surely as the high elves could feel their old patrons walking among them once more; Sehanine’s lythari had brought their faith to the mortal shores. Sune’s love shone upon the sun elves, through the miasma of decay the face of a trickster snickered from beyond the veil, and whispers of a dark but proud cold bellowed from the mountains of the lunar elves.

As the senate met in preparation for the upcoming Lupercalia, rats scurried about the Forum, in the center of the hall they formed together, their exposed brains indicative of their drow nature as the cranium abominations that were under Somniar’s control. He told the members of the senate: the senators, marshals, ambassadors, and emissaries alike that Oztalun had risen, and that he was behind the Abyss opening; the spellplague that had destroyed the elven empire and the proto-drow could very well be at their door within a year. From Felandaris he relayed that members of the Asphodel, past or current, would remain bound to Oztalun’s will. From Nyloth the Inquisitor informed the senate that the Seldarine would seek to make patrons of not only the elves, but the rest of the realm as well, and that only creatures of the Abyss were immune to the effects of the spellplague. She had seen firsthand how it devastated the elven empire.

The emissaries of the elven court observed that Farenduil had been infected by the spellplague, but by purging his magic, he was cleansed of it as well. Eren proposed that it was clear that the Abyss did not have power over people without magic; those who’d had it destroyed within themselves by Seraphim, and those who’d been purged of it by Nettelia were no longer beholden to the call of the necronomicon. Still, a truth remained that perhaps there were other ways to separate from it, or to somehow cure the spellplague. Yurena was quick to point out that it had been made clear that those who wished to leave the Asphodel could sacrifice the person they love most, but beyond that, she knew of no other way. 

The business of the Otherworld set aside, another matter needed to be contended with. As Octavian had been ostracized from the city, and the known members of the Asphodel had been captured, stripped of their magic, and imprisoned, others needed to answer for their war crimes as well. Eve had confided in Lilith the weakness of an original vampire long ago; naturally, Lilith then gratefully passed the information along to the various disciples of Pluto who had been betrayed; the problem they were encountering was that killing an original vampire had far-reaching implications that they did not yet understand.

A deal was struck, and with Otherworldly stakes gathered and blessed by Trivia, Senator Xerxes, his marshals, and others with an axe to grind impaled the vampire and petrified him. Given to Trivia to conceal so that none from his line would ever seek to release him as a gesture of goodwill Lilith very kindly offered to take the original vampire’s body off of her hands; bound by Trivia through an unbreakable oath, Lilith would not allow the creature to be killed or resurrected. High Priestess of the Abyss, she buried him deep within the pit in a sanctum that she had claimed as her own, and it was there that Pluto would remain trapped for eternity. She dribbled blood into his mouth so he’d forget himself entirely, he'd remember only an existence of pain, petrification, and the frequent nightmares where the High Priestess of the Abyss would visit him. 

ooc info:

Pluto is closed and will not be made playable.

Helen is also closed and will not be made playable.

Lupercalia will begin February 16th at 11am.

There will be 3 drops to the event, February 16th, 19th, and 23rd.

Again, this is a mini event so the drops are just "it starts," "these people won tickets to cirque," and then "this is your new alpha."

Any senate-connected character will now know the inferno is gone, Oztalun is back, and he's somehow connected to the Asphodel.

Nearly all members of the Asphodel, past or current, are still enthralled to Oztalun.

#senatus.ii.i #senatus.plot

[lunarblazes]

yeah that’s right fuck you and fuck your mom the empires cast mentioned dungeons and dragons one too many times and my hands slipped welcome to a list of my assigned races and classes for each of the empires season 2 characters. objectively i’m right always. explanations will be under the cut in case you are not immediately convinced i’m right

race; class/subclass

gem: scourge aasimar; paladin/ancients

false: kalashtar; ranger/fey wanderer

katherine: high elf; barbarian/beast

lizzie: changeling; druid/shepherd circle

joel: water genasi; sorcerer/storm sorcery

fwhip: darkwood goblin; ranger/horizon walker

sausage: firbolg; cleric/peace domain

scott: lotusden halfling; bard/creation

joey: tabaxi; rogue/swashbuckler

pix: human; artificer/alchemist

shelby: astral elf; wizard/order of scribes

jimmy: human; fighter/banneret

EXPLANATION TIME.

gem is a scourge aasimar because, like, look at her. look at her character’s story. she’s a princess of light. she worships the sun. honestly i also like the interpretation that she is a child of the sun, hence aasimar, and i made her a scourge because scourge aasimar are metal as fuck. sometimes you just gotta bleed light in the name of the sun. as for an ancient oath paladin—that just felt like it worked with her absolutely incomprehensible nature and the idea that yeah sun ancient what’re you gonna do.

false. kalashtar are people… sort of inhabited by reincarnated… dream? spirits? it’s weird and tricky and hard to explain, i’m not fully sure i understand it myself, but i thought a combination fey wanderer and kalashtar would be super fun for false’s dimension hopping thing! kalashtar don’t dream, they see windows into their past lives, and i thought that was super cool for false. plus i just love the fey wanderer subclass, and false always has ranger vibes. her fey blessing would probably be some kind of illusory feathers drifting around her or perhaps reflective coppery eyes!

katherine is the assignment i love the most and am least willing to change. before i get mauled on this one, i know there’s a ranger class called monster slayer, but this is about eight thousand times cooler. consider, for me, katherine’s story about her parents disapproving of her fighting monsters in a world where she is a high elf. high elves are weird motherfuckers like that. a beast barbarian princess who wears pink and saves fairies is my favorite fucking character ever she can use her rage to transform herself into a fucked up hulking bear creature thing and maul any dark beasts around her. her magical girl transformation is her going into a rage. i’m right on this one.

lizzie as a changeling! i loved this one because in order for her to like keep that weirdly suspicious disguise thing she’d have to be either a really bad changeling or really paranoid. and i mean it is incredibly lizzie to go “how can i make sure people don’t suspect i’m a fey shapeshifter. I KNOW. [pulls out a cardboard box with a bad drawing of her own face on it] nobody will ever notice a thing now!” circle of shepherds is because those druids have an affinity for being able to summon animal spirits to aid them in battle! lizzie’s got her crazy menagerie with her :^)

alright joel is a water genasi because i think it’s cool. he’s made of water whatre you gonna do about it. i knew i wanted to make him a sorcerer from the get go and then i read the storm sorcery page and i was like yeah. this is him. i’m like 85% sure that the wiki page even says you can get storm sorcery magic from a weird fountain. joel girlbossed too close to the sun on this one. like to imagine he just decided yeah im a god now after touching a fountain and suddenly becoming able to control lightning

fwhip’s race is pretty self explanatory! tried my best to find a race that fit the bill for cave goblin, hence darkwood goblins, who are a bit more chill and interested in machinery than other goblins, i think. the class was tough to pick for him, but i figured since he’s sort of a keeper of the end portal and was the one who wanted to solve the mystery of the stronghold, a horizon walker subclass would be good! they protect the intersection of the planes.

sausage’s race was one i struggled with a bit. i don’t know why but sausage just has such human vibes, but i just also really liked firbolg for his gentler homey sort of vibe this season. plus they’re sort of natural druids and i think that works well, as i was also considering making him a nature domain cleric, but then i found out peace domain existed and i went yeah that’s him. his empire is literally called sanctuary. his abilities all center around how good of a relationship his allies have, how well they’re able to get along, and i love that!

i have no justification for lotusden halfling scott. lotusden halflings are sort of more sneaky and tricky than typical halflings, which, it’s scott i think he deserves that, and i don’t know! i just kind of wanted to make him a halfling. scott’s so often a very typically graceful and beautiful race and idk i just wanna see him be a funny little jester with his rainbow empire full of flowers while also being beautiful and graceful anyway. a bard of creation just felt like it fit with his colorful empire, plus scott always has fey vibes and that’s a very typically fey-associated class.

joey’s race is something i struggled with HARD. i thought about verdin, i thought about kenku, i thought about half-elf, i thought about half-orc, but eventually the need to make joey graceffa a stabby murder cat won out. i imagine he’s a tiger-styled tabaxi! swashbuckler is a no-brainer and i couldn’t find anything that fit him better for me, unlike katherine, so he stays a tricksy pirate guy :^D

as i’m writing this i have just watched pix’s newest episode, episode 3, though i made this list on series launch day, and i am feeling VINDICATED. his projector thing!! he made it to help him!! he’s got his gadgets and gizmos to help him out!! i think alchemist was the subclass that encouraged the most sort of curious testing, so that’s why i chose it for him. he’s just a guy with some magic items, uncovering ghosts in the savannah like it’s a casual tuesday!

shelby obviously had to be a wizard with the way she described the system of magic she belongs to! for a bit, i wasn’t sure what subclass to give her, as we don’t know much about her specific magic capabilities, but then i found circle of scribes, and i was like yeah she needs to be part of the nerd ass wizard circle, aka the nerd class. double nerd, double academic pressure, poor thing! astral elf was just because i found it and thought it was sick as FUCK, and plus the image of this regal elven girl made and blessed by stars being exiled to the swamp is so good.

yes the sheriff is a human fighter. what do you want from me. my friend banana suggested a critrole homebrew class called gunslinger for him but 1) i have no idea how to find information on that, it wasn’t on the wiki i was using, and 2) i wanted to stay out of homebrew stuff for this list, so i felt banneret fit him the best! bannerets excel at leading others to follow them, and i think this season jimmy’s got the charisma to pull it off.

#empires #empires smp #empires smp season 2 #yeah that’s right everyone i maintagged this #would love to know what the emperors themselves think of my assignments muahaha #if people are interested i did also assign season one #and i was thinking about doing hc too #though that would probably just be oops all bards #so many bards. god so many

[tatteredworld]

Four fey are freed, and the Scourge is looking much worse for wear. Keep you battling and tailoring up, and I'm sure we can quiet this Discord once and for all!

#tattered world #tatteredworld

[marcellabelanades]

September, 2023 mentions of @ciroocasio, @amicocasio, @ericxaquino, @hazalseren @yurcna, Nettelia, Zeke, and the Asphodel Girlies. Tw: girl this is sad, death, the c word The coming days after the funeral are spent getting affairs in order. She had said that she would go to Nettelia, that she would get her name scourged out of the book but at a great loss. One that would be worth it, one that meant she could be absolved before she started her new life. That didn't make it any less hard.

If anything, she'd made it extremely hard on herself at that fey party where she'd broken a rule and crossed a line she told herself that she'd never cross. Ciro was important to her, that was obvious and Marcella knew she was no good for him all those years ago when they'd been teenagers. And somehow she'd still managed to fall for him in adulthood anyways. In some ways she knew the moment that the Amaranthus fell and she picked up her phone, that it might come to this. But that'd been before her plan, the one he had thrown a wrench into.

Which was why when Marcella had gone back to the cemetery twice and Nettelia hadn't been there, she knew that had to say something before disappearing. It was bad enough she wasn't taking calls or texts from anyone who wasn't Zeke, that she was casting spells to make it really appear as if she weren't home.

She takes a day to craft herself a daylight ring, she'd spelled a few of them, but this one was special, this one would be something made for her by her. There's no real plan to it aside from the stone, she just steps into her studio and starts crafting, weaving metal and magic and when she's done she realizes it's ornate enough to be an engagement ring. And in a way, she supposes it is. What is an engagement other than a promise? This one would be to her future self.

From there, the days seem to all sort of blur together but she wakes up with intention. Magic is done in solitude, things are gathered from the Asphodel house, Eric is spoken to. They will be okay, they have a pack now, they have found somewhere where they belong and she can rest easy about that. As for the rest of the Asphodel members, she hopes they find peace in some way, the ragtag bunch of misfits who didn't seem to know any better.

Lucretia. She thinks she's already healing, she takes a day to go to Wendy's with her, pays for her burger. They talk about nothing, the state of Rome, how good bacon is. It's nice, it's normal, it's something they both deserve and Marcella believes in some form of higher power, thinks that maybe Nettelia can help the once chimera, too.

August is harder. One of the first few people she has thought has ever really understood her and the first to really cast off everyone else. Solitude and magic and what seems like madness seems to plague him and so she doesn't think she's going to get an outing with him. He's too smart for that anyways, would know what she was doing. He still might, she slips a piece of parchment paper under his door, neatly folded. Inside it, on a long chain, is a metal raven's claw she'd crafted herself along with a very simple letter. It reads 'she really was a cunt', followed by 'we're still friends', and that is that. She'd be friends with the man behind whatever madness held him, the one being choosing to be strangled by his ambition. When he returned to her, she'd be there.

Yurena she spends time with at the bookstore, casting constellations on her ceiling and trying not to cry about it because it is going to be hard not to return to her. Because what they had could be a beautiful friendship that she'd never known with another woman. The kind where they braided each other's hair and slept over at each other's houses. Maybe one day they could have that. Bastien she leaves a nice bottle of wine for, a neat pair of sunglasses and she hopes he and Levent get things figured out, get together, get out of all of this.

And then one day Marcella wakes up, spends time at her vanity and dons an outfit fit for autumn with a moleskin and she looks livelier than she had in weeks despite the sickness that plagued her, plagued the city. She goes to The Last Bean, she looks to Hazal, to the last member of the Amaranthus coven that had been in the city when everything fell.

She issues a silent apology to her in the form of a tip of a few hundred euros crammed in the jar by the register before she gets her latte. It is not nearly enough to replace what has been taken.

It's raining, it's a gentle background noise as pen hits the page as she cozies up to a spot by the window.

Ciro, There’s much I should have told you and I have chosen not to because I was afraid you might see me differently. I’ve never cared too much what people thought of me, but for some reason when you came back to Rome, I think I wanted you to like me. I wanted to prove that I had grown up and I think we both have. At some point here I think I became too big. I joined the Asphodel almost a year ago to further my necromancy and my own ambitions. I lent them my magic to cause chaos and destruction within the city. There is fair more on my hands than just dirt. It was never my intention to hurt anyone who had not first hurt me but that doesn’t make it right. I am severing my ties to the book at the cost of my magic in hopes it will never hurt anyone ever again. I am sorry for that night under all those floating lights. I am sorry I ran from you. I am sorry I am going to continue to run from you. But you are good and kind and you are not this fuck up that you think you are and there is nowhere to go from here but up for you. Help Hazal, do what I could never do and make the Amaranthus stronger than it ever was, if anyone can do it, it’s you. Tell Amico that he was right and I’m not privy to your grief or your pain, especially now that I’ve had a hand in it. I hope one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me. - Cella

There’s a few tearstains on the paper but she slides it into an envelope anyways, wishes Hazal a good rest of her day, and then she’s gone. She’s gone and with a careful invisibility spell she is leaving the letter, her book of shadows, and a key to her house on Ciro’s doorstep. It takes everything in her not to knock, but even as tears fall, she doesn’t. She turns and under the cover of her spell and the light rain that fell over Rome, she ventures back to the hotel she’d been staying at and she texts Zeke.

Now all there’s left is the calm before the storm, when magic would leave her and then fangs would grow.

#self para. #edit. #ciro. #hazal. #amico.

[turianosauruswrex]

jesus christ i have too many ocs. okay. crash course time.

the big ones

Katya Fyodorova: aka Katya Vorakh, aka Grief. D&D character originating in quarantine, now played on Discord server. Scourge aasimar shadow sorcerer, former Vecna warlock, still fucked up about it. Spoiled rich mafia brat. Memory problems. Severely ex-Catholic. Ignore the six-armed angel in the corner. Don't worry about it.

Jules McAllister: Courier Six. Unfortunately sided with Caesar's Legion, got crucified for it. There's fanfiction about that (no for real, I'll drop you a link or two). The reason I installed the Better Living Through Chems mod. Peak Aries. Made the worst decisions possible in-game and post-game. They hate to see a girlboss winning. (- Jules, 2281, immediately after the slaughter of Camp McCarran)

Sylvie Caron: Newest D&D character to the fold. Rogue played in a homebrew setting. Creepy little Van Helsing. Buries bodies for a living. Don't worry about it.

Zydre Dashiev: D&D character, pirate changeling warlock. Looks like a tiefling 99% of the time because their mommy's a tiefling and they love their mommy. Also because shapechangers get drafted and they'd die before joining the military. Has to be the hottest person in the room at all times. Patron is the moon. That's rough buddy.

see also

Aurelia Volpe: My special girl, first ever D&D character, life domain cleric following a death god. Gonna be queen of her country we just gotta finish the campaign first.

Seraiah Levine: D&D character, kalashtar/cyborg monk. Anger management issues from that time she was a revenant for a year. Out here to kill God (literally). Gee Sera how come your dad lets you have TWO girlfriends?

Miranda "Miri" St. James: Independent Vegas-route Courier, usually a Follower of the Apocalypse, though. Talkative, extremely, smart, too much so. 3/4 of a doctor before dropping out to become a mailman, as one does. Eventually becomes the Queen of Independent New Vegas. Disco bard. Dresses like 70s Cher. Stupid, extremely so.

Saoirse Considine: D&D character, faun druid. Works as a gardener for the Fey Queen. Hanahaki disease but in the style of Annihilation (2018). Small and cute and not a single deceptive bone in her body.

Harrow Du Maurier: D&D character, human death domain cleric. Does not know she's a cleric. Small and grumpy.

Lafayette "Faye" Jones: NCR-route Courier, usually an ex-NCR sniper. The only responsible one here. Damn good at her job.

Sorrows: D&D character, Hexblade warlock who very desperately wants to be a cleric. Just let outside for the first time. Cute and sad.

Siobhan of House Amyntas: D&D character. I call her Shiv but that's just because I've been watching Succession I think. Fits though. Assassin rogue who bodyguarded the queen of a fallen kingdom and fell in love oh no oops uh oh.

i also have a page on the ol' blog for them but it's so ugly i've hated its layout since day one but i don't have the skills or time or energy to fight with a cool template. these are the current most important/relevant ones tho.

#texts from the void #ocs #god i should probably pin this or something #or else i'll probably keep making the same post over and over and over again #hhhhhhhhhhh

[violent-backed-starling]

so my ideas for 3rd/last/double life guys as d&d characters:

Grian: Glasya Tiefling Rogue (Phantom)/Monk (Ascendant Dragon subclass)

Scar: Tabaxi Bard (College of Spirits subclass)/Warlock (Undying subclass)

Jimmy: Satyr Ranger (Fey Wanderer subclass)

Tango: Fire Genasi Barbarian (Wild Magic subclass)

Pearl: Fallen Aasimar Rogue (Scout subclass)/Barbarian (Storm Herald subclass)

Cleo: Hollow-One Warlock (Hexblade subclass)

Bdubs: Lotsuden Halfling Barbarian (Zealot subclass)/Monk (Sun Soul subclass)

Etho: Scourge Aasimar Fighter (Samurai subclass)

Ren: Werewolf Paladin (Oath of the Crown subclass)

Martyn: Drow Monk (Kensei subclass)

Mumbo: Mark of Making Human Artificer (Artillerist subclass)

Impulse: Gold Dragonborn Cleric (Peace Domain subclass)/Fighter (Rune Knight subclass)

Skizz: Centaur Fighter (Arcane Archer subclass)

Big B: Firbolg Cleric (Twilight Domain subclass)/Druid (Circle of the Shepherd subclass)

Lizzie: Water Genasi Druid (Circle of Spores subclass)

Joel: Mark of Warding Dwarf Sorcerer (Shadow Magic subclass)/Artificer (Battle Smith subclass)

Scott: Summer Eladrin Druid (Circle of Stars subclass)

#3rd life #last life smp #double life smp #traffic life #trafficblr #d&d #d&d au #headcanon

[darethxshiral]

@meryasek​

location: :)

notes: why did the drow cross the road?

Could he still call himself a drow? Dirthara-Ma of the winter court had grown contemptuous of the faerie realm, Dirthara-Ma the drow was allowed to live that truth. Unapologetically, violently, but this realm was not as it had been described to him. It was soft and weak in the places where Ayi-ig had always claimed, Titania gave her subjects so much freedom and with that freedom the mortal scourge had grown into a beast of its own. Innovations so monstrous that it made the teachings of the drow seem childish by comparison. 

Stars. Flowers. Laughter. Coffee wafting from bistros, pizza, pastries, there were thousands of things here that did not exist in the Underdark. He’d been raised to hate this realm on principle, to consider the fey weak by the virtues that tied them to this world. Titania led them to abandon this place when she could have reshaped it - he’d never understood why. Now, little by little the drow had come to lose count of the things he loved about this place. It was from the shadows that he appreciated this realm, a thief in the dark who’d scurry away to revel at his prize - a croissant, a bushel of fresh fruit, a joke he heard in the plaza. 

“Why did the chicken cross the road?” He’d ask himself, laughing after despite not understanding the joke. The winter fey had grown so tired of this life that he’d been prepared to abandon it at a moment’s notice, maybe there was a part of him that wanted to give his end some meaning, that wanted to give himself up for the prince. A life debt that was centuries in the making. Aegnor. Dirthara the drow knew this name too. It was one they should all fear. 

“Meryasek-” Dirthara greeted, he’d been watching the spring eladrin for weeks now. Fixated on the prince who had such a burden on his shoulder, the weight of a future that was still so uncertain, the drow would come and with them the world would at last be changed. These jokes would die, and these mortals would be made to abandon their crafts for the arduous task of transforming this realm as Ayi-ig saw fit. Normally Dirthara was decisive, cruel, he did not mince his words but he didn’t know how to speak to the spring eladrin, he didn’t know how to name the way he felt when he was in his presence. How he’d flub his words or fail to think of the right thing to say. Meryasek had an army of changelings at his beck and call, Dirthara should’ve been plotting his death, but a wild part of his mind said that he could be turned. If he could be brought onto their side then there’d be no need to fight him. “You’re alone.” The drow commented, “You’re always alone.” 

#meryasek

[hotgirlmythology]

Margaery, scourge of arranged marriages

as you may have gathered I am not a big fan of arranged marriages so I made a character who dislikes them as well

Margaery is a rather whimsical character, born to a Viscount who cared more for fighting and feasting than diplomacy. His third child, and first daughter at that, he was woefully underexperienced in raising her the "proper" way. Her governess gave up on keeping track of her after she came very close to getting her chest stoved in by a horse kick when she was meant to be learning to identify herbs, and then was essentially put under house arrest so she was forced to learn all of these extremely important womanly things (sewing, herbalism and being able to sit a horse would actually come in very useful later), while being restricted from inviting any more horses to break her jaw. This extreme boredom went on for a couple of years until, on her birthday, her handmaid conspired with a stable groom who knew vaguely how to swing a sword to smuggle her out for a late night go around on a horse and give her a bit of a sword fight. Now, although this may seem extremely hastily put together and disorganised, that is because it was arranged a mere 3 days beforehand, after Margaery went on a half-hour long rant about the fact she was "fucking bored" of "poking bits of cloth with a malnourished sword" (translated into modern english). Margaery was also not told about her birthday present.

On the night this issue became apparent very quickly, as Margaery was not about to crawl out of the window along with her handmaid on some unspecified mission. After the stableboy showed up and started hissing curses at them for pulling him out of bed for no reason it all got a bit out of hand and Margaery gave up and went along with the fiasco. The horse ride was alright, as was the swordfight. Margaery was suspiciously good at swordfighting, and her handmaid watched it all with a faintly raised eyebrow, especially after she disarmed the stableboy for the fourth time in a row. Margaery was of course simply magically gifted with the sword, which is a common side effect of having a small angry fey stuck in the upside down planks of your bed feeding you dreams of fire and war for 6 years and thus somewhat unavoidable. After this fun endeavour, Margaery returned to being slightly more indifferent to her allotted life than she probably should have been. The fey living in her bed for its part was well happy with the fact that the person who lay on top of it 8-10 hours a night was finally doing something with the wide variety of angry dreams it had concocted. Margaery, for instance, would often find herself yelling in rage at her pillow until realising it was in fact a pillow. Eventually, at 16 she discovered a brilliant trick called barefaced lying, which she used to go on many "herb gathering" trips (sword fighting sessions) and absolutely under no circumstances did she dig out history and geography books and learn about a world that was greatly more interesting than a pokey little village in the backgarden of great shittington (one day to become shitting-on-the-wold).

As is common of people who learn about places that books insist are vastly more interesting than where you live, she decided that under no circumstances was she going to be tied to her home for the rest of her life. However, cunningly, the plot has a way to subvert this too. She got betrothed to a lord about her age at 18 years old, started courting him after the fact, and then got married at 19. She did not like him very much, which is to say, she loathed him with every fibre of her being, mostly because he kept on being interested in things like diplomacy and noble standing. This bored her stiff. The one time he tried to show off his brilliant sword skills was a bit invalidated when she smashed his sword out of his hand in the first ten seconds with a big stick, which might have contributed to this sense of not wanting to talk fighting with her. It did not come as much of a surprise to him when he woke up one morning to find his bed empty and the sword he'd been given as a wedding present stolen (as a matter of fact he was rather relieved - he hadn't wanted to marry very much either. Too many emotions involved.)

A couple of weeks later, the stableboy she had been in cahoots with all that time ago had mysteriously vanished, alongside the scullery maid he'd been courting. Her bed had by then been completely deconstructed, and the fae had escaped it. Said fae, however, was not about to let 6 years of high quality angry dreams just walk off, so it zipped off after Margaery and her entourage of 3 as they walked off into the wide world to go and annul some marriages, which they had all agreed was a pretty good calling. The angry fae spirit would then follow them, flowing into Margaery's sword at opportune moments to set it alight with eldritch fire and also, just because it wanted to show off, make her eyes light up. It didn't know this, but the eyes lighting up were actually Margaery's doing, or rather what she had done in all those dreams it had fed her. One day, she would be called the Faerie Knight, the scourge of order and christendom, crossing the country wearing a hunting dress and a drab sword and showing the knights of the realm exactly what she thought of their loveless relationships and destruction of the hidden places that pagans still worshipped at. Though she would only occasionally witness it, the eyes of the Seelie court would watch her every move through the wilderness of England and beyond, and those she wished not to lay eyes on her would quickly find themselves led completely astray.

Basically an adventure loving gal who by dint of having an angry fae living in her bed and an upbringing of steel became a demon with a sword and alongside her plucky friends and also the entirety of europe's fae population set out to keep the wilderness wild and love lovely.

#fae folk #original character #character concept #female knight #knight #medieval #fantasy

[inevitablyuncertain]

Miss Brandy Alexander

Scourge Aasimar and Vengeance Paladin of Safia, the Sanguine Spark

frog

Fey-touched Goblin Ranger of a Sea Hag

Mx Nines T'sarran

Grave Cleric of Asili, the World Manifest

Miss Sydos V'ax

"Tiefling" Warlock of the Hells

#tranquility campaign #boards