#cadiana
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saw oc kiss week floating around and wanted to participate, I love drawing kisses for february so it's nice to have the excuse!
ft. cady (she/they/he) on the left and @solfell's kishore (she/her) on the right. just two nbs sharing a kiss
edit: my pal wrote a piece to go along with it!
#ockiss24#dungeons and dragons#dnd#d&d#half-orc#paladin#goliath#monk#dnd oc art#drawerings#ocs#cadiana jacqueline steelsong#elspeth regrew cady's pinky lmao
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got a commission of cadiana from the wonderful @domirine!! she turned out amazing, I can’t thank you enough <3
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oc weapon names
ada: wolfram (pistol), mike (rifle)
wolfram is another name for tungsten or its ore, which (iirc) is used in making bullets. if asked why her big gun is named mike, she says it's short for micycle
azul: silverthorn (longsword)
used with a shield, azul named her longsword in honour of the deity that saved her from lolth's influence, the arch heart. silver is one of corellon's colours and azul associates them with deep, dangerous, but beautiful forests of the arborea
cadiana: judgement (maul)
gifted by elspeth, taken from the dead blue dracolich judge moravax, former master of law for emon. cady is a paladin of erathis the lawbearer and sees fit to dole out judgement in her name. they thought moravax saw fair judgement for allying with the cult of tiamat as a leader after being a false worshiper of erathis. cady enjoys the irony
cihro: venenum (shortbow)
(pronounced ve-NEE-num) one of my dms chose this and came up with its history, but it's latin for venom. this was either a vestige of divergence that became dormant and then awakened again by cihro, or was a plain shortbow transformed into a vestige. it originally belonged to an elven assassin and he acquired it from the dissolved remains of his partner's drider mother. its saying is “If your heart is true, then so will be your aim”
crow: bleeding heart (longsword)
crow's hexblade and pacted weapon. named for multiple meanings, since crow's virtue name also has layers. the bleeding heart is a flower also known as dicentra, her lover's name and the woman she forged her blade and pact with. bleeding heart can also describe "sincere emotional outpouring." the sword is wholly symbolic of her heart and devotion and desires. also, she stabs people and then they bleed!
genevieve: anathema (battleaxe)
while evie mostly utilizes her claws and hemomancy in combat, she will occasionally use her blood maledict on other weapons. anathema is a word for "something or someone that one vehemently dislikes" or "a formal curse by a pope or a council of the church, excommunicating a person." originally named because she saw herself as anathema to the monsters she hunted for the slayer's take, its meaning transformed when she became a lycanthrope
iona: analemma (longbow), salt in the wound (rapier), paprika (dagger)
analemma is named for "a graph or plot in the shape of a figure eight that shows the position of the sun in the sky at a given time of day (such as noon) at one specific locale measured throughout the year." her father gifted it with the intention of "protecting people year-round" after her original bow broke in a fight. salt in the wound is straightforward, what it says on the tin, and paprika is her own little joke that she doesn't tell anyone
koda: skylark (scimitar)
named after a bird he likes, but also that it's light and airy in his hand and "sings" through the air. purely by coincidence: "It is a bird of open farmland and heath, known for the song of the male"
murtagh: mistsplitter (trident)
no fancy origin, murtagh is a water-themed character and just thought of his trident being sharp enough to split mist. his surname, riftwarren, also comes from the merging of two different words, so he kept that system. his dual harpoons don't have names
nepenthe: vidrinath (greatsword)
named for the drow/undercommon word 'lullaby.' these songs were sung by drow priestesses to help ease students/children into trance. nepenthe thinks of it as putting people to sleep forever, and the juxtaposition between love and violence is incredibly lolth-flavoured. as a mother, she also once sang these songs to her daughter
#this got longer than I expected#me looking like the pepe silvia meme as I share themes and symbolism and motifs from my ocs#not writing#ada#azul#cadiana#crow#cihro#iona#nepenthe#murtagh#koda#genevieve
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Scar [Cadiana]
Cadiana’s adrenaline ribboned off behind her like smoke from a torch as she strode back to the inn. It was a miracle she’d left Tesvoosk alive given what he and his monster pet had done to her. She wanted him dead and wanted to be the one to do it, had had his throat in her fist, but his fate was for the city authorities to decide.
The Tenets of Conquest demanded she leave a defeat so devastating that her enemies never dared rise against her again, and she had failed. But if fear couldn’t stop a boneclaw, then maybe the death of its master could.
She elbowed into the inn. Most had gone to bed. Like her, they’d been awakened—a fight to the death with sword and smites happening down the hall was hard to ignore. Most of those people were back in bed, but a few early-risers—mostly elves—were sipping coffee.
Cadiana drew attention even when she didn’t look like death. They eyed her askance, sourcing her as the cause of the disruption, potentially worried Cady would draw in more danger. The elven woman she’d shared the night with had a booth to herself. Cady’s blood still arced across her face like a scythe and there was a distant, hollow look to her eyes.
Cady’s fury shrunk into a searing ember in the pit of her stomach. They crossed the tavern floor and didn’t join her, but knelt and brushed a kiss to her hand in apology.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” they murmured against her skin. “I hope you can find rest.”
Fayenna met their eye. She didn’t pull away, and Cady felt the tiniest flex of her fingers in acknowledgement. Cady nodded, then slid away, climbing the steps to their room.
Well, a new room. Their old one had been cordoned off, the door ajar to air it out. Someone inside was changing the sheets while another scrubbed at the blood on the floor, bedpost, and the wall behind it. It looked like a murder scene. It would have been, if Cady had died.
Cady peeled off their armour slowly, with deliberation. The pain had started to make itself known in earnest. It wasn’t like the heat of the burns, but hills of aches—a dull throb at the start, drawn upwards into a brief but intense sting before it faded again.
The plain shirt underneath her arming jacket was in tatters, and the shreds left hanging were so soaked in blood they were almost black. She discarded the shirt with a scowl.
She grabbed a washcloth and began to wipe away the blood from her body, then her face. Even as she cleared most of it, she still tasted it in her teeth and the back of her throat, threatening to well up again. She rinsed her mouth and brushed her teeth twice. The cloth, once white, had stained red. She discarded that as well.
With the blood gone, she palpated along her abdomen across the freshly scarred skin. Two holes mirrored each other on her front and back and three gashes cut diagonally from her clavicle to her belly. Healing worked from the inside out, stitching together the most vital and leaving the skin for last.
She gingerly ran her fingers over the scabbing, then the faded burn scars on her forearms. There wouldn’t be much left of her that wasn’t scar soon.
#another rewrite#forgot about this one#but i like the new version a lot more#writing tag#writing: cadiana#cadiana#fayenna#exandria#tal'dorei
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Wounded [Cadiana]
[cw: war, gore, civilian death]
“In war, the only law was power. And power knew no civilians—you were either a combatant or a victim.” — Olivia Waite, Hen Fever
Cadiana rarely went without their armour. Part of it was routine; they would find themselves securing a cuisse without asking if they actually needed it. The act of attaching it piece by piece was meditative, ritual. There was community when a cleric or squire assisted with her upper body, each finding their own way to serve Erathis by lending their help to each other.
The other part was trauma; two years couldn’t shake the effects of a war they’d grown up with. Fighting wasn’t just expected from their Order, it was required—and so, the armour.
It was fortunate, then, they were in their armour when the cult of Tiamat descended on Westruun.
First, Cadiana helped the First Bastion—those who weren't already defending—underground. They threw two injured people onto Warpath and fended off draconic beasts as they went, acting as a rearguard. Cady let the head priest do a headcount before pivoting on their heel, making for the exit to the surface.
Lorcan lunged to grab their arm, but instead of stopping Cady, her momentum brought Lorcan stumbling forward. His arms were strong, but his balance wasn't perfect with his re-grown foot. Cady stopped and supported him under the elbow, inviting him to speak.
"You're alright to do this?" he asked. It wasn't a question that Cady was going back out.
Cady wanted to give it some thought for him, but they couldn't hesitate—every second mattered. Even if she wasn't okay, by whatever definition, she would have gone. "Yes.”
"Erathis protect you and guide your maul, Steelsong."
"She will."
—
Outside, blasts of fire, ice, and lightning shaved off chunks of buildings. Poison clouded off blocks, dissolving skin and melting lungs. Civilians who hadn't escaped fast enough were cornered into their homes or drained into the streets, where they were cut down. The cult was needlessly brutal about it, removing entire limbs, heads, or dragging screaming families apart. Were they taking prisoners? What the hell for?
Orla’s words, a reinforcement of Erathis’, resonated in them: protect the city. Protect her city. Westruun had become Cady’s home as much as Emon once was.
Cady charged. They swung with the force of a battering ram, using their maul to slam cultists’ heads off their shoulders or into buildings and launching at them like a bear. Maybe bears didn’t scare dragons, but Cady was at her fiercest in battle—where she couldn’t instill fear, she could kill.
Cady realized why Lorcan had asked. She'd been here before—a hurricane of noise around her, steel on steel and bellowing and the drumbeat of a thousand armoured feet and shields, the snap of bowstrings and bones and crossbow bolts. Fire and spells added to the roar, so loud it made her ears want to go numb. The air was pungent with sweat and the iron bite of blood, so thick she tasted it in the back of her throat.
For a fleeting moment Cady had wondered if they’d freeze, but they were calmer than they’d ever been, Erathis’ steady presence beating in tandem beside their heart.
Once upon a time, Cady might have been on the opposite side, a pawn of a Betrayer God—Bane instead of Tiamat. Warren Drassig and his son were the closest she had ever gotten to one. Warren had fooled her, making her trust he was enacting Erathis’ tenets, but his son unveiled the truth. Cady had turned away just as Bane’s fingers had brushed her shoulder.
Out on the battlefield during the Scattered War, away from the cities, Cady had believed everyone there was a soldier; that when opposing sides met, they were all at least trained in basic combat and were there voluntarily, even if that reason was a reaction. In Westruun, that couldn’t have been further from the truth.
Cadiana arrived at the city’s heart in time to join with some of the Gilded Thorns: Krusk, Kishore, and Bryn. The three and some armed guards had cleaved a path through a knot of cultists trying to stave in the courtyard gates. The Thorns had successfully drawn their attention and were beginning to drive them back.
Cady reeked of sweat, smoke, and blood—some their own, but mostly the cultist’s. They thrust a fist against their chest, closing most of the wounds, and took up a wide stance beside Kishore. Kishore spared him a quick flick of the eyes, then returned her focus to battle.
They smelled a pyrrhic victory. Westruun was wounded, but the cult would come away wounded, too. For every innocent life, Cady wanted to smite down ten of the cultists.
#promptober#promptober 2023#writing tag#writing: cadiana#cadiana#lorcan#kishore#krusk#bryn#tal'dorei#exandria
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Neither [Cadiana]
Hindsight had a lot to say to Cadiana. She realized she wasn’t well-read for a reason—the less she knew about the world, the easier she was to manipulate. The less time she spent in education, the more time she could spend training for war. Her knowledge was shaped by the temple she lived in and the tenets she lived by. It didn’t mean she was stupid, but smart in other ways.
These realizations never happened all at once, but continued to drift in the more time separated her from when she woke up, like bits of flotsam. They were brought on by leading questions asked by her new friends and allies, occasionally by helping her navigate a situation without violence. They weren’t tearing down her old life so much as helping her make sense of it and build something new and worthwhile.
It wasn’t that there weren’t soldiers who weren’t strictly man or woman—but Cady had never had time to ask or explore what that meant. She found herself drawn to those people but couldn’t explain why. They were drawn to her in turn.
Cady watched Sylitae flow freely being pronouns and bodies and wondered what it would be like to be called they or he. Sylitae wasn’t the first to call her handsome, but it was the first time she acknowledged the swell of euphoria and pride that came with it. She wanted more people to call her handsome. She was handsome. She knew that.
She didn’t mind being called daughter or miss, those words weren’t wrong, but they didn’t encapsulate who she was. She was more a child than a daughter. She had always been knight, why not sir?
She admired her short crop of hair, the sharp angles of her nose and cheek but also the softness of her lips and breasts. She enjoyed the way men’s clothes fit her body, made her feel at ease in herself. She was neither a man or woman, but something else entirely unique.
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Portrait [Cadiana]
Cadiana paused when she lowered her pencil to paper. She was in the Palebloom hall dining room, lounging on the windowsill Elspeth often occupied. One leg was propped up and the other draped over the ledge, sketchbook in her lap. The sun had begun its descent for the day, dimming the brightness of the room like a pair of heavy eyelids drooping closed.
She had moved from loose parchment to owning a small sketchbook and the pages she’d filled were mostly made up of flowers, goats, and her pig loafing in the sun. There were also scribbles of notes—questions to ask her dad if he was alive, pieces of history to catch up on, prophecies, visions. There were a few silhouettes of strangers on benches and a quick sketch of Sylitae, but there were no people otherwise.
She steadied her hand and began to draw. She sketched a rough outline as faintly as she could, then fell into a comfortable rhythm, building up the thickness and darkness of the lines.
It flew in the face of everything else he did. His voice, mannerisms, and the way he fought were all heavy-handed and brute force. Drawing didn’t feel rebellious, but balancing to the harder, more visible parts of him. They had more time for drawing than they’d ever had—they couldn’t draw from horseback or while fighting, the two places they’d spent most of their life. Pencils and charcoal were too delicate to use with gauntlets and snapped. They couldn’t hold them when their hands were filled with the hilt of a sword, the pole of a halberd, or the handle of their mace.
She stopped every so often, tracing her fingers—lightly so not to smudge—over the lines of his face, as if she could feel his warmth. Her father probably looked different now; even elves had to show signs of age after three hundred years.
She’d never drawn someone without them modelling for her. Thinking back, she saw her parents sparsely, but her eyes had a better memory than her ears. Her petrification hadn’t erased any memories, only frozen them in time. She got a lot of her physicality from her mother, but she had adopted her father’s grey-blue eyes and the points of his ears.
Cady scratched out his hair. The drawing didn’t capture its coppery blend, like an autumn leaf—she decided she’d return with a coloured pencil later. She didn’t know if she had the patience for mixing and laying down paint.
Elspeth waltzed in. “Cady, hi!” She hopped up into the sill across from them, tucking her legs against the window behind Cady’s. “What’re you drawing?”
“My father.”
Elspeth extended both arms, opening and closing her fingers in a grabbing motion. “Can I see?”
Cady rotated and passed the book; the drawing was more or less complete. Elspeth held the pages by the corners, keeping her fingers away from the graphite. “This is good!” she said. “I mean, I have no idea if this actually looks like him or not, but the drawing itself is really nice.”
Cady’s heart warmed—it was arguably their best work in a while. Higher-ranking officers had never complimented their drawings, only their fellow knights. It was nice, being praised for something that didn’t directly benefit anyone and wasn’t tied to combat. “Thanks.”
Elspeth pursed her lips, eyes still on the page. "Have you heard any news or gotten any leads on where he might be?"
“No, no luck so far.”
“I could try scrying, if you want? It could help narrow things down or point us in the right direction. At least we'd know if he's alive or not.”
Cady tapped their stylus against their thigh. “You can do that? Not doubting your ability—just asking that you’d be willing, and if it’s possible.”
“Sure I can. It might take a couple days, since seeing someone I've never met is a bit harder. But this picture helps, and it'll work eventually if I'm persistent enough. Tell you what—“ She held the book against her chest, meeting Cady’s gaze. “It’s about time to start making dinner and Meera’s ready to have you in the kitchen. I can give it a try while you do that and see if I find anything?”
“Oh.” Cady slid off the sill, landing on her foot closest to the floor. “I’d appreciate that.”
Elspeth bounced off as well. “Yeah, no problem. Lemme grab my crystal ball. The spell only takes ten minutes. If I see him, do you want me to tell you before or after dinner?”
Cady returned the pencil to a small, metal case on the table. “Hm. After. Can he—will he be able to tell you’ve tried scrying?”
“No, and he shouldn’t know if I do end up seeing him, too, not unless he can see invisible sensors. Which would be a bit freaky, for a farrier.”
Cady nodded. Elspeth beamed and bound out of the room, clutching the sketchbook like a precious treasure. Cady made a mental note to try drawing more people—people they knew now, and not just from memory.
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oc halloween costumes
happy halloween! a fun thinking exercise 🎃
cihro: hermes
crow: baphomet
cadiana: the headless horseman
genevieve: van helsing
iona: mr. darcy from p&p
ada: a sea hag
nepenthe: gomez addams
vierna: morticia addams
athalia: thorn, the lead singer of the hex girls
union: aziraphale from good omens or regis from the witcher
surina: geralt of rivia or kratos from god of war
#not writing#cihro#crow#cadiana#genevieve#iona#nepenthe#vierna#union#athalia#surina#I didn't feel like doing everyone but I edit these posts later to add more ocs
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Battle [Cadiana]
The underground entrance loomed before them. Cadiana approached.
It wasn’t tall, ending about a foot above her head—like the average doorway. As the distance closed, her feet filled with sand. Her heart galloped as if she’d sprinted a mile in her armour piggybacking her horse. Cold sweat broke out over her body and she shook out her arms as if that would help her clammy palms, but it was trapped between her gloves and skin. Ten feet from the entrance, her muscles seized and she stopped.
Was she sick? Sylitae took on a look of understanding. As they explained, a word passed their lips: fear. The rest became muffled.
It was an invisible wall of force, only that force was herself. She had fought a fire elemental not long ago and lived. She rarely had to battle herself.
Fear was a thing of the past; she’d experienced it when she was a child among a bustling city and had a sword thrust at her for the first time. When she was a teenager, the temple of Erathis trained that fear out of her, leaving only a steely foundation behind. If she had felt fear between then and now, it was never enough to crush her fighting spirit or cause such a violent, physical reaction.
Fear had a time and place. For combat, moderation was key: too much spelled death, but a healthy dose meant you had some self-preservation and honoured your life. Cowardice, but you would live. Fighting the fire elemental, she had let herself burn hot enough that her maul had begun to glow at the tips—so she perhaps lacked moderation. She had no regrets, though—if not her, who else? Most people would have melted.
But this? This had no rhyme or reason. She had been in caves before, and how different could it be from being in a temple’s crypt? She growled and threw down her fists, whirling on her heel and stalking a short line before she re-approached. The cave loomed larger than before, the darkness blacker and the edge of the stones jagged teeth that would chew her up and spit her out. She stopped a foot closer than where she’d been, her heart throbbing hard enough that someone could have felt it through her breastplate.
She could see why fear had been scrubbed from her. This was torture. She would rather take a knife to the side—that, at least, she knew. She knew how long the pain would last and it was confined to that area. She had healing magic, even. Being shaken up by her emotions was unpredictable and she had no idea when it would end. It infiltrated every part of her body and mind, blurring her awareness.
If it came from something so mundane, it could strike again, even mid-combat. She would be a poor excuse of a soldier if that happened. She wasn’t at her best, she knew that—being petrified had weakened her. But she wasn’t starting from scratch, either—her training had been grafted into her bones, impossible to remove.
Sylitae sat her down and walked her through some breathing exercises. They calmed her nerves enough that she could scrape her feet the last of the distance. As the shadow of the cave passed over them and blotted out the sun, she felt it like an imprint pressed on her soul.
#promptober#promptober 2023#writing tag#writing: cadiana#cadiana#sylitae#tal'dorei#exandria#is it cheating if this is a rewrite of an older piece#probably but who cares i wanted the two weeks to look nice in my planner#also i wanted a buffer to edit something for tomorrow
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Repair [Cadiana]
[a rewrite of an old thing—took me a while to get to but I wanted to rewrite cady's older pieces into exandria like I did for union. this takes place during the year the party is in the feywild. and now it's longer than it was before oops]
Cadiana darkened the terrace of the house. It should have been easy—raise a fist, knock. They had done it before without hesitation, but it was if she were stone again, her limbs heavy and locked in place.
It was by both miracle and effort they found the house at all. Emon had always been a large city, being the first stretch of land to greet newcomers from Vasselheim, but it must have at least tripled in size in the last three centuries. Cadiana had missed so much time that Gwessar had become Tal’Dorei.
She curled her fingers into her palms, shoulders creeping upwards. Even a subtle shift made noise, tiny clicks of overlapping plates like a second set of joints.
They had been to their mother’s grave, but none of the surrounding plots belonged to their father. There were too many ifs: he could have moved anywhere from several months to two hundred years ago. He could have been executed and then burned and sacrificed to Neminar’s demonic legion. Cady wanted to complete the puzzle of where he'd gone—potentially sniffing out the start of a trail, then seeing if it ended in another grave or a living relative. Why hesitate, when she knew what she wanted?
Passer-bys were unbothered by the armour-clad half-orc looming on a doorstep, too caught up in their own chatter or getting from one place to the next. Elspeth and Hadrean waited across the street, Elspeth attentive on Cady while Hadrean surveyed everyone else.
Cady inhaled, raised an arm, and pounded on the door.
Inside came a call, footfalls, then the door swung inward to reveal an elven woman. Her hair was ginger and cropped close to her skull and there were a sprinkle of freckles beneath a pair of pewter-blue eyes. They were similar to her father’s—to hers.
Cadiana was a few inches taller and could see into the front hall. A staircase climbed the left wall. Furniture had been replaced and rearranged, and the scent wasn’t one she remembered. A dwarven woman, blonde, stood with her hands on her hips in an archway on the right wall, across from the stairwell. She wore a pair of half-moon spectacles that made her look like she could examine Cady for faults.
“Can I help you?” the elven woman asked with a perfunctory smile. Her accent was from Syngorn. The trophy dagger at Cady’s hip weighed heavy.
Cady cleared her throat. “Cadiana Jacqueline Steelsong. I’m a paladin of Erathis.”
The woman’s eyes cut up and down her tabard. “I can see that.”
“I’m not here on any official business.”
“What brings you here, then, Cadiana of Erathis?”
There was no eloquent way to phrase it. “I used to live here.”
The elf shared a glance with the woman over her shoulder. “Did you?”
“I did. I was wondering when you purchased the house, if you did.”
The dwarf sidled up beside the elf, arms shifting to cross her bust. “Must’ve been about nine years ago now? Why, you lookin’ to buy it back? We’re not lookin’ to sell.”
Her accent was from Kraghammer. It sent a shiver of memory through Cady—of years spent warring beside them. She closed it behind her teeth, trying not to grind them.
“No,” Cady said. “I was wondering if you bought it from an elven man. Ginger hair, about this tall.” She measured outwards from her mouth with a flat hand.
They looked at each other quizzically. “No?”
Cady massaged their temples with one hand. “Damn it.”
“We might be able to help if you gave us more,” the elven woman said, now with a sprig of amusement. “You’re not lost, are you?”
Frustration pricked at the back of her neck and her posture snapped taut. The women, to their credit, didn’t flinch. “I’m not lost. I’m looking for my father.”
“What was his name?”
“Rhys’Erowyn.”
The elf scratched at her cheek, looking apologetic. “It doesn’t ring a bell. Sorry.”
“Taverns’ll be the next best place to ask,” the dwarf added. “Keep fishing with that name and eventually you’ll get a bite, I’m sure.”
Cady’s mouth went firm. “Thank you.”
The couple nodded and eased the door shut. Cadiana backed off the terrace. She trailed the seams of the house with her eyes—the door’s casing, the windows, then past it to the shingles of the roof and the chimney pointing into the dome of the sky beyond. It was the pale pastel of blue hydrangeas, and the occasional cloud scudded by.
The home had felt more capacious when she was younger. Homes back then hadn’t always been built with orcs in mind, but her parents had made due. The church had always been home more than this place—where she bunked down, where she had made her first friends.
A part of her wanted to say goodbye to it, like it was important, somehow—but they normally didn’t ‘do’ things for the sake of it, for sentimentality. Normally she had orders that determined what was important for her. A part of her missed that—she could seek out as much guidance as she wanted, but everything was only ever a suggestion, never demanded.
Maybe it was to see if there was any remnant of her mother that wasn’t stone, earth, or bones—a scent, possession, or painting. A grave hadn’t been enough. She wanted something with more life and memory, to know that not everything had been or would be war—but it had been so long. The dust had settled. Maybe her father was that missing link.
Was it even the same building if there had been an attack from the Chrome Conclave, or did it just occupy the same address? Emon looked like it had a fresh coat of paint over fresh scars, but its core remained intact. Tal'dorei wore scars on its body as much as its people—she hadn’t seen the physical scars from the Scattered War yet, though she’d been told where to find them. The mental ones—she was living proof of that.
She reached up to brush her fingers against her lone tusk, then wrung her left hand to pinch the stub at her knuckle. Homes could be rebuilt from the ground up—did it make them the same home? Could she be rebuilt?
Had she ever been broken? Could she replace what she’d lost?
They turned in a huff and strode back to their companions.
#writing tag#writing: cadiana#cadiana#elspeth#hadrean#tal'dorei#exandria#a little appetizer before promptober#not deleting the old ones but will set them to private
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ocs and their relationships with their deities
union: (sarenrae) reverent and awed, your typical 'goddess and devotee' relationship. because sarenrae is very warm and motherly by nature, she probably views union as one of her children, and is proud and protective of him. she can probably feel his connection to asmodeus, since he's an asmodeus tief
cadiana: (erathis) hard to define. erathis strikes me as a 'hands off' kind of goddess, letting her followers fail so they learn or offering nudges in the right direction only if she's asked first. cady is a 'follow the law even if the law causes pain' kind of person, which erathis probably has mixed feelings about. she was probably concerned for cady during her time as one of drassig's soldiers, but never wanted to intervene too much. she wants cady to think for themselves and worship her because they believe in her tenets, not for anything else. which cady comes to eventually!
nepenthe: (lolth) blind, ruthless devotion. nepenthe thinks lolth can do no wrong, tells others to have faith in her when they're lost or confused as if lolth will guide them to clairvoyance. she's of the belief that all drow should worship her, as she's their "rightful" mother and queen and drow are lost without her. a lot of her worship stemmed from her hatred of the luxon. the only thing that might be more important to her is her family, but she's never had to choose before so it's not crossed her mind that it's a choice she'd ever have to make. lolth kind of sees her like a pet and is very fond of her, she likes the attention and being confident that she won't defect
vierna: (lolth) vierna sees lolth as someone to aspire to: frightening and lovely in equal measure, although vierna prefers fear over adoration, unlike lolth. she's grateful that she was accepted by her after the chained oblivion fucked with her head. but she isn't in so deep that she can't see reason or make choices independent of lolth's influence
azul: (lolth) trepidatious. azul has a healthy respect for lolth but also a healthy fear, which lolth finds ideal to keep people in line. lolth wants azul to be closer to her but azul is hesitant to throw herself all in, even if she can't pinpoint why. when azul breaks off to worship corellon, lolth is furious; her love is possessive and jealous. azul has no idea what lolth might do if she "gets her back" and doesn't intend to find out
(corellon) parental. corellon is like a parent who's showing azul the wonders of the world and she takes it in with awe. she loves and respects them, wants to be closer to them, and is grateful for their protection against lolth. corellon is a bit mysterious but is happy to have saved one of their children from lolth and hopes to keep it that way without forcing azul down a specific path or putting too much pressure on her. they want azul to do what she thinks is right and live life fully and without fear. corellon hopes that through azul, they can redeem more lolthite drow
crow: (asmodeus) transactional, like a business partnership—they both have something to gain by working together. crow likes and respects asmodeus but doesn't trust him. he's not her go-to when she needs guidance, but she likes to have his advice on certain dilemmas and takes his tenets to heart as a way to make herself stronger and not have people walk all over her
#not writing#union#cadiana#nepenthe#vierna#azul#crow (oc)#edit: i forgot evie and ioun#i'll add them later
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oc source inspo
whether it be individual characters or a series for vibes! a lot of inspo I sort of pull from along the creation process rather than deciding beforehand
ada: undyne (undertale), pirates of the caribbean, assassin's creed black flag
azul: heather (silent hill 3)
cadiana: the iron lords (destiny)
cihro: kal'reegar (mass effect), miguel (the road to el dorado), nick wilde (zootopia, minus becoming a cop)
crow: odysseus (greek mythology), loki (norse mythology), crowley (good omens), the nazgûl (lord of the rings), phantom of the opera
genevieve: castlevania, devilman, eskel (the witcher), huntara (she-ra), eivor (assassin's creed valhalla)
iona: little women, li shang (mulan), mr. darcy (pride & prejudice), haldir of lothlórien (movie version, lord of the rings), ead (priory of the orange tree), artemis (greek mythology)
koda: kermit the frog (the muppets), po (kung fu panda), steven (steven universe), samwise gamgee (lord of the rings)
nepenthe: gomez (the addams family), striga (castlevania), breakdown (transformers prime), sevika (arcane), httyd (for the many hosts of igrathad)
orla: rose (downton abbey), georgina darcey (pride & prejudice), hercules (disney version), madoka kaname (madoka magica)
surina: kratos (god of war), geralt of rivia (the witcher), game of thrones
vierna: silent hill 2, lady evelyn (yellow jessamine by caitlin sterling), morticia (the addams family), the night sisters (star wars), moira (overwatch), silco (arcane)
union: emiel regis (the witcher), pearl (steven universe), aziraphale (good omens)
vesuria: tai lung (kung fu panda), jobu tupaki/joy wang (everything everywhere all at once), amara (borderlands 3), whirl (transformers mtmte), violet (arcane)
#there are some...reoccurring sources#from stuff i like a lot#chiefly mythology and the witcher lmao#not writing#surina#iona#cihro#genevieve#union#ada#cadiana#crow (oc)#koda#nepenthe#vierna#orla#vesuria
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I'm having the time of my life
site
#alignment charts#barbie generator#nepenthe#vierna#crow (oc)#cadiana#cihro#iona#genevieve#union#union is normal and then there's everyone else#it actually autofilled his as doctor which is what i was gunna put anyway
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oc favourite ice cream flavour
based on a convo el & I had about reforming cultists by taking them to dq lmao
ada: strawberry
azul: rainbow sorbet or cotton candy
cadiana: rocky road
cihro: coffee hazelnut
crow: maple walnut
genevieve: tiger tail
iona: black cherry
koda: mint chocolate chip
murtagh: toasted coconut
nepenthe: chocolate brownie
redback: pistachio and almond
surina: vanilla
union: new york cheesecake
#not writing#ada#azul#cadiana#cihro#crow (oc)#iona#union#genevieve#murtagh#nepenthe#koda#redback#surina#food mention
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Sable [Orla]
A year ago, Orla wouldn’t have been able to walk herself out of town to the farm where Elspeth kept her growing herd of goats, at least not without getting winded or potentially passing out under the sun’s eye. Westruun was cooler than the Verdant Expanse, but the trees from her former home gave shade and the breeze was fresher than the one that passed through alleys and packs of people.
They were trade-offs she’d embrace for freedom and having the good health to make the trip at all, though.
The goats greeted her with soft, downy muzzles mouthing her palms for food or pets. Pigeon the drake joined them, his silver scales pearly, puffing cool air against her arm. Zebulon and Avonlea waved a hello, but remained where they were, peacefully watching and working.
Kevin the pig was outside, too, grazing, his sable fur rusting in the sunlight—but with him was a third person, a half-orc crouched to his level. Their hair drew her eye; it was a deep red that made it look blood-soaked, dripping in an undercut over one side of their head. They were dressed casually in dark, comfortable pants and white shirt with a grey vest sewn with orange trim. The sleeves ended at their elbow; the exposed skin was lined with muscle and what looked like faded burn scars.
They were oblivious to Orla’s arrival, grinning as they pet Kevin with firm, decided scritches. Their mouth was asymmetrical with a tusk absent on the left side. Orla approached, smiling.
“Hi,” she said sunnily. “Are you Cadiana? I’ve seen you in passing around Brambleview.”
The half-orc glanced up, their smile fading. “Yes.” Her eyes, an overcast blue-grey, squinted—not menacingly, but thoughtfully. “Elspeth spoke about you, but I’ve forgotten your name, I’m sorry.”
“It’s Orla. It’s nice to meet you proper and put a face to Kevin’s owner.”
Cadiana stood, one knee smudged with dirt. Had Orla not lived alongside goliaths for the last year, she might’ve been startled by the height that unfurled before her—Cadiana was tall by half-orc standards, or so she guessed. She had learned through exposure that Krusk was a bit of an exception by being nearly goliath sized. He was larger than Cady in height and width—Cadiana had broad shoulders but was built from leaner muscle save for thighs that looked well acquainted with horseback riding.
Orla reeled her gaze up from her legs before her appreciation crossed into impolite, warmth in her cheeks. She extended a hand and Cadiana accepted, their grip ironclad. Elspeth was right about them looking intimidating, but they hadn’t done anything that made Orla feel unsettled.
“Elspeth calls you Cady, is it alright if I call you that?”
Cady shrugged. “Most people do.” He looked between Orla and Kevin, then at the goats. “Is Elspeth here?”
“No, the Thorns left for Syngorn to see my sister’s girlfriend.”
Cady’s face fell, faintly. “I missed them?”
Orla smiled sympathetically. “They can be easy to miss unless you live at Brambleview, they swoop in and out like birds. I’m sure you’ll catch them—they’re never gone for more than a few weeks at a time. Where do you live? Maybe I can find you and let you know when they get back.”
“I’d appreciate that. I stay at the First Bastion when I’m here.”
“I bet Elspeth will be thrilled to know you miss her,” Orla teased.
Cady huffed; a nearly-there laugh. “I’m sure she already knows.”
Orla nodded. “I get it. I miss them when they’re gone, too. Sometimes I think about what it’d be like to go with them, but I’m pretty sure I’d get burnt to a crisp or worse. Even when they weren’t as strong as they are now, I would. You really feel the Thorns’ presence when they’re in the city, don’t you?”
“They’ve become the guardians for Westruun. The Margrave is fond of them, so it follows that the people would be, too.” Cady’s expression twisted. “Wait. Is that what Erathis meant?”
“Huh?”
Cady scraped her fingers back through her short fall of hair. “Oh, I—had a vision from Erathis some time ago. She said…” They screwed up their face in a new direction. “I wrote it down, but I don’t have it on me. Something about the thorns protecting the rose. ‘Become one of them, should they seek your aid.’ I didn’t know what she meant at the time, but Elspeth thinks she meant joining their group in protecting the city. We brainstormed theories but never came to a definitive answer.” Cady tilted their neck, aiming their gaze towards the sky, arms crossing. “I don’t know that I was meant to join their group. I’m strong, but not strong enough. If we were equals at any point, they’ve passed me.”
“It’s kind of exponential at this point,” Orla said.
“Maybe the Lawbearer meant for me to guard Westruun just by being here,” Cady mused.
Orla could keep up well enough with the context Elspeth provided. Cady was a paladin, a soldier removed from three centuries ago, and yet Erathis had reached out and received her from across the plains of time.
“There’s no shame in that,” Orla said after a moment’s deliberation. “The world is full of more people who don’t match their strength than those who do. A lot of people protect Westruun by staying behind—like Kishore, and Krusk. And the guards, if they’re doing their job right.”
“What do you mean? The guards have to do their job right.”
Orla laughed. “Don't worry about it. But do you see what I’m saying?”
“It’s hard not to feel disappointed when one of my tenets involves being the strongest I can be.”
“That means for you,” Orla said, and resisted giving them a poke in the chest. Cady had an air of maturity and carried the weight of someone who had lived a long time, but according to Elspeth, they were only a few years older than her. “You shouldn’t compare yourself to the Thorns. You only need to be stronger than whoever you’re fighting, right? And strong enough to protect what’s important to you.”
Cady formed a smile. “I understand. Thank you.”
#no this wasn't just a self-indulgent excuse to write cady being attractive from someone else's perspective wdym#everyone in orla's family has lived for centuries it follows that she'd have some wisdom from them + elspeth#writing tag#writing: orla#orla#cadiana#tal'dorei#exandria#writing: cadiana
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oc introvert ➡ extrovert scale
surina: introvert. takes a very long time to warm up to people. her social skills aren't the best (she's improved) and she enjoys quiet and solitude. she has little patience for fuckery
murtagh: introvert. not unfriendly but a bit anti-social; he would rather be fishing or chilling and he gets socially tired if he has to repeat himself. maeve is more adventurous and tends to pull him into adventures, which is good for him, and she makes him laugh
iona: introvert; her social battery drains pretty quickly in new company. fortunately when she was an aegis she mostly just had to stand around on watch. she enjoys the company of her close friends and is good at socializing, very tactful, she just needs time and space by herself to reflect or else she'll get frazzled and irritable
crow: acts like an extrovert and like she loves being the center of attention, is actually more introverted. charming, but needs space away to read or study, and prefers to have one on ones with people even if she doesn't express as much
union: a bit of an ambivert. enjoys being with people of all walks of life to broaden his mind and compassion but will need some alone time as well; too much of either will depress him
genevieve: ambivert, but leaning extrovert. enjoys the company of others, even if she isn't actively participating. she likes to bask in places where there are people and activities happening, but she's also perfectly fine doing a quiet, focused task like alchemy or reading
ada: ambivert, but leaning extrovert. enjoys parties and being the center of attention but does, now and again, need some space, especially if she's feeling tetchy
cadiana: their goddess is literally a god of community; cady becomes a ride-or-die person very quickly if you fight alongside them. cady isn't super chatty and might come across as aloof, but is a solid presence in any room and genuinely likes to be there and share drinks, space, etc. surprisingly comfortable with touch and it doesn't bother them to have people up in their space
cihro: my friendly, social boy. gets depressed if he's away from his loved ones for too long. as he's gotten older he enjoys more casual, laid-back hangouts at bars more than huge parties, but will partake occasionally still
azul: very friendly, very sociable, takes after nepenthe in that way. wants to be more sociable and curious, but holds herself back
redback: extrovert. loves parties, loves her family, loves going out and doing things with people. very adventurous and willing to try new things
nepenthe: very social and community-oriented. she's most comfortable around other people and doing things as a group, whatever it may be. she bonds easily and likes to find common ground and share what she has, so long as someone is deserving, because she'll just as quickly cut them down. very much will root for you and have your back if you've earned it
koda: big extrovert; if koda doesn't have plans for the day with people he might expire. talks or sings or plays music to fill silence. he isn't really great at the whole quiet reflection thing, he tends to act or speak on impulse
#not writing#surina#murtagh#iona#crow (oc)#union#genevieve#ada#cihro#redback#koda#nepenthe#azul#cadiana#these get harder to do the more ocs i have lmfao
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