#marble teifling
Text
Nuclear Spring pt. 3
F harpy X M aquatic monster X GN reader, 10,373 words.
Whew! This one took a long time to complete. Hopefully it’s still good, and you all enjoy it. I’ll still be posting less regularly, but I’ll make an effort to get something out at least once a month- I might even have a bigger story in the works eventually. If you missed part 1 and 2, you can find them here and here.
Warnings: descriptions of panic attacks and fear of death.
The city is dazzling to look at. In your mind, cities are mostly metal and glass, with the occasional brick or marble building for flavor. This city seems to be made mostly out of reddish stone, with plants crawling along the buildings and erupting into a riot of color. The city streets are cobblestone, and while there are carriages working their way down the roads, they’re mostly filled with people. It’s loud, but not with mechanical sounds. It’s loud with the sounds of people, talking and calling to one another and living their lives.
There so many people. It’s the most people you’ve seen in ages. The emotions that flow through you are indescribable, but intense.
“Um.” You turn your head, rather mechanically. Aether is looking at you, brows drawn together. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” you say, and it’s only when your voice breaks that you realize that you’re crying. You bring your hand up to your cheek and it comes away wet.
“Do you want to sit down for a bit?” Seersha asks from your other side.
“No. I’m okay. Just, uh.” You bring your sleeve up to your face, then hesitate, unwilling to dirty your fancy clothes with snot and saliva. “Um.”
“Oh, hold on.” Aether pats around at his clothes before retrieving a cloth. “Here, turn toward me.”
He dabs at your face, careful not to be rough. It’s such a delicate, comforting touch that you have to fight not to break down into a fountain of tears once more.
“Feeling better?” Seersha asks.
“Yeah,” you mumble. “Sorry. I didn’t realize that was going to happen.” You sniff. “I’ll try not to do that again.”
“It’s okay,” Aether says, immediately frantic to soothe you. “Don’t worry about it. This is all a lot for you and you didn’t sleep well last night-”
“We’re still on a diplomatic mission,” Seersha says. “It’s not good for part of the entourage to start sobbing.” Aether glares at her and mutters something about her being insensitive, but you wave him off.
“I’m fine. She’s right. I think I just got overwhelmed. I’ll be okay from now on.” You give your eyes one final wipe. “Where exactly are we going?”
“This way,” Aether says, striding confidently down the middle of the street. You and Seersha follow after him. It takes some effort to keep up with him, mostly because you keep getting distracted and stopping to take in the sights.
The city has a lot to distract you with. The people are a sight in and of themselves. There are the ones you’ve grown used to seeing- harpies and teiflings and the occasional sea folk, like Aether. But there are more that you’ve never seen. People with digitigrade legs and long ears like rabbits. People fluttering along with butterfly wings. People with scaled tails and horns who snort sparks and smoke. People who have leaved branches growing out of their heads and skin with a woody texture. You can’t stop staring. Eventually, Seersha grabs your arms and starts dragging you along.
“You know if you stare at people, they’re going to stare back,” she mumbles out of the corner of her mouth.
“I thought I was disguised,” you mumble back. The formal robes you’re wearing have a bit of padding around the back, to make it look like you have extra musculature built up on your shoulders and chest. There’s no way to completely disguise you as something nonhuman. Well, technically, there’s magic, but no one who knows about you also knows the sort of magic required to convincingly make you look like another species. Unfortunately, most people look distinct enough from humans that there’s no easy way to disguise yourself without magic. You have to settle for pretending to be a harpy without wings, and even then, you can’t remove your overcloak without showing that you lack the muscle and bone structure to be one of those. It’s an awkward situation to be in, especially because your cloak is a little awkwardly weighted and you have to hold onto some of the fabric to keep it in position.
“You’re disguised enough,” Seersha mutters back, drawing you back to the present. “You’re not disguised well enough to stand up to that much scrutiny.”
You cast a nervous glance at the passers-by who are giving you curious looks. Some ignore you altogether, but you can tell that some, especially harpies, are giving you outright stares. Admittedly, they’re sympathetic stares, but that’s not making you feel much more comfortable.
“Is it going to hold up?” you whisper back.
“Probably. But it’s still not a good idea to call that much attention to yourself.” She looks ahead and gives a tiny smirk. “Luckily, Aether seems to be bearing the brunt of that for us.”
It’s true- people may be looking at you a little bit, but most of the stares you’re getting are directed entirely at Aether. His entire demeanor seems to have changed, too. Usually, he slouches a little bit, acts shy and nervous. His expression is usually full of tentative curiosity and sweetness. Now, he’s drawn himself up, back stiff and arms folded placidly in front of him. His expression is heavy-lidded and remote. Combine that with the fine clothes he’s wearing, and he looks every bit the part of the haughty noble.
The walk through the city isn’t long before you come to the central government building. It looks like some kind of combination between a castle and a church. There are multiple conical spires, including a central one that holds a bell inside. The walls are covered with stained glass portraits depicting events that you can barely make sense of. Through the massive, arching double doors, you can see that the inside is an enormous hall with people milling about around desks, sitting areas, and what appears to be a small library.
Aether sweeps into the hall and stops dead. You stop as well, mostly to prevent yourself from walking straight into his back. Seersha steps around him with practiced ease and heads toward the closest desk, where a bored-looking tiefling is sorting through papers. Seersha taps on the counter to draw their attention and they exchange a few words. The tiefling gestures broadly a few times, then rifles around the desk before handing Seersha a frankly enormous stack of paper. She waves for you and Aether to follow her, then heads toward the back of the hall.
There’s a lot of weaving around people to keep her in sight, and you can physically feel their stares on your back. People keep brushing against you. You have to cling to the inside of your cloak to prevent it from slipping.
Luckily, Seersha leads you to a much-less-crowded hallway and up a tight staircase. You already knew your muscle tone was absolutely shot, but it must be even worse than you thought, because after one flight of stairs, you’re wheezing like an asthmatic in a coal mine.
“Seersha,” Aether says. “Hold on.” He turns back to you, one of his hands splaying nervously over your back. “Are you all right?”
You wheeze again. “I don’t think… I’m used… to stairs.” You double over, hands on your knees. “Give me a second.”
Seersha frowns. “Are you sure you’re feeling well? I didn’t think this would be that physically exhausting for you. You managed to cellar stairs all right at home.”
“Those were shorter,” you pant. “And I don’t think the weighted clothes are helping.” You adjust your cloak again and straighten up. “Okay. Good to keep going.”
Both Seersha and Aether slow down quite a bit as they continue up the staircase, which you appreciate. Still, you’re starting to feel straight up dizzy when you stop at the top of the staircase. Aether and Seersha take another pause to allow you to collect yourself before heading toward another large set of arched double doors.
Seersha pushes them open and a warm breeze ruffles your clothes. The doors lead to what appears to be some kind of enormous balcony. There’s a cloth awning stretched over part of it, and that seems to be where the majority of the desks and workspace is. But further away from the door, there’s just blue sky and sun. A group of people stand near the balcony’s edge, clearly having some sort of animated discussion.
As you walk out from under the awning, you find yourself staring almost directly up in amazement. There are people flying above you, close enough that you can make out their facial features. A short distance away, there’s an older man leading what appears to be a class full of flying children through the sky. And as you watch, you realize you can actually see people manipulating the weather. A uniformed group is systemically moving through the sky, actually grabbing and moving clouds toward specific locations or dispersing them with fan-like objects. It makes the sky look a bit unnatural, with the clouds kept in specific locations instead of being spread over the sky like a blanket.
“Our weather system is impressive, isn’t it?” You barely resist the urge to jump out of your skin. There’s an older woman standing near you, wearing some kind of richly embroidered robe. “It’s one of the more organized ones in the city. It’s based on a grid system- different grids can request different weathers, which makes it possible to attend to all our citizen’s needs at the same time.”
“Uh.” You nod a little awkwardly. “I, uh. Haven’t been somewhere with a system like this before.”
“New recruit,” Seersha says. “From the country. Not a lot of weather management out there.” She claps a hand on your shoulder. “First time in a city like this one, so forgive any staring.”
“Of course,” the older woman says. She turns toward Aether and dips her head into a brief bow. “We’re happy to accept your envoy, master of the sea.”
Aether nods back. “Your respect is appreciated, Lady Octania. Should we begin?”
Octania led us over to a table covered in maps and diagrams, settled right at the edge of the balcony so you can overlook the sea. Aether takes a seat at the head of the table. You and Seersha stand on either side of him while Octania sits at the other end of the table. She’s similarly flanked by guards. You try to mimic their posture, though standing with your back so straight and your arms folded behind you is exhausting after only a few minutes.
The conversation between Aether and Octania is not one you follow very well. A lot of what they discuss seems to be some political minutia that makes no sense to you. They spend at least half an hour discussing exactly how some specific clay imports to the city are going to be affected by the regime change. You try to pay attention, but much more of your brain is focused on trying to find a position that doesn’t make your shoulders and feet hurt.
You only tune back in when the voices start escalating. Neither of them are yelling, exactly, but both of them are speaking more forcefully than they were a minute ago.
“Our city is growing, and allowances to fishing rights in your territory would enable us to feed more people. Without it, our food allowances may grow dangerously thin,” Octania says. Aether shakes his head.
“My sibling has been clear on their position on this subject matter. Your fishing methods can be damaging to our lands. You can purchase food from us so that we can continue to use our own fishing methods.”
“Purchasing from you is more expensive, which is the purpose of being allowed to hunt on our own! We would pay for the usage of the area, but we need to be allowed to do so.”
Ugh. There’s a rising tension in the air. It takes all your strength to fight back the surge of tense-nervous-sickness that surges through your body. It reminds you of what things were like Before. The escalating fights that kept going on and on, while you watched helplessly, sick and terrified, until-
Somewhere in the depths of the city, something makes an incredibly loud BANG!
There’s a confusing fifteen seconds where you’re not entirely sure what’s happening. You think maybe you scream, but it’s hard to be sure. All you know for sure is that you come back to full awareness crouched on the ground, hands over your head.
“There’s some demolition going on. Usually magic dampeners are placed up, but if something manages to rupture the dampeners, then the noise carries some distance,” Octania is saying. The implication of her words slowly sinks into your brain. It’s demolition. Planned. You’re not under attack. It’s fine. Your body doesn’t seem to be registering that, though. Your heart is hammering, your breathing is rapid and shaky, and you can’t seem to unlock your limbs. “Is your guard all right?” Octania’s voice is closer and you get the feeling you’re being studied. “I understand it may have been startling, but-”
“It’s an adverse reaction. Old accident, you know how it is.” Seersha’s voice is sharp and casual in the same tone, brushing it off while also leaving no room for argument. From the direction her voice is coming from, you can tell she’s standing between you and Octania.
“I think we should take a brief recess,” Aether says. He’s trying to sound casual, but there’s no mistaking the anxiety in his voice. He already seems to be edging toward you. “Give us a few minutes to recollect. It’s probably better to think things over anyway, look at our options again since we’re having difficulty coming to an agreement.”
“Yes, all right. There’s an unused room if you go back into the building and then take the second door on your left. You can take some time in there.” It’s hard to tell what she’s thinking from her voice, but you’ve recovered enough to feel blisteringly embarrassed. You hope she doesn’t sound as annoyed as you think she does.
“Come on. You can stand, right? I’ll help you up.” Seersha braces an arm over your back, half pulling you upright. Her touch is confusing. You want to lean into it, but it also feels like too much and you want to lean away. You have to focus on the soft sound of her voice to ground you. Aether sweeps in on your other side, speaking in similarly soft, encouraging tones.
You’re dimly aware of the door to the building opening, of going inside, and entering the empty room. The second you’re through the doorway, you start scrambling with the heavy robes around your shoulders.
“Get it off, get it off,” you moan. Aether gets it before Seersha does, and he helps strip the robe from your body. As soon as the weight is off you, you can breathe easier. “Sorry,” you mumble, covering your face with your hands. “Sorry, I’m sorry, it’s stupid, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Seersha says. “Breathe, okay? Breathe. You can just breathe for me, right?”
Breathe. Yes. You know how to do that. You take in a massive, gulping breath, then let it out gently. Seersha pats your shoulder. “Good. Keep going, just like that.”
“Sorry,” you mumble again. “I am, I’m sorry-”
“You’re okay, you don’t need to apologize.” Aether is stroking your head now, while Seersha trails a hand up and down your back. “Keep breathing until you feel better, okay?”
It takes only a few minutes for your breathing to become steady again. Aether and Seersha help ground you and eventually, the panic fades. “I think I’m okay,” you say. “I didn’t mean for that to happen, I know it was dumb, I don’t know what came over me, I just panicked and-”
“Okay, okay, you don’t need to apologize!” Seersha says, waving her hands to cut you off. “It’s not your fault. You don’t control that kind of thing. I’m glad you’re feeling better, though.”
“What set it off?” Aether asks, his voice soft. His hand is still smoothing along your head, fingers tracing little patterns at the base of your skull. “Was it just the noise?”
“It was the noise and I think it was the arguing beforehand,” you say. “It just reminded me of everything that happened before… and then the noise and I was already so stressed that I think it just made me spiral.” You sniff. You’re not exactly crying, but the emotions are making your eyes watery. “I think I’m okay now. We can go back.”
Aether and Seersha look at each other and you can tell what they’re going to say even before they speak. “How about we take a little bit of a longer break?” Seesha suggests. “I think we could use a mini conference on how things are going so far anyway.”
It’s clear that they’re just trying to give you a break, but the pretense saves your dignity and you agree. Mostly, you just sit on the ground and breathe while Seersha and Aether debate back and forth about potential solutions to the land problem.
“What about you?” Seersha asks abruptly. You look up. “Have any opinions on the topic?”
“Uh,” you say. Politics was never your strong suit, even when you were back home and in a world that you fundamentally understood better than this one. “This thing is about, uh. Fishing rights?”
“Something like that. The city wants rights to fish in some of the waters at the edge of our territory. They would have to set up a small fishing outpost, since the city isn’t close by, but it would allow for more variety of food and it would be beneficial for the growing city. The issue is that landfolk often don’t have a lot of care for the places they fish in, moreso when it’s not near where they live and unlikely to affect them. It will, however, affect us. We’re more than willing to trade using our fishing and farming methods, but neither my sibling nor I are really willing to trust that they won’t screw things up for us if we give them free reign.”
You rub your forehead and try to keep your eyelids from drooping. The burst of panic really feels like it took a lot out of you. “Can you only allow fishing rights if they fish using your methods?”
“That’s the most likely solution,” Aether sighs. He massages at the junction between his shoulder and neck and rolls his head. He actually doesn’t look much better than you do. Politics must be exhausting, especially for someone who is generally as quiet as he is. “But it also means that we need to set up a new patrol unit to watch the area and we’ll have to decide on punishments for people who violate the rules and we have to set up a registration system so only people who actually have training in our methods can be allowed to fish and-” He breaks off and lets out a deep sigh. “Ugh. It’s the best solution, but that doesn’t make it any less tedious.”
Not for the first time since you’ve come here, you feel a wave of helplessness. You can’t do anything. You don’t know enough about the political situation to offer even marginally helpful advice, you dragged him out of a stressful meeting to take care of you while you had a breakdown, and you can barely even keep up with them physically. Tears start to sting at your eyes and you bite the inside of your lip, hard. No. No way. You’re not going to fall apart and make them take care of you again.
Once the tears have faded enough that you’re sure your voice will be steady, you clear your throat. “I’m ready to go back out there.”
Seersha gives you a critical look. You stare resolutely back at her. “Okay,” she says. “Do you want to sit, though? You look a little shaky.”
“No,” you say. The idea of having to go out and sit behind Aether while everyone else stands makes hot humiliation burn through you. “I’ll be all right.” You give Aether a pat on the back. “It’s not me that has the actually tough job anyway, right?”
He gives you a weak smile. “Well, it’s not an easy job, but I have been trained for it. I’ll manage.”
“I’ll be rooting for you,” you say, which makes Aether’s smile go wide and genuine.
“Here.” Seersha drapes your outer robe back around you. She removed it when you started panicking. The weight around your back and shoulders is awkward and heavy and only reminds you more of how bone-tired you feel now. Taking a deep breath, you square your shoulders and stiffen your spine. It’s fine. You can manage for a couple more hours, no problem. You just panicked a little. No reason to go collapsing into bed already.
The meeting picks up precisely where it left off. You stare resolutely ahead, trying to look as stern and focused as Seersha does. It’s not exactly working, at least in part because you’re swaying a little in place. One of the guards on the other side of the table keeps giving you a look that you can only interpret as skeptical.
The meeting eventually, mercifully, ends. You’ve mostly been focusing on standing up straight, so you’re not entirely sure what they decided on. Aether and Octania exchange some pleasantries before Aether leads you back into the building.
As soon as you’re out of sight of anyone else Aether practically rounds on you. Seersha doesn’t quite get so up close and personal, but you can tell she’s looking at you. “Do you need to sit down?” Aether asks. “You look quite…” He stops and looks over at Seersha like he’s not sure what to say next. “Er. Not in a bad way, but you seem very tired.”
“Nothing happened,” you say, though you do sort of feel like your limbs are made of jelly. “I shouldn’t be that tired.”
“You did have a bit of a panic attack,” Seersha says. “Those are exhausting.”
“We shouldn’t have anywhere else to be for a few hours,” Aether adds. “We can take a break for a little while.” He stretches and flicks his tail back and forth. “I would like to get out of these stupid robes.”
“I agree,” Seersha says. She gives you a stern look. “If you want to sit for a few minutes, you should tell us.”
“I’m fine,” you say. “Let’s go home.”
You stagger and stumble a few times on your way back to the house, but the reward of lying down in a soft, warm bed keeps you going. Once you get through the door, you make a beeline for the bedroom and collapse face-first onto the pillows.
You don’t fall asleep right away, so you hear Seersha and Aether shuffle into the room behind you, speaking quietly to each other. The conversation is hard to follow, since your mind keeps drifting and losing the thread, but you catch your name a few times. Part of you wishes you had enough energy to stay awake and eavesdrop, but the pillows are really soft and your head is spinning a little and you can’t resist the urge to bury yourself down into the bedsheets and sleep.
You wake up to someone shaking you. Automatically, you try to bury yourself further into the sheets- maybe they’ll go away if they see you’re still asleep. But they shake you again, and this time it’s accompanied by someone else poking at your leg. You groan and try to shake them off, but they come back again as soon as you stop moving. Exhausted of options, you crack open an eye.
Seersha’s face comes into focus first. She’s wearing makeup, which catches you a little off guard. She doesn’t usually wear makeup, does she? Her eyes are lined with black and dusted with gold powder. She’s wearing some sort of ornament in her hair, too, a gold clip decorated with little flowers.
“You’ve been asleep for most of the day,” she says. You turn your head toward the window and notice the reddening of the sky. Huh. Your body does have the heaviness and stiffness you associate with being asleep and unmoving for a long period of time. “Feeling better?”
“Uh.” You sit up slowly, flexing your arms and legs. “I think so. Still tired.”
“You’ve been dead to the world for the entire afternoon,” Aether says. “We actually tried to wake you earlier, but you weren’t having it.” That tickles a vague memory somewhere in your mind, the hazy idea of being woken up at some point and almost immediately rolling back over into sleep.
“Sorry,” you mumble, making the effort to push yourself upright.
“Don’t apologize for needing to sleep,” Seersha says. “But you should get yourself up for at least the end of the day. Might not be able to sleep tonight otherwise.”
“And we need to get dinner,” Aether says.
“Thought we had rations,” you mumble, still a little sleep-addled.
Aether’s face screws up. “We’re in a city! There’s no reason to eat trail rations.”
“They’re supposed to hold us over when we’re on the road, so there’s no reason to eat them when we have fresh food,” Seersha says. “And it’s a good way to learn about the city.”
“She says it all professional,” Aether mutters to you, “but she loves eating different kinds of food. I bet she’s more excited about this than I am.”
“What’s that?” Seersha says.
“Nothing,” Aether says cheerfully, then winked at you. A surprised giggle bubbles up in your chest.
Your clothes are rumpled, so Seersha gives you a different overcloak. You roll your shoulders as the heavy fabric settles back down on them. “I know it’s uncomfortable,” she says.
“It’s okay,” you say. “I just need to get used to it.” The weight is at least evenly distributed about that the cloak doesn’t slide about on your shoulders. Seersha fusses around with the fabric, smoothing her hands along your shoulders and back and your stomach does something very weird, though not unpleasant.
“Oh, I was thinking about that when I was out earlier!” Aether says. He rummages through some of his things for a moment before emerging with a little cloth bag. “Here!”
You carefully unwrap the little package. Within it are four little… buttons? Or brooches. They’re gold circles with little polished stones set in them. The stones are a pale pink color and so cold and smooth they feel wet to the touch.
“What… are they?” you ask after a moment, because they’re quite beautiful, but you can’t see how they’re going to be helpful in making your cloak less heavy.
“Oh!” Aether takes the pins back and gestures for you to spin around. “Usually these are used for luggage, if you’re really fancy, but I thought they might help you, too. And they go nice with your complexion, too, I think.” You can feel him tugging at your back, pinning each little brooch into place. “I just need to sync these up.” He does something, adjusting the pins a little bit more. “There we go.”
There’s a tingle, a little bit like static electricity, and suddenly the weight of the cloak vanishes from your shoulders. You automatically jerk your hands up to resecure it, but the cloak hasn’t shifted. You can feel the fabric beneath your hands, but the oppressive heaviness is gone.
“Like I said, mostly used so luggage doesn’t weigh so much,” Aether says, absently smoothing the cloak back into place. “It’s technically harder to use them on something like this because all the weight needs to be distributed evenly, but I thought they might come in handy. Should be easier for you to walk around like this.”
You take a deep breath. Without the weight on your shoulders, it feels so much easier to inhale. “Thank you. You really didn’t need to do this for me, but I really appreciate it.”
Aether ducks his head a little, and you catch a strange, purplish tint to his cheeks. Is he blushing? “I just thought it would be helpful for you.” He fusses with his hair for a few moments, his tail fin swishing across the floor. You catch Seersha’s eye and she gives a fond smirk.
“Let’s get going. I’m sure we’re all starving.” You and Aether fall into line behind her as she leads you out of the building.
By this point, it’s night, and you can’t help but stare at how gorgeous the city looks. It was pretty during the day, but at night, everything is covered in tiny, colored lights. People mill about on the street, visiting little illuminated stalls that sell all sorts of little trinkets.
“It’s the Night Market,” Aether explains. “The city’s well known for it, since it has a thriving nocturnal population. A lot of artists and artisans will sell their wares now, while the streets are busiest.”
You look around, taking in the sights of the city. There are people milling everywhere, the streets even more thickly crowded than previously. Seersha still seems to know the way, though, leading you through the city as easily as if she’d lived here her whole life.
“She’s got amazing directional instincts,” Aether explains to your questioning look. “I can do it too, technically, but only when we’re on water.”
“I can’t navigate my way out of a paper bag,” you mumble. Aether bursts into abrupt laughter so hard that he needs to stop walking and lean against a wall. Seersha pauses in her walking and looks back at you with a fond expression that makes something in your chest flutter. Aether claps his hand on your shoulder and that sends another shock of affection through you.
Okay. That’s something you’re going to have to process. They’re definitely making you feel things. You’ve never been particularly interested in romantic relationships- back on Earth, you were always either too busy or stressed to really bother with it. But you’re pretty sure the feelings they’re giving you are romantic.
It makes sense, doesn’t it? They’ve been nice to you. Sweet and kind and good at taking care of you. Feeling romantic toward them sounds reasonable. There’s a name for that, isn’t there? Nightingale syndrome?
But what do they feel toward you? They’re nice, of course, but they’re also trying to take care of you. It’s not like you’ve been doing anything for them. They’ve been hauling around your dead weight despite it definitely being a huge inconvenience to them. And… well. You’ve caught the way Aether looks at Seersha sometimes, and the way she relaxes in his presence. You’re not going to mess that up for them.
“Hey.” You start out of your thoughts. Seersha has a hand on your arm. You didn’t even feel her touch you, which you suppose means your jumpiness has been getting better. “Are you all right? You stopped walking.”
Aether gives you a worried look. “If you need to go back to the house, we can.”
“Oh, no, I was just thinking about something.” You fidget your cloak a little bit on your shoulders, feeling suddenly self-conscious. How expensive were the pins Aether got you? you hadn’t even thought about it. A surge of embarrassment makes you look at the ground. “We can keep going.”
Seersha gives you an odd look, but she shrugs. You follow her, keeping your eyes firmly fixated on her back. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Aether looking at you.
The restaurant you’re heading for is only a few blocks away, but all of you keep getting distracted. Aether pauses for nearly ten minutes in front of a booth with a bunch of intricately-crafted bracelets made of gold and patterned after the waves of the sea. Seersha is better at casually glancing at things, but she eventually get stopped by a booth selling wing blades. It doesn’t take her long to decide to buy them, but then she spends another ten minutes haggling. Aether offers to buy them for her about three times, probably to get her to move on, but she insists on wrangling the price down.
“You need to learn how to haggle,” she tells him as you walk away from the booth. “It’s a skill.”
“I don’t need to know how to haggle. I have enough money,” Aether responds.
“It’s not about having enough money, it’s about getting a fair price and not having to pay as much.”
“I like to trust that the seller knows what a fair price is for their wares,” Aether says, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. Seersha bops him gently with a wing and he staggers for a second, pretending to be injured before slumping back over her and insisting she carry him.
You laugh with them, but it does give you a sharp stinging feeling in your chest. They’ve been friends with each other for far longer than you’ve known them. They have such ease with each other. They’re nice to you, but it’s not quite the same.
Your stomach twists in on itself as a sour sensation builds up in your throat. It’s almost funny. You’re jealous. Of both of them. At the same time. It’s funny, kind of. It just also hurts.
Someone brushes past you on the street and you realize that you’ve stopped moving. You look up, blinking away the wetness that kind of blurs your vision. A bit of a crowd has formed, and the generally dim lighting is not helping you make out the people around you. Nor is the variation in silhouettes- some people are enormously tall, some have extra limbs and some have branching horns. There’s a confusion of movement around you, and, in the midst of it, you have lost Seersha and Aether.
For a minute, it feels exactly like the time you lost your mom in a shopping mall. There’s a cold shock of terror that makes your mind run blank. Where did they go? Can you see them? You can’t make them out in the crowd. They could be a few feet away or half a block. People are still moving past you, some muttering in irritation at your stillness.
You move forward, because it seems like as good a direction as any other. About a third of your brain wants to run through the crowd, calling for Seersha and Aether, but the other two thirds insist it’s a bad idea. It makes you look vulnerable, not to mention that it would be hideously embarrassing.
Sick worry churns through you and your fingers tingle. It’s hard to breathe- you can feel that you’re taking little sips of air, but you can’t seem to stop doing it either. You’re not a child, you remind yourself. You’re an adult. There’s no need to panic. Just turn around and go back to the house. They’ll meet you there.
You turn and walk, trying not to look like you’re about to collapse or throw up or both. The panic is surging in the back of your mind, and it’s taking all your focus to remain put together. Okay. There were a few turns, but maybe you can use the booths as a sort of breadcrumb trail. You remember most of the ones you stopped at-
Fire. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see a burst of fire rise up from one of the booths. If you’d been calmer, you probably would have noticed that it’s small, contained fire, and probably done to give the passersby a bit of a show while cooking their food.
Unfortunately, you are not calm. You are one tiny trigger from falling into full-blown panic and a burst of unexpected fire is exactly what your brain needs to fall into shrieking terror.
Your thoughts cease. You run without direction, without care for any of the people around you. Some distant, barely-functioning part of your mind registers that there are people yelling at you- you’re pretty sure you actually bowl over a child at one point- but you don’t care. All you care about is get-away, get-away, get-away!
Adrenaline can only carry you so far, and eventually you’re exhausted enough that you stagger to a stop. The street is dimmer here, far away from the main portion of the city. There are a few people here, casting you odd looks as you stagger along. You can still hear the clamor of the city, but it’s distant and vague.
The last of the panic fades and takes its adrenaline with it. You manage to make it to a secluded area in the shadow of a building before you collapse. The ground is grimy, and you can already tell it’s staining your clothes, but you can’t get up again. Your legs refuse.
The reality of the situation is slowly sinking in. You’re alone, cowering in some dark corner of the city. If you weren’t lost before, you definitely are now. You could maybe make it back to the populated area of the city, but it would be blind wandering until you find something familiar. It could take hours, and you’ve already collapsed from exhaustion.
Fuck. This was supposed to be a nice night out with Aether and Seersha and you fucked it. They’re probably looking for you instead of enjoying their time in the city. How are they even going to find you? At least when you were nearby, you had a chance of wandering into them.
Slowly, you heave yourself to your feet. Your legs wobble. You feel sort of like you’re going to throw up, or pass out. But you stay standing and, after a moment, you collect yourself enough to stagger back toward the main portion of the city.
You make it about one block before you have to collapse again. Your legs just refuse to hold you. A growling from your stomach reminds you that you haven’t eaten in a while, which isn’t helping things.
Misery wells up in you, strong enough to make your limbs leaden and your mind foggy. This is all your fault. All your fault. Your own fault you’re out here, alone. Your own fault you’re lost. If you hadn’t panicked- If you hadn’t lost them in the first place-
You really are fucking helpless, aren’t you? Back home, you could just use your phone to navigate back to your hotel. Or use it to call for help. Or, hell, worst case scenario, you could always grab a bus or find a subway and figure your way home from there.
But here, you’re useless. Worse than useless, really. You recall the panic attack earlier and feel the heavy press of shame. Seersha and Aether take care of you almost constantly, and the first time they take you out anywhere, you get yourself lost.
Why would they feel anything toward you like you feel toward them? All you’ve done is be about the worst nuisance they could ask for.
You curl in on yourself, shivering in the cool night air. You can stay here. Maybe that’s better-
“There you are!”
You jump at the sudden voice and whip around. Aether is full-on sprinting at you, making a noise that’s either gasping for air or sobbing. He doesn’t so much as slow down before he barrels into you.
“Uff!” You nearly slam your head into the ground when Aether bowls you over, but one of his hands cradles it just in time. He squeezes you against him, burying his face in your shoulder.
“We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” His voice is muffled, but its proximity to your ear means you can hear him just fine. “I’m so sorry, I should have noticed-”
“We should have noticed.” You move just enough in Aether’s grip to see Seersha swoop down. “Thank the divines Aether paid for the warranty on those pins he bought you. We were about five minutes from calling on the royal guards before he remembered the tracking feature.”
“They were small,” Aether mumbles from where he’s nestled himself in your shoulder. “I didn’t want you to lose them.” He lifts his face just enough to shoot a smug look at Seersha. “And you say warranties are useless.”
You try to take a breath, but it turns into a bit of a sob. Aether pulls back, taking your face in his hands and peering intently at you. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”
“I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Your sobs build in your throat until it feels like they’re strangling you. Aether sort of pats frantically at you, looking at Seersha in panic.
“Hey,” Seersha says, crouching next to you. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”
Her voice is almost pitying, and you clench your teeth to force back the next sob. The effort makes you shudder all over, but you manage to choke off your crying altogether. “I’m fine,” you say, forcing your voice to be steady. “I’m okay. I just- really freaked me out for a minute there." You scrub hurriedly at your face. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to get lost, it just happened and then I panicked, and I’m sorry-” You can tell that you’re starting to ramp into panic again, so you click your jaw shut and press your lips together.
Aether and Seersha exchange looks so fast that you can’t get a read on what they’re thinking. “It’s okay,” Seersha says. She takes hold of your upper arm and gives it a little tug. “Can you stand?"
Your knees feel a little weak, but you can get up easily enough with her help. Aether stands close on your other side, his hands hovering like he’s ready to catch you at any moment. “Let’s get you home.”
“W-wait.” That sort of nebulous panic builds in the back of your throat like bile. “We’re going out, I thought-”
Seersha looks at you like you started speaking ancient Greek. “You’re covered in dirt and you look like you’re going to pass out. We’re not dragging you to a restaurant.”
“But you wanted to go,” you say. “Aether said you would enjoy it.”
“We can go another time,” Seersha says. Her voice has that slightly exaggerated patience you associate with a parent trying to calm their wailing child. A swarm of humiliation crawls over your skin. Is that how they think of you? Aether’s slightly pitying glance doesn’t dissuade that notion. They’ve been doing this the entire time, haven’t they? They’ve had to treat you like a child, put you down for naps, manage your ignorance, and protect you.
God, you’re an idiot. Why would they be romantically interested in you? There’s no reason to be. At best, you’re a hinderance to them. At worst… they think of you like some annoying child they need to take care of.
Your chest aches at that realization. Tears swell in your eyes and throat until your head hurts, but you don’t cry. It feels like it would take more energy to cry than you feel like you have.
Seersha and Aether help you back to your house. You try not to lean on them too much, though you keep stumbling. Every inch of your body feels weighted.
Once you’re back home, you carefully slip off the cloak and fold it on your bed. Your fingers trace over the pins Aether got you. They’re still beautiful. But they make your chest hurt now. You place the cloak under some of your other clothes.
“Are you all right?” Aether’s voice comes from behind you. He’s hovering in the doorway, Seersha a few feet away, and trying to look busy by fiddling with her feathers.
“Yes.” Your voice comes out crackling and shaky. Aether looks alarmed, and Seersha drops the pretense of preening in favor of staring at you. “Uh. I’m not hurt. Just tired. I’ll just, uh. Get ready for bed.”
You move toward the bathroom and Aether gives a slightly panicked, “Wait!” He glances at Seersha for help, then looks hurriedly back at you. “Um. Uh. You, uh. Do you need… help?” He blanches as soon as the words leave his mouth. Seersha stares at him. “I mean…”
“I don’t need help getting changed,” you say. “Thanks, though. I guess.”
As soon as you enter the bathroom, you hear Seersha’s voice. The words are indistinguishable, but you get the sense she’s scolding Aether. After a few moments, they quiet down again. You can still hear the murmur of voices, but you can’t even hope to make out any words.
You sit on the floor for a while. Long enough that Seersha and Aether stop talking. You could move. But you just feel tired. You’ve been an idiot. They’ve been humoring you. Obviously. They’ve been patient and kind, but you’ve just been fooling yourself if you think they actually like you.
That stinging feeling comes back into your eyes, but you can’t cry. The tears won’t come. Numbly, you change into your nightclothes. What do you do now? Stay with them? The idea hurts, but you can’t think of anything else you can do. But the idea of them pitying you… it makes your skin crawl to think about dealing with that every day.
When you emerge from the bathroom, Seersha and Aether both look at you. “Hey,” Aether says a little awkwardly. “Uh. Went okay?”
“Yeah,” you say. “I’m going to sleep.”
Seersha watches you as you get into bed. “Did something happen when you got lost?”
“Aside from getting lost? No.” You roll over, deliberately putting your back toward them.
“But you’re upset,” Aether says.
“I said that I’m fine.”
“Oh, bullshit,” Seersha says. That surprises you enough that you roll back over. She’s moved closer to you, arms folded over her chest and wings fluffed with agitation. “Something’s bothering you.”
“It’s okay if you’re upset,” Aether says. “We were upset too. But can you just talk to us? You’re acting… strange.”
You rub your forehead. “It was just- tiring. I’m tired, okay?” Your voice catches, embarrassingly, and you turn your head away from them. If they push you on this, you’re going to cry. You can feel the shuddering in your chest and the involuntary downward pull of your lips. If you cry, they’re never going to let it go.
The bed sinks at one end and you look up to see Aether sitting next to you. His hand rests just inches away from your leg. “It’s okay.” His voice is soft, his expression hesitant but gentle. “You’re safe now.” His own expression twitches, catches like he’s struggling not to cry. “I’m sorry. I know you’re mad, but we can talk about it, right?”
His apologizing blindsides you. You glance over at Seersha, but she’s staring at the floor, shamefaced. “Wh- you’re- why are you apologizing?”
“I should have been paying more attention,” Aether says. He swallows. “I didn’t even notice when you get separated and you should be mad at me, I deserve it-
“Aether,” Seersha says. “It wasn’t your fault.” She settles on the bed on your other side. “I should have been paying more attention. My job is to protect people and I wasn’t doing my job.”
“It’s not your job to take care of me!” you protest. “I was being stupid, it was my fault and I should have been paying better attention and I’m sorry, I keep making your take care of me and I know I’m annoying and I keep ruining things for you and I’m sorry!”
At some point, tears started falling. You scrub at your face, trying to calm your stuttering breathing. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I know I’m screwing this up, you can go, it’s okay, I’m so sorry-”
“Shhhh.” Aether pulls you against his chest, rocking slowly back and forth. “Shhhh, shhh. It’s okay.” He presses his cheek to the top of your head and rubs a hand up and down along your back. He smells sort of salty and you can feel the soft, minute details of his body. “It’s not your fault. You don’t need to apologize.”
You’re not wailing, but you’re barely preventing yourself from doing so. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I-”
“Breathe,” Aether says. “Just breathe slowly. Slowly. You got it.” Seersha presses closer to your other side, forming a sort of warm cocoon around you. You hide your face in Aether’s chest, burrowing away from the world. He pats your back and murmurs soothingly to you.
Eventually, you pull your face out of his chest. It’s pretty wet and a little sticky, which is embarrassing, but Aether seems unconcerned. He cups your cheek with his hand, thumb tracing your cheekbone. “Do you feel a little calmer now?”
You nod, scrubbing at your face with your wrist. “I’m sorr-”
“Enough,” Seersha says. “I think you’ve apologized enough for the next several years of your life.” She smiles slightly, enough to let you know she’s not serious. “You know we’re not mad at you, right?”
You sniff again and cough to shake the gunk that’s lodged in your throat. “You should be.”
Aether clutches at you tighter. His tail loops around your waist. “Why would you say that?”
Your voice wobbles, but you force the words out. “I fucking ruined your night! I got completely lost, I made you come looking for me, then you had to come home-”
“That wasn’t your fault,” Seersha says. Her gaze is steady, stern, like she’s trying to impress this upon you. “It was an accident. We should have been paying attention to you, too.”
“I don’t want you to have to pay attention to me! I feel like you guys have just been taking care of me this whole time. Even earlier, when I freaked out, you had to take a break just to take care of me. I should be able to handle this.”
There’s a pause. You sneak a look up at their faces. Seersha looks sad, but Aether looks almost stricken.
“That’s not- you’re- that’s not even-” He looks between you and Seersha, sputtering helplessly. "That isn't- why would you think-” He gives a convulsive swallow and lifts your face so you’re looking into his eyes. “You know we’re not mad at you, right? We don’t think you did anything wrong. We care about you.”
“Aether’s right,” Seersha says before you can respond. “We’re not upset with you. We were worried, but we don’t blame you for any of that.”
“But you should! I know it’s frustrating to deal with me, I know it is, and I know you didn’t want to bring me along in the first place. I’m just in the way. I just want to fix this so I can actually… I don’t know, be useful. Help out.” You rub at your face again, smearing away the few tears that spring up again.
“It wasn’t that we didn’t want to bring you along,” Seersha says. “We were worried about your health. I mean, you’ve actually been doing better than I expected.”
Aether smushes you against his chest. It feels a little like he’s attempting to merge your body with his. “See? You’re doing well.”
You sniff. It’s a little hard to breathe when you’re smushed into Aether like this, but it’s also pretty nice. Aether strokes the back of your head. Vaguely, you can hear Seersha shuffling behind you. A moment later, you feel feathers tickle against your back. Shuffling your head a little sideways, you see that she’s leaning against Aether, her wings extended to wrap both of you in them.
There’s an aching in your chest, but a reliving one. Like ripping off a bandage. Inside you, there’s still something raw and stinging, not fully healed, but exposed and ready to be treated. You curl further into Aether’s arms. It’s cozy there, and Seersha’s wings rest protectively over your back. It’s warm. Safe. After the terror earlier in the night, it’s a welcome relief.
Aether’s grip loosens. “Are you feeling better?”
“I think so.” You lift your head. “I do still feel bad about the night.”
“If Seersha started throwing up because she ate pufferfish, would you blame her for ruining your night?” Aether says, petting your head again. “No, right?”
“That was once,” Seersha huffed. “But it’s a good point. Anyway, it’s not like this is solely your fault. I think if we’re assigning blame, there is plenty to go around. We should have been paying more attention to you.”
“You don’t have to,” you mumble.
“No,” Seersha agreed. “But it’ll make you feel better. So, we want to.” Aether nods with such vigor that you’re a little worried about his neck.
You struggle with words for a moment before finally settling on, “Thank you.” There’s a part of you that wants to argue, to protest that they shouldn’t feel this way. But you can push it away. Instead, you collapse back onto your pillow.
Aether slumps over next to you, his tail lying across your body. You glance at him. “Uh. You’re not going to go to bed?”
“I’m staying here,” he says. He snuggles flush against you and sighs happily. “You need hugs.”
Before you can say anything, Aether’s eyes pop open and he turns his head. “Seeeeersha!” he calls. “I can hear your hesitation. Come over here.”
There’s a huff and the bed bounces a little as Sersha crawls over to your other side. Her wing extends over your back, feathers tickling a little.
Your eyes drift shut to the feeling of two warm bodies pressed against yours.
When you wake, Aether is still wrapped around you, in nearly the exact same position he’d been in when you fell asleep. Seersha is in the bathroom, if the running water is any indication. You sit up a little, as much as you can with Aether hanging off you, and groan. Sprinting through the city must have been a little too much for you.
“G’morning,” Aether mumbles into your spine. You jump a little- his breath is warm against your back.
“Morning,” you say. “Are you going to let go?”
“Hmmmm.” Aether stretches and sighs. “Eventually. Not now.”
“I have to pee,” you try.
“Seersha’s in the bathroom,” he mumbles. “You can’t go in there anyway.” You roll your eyes and move to get up anyway.
It takes some effort to wriggle over to the edge of the bed and stand. The instant you do, your legs burn in protest. Aether finally sits up, taking some of his weight off you. “Don’t we have to get up soon anyway?” you ask.
“Day off,” Aether sighs.
“Wh- because of last night?” you ask.
“No.” Aether scrubs at his eyes and stretches again. “It’s… a sort of governmental thing? They’re conferencing internally, so we don’t need to go back until tomorrow.”
“Oh.” You sit back down on the bed. Aether takes the opportunity to scramble into your lap. “You’re cuddly today,” you note. He nods absently and pushes his face into your stomach.
Seersha emerges from the bathroom, wings fluffy with mostly-dried water. Her eyes fall on you, with Aether still lying across you, and you feel a sudden urge to shove him to one side. That flush of shame, the feeling that you’re intruding upon them, rushes over your whole body.
And then Seersha gives a fond smile. “Good luck getting out of bed this morning. He’s clingy.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Aether says, still pressed as close to you as he can get. You squirm as the motion tickles your stomach.
“If he doesn’t want to get up, run your finger along his gills. He’ll bolt,” Seersha says. Aether flinches before you can get your hand within an inch of him.
“You’re just jealous,” he huffs, sitting up and wrapping his arms around you. Seersha arches an eyebrow.
“Jealous?”
“You want to cuddle too, don’t you?” You can only see his face out of the corner of your eye, but what you can make out looks exceedingly smug.
Seersha looks at him flatly for about five seconds, then marches over and jabs her fingers toward his gills. Aether shrieks like a seagull and flinches back so hard to ends up on the floor. By the time he’s sitting back up, Seersha is next to you, wings and arms engulfing your body.
“Hey!” Aether protests. Seersha grins.
“Jealous?”
Aether responds by lunging at you and pressing his whole body against your side like a friendly cat. His chest is quite close to your head. In fact, his weight on you is actually pushing you into Seersha’s chest.
You’re going to die squished between them. For the first time in a while, you wonder if you did actually die in the nuclear wasteland and woke up in some strange version of heaven.
“You’ve gone a bit limp.” Seersha puts her face close to yours. Everything seems very hot. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. Are you having a heart attack? Your chest feels tight. “Everything all right?”
She’s so close. You move to back up a little, but Aether is literally right up against you, blocking off any exit. He sighs, his breath tickling slightly at your ear.
“Back up a bit, Seersha, before our human faints,” Aether says. Seersha pulls back and Aether leans you away from him, giving you some more breathing room.
“Sorry for teasing,” she says, her wings fluttering in a small shrug. “I just wanted to confirm a theory.”
“A theory?” Your voice does a funny wavering thing. You clear your throat.
“How long have you been crushing on us?” Seersha asks, jerking her chin to indicate Aether.
You freeze. There’s a plunging feeling in your stomach, like you’ve just dropped off a building. She knows? Actually, they both must, since Aether’s not surprised at all by her revelation. How long has she..?
“Not long. I had a suspicion for a while, but I didn’t think much about it until Aether brought it up last night,” Seersha says, and you realize you mumbled that last bit out loud.
“Don’t look so panicked,” Aether says. He gives your shoulder a squeeze and you realize that you’ve tightened your muscles to much that they’re trembling. “We like you, too!”
For a split second, it feels like the floor dropped out of the world. Your stomach does a weird swoop and your mouth opens and closes a few times. “Uh- Y-you what?”
“It’s not that surprising, is it?” Aether asks. He nestles against you, giving you a big, doe-eyed look.
“Wh- yes, of course it is! I’m not- I’m, like, messed up and broken and I keep making trouble for you-”
Seersha puts a hand over your mouth and it takes effort to stop yourself from biting her. Aether sort of pats frantically at you, a bit clumsy, but endearing nonetheless. “No, no! That’s not true at all! You have no idea how impressive you are, do you?”
That surprises you enough to stop squirming against Seersha. After a moment, she drops her hand, allowing you to say, “Impressive? What are you talking about?”
“You literally survived an apocalypse,” Seersha says. “That’s impressive.”
“W-well. I just stumbled across some magical phenomena that got me here, I was going to die eventually.”
“You survived for weeks in a desolate wasteland,” Aether says. “That’s still impressive.”
You shrug. “It didn’t feel impressive while it was happening. It was just… the only thing I could do.”
“That you were able to do that is impressive,” Seersha said. “After that- I mean I think it’s impressive that you’re even as okay as you are right now.” Aether nods so hard it looks like his head is going to fall off.
“I’m not exactly impressive now,” you say. Aether gives a long, drawn-out groan and flops against you.
“No, right now, you’re frustrating.” You give him a little shove and he shoves back.
“It’s not necessary to be impressive.” Seersha tucks her wing around you and Aether. “Do we impress you?”
“Yes! You can fly and you’re basically a fucking prince!” you say, gesturing to Seersha and Aether in turn. “You’re kind of incredible!”
“A lot of people can fly,” Seersha murmurs.
“And prince is… a very fancy title for what I am,” Aether says. “You’re a human, which I’ve never even heard of before, you’ve got crazy endurance, you survived an apocalypse and came here full of some crazy poison and you lived and that’s really cool!”
“It sounds a lot more impressive when you put it like that,” you mumble. Seersha laughs.
“Perhaps everyone is more impressive to other people,” she says. “Maybe we’re all super impressive and super unimpressive at the same time. It doesn’t matter. We love you, and you love us. We should all be together.”
“It sounds really simple when you put it like that,” you say.
“It is simple,” Aether says. “Trust us. This is a lot less scary than an apocalypse, isn’t it?”
It really should be, but your heart is pounding anyway. Tentatively, you move your hands until you’re clutching theirs.
“I do trust you,” you say.
Aether promptly attempts to kiss you with such force that your heads crack together. Seersha has to carefully wrangle you apart.
“Are you feeling better?” she asks you. You nod, a little sheepish. “Good. Now. It’s morning. I think we should go out and get something to celebrate.”
“Yes!” Aether agrees. “Are you okay with that?”
His hand settles on your shoulder, thumb tracing the skin around the crook of your neck. The touch is unexpectedly tender and your chest swells like a balloon. A lump wells into your throat. “Yes?”
“Are you really?” Seersha presses, brows creasing. You give a wobbly smile.
“Yes. Sorry. Just… happy.” You sniff. “Um. Might need a little bit more time to get ready.”
Aether laughs a little. “We can wait.” His expression grows sly. “Or help-”
Seersha gently elbows him. “We’ll be right outside.”
They vanish and you take a moment to compose yourself. It feels like a dream. It feels almost too good to be a dream. Not for the first time, you wonder if you really did die and this is heaven, or some kind of strange hallucination.
The bedsheets cling to your legs a little as you stand. Outside, you can hear Seersha and Aether talking softly. Beyond the window, you can hear the sounds of the city. A warm breeze drifts through the room. It has that warm tinge you associate with the first days of spring.
Newness. Beginnings. The start of something good.
Maybe it really is okay to accept that part of your life is over. Maybe things really can be good. Maybe something this good can actually be real.
When you leave with Seersha and Aether, you’re between them, hand in hand. Their fingers curl, warm and inviting around your own. You feel, for the first time in a long time, at peace.
#exophilia#monster lover#polyamory#harpy#aquatic monster#monster romance#monster love#reader insert#nuclear spring#monster bf#monster gf
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She's been living rent free in my head for a week now. I don't have a name yet but...her
#dnd5e#dnd character#dnd art#dnd#dungeons and dragons 5e#dungeons dragons#dungeons and doodles#art#my art#digital art#character art#teifing#devil baby#i love her#marble teifling#dnd e5#dungeons and dragons#tiefling#devil
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A little Hektr this morning for my warmup. I’ve been getting asks about him and Jo and it’s kept my inspo for them alive despite running my own game that they aren’t in. I haven’t forgotten my sweet soulmate boys, and I’m glad y’all haven’t either!
#my art#Hektr Cervantes#my oc#pathfinder#dnd#soulmark#to the person who asked#Hektr was originally human#though his mother sang to demons as a hobby#and some of their energy may have leached through to him in the womb#so him and his twin brother Desmond came out a little...#funky...#hence marble colored skin and weird eyes#merging souls with a teifling was kinda the cherry on top
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OC Meme
tagged by @da4protag, gonna do this for my DnD fighter Zizi, whose campaign just ended! :D
She’s a Winged Teifling street rat whose training as a paladin was cut short, but boy oh boy did she retain and improve on the martial skills
meme below the cut! tagging anyone who sees this and is interested in doing it themselves
— LIGHT SOURCES
SUN RAYS. effervescent smiles, dandelion puffs, bare feet, beach waves, flowers pressed into books, champagne glasses, rose-gold eye shadow, boho skirts, wire-rimmed glasses, hair in loose waves, kaleidoscope eyes, sunshine in your hair, fire in your soul.
INCANDESCENT BULBS. crop tops, floral print, dancing in the rain, quiet defiance, hand-knit beanies, rosé, painted bookmarks, marble floors, cirrus clouds against a blue sky, polaroid pictures, hands held, fingers intertwined, flower crowns, baby bluebirds.
STARDUST. lace bralettes, brisk breezes, jasmine-scented perfume, books with yellowed pages, tracking constellations, sterling silver, violin music, chess games, iced coffee, glittery dresses, high heels, secret grins, midnight meetings, wishing upon a star.
CANDLE FLAMES. denim jackets, gladiator sandals, braided hair, messenger bags, movies at the cinema, stolen kisses, wax-sealed envelopes, haiku poetry, cherry wood, succulents, fountain pens, jigsaw puzzles, soft tired eyes, hidden smiles, cuddling with someone you trust.
MOONBEAMS. newspapers, over-sized sweaters, dancing shadows, fleece throws, cutoff shorts, piano chords, red wine, messy buns, embossed journals, a hint of blush dusted across your cheeks, freshly fallen snow, tranquil solitude, burning incense, light hair and dark skin.
AURORAS. combat boots, burgundy lips, infectious laughter, spiral-bound notebooks, pencils used down to the stub, ripped jeans, painted nails, cloud-watching, summer thunderstorms, hiking trails, vinyl records, film cameras, skating on a frozen lake, hot chocolate by the fire.
FIREWORKS. dancing until the break of dawn, heelys, being wheeled around in a shopping cart by your best friend, the euphoria of soaring through the air, being excited for what the future holds, group hugs, colorful tattoos, bronzer-highlighted cheeks, hugging a stuffed animal, lifting a child onto your shoulders, space buns, bright streaks in your hair.
— BODY LANGUAGE
DEFENSIVENESS. arms crossed on chest, crossing legs, fist-like gestures, pointing index finger, karate chops, stiffening of shoulders, tense posture, curling of lip, baring of teeth.
REFLECTIVE. hand-to-face gestures, head tilted, stroking chin, peering over glasses, taking glasses off; cleaning, putting earpiece of glasses in mouth, pipe smoker gestures, putting hand to bridge of nose, pursed lips, knitted brows.
SUSPICION. arms crossed, sideways glance, touching or rubbing nose, rubbing eyes, hands resting on weapon, brows raising, lips pressing into a thin line, strict, unwavering eye contact, wrinkling of nose, narrowed eyes.
CONFIDENCE. hands behind back, hands on lapels of coat, steepled hands, baring teeth in a grin, rolling shoulders, tipping head back but maintaining eye contact, chest puffed up, shoulders back, arms folded just above navel, wide eyes, standing akimbo.
INSECURITY & ANXIETY. chewing pen or pencil, rubbing thumb over opposite thumb, biting fingernails, biting lips, hands in pockets, elbow bent, closed gestures, clearing throat, “whew” sound, picking or pinching flesh, fidgeting in chair, hand covering mouth whilst speaking, poor eye contact, tugging pants whilst seated, jingling money in pockets, tugging at ear, perspiring hands, playing with hair, swaying, playing with pointer; marker; cane, smacking lips, sighing, rocking on balls of feet, flexing or cracking fingers sporadically, leg bouncing.
ANGER & FRUSTRATION. short breaths, “tsk” sounds, tightly-clenched hands, fist-like gestures, pointing index finger, rubbing hand through hair, rubbing back of neck, snarling, revealing teeth, grimacing, sharp-eye glowers, notable tension in brow, shoulders back, head up; defensive posturing, clenching of jaw, grinding teeth, nostrils flaring, heavy exhales.
— SENSES
SIGHT. small towns, big cities, six thirty curfews, lights that take the place of stars, blanket nests, light through the blinds as a wake up call, found family, finding a single star in the middle of new york city, window shopping, watching something terrible and enjoying it, growing numb to the sight of injustice, wilted flowers, faded caricatures, bright, bold colors.
HEARING. crickets and lightning bugs, car engines and a.c. units, a phone call to mum/dad, laughing with friends, jokes that are so bad you have to laugh, the clicking of computer keys, noise cancelling headphones, the sound of silence, muffled music from another room, drumming fingertips on a table, clicking of pens, listening to a clock and swearing the ticks get slower, ringing in the ears, the voice of someone you love, pitch shifted songs.
TOUCH. being held close during a long night, fleeting reassurances, holding hands when you’re scared, brushing fingers through strands of hair, freshly dried clothes, bruises on your knuckles, silk and satin, your favorite pet’s fur or feather, wringing your hands anxiously, snuggles, comforters in the dead of winter, nails against skin, cold metal, leather in summer.
TASTE. coffee in the morning, tea in the evening, bubblegum that lost its flavor, alcohol burning the back of your throat, homemade cooking no matter what’s made, blood in your mouth, stale air, mint, fresh vegetables, that processed taste of citrus candy, the first meal you cook by yourself that tastes good, foreign sweets, fast food, bittersweet, sour, spicy, sweet, bitter, too much salt on fries.
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Orientation
We see a series of scenes; a deep cavern illuminated by large glowing mushrooms with a small caravan traversing a narrow ledge, a fiery hammer sparking against an already red-hot anvil, industrial lights of a submerged city-scape of domes shining brightly against dark water, aerial bands of white marble populated to the fullest with every creature capable of achieving flight, dark forest floors of gangly trees covered in a thick green carpet. Then, we see a quaint study of an old man in a large pointy hat, a deep dungeon-like dugout housing a ragtag group gathering supplies led by a wheelchair-bound silhouette. We see a thin Tiefling chasing after an even thinner Elf, laughing and collapsing together against an old tree, a regal Triton in a think armchair with piles of books, tomes, and scrolls scattered around him, two bright purple eyes form from the darkness and out steps a tall woman, almost floating across the cobbled roads, she darts her eyes across any and every living thing. And then, we are back in the study, a dim candle burns at the edge of a messy desk as lightning gives brief clarity to what he is writing and then a knock at the door breaks his concentration. The dugout is now packed with all sorts of creatures looking to the same silhouette, who’s pointing to a large map on the table with pins. Thunder cracks and dust falls from the ceiling and then it fades to black. We see a pitch black void, and then a light. A flash of bright white light and then an enormous chunk of Earth with a vast array of ecosystems comes into focus. The Academy sits in the vast expanse of nothingness. Inter-dimensional doorways blink into existence and snuff out just as quickly. The Academy has come into being, and that’s where our story begins.
JOVIS:
Jovis is struck with a vision: He sees a ring of sparks that turn into large circular flames, and a hooded figure clutching something to their chest quickly jump through and vanish. He sees himself as a child, but from outside himself. He is swaddled in a tight crimson blanket, the same blanket used for the back portion of his cloak. He recognizes the location, it’s Mimi and Momo’s front doorstep. He remembers this scene from a third-person point of view, looking down onto himself.
Jovis awakes in his room to the smell of pancakes. Mimi and Momo are playfully arguing and Jovis grabs a quick bite before running out to meet Oliver at the courtyard. Oliver spills the contents of his backpack and tries to build a tower with the copious amounts of energy drink cans, but Jovis crushes all but one.
Hathor pipes up and says, “Jovis, why are you friends with this excuse of an Elf?” and follows it up by insisting. “You are at an age where you should learn the extent of what it means to be my vessel and have my power flowing through you.” Jovis agrees and fires his first actual spell, a large purple fireball into the final energy drink can. He hits it directly but as he does there is an overwhelming feeling within him.
Sekhmet, a voice Jovis has never heard before, speaks up and says, “Back off, it's my turn to shine!” and without moving or initiating anything, two more purple fireballs shoot off past the crisp of a can and burst through the window leading into the library.
Jovis freaks out and runs away, trying to find his way home or an adult to try and fix this, but he finds instead a large set of engraved Oak doors. He pushes them open and is stuck mid-fall and an invisible conveyor belt tracks him to the center of the room. Someone is already waiting in this room.
CAL:
Cal is found in the Library. He zones out and replays the last fight he had with his father. He stands opposite to his father, flanked by Cal’s younger brother Prince Zelzes to the left, and to the right is Roven Silverspear, the king’s literal right-hand man. The argument is nothing of note, besides that Zelzes and Silverspear interject with belittlement by name-calling and undermining his side. He returns to his bedchamber after training that night to find something is off, the hallway is just a little too quiet. He stands back at just the right time before his doors are blown off and guards try and storm in. He makes a break for it. He manages to injure one of the attackers before fleeing.
He spends a week on the lamb, ducking in and out of the public eye and trying to derail the search for him. He overhears talk of his disappearance, with no mention of the assassination attempt. He develops a split personality to cope with this newfound trauma, and towards the end finds himself cornered in a supply warehouse. The guards are closing in and in a last ditch effort to get away, he summons a rectangular portal of frosted glass that lights in the darkness. He gauges his options and jumps through.
Cal unfurls a scroll that details The Sicarius, a group of Grung assassins known for their use of poison and ability to sneakily topple unruly governments or monarchs. He scans it with more detail when suddenly a large, purple fireball blasts through the window right above his head and begins to burn the Library. Cal jumps up, and knocks over his ‘to read’ pile, where a tome falls open and has a large picture of Adrian, followed by a brief description. Adrian is a Grung who helped found the Academy.
Shelby, a high elf, screams for help because a second fireball has smashed into the Library farther down, causing a bookshelf to fall and pin her. Cal rushes over and lifts it up, allowing Shelby to escape. She thanks him graciously before running off.
Cal rips out the page about Adrian and stuffs it into the scroll about The Sicarius, and runs. Cal finds his way to a set of large Oak doors, he checks them for traps, but doesn’t find any. He takes a step in and is tracked into the center of the room, where he stands and briefly after, a Teifling almost falls in.
THARA:
Thara finds herself full of so many emotions as she points to a carriage with The Baron of a far off land, but corrects herself at the last minute, letting go a blast of pure necrotic energy, decimating and reanimating the horses. Her outburst turned the attention of the onlookers to her, and she ran. The two guards make chase, almost catching up to her, but in a brief instant of clarity, she stops at a shimmering pond of silver water and her reality shifts. Instead of jumping downwards, she is spit out sideways out of the backdoor of a restaurant.
Thara is now in an alleyway, and she makes her way out and into the street of a bustling farmers market, and across the way she makes out a pink skinned, wheelchair-bound Dr. Cantaloupe holds a plastic bag as his adoptive daughter Cherry zips around and fills it up with assorted groceries.
She rushes over to him and immediately collapses at his feed, sobbing. He helps her up and brings her to a park bench overlooking a large lake. He explains how the Academy works and how everyone here was once a newbie. Cherry hops up and sits next to her, playing with her hair or asking questions about how she got there.
They sit and talk for a bit, enough time where now Dr. Cantaloupe and Thara are walking and talking through the hallways of the Academy. Dr. Cantaloupe looks around and registers that Cherry isn’t with them, and as he gets a little nervous a loud explosion blows dust into their hallway a few intersections back.
Dr. Cantaloupe wheels around and speedily disappears around a corner, leaving Thara alone. She investigates the explosion to find the Library is alive with flames, and across the hallway are two large Oak doors. She looks around and enters them, and just like the others, is tracked to the center. She is last to arrive.
COUNCIL ROOM:
All three are now within the Council Room, where they are stuck in place, staring at a wall of thrones. In the center, an old Human Wizard sits. He has a large pointy hat and a long white beard. He is clutching a staff in one hand. On either side of the wall of thrones sits two doorways with swirling black portals in their frames.
To his right sits a towering robotic humanoid with eyes of all shades covering most of her metal flesh, she has eyes seemingly everywhere besides where normal people have eyes, where she has a large red gemstone for the right socket and a large black eye patch covering the left. On her shoulder sits a mini throne where a blue and green Grung sits.
To the right, sits three large, but ultimately normal-sized thrones. Two on ground level and one positioned above their heads in the center. On the ground sits an elderly Tortle. Next to him is a young, dirt-stained Svirfneblin, and above them sits a dark Kenku with a bow string across his chest.
The party hears a voice, and they can tell it’s coming from the Council, but none of them are moving in any way. The voice says, “This Council has presided over the Academy of Adventurer’s since its inception. Now, The Chosen, The Lost, and the Re-claimer, find their way into this hallowed hall. You are here for a reason, yet none of us called upon any otherworldly deities to bring such a group here. There must be another reason for strings as intertwined as these,” and the voice pauses, as Dr. Cantaloupe, with Cherry on his lap, comes bursting in.
Dr. Cantaloupe shakes a finger at the council and demands the doorways out of the Academy are fixed this instant. He’d like to, at the very least, have the option of leaving and returning to his family. Cherry even jumps off his lap and makes a game of running through the portal and being spit back out into the room.
The Council speaks up, “The exit doorways are free and open to use for anyone who needs them, just as the Academy is.” This frustrates Dr. Cantaloupe. He apologies to the party before leaving to wait outside, since the Council seems to not be answering their questions. “The Doctor seems to be not a fan of our Academy, all he has to do is leave,” the Council says.
RESISTANCE:
Dr. Cantaloupe is waiting outside the door, still calming down. He explains of a place they can go that will be safe to speak of such private matters. He leads them down a hallway and taps the wall in a design and it slides up and over to reveal a hallway. Cherry speeds down into the darkness and out of sight. He then creates a sigil of sorts with his hands and begins to lift himself up. His wheelchair folds up into a briefcase and he floats down. The stairs are a rough stone and the walls and ceilings are dirt.
At the bottom, there is a landing that splits in three. To the right is a locker room, the left a bunk house, and forward to a long meeting area. Dr. Cantaloupe unfolds his wheelchair and sits down on the opposite side of a round stone table. He leans back and folds his hands and tells the players he will answer any question they have.
The Resistance was formed as an underground and covert way of learning more about the Academy. They learned that the Academy heals itself overnight, almost exactly at Midnight. When he found out none of the exit doors were working, the Resistance changed into a full-blown operation to fix them and find out why they aren’t working in the first place.
Dr. Cantaloupe slides contracts to each member and offers them a safe haven to train as well as learn more about what’s going on. Each person signs the contact, and with the last one being signed he brings the party down a more secure tunnel, this one with sparse lighting from bulbs until they reach a stone doorway that the party walks into. There are no lights in this room and Dr. Cantaloupe explains that to be a part of the Resistance they need to prove their might, trial by combat style. The three of them were taken to the Council Room for a reason, so having them in the Resistance is more than beneficial.
The party defeats the Purple Wormling and it disintegrates, only to be brought back the next day. After that, The party splits up. Jovis runs home, waking up Oliver and shouting at him about the very eventful day he had. Cal meditates in the lake to gain some clarity, and Thara prays to her god.
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***Meanwhile, in Nemyriss***
As we begin, our four heroes each find themselves in the city of Highriver. A city predominantly populated by Elves, Dwarves, and silver Dragonborn, nestled into the eastern portion of the Ishmiran Spine. Its placement parting the cascading waterfall from the mountain range, spilling into a massive lake. In all of Nemyriss, the Champions' Call is looked forward to as the major festival of the country. To battle in the Colosseum is to proclaim yourself a hero, to showcase your skill either as prospective student or muscle for hire. Five days of revelry with the three days of tourney beginning the festivities.
***Before...***
To the southeast of the northwestern town of Errafette, we have a man of the cloth, Quip, a once abandoned goblin babe found and raised in the Cathedral of the Radiance. Tenacious. Studious. He answers his summons as a healer for the infirmary of the Champions' Call. He doesn't want to go. Seems foolish to have to traipse about the country for a few mere coins... but... it is an opportunity to spread the Light... and... he will get paid. And THEN he will go home to his gently marbled chapel and velveteen bed... Surely. An uneasiness sets into the back of his neck... but it is no matter.
Tieflings are only somewhat common in the Kerkashi Canyon, the centerfold of the continent. A dark purple skinned tiefling with fair toned ram like horns, and a tail curved and slick with a dangerous venom... Scorpia, the Crowbar. An accomplished smuggler and innately connected druid. Her entire life she's dreamed of green and through her travels she knows of various animals. A job brings her here to Highriver, delivering cargo full of a strange blue liquid. Until a damaging dream of what is to come makes her instincts... falter.
Lesser known than the surface walking teifling is the winged. Shunned by their kin, they took to the caverns below the city of Karakesh. Here we meet Arya. She soars through the caverns, the feathers of her ravenlike wings rustling. Though she often found comfort in her dreams, he greenery and flowers and her belief her people would live there some day, a dark shadow clouded her premonitions and twisted them. She was told to seek Galethain in Highriver.
The sands of Miraja Wastes, cruel and unrelenting... much like the many packs of gnolls which prowl there. After a vicious loss, G'mork was cast out by his fellow Duskfangs, set to either die by the dunes' will or join the Dust Skimmers. He thought dying would be more honorable until a human man named Citius came across his starving, dehydrated living corpse. Citius cared for G'mork and promised to do so for the remainder of his days if G'mork would would his talents in the ring. A trail of tourney spilled blood brings G'mork to the Champion's Call.
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Schreckliche Helden- Chapter 2: Back on The Open Trail
Samantha nodded, pushing strands of copper hair out of her face as the humanoid replied. It was an 'okay' answer to her question, on her behalf at least, and she was still too tired to even look into it that deeply. So with a hearty pat on the back, she turned to her sleeping quarters and began to pack away the bedroll. The soft cotton was rolled and compressed until it was bound together with rope, a small bow holding it all together. It was a little messy in places, but not a half-bad job of packing away her things. Samantha cut away the excess rope, shoving in lazily into one of her pockets; resheathing her silver sword afterwards. It was a shortsword, rather for piercing and looked rarely used- almost new. Contently, Samantha ripped open a patchwork-esc backpack, pulling out a green coat with cream, fur lining at the top. It was almost identical to her brothers, with long, loose sleeves, yet the difference was that its actual body was short, landing just a few inches short of her waist. She tugged it on over her brown, plaid shirt, stuffing the bedroll in afterwards. The rope followed in pursuit as Yvolt just watched from his place by the fire.
"Alright," She said, dusting off her hands and turning to face Yvolt, "You any good with weapons?"
The male seemed almost offended by this, startled even as he stared at her in disbelief. Using weapons? He almost had the urge to burst out laughing if it wasn't for the fact that she had saved his life last night. Steeling his thoughts, he shook his head, wrapping his palms into one-another and rubbing them together to gain warmth. He had lied about being warm, the bitter, cold morning air now getting to him.
"No, my way is peaceful. I know martial defences and was trained to not kill- to save people so I could gain information...My teachers were not very good people in heart, I must admit. Yet I assure you that I do not follow in their footsteps Ms Wixpyre." He paused, trying to gauge her reaction. She seemed to be half-heartedly listening to this, more focused on packing up her gear and such. Yet with his silence, she turned to look at him. Now he had her attention, he continued, " I know woodland magic, or more commonly known as Druidic magic. The forest can be used in so many ways that are peaceful and restoring. But I rather stick to my 'knock-out way.'"
Humming, Samantha yawned, kicking some charred stones from the firepit before picking two up and placing them in her pocket. Weary, she placed a pale hand on the guy's arm, not tall enough to reach his shoulder like she would've wanted. Patting it twice, she moved over to Ajinn, the elephant slumbering peacefully. Yvolt followed in pursuit, curious as to what she was doing. If he could recall, Ms Nahala had said that the 'rock' didn't like being woken up by anyone; apart from her and Mr Blacksmith that is. A large, green and pastel yellow cloak hung over its shoulders, a hood of equal size also being draped over it. In his opinion, the cloak was a little too large for the elephant, perhaps big enough to fit a giant or a large being. Only one foot larger than the 6-foot elephant, he stood over its slumbering figure like an actual giant himself.
Hooking her backpack onto the cloak, Samantha carefully hoisted herself into a nearby tree, some of the remaining leaves scattering onto the ground. without a sound she made her way onto the elephant's back, lying on her stomach with her head near the hood. Star-fished, she turned to face the firbolg who stared up at her in disbelief. How she didn't awaken the giant beast he had no idea.
"Wake up the rest for me would you?" She inquired, doing a motion most would associate with 'shoo'.
"Of course Ms Wixpyre but they may seem a little annoyed if I wake them up."
"Then I'll slap 'em. You seem chill and as long as you let me sleep and don't cause chaos, I'm chill."
"Thank you Ms Wixpyre. I shall get to work."
She turned her head to face the forest, looking out into the wildlife as she slowly fell asleep again.
Out of the three options on who to wake up, Yvolt settled on waking up Ms Nahala first. She seemed the most kind and welcomed him into the group with a smile. Her snake also made him wonder the limits of magic, on how it just magically appeared in her arms last night. Ms Nahala seemed to groggily wake-up, not even opening her eyes as she sat up in the bedroll and, presumably, stared at Yvolt. It was hard to tell with her eyes closed and all. dark black, short hair messy, she wearily patted his cheek twice to show she was awake, a smile forming on her pale blue face; quietly whispering a 'good morning' as she stretched her arms. Marble, who was previously coiled around her torso, slowly slithered off of Ms Nahala, towards the bedrolls of Mr Wixpyre and 'bow-bitch' (or rather, Mr Blacksmith). Yvolt held out a hand, ready to help the tired girl out of her bedding. Rubbing her eyes, Ms Nahala blinked twice, before accepting it, stumbling to her feet with a yawn.
after regaining her balance, she picked up the wooden staff off of the grass next to her bedroll, leaning on it for support in her early-morning stupor.
"mhm, thanks." She yawned again, still rubbing tiredness from her blue eyes.
Only quietly nodding in response, Yvolt, turned to the other two bedrolls, contemplating on who to wake up next.
"'it's fine, I'll wake up Grumpy and Marble'll wake up Sam. You just do whatever whilst we pack up. Maybe the mountains have a city that we can get you some shit from."
Nahala slowly made her way to Jackson's bedding, a faint smile gracing her lips as she crouched down next to the bedroll. An every-day scenario was her waking up Jackson, the two having known each other for seven of their adult years and travelled for together for one. It had become routine for the two, almost as if they lived a normal life together, in a house. Poking his cheek, she giggled as his face scrunched up, eyebrows furrowing and a pout forming on his cocoa skin. Grasping either shoulder, she began to rock him back and forth, with the care that of a mother would have with a newborn. Slowly, he roused from his sleep, squinting at her before lying back down.
Annoyed by this, Nahala stretched either arm out straight, rotating and rolling her wrists as they slowly came together and formed some ice cubes. They were held carefully between her claws and began to lower closer and closer to Jackson's face, then they made impact.
He screamed in shock, rolling out of the bedroll and onto the grass with a thud. Bursts of giggles emitted from the teifling as she fell backwards from crouching, landing also in the grass. She held her stomach as she laughed, having dropped the staff as she fell. Jackson scowled, propping himself up on his shoulders and peering over the bedroll. Two chunks of ice lay there, dampening the top half of his bed as they slid around. Shaking his head, Jackson stood to his feet, still tired, and began to pack away his bedroll. Although tired, he knew that as soon as everyone woke up, it was time to move. People always had to keep moving on the road or else they'd be jumped by bandits. Or else they'd be robbed of everything.
"Woken up Ajinn yet?" He mused, pulling out some rope from his backpack.
The girl placed a hand in the moist grass, sitting herself up, "No, not yet. I'll get to it though."
Jackson nodded, shaking the ice cubes off of the bedroll. They dropped into the grass and were never seen again. Nahala stood to her feet, picking up her staff and throwing a look over at Sam's bedroll. The Half-elf was still sleeping, yet a white snake coiled and wrapped it'self around the bed, slowly beginning to close the gap between the man and the bed. All of a sudden Sam began to squirm and try to escape the snake's grip, only then was it that the snake slinked off, disappearing into thin air and re-appearing onto Nahala's shoulders. Sam stared into the sky with what looked to annoyance. He grumbled profanities, before crawling out of his own cocoon and began to pack it away. The morning air hung heavy, thick some may say, as the party began to get ready to move again, waking up the sleeping elephant and collecting their weapons from around the area. Sam fidgeted with a gun he had made a few years back, dusting out the barrel and refilling the chambers with some ammo he had manufactured. It held two bullets, both with incredible range and packed a punch with the gunpowder explosion.
"We all ready to go?" He puzzled, taking a look-over the campsite of people.
It almost looked as if nobody had been there at all, flowers having appeared around the alcove, presumably overnight. The band of misfits that were his travelling companions signalled that they were ready to leave, everyone, except Samantha who was asleep, were rearing to go. Ajinn raised his trunk up from the nearby stream, drinking some more water before stomping his way over to Nahala and Jackson. With that, The trio led the way, Yvolt and Sam standing either side behind the elephant as the group continued down the road. Yvolt had re-equipped his navy cloak, covering up the kimono that hid underneath. He had also placed the satchel back around his shoulder, patting the two scrolls that were inside of it before setting off with the group.
Sam looked across his group of friends and acquaintance. A warlock, a ranger, a close-fighting healer and a martial artist who knew forest magic; not forgetting himself, a gunsmith (although guns were of his own invention.). As everyone silently spoke amongst themselves, he couldn't help but feel isolated as he subconsciously pulled his lips back into his mouth. Something felt amiss. Maybe it was due to the fact that there was a stranger with them, or maybe it was due to the fact of him not feeding recently, but it messed with his head- and he didn't like it. It reminded him of his time in his castle, alone and sans interaction. Nobody seemed to want to engage in convocation with him. He glanced back over at Yvolt, eying the scrolls poking out of the linin bag.
"What're they?"
The person in question perked up, "Pardon?"
"What are they, the scrolls."
"They're maps, Mr Wixpyre" Yvolt replied, moving slightly closer to Sam as there was a rather large distance between the two, " One's of the region, the other is a map of my home kingdom. You may look if you want." He held one of the parchments out, smiling at Sam.
Sam thanked the giant, opening the scroll and scanning the region. Erroz was over the mountain range, remote and hard to get to, yet the most well-known and oldest city in the whole of Pamonia. Known for fine women and the strongest of champions, most people dreamed of going to Erroz to see or even attend the Lord and Lady's parties. Sometimes the Queen of the region would be found at these parties and those were the best times. Of course, Sam knew all about these parties, having grown up in Erroz all of his life, only ever exiting solitude to attend such ball's or events. They were pretty, extravagant and most importantly, posh. People were dressed to the nines and his sister and he was no exception. He snorted at the memory of a five-year-old Samantha dressed in her pink, poofy, gown. Those were the days. Handing the map back to Yvolt, he looked beyond the giant, lumbering creature and towards Jackson in front of him.
He couldn't grasp around why there was so much hatred that the Blacksmith held towards him. Why it wasn't even shown when the two interacted or even when they joked or laughed together. Something about the man he'd known for six months put him slightly on edge after last night, and it annoyed him to no end.
"Thanks." He grumbled, turning back to Yvolt. Then he realized something. Flowers bloomed in his wake as he stepped, bare-footed in the grass. The gentle giant's hair was also littered with the same wildflowers; the same flowers that had grown around the camp and lavishly coloured it. For some reason, Sam's stomach churned, perhaps it was the lack of breakfast. He fiddled with the safety on the gun, flicking it on and off as his boots clinked upon contact with the grass.
Ajinn slowed in his pace as a cart began to pass by the group, pulled by horses and about twelve people walking alongside or sitting inside of it. The cart jingled and the people, all humans, looked at the group of adventurers as they passed. All dressed in an unkempt manner, dirty, unclean. Yvolt lowered his head, casting his gaze towards the forest as the cart passed, one of the humans chuckling and pointing at the firbolg. Sam watched the cart continue past them before it stopped, everyone who was sitting down jumping out and the small army of people began to race forward, charging, screaming.
"Halt!" Sam yelled, pulling out his gun and taking a few steps back.
Ajinn stopped in his place, Nahala and Jackson turning around to look at the army of sword and crossbow-wielding people. Without another thought, Sam fired into the crowd, the bullet exploding and passing between two people. One bloodied shoulder made an attacker drop their short sword, gripping their shoulder as the screamed in agony, yet still ran. Another fell to the ground, clutching their waist to hold in the ruby liquid flowing from the wound. Sam hummed, running back a little bit before he took aim again. Jackson followed whilst Nahala guided Ajinn away from the fight, three bandits splitting off from the group to follow her.
A flurry of three arrows came down on the girl and elephant as they fled, two hitting the giant creature whilst one, thankfully missed. Yvolt quickly ran after them, catching up and glaring at the trio of sword-wielders who had followed.
A bullet and an arrow came shooting into the crowd once more as the attackers came closer, two people fell to the floor, wounds in their heads. A swordsman took a swing at Jackson, bloodlust in his hazel eyes as he slashed at the man. crying out in pain, Jackson shoved the man away from him, moving back even further as he readied another arrow.
Three out of twelve were down, one disarmed and bleeding out as Sam began to hurridly reload his gun. Meanwhile, Yvolt began to hurridly defend Nahala as she stroked the Elephant, the creature now lying down in the grass. He gripped the arm of one of the closest men, throwing him over his shoulder and to the ground behind him. Another came at him, striking the sword into his waist as if he was a tree, trying to cut away at the wood. Yvolt gritted his teeth, shifting his feet in the ground and pushing the man away, roots of wood reaching out of the ground and pinning the attacker to the floor, sword clattered across the battlefield. Turning to face the next attacker, he threw a glance over his shoulder to check on the teifling.
Nahala began to gracefully move around, twisting and turning as ice formed around her body and collected in her palms, the blue magic glowed before shards spluttered out, piercing the man he had previously thrown and impaling him into the ground.
Five out of twelve down, the shoulder-shot man was soon met with an arrow to the head from Jackson as he ran as far away as he could, trying to gain distance from the attackers. Sam, having re-loaded his gun, quickly fired twice into the crowd, two cries of agony coming from the men. One dropped whist three split from the crowd again, running over to Yvolt and Nahala. Three faced him, two with swords and one hung back slightly, crossbow aiming at him.
The bolt shot out of the bow like a kingfisher looking for its prey, lodging it'self into Sam's raised hand that had just fired the gun. Although not deep, he clutched the hand in and bent over, dropping the gun to the ground as one of the men struck at him with their sword. It calved into his shoulder, getting stuck on the bone and not being able to be removed. The bandit struggled to pull it out, heaving with all their might.
Jumping from the Elephant's back, Samantha sliced her sword into the bandit who was about to attack Yvolt, straddling him in the ground as she stabbed him repeatedly. Almost springing to her feet, a yellow glow pulsated from her palm as she hovered over Yvolt's bleeding side, the lower portion of the cloak having been cut off and lying on the ground. Samantha yawned, staring at the trio of more bandits heading their way.
"I've got you!" Jackson yelled, Shooting an arrow towards Sam and watching the assailant go limp against the ground. Quickly he took another shot at the crossbow-wielder, hitting them in the neck and watching them stagger backwards. Jackson ran forward, to get a better shot at the last attacker who stared at the ranger in fear, paralyzed.
Nahala twirled around gracefully, purple sparking at the tips of her fingers as an Eldrich blast of light shot towards the trio of attackers coming towards them, bulky, cream coat not seeming to affect her movements. One was pushed back and fell to the ground, black singing its clothing. Yvolt raised a hand, dirt following its movements and rising, still connected to the earth. The dirt shifted around like a cobra, rising until it hovered high in front of the attackers as quickly as he could, he clenched his fist and dropped it, not moving from his position on the ground. The earth covered the two, neither rising from the mound of unturned eath. Samantha whistled as she placed a palm against Ajinn, faint glows coming from underneath as she pulled the arrows out and healed its wounds.
Sam fell to the ground, half-conscious from the blood he was currently loosing from his palm and his shoulder. Shakily, he gripped the gun with his healthy arm, firing a blank that echoed throughout the forest. The last assailant turned to look at him, only to be shot in the side of the head with an arrow. The arm fell flush with the floor, gun topping out of his hand once again as he tiredly tried to pull the sword from his shoulder.
The battle was over yet the aftermath was yet to finish. Samantha began to sprint as if her life depended on it towards her brother, forgetting about the two humanoids and everything else around her. Having seen him fall to the ground made wet tears roll down her face, wind whipping her hair back with her speed. Overcome by emotions, she slid onto her knees next to her brother, hands instantly glowing warmth as she lowered them onto his body.
"No," She screamed, "No, no, no, no, no!"
The flesh in his shoulder began to reform and mould back into place, twisting and interconnecting the muscles. Bones cracked into place as the sword clattered to the floor nearby. Unfortunately, she hadn't had enough magic to finish healing his body, palm still open and bleeding out. Warm tears trickled down her face as she pulled bandages out from her pocket, ripping out the bolt and wrapping it in the bandages tightly. She couldn't lose him. She couldn't. She felt sleepy, tired and drained from overusing her magic and she passed out, snoring next to her half-conscious brother. She tried to stay awake, yet her body had fought against her.
Yvolt and Nahala had followed in pursuit, the former having slowed down to match the blue girl's pace. Jackson called over Ajinn, the elephant slowly stomping over to the group. Everyone crowded around the twins, wondering if the brother was still alive despite his sister's efforts.
[Next Chapter: https://fried-coco-jelly.tumblr.com/post/183188385591/schreckliche-helden-chapter-3-the-aftermath]
#writing#Schreckliche Helden#dnd#dnd character#firbolgs#half-elves#dnd oc#my ocs#chapter 2#guns#blood but not descriptive#so It's probably okay#tiefling#fantasy#fight#woop#first battle shall commence
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The Lion’s Den
"Why are you coming inside?" A guard immediately demanded as they stepped into the clean marble foyer. The first thing that Phoenix took note of was the few wooden crates that were scattered around the hall. Other than the crates the hall was empty, which she regarded as odd. She must have been staring at them because she felt Damian subtly drive his elbow into her side.
"Two of our men went to help some whore with her things and never came back." Damian said in a gruff voice that was far from his usual dulcet tone. The guard, a grey-skinned tiefling with some of the sharpest cheekbones she had ever seen, gave no indication if Damian gave himself away by speaking. The three of them stood in an uneasy silence for a few seconds before the guard gave a roll of his eyes, surprising both Phoenix and Damian.
"Those idiots chase after anything with breasts." He muttered in exasperation as though they were discussing juvenile boys instead of trained assassins. If possible, Phoenix tried to sink further into the cloak that obscured her features as Damian gave a forced chuckle. Humanizing the guards that they just killed created an awkward atmosphere that only the two of them could feel, but the teifling seemed to be oblivious to their discomfort. "I'll send some backup to go help them."
"We're going to go rest in the barracks if you don't need help…" Damian trailed off, seemingly unsure how to finish the sentence. This made the teifling pause for a second, peering at the pair of them with suspicion in his eyes.
"Protocall is that you accompany me to investigate the disturbance." He put a hand on his hips, unsettlingly close to his sword, and gave them a once-over. Phoenix's heart hammered in her chest as she held back the urge to simply attack the man to stop this painful line of questioning, but she simply lowered her head and waited for Damian to speak. Damian paused as his mind reeled for a reply, but the teifling seemed to brush off the mistake. "It is late my, friends. Go get some rest."
The two adventurers felt the tension leave their shoulders as he spoke. As long as they got deep enough inside before anyone raised an alarm, the others should have enough time to climb the towers and make sure that they wouldn't be shot down by archers during their infiltration. Confident once more, Damian smirked and led the way as they breezed past the teifling. Phoenix almost mimicked his self-assured stride, but found herself stumbling as she felt the cloak around her shoulders tighten before tearing away from her form.
"Fu-" Her curse was cut off as she barely dodged a slim sword that was aimed for her throat, her knees bashing the marble floor as she dropped to the ground and rolled to the side. Damian lunged forward and slashed the teifling's face with one of his arrows as Phoenix popped up behind the man and wrapped one of her whips around his neck. The teifling swiftly kicked Damian away while simultaneously driving an elbow into Phoenix's side. She let out a grunt, but didn't let loose the grip she had on the whips.
"I knew I sensed a bitch." The teifling managed to choke out, once again slamming an elbow into her side. This time her grip slipped, allowing him to shove her off and dodge the attack by Damian. The teifling grinned at her, standing as though she had barely scratched him. "There's a reason that we don't let women into our guild."
"Woah, I thought that you guys were an assassins guild not a magic guild!" Damian exclaimed, straightening up with a faux surprised expression. "But look at you! Conjuring misogyny out of thin air!"
For the first time, Phoenix felt herself actually laughing at one of Damian's jokes. Hearing her reaction, Damian shot her a grin which she reluctantly returned with a shake of her head.
"It isn't that difficult of a spell, Damian." She replied, a chuckle lingering in the back of her throat. "I'm sure an idiot like him could learn it."
The two of them both dissolved into laughter, frustrating the tiefling as they completely ignored his threatening step forward. Phoenix straightened up, one hand holding her gut as it hurt from both laughing and the two brutal blows that it took a few minutes ago, and shook her head once more at Damian. It had been a while since she had laughed that hard, and it almost seemed fitting that it had happened in the most inappropriate of times.
"Alright, the others should have taken care of the towers by now." She tried to force her smile from her face, but found it difficult as she saw the look of pure bewilderment that the teifling had. "So are you going to surrender or not?"
"Go to hell." He spat before darting forward and slashing downward. Phoenix sidestepped and allowed Damian to brush past her and drive his arrow into the man's throat. Gargling filled the air as he began to choke, one hand clutching the area around the wound while the other grasped at the air in front of him. Phoenix's smile finally slipped away as she looked away from the grotesque scene, not looking back until she heard a thump and then nothing more.
"Ah, that was fun!" Damian was far too cheerful for just impaling someone, but for the first time in a while, Phoenix didn't find that she minded. She walked over to the door that lead out of the foyer and peeked into the hallway, blinking in surprise when she didn't see more assassins coming. All she saw was a few more crates scattered throughout the stone hallway.
"It looks empty?" Her tone was unsure, as there were a number of enchantments that could make it look like an empty hallway. She stepped forward and quickly held out a hand, her fingers encased in a soft violet glow as she tried to detect the presence of magic. When nothing came up, she stepped further in. "I think that it's safe."
"Good, we need to meet the others in the courtyard." Damian said from the foyer, joining her after a few seconds as he tried to rub the blood on his hands off on his cloak. He shot her a smirk and joined her at the large oak doors, leading into the courtyard that ringed the main building of the stronghold. The cool midnight air blew the stray curls that had fallen from her braids, making her wrinkle her nose. About six men who were speaking in front of the main stronghold whipped around as the two of them stepped onto the cobblestone path.
There was a moment of silence before Damian nervously laughed.
"This isn't our inn!" He threw a tense arm around Phoenix, which she immediately pushed off of her shoulders. "We must have taken a wrong turn! Excuse us gentlemen but-"
He didn't get to finish whatever witty reply he had because an axe flew at his head in the next moment. Phoenix acted fast and shoved him to the side, watching as the axe barely brushed against her arm in the process. It was only the smallest of scratches, but it was enough to make her glare at whoever threw it.
She snapped her whips out, finding something satisfying about the resounding crack they made as they hit empty air. Before she could rush forward, she heard a whistling in the air and watched as a javelin drilled the shoulder of the man who had thrown the axe.
Phoenix let out a growl of frustration at the fact that Bamf wouldn't let her just have one badass moment and instead rushed at the next closest man. After ducking under the sword that he swung at her, she drew back her arm and delivered a strong blow to his throat. Choking, he stepped backwards with one hand clutching his throat. Taking this opportunity, she hooked her foot behind his and knocked him backwards. As he fell, her arm darted forward. Her whip snaked around his neck, causing it to snap to an unsettling angle as he fell to the ground.
At her side, Damian ran to the man with a javelin in his shoulder and shoved it further in while also driving and arrow into his uninjured shoulder. A tortured scream rang out through the courtyard, silence in the next moment.
Apparently unable to contain himself any longer, Dovahkiin descended from one of the ladders on the outer wall and dove into the group of assassins with a bellowing war cry. Phoenix made a face, but had to admit it sounded better than the folk songs that he had been singing on the way there. The fight dissolved into a blur of flashing metal accompanied by the singing of blades, ending as Thanatos summoned a bolt of lightning to strike down the remaining enemies.
"We should...have started with that." Damian panted, leaning over to catch his breath. Dovahkiin let out a bassy chuckle, slapping him on the back roughly.
"You need to get into better shape, my friend! You'll never keep up with my numbers in your current state!" Dovahkiin's face split into a wide smile, delighted in tonight's events. Phoenix rolled her eyes, getting used to her acquaintances constant lust for battle.
"Why weren't there more men? This is a stronghold." Bamf, as usual, completely ignored the banter.
"Judging by the crates, I'd say that they were moving." Phoenix replied, walking over to one of the wooden boxes and pushing the top open. Inside was rows of vials, carefully nestled in tufts of hay. If she were to guess, she'd say that they were poisons of some kind.
"I wouldn't touch thos', lass."
Phoenix whipped around, holding her weapons aloft in either hand as a gruff, yet feminine voice, came from the doorway behind them. Out of the shadows stepped a short figure, a mess of burgundy curls falling around a round face. It was a dwarvish woman with a knobby nose, holding a battle axe in her hands in a non-threatening manner.
"Who are you?" Dovahkiin demanded, drawing his large sword in preparation. Phoenix shot him a look, as it was clear she wasn't about to attack. The dwarf woman had come alone and had a relaxed stance, making it clear that she was not currently a threat. This did little to assure Phoenix to a point of trusting this woman, but she felt a bit more at ease.
"Kiligana." She gave a slight bow of her head, placing a calloused hand over her leather chestplate. Her mossy green eyes looked at both the hammers in Dovahkiin's hands and the whips that Phoenix held, and her lips twisted into a larger grin. "I came ta' help ya out, but you lot seem ta' have it under control. Not surprised since it looks like ya folks are friends wit' Darius n' Tibul."
"What is that accent?" Damian whispered to Bamf in a not very subtle way. Phoenix resisted the urge to smack him for such an insensitive comment, settling on sending a glare his way instead. In truth, she did find the woman's accent a bit difficult to understand. It was an odd dialect that she hadn't heard much of, despite the fact that she had traveled to many different places.
"I'm Phoenix and these are my companions." She mimicked the woman's slight bow, grimacing as she felt that the leathery material of the assassin's uniform was soaked with blood. Once introductions were out of the way, Kiligana eyed the middle stronghold with a curious eye.
"I d'nno about ya, but I'm a bit curious 'bout what's in there." She walked forward and knocked her axe against the cold metal door.
"We took out the men, so we get the treasure." Dovahkiin rumbled, crossing his arms as he watched her size up the door.
"We aren't here for treasure, Dova." The nickname slipped through her lips before she realized what she had said, but Phoenix brushed it off as a habit from long ago. "We're here for answers about the men who are trying to kill us."
"I mean there's still a chance of treasure." Dovahkiin argued, pressing a large hand against the metal and shoving it open. With a screech of metal scraping against stone, it opened to reveal a large room with two figures standing next to a shining chest. One of them, a blue teifling, turned to them with an easygoing grin.
"Nearly ten minutes." He sighed, his long fingers tapping against the wooden chest in a consistent rhythm. "I expected more of the protigees of Darius and Tibul."
#birthright#story#original story#dungeons and dragons#dnd#Darius and Tibul#D&T's#d&d#writing#original writing#writings#phoenix#phoenix kings#damian#Damian Vortex
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TPR071618 - In the Serpent’s Coils
Galumak opened the door to a the smell of death and the flicker of a dozen torches in a distant chamber. A hall stretched from the back of the small open room that stood before them into a larger chamber. A clocked figure prostrated themselves before the looming stone visage of a twelve foot serpents, it’s head was that of a woman with her eyes wide and mouth agape. Fangs hung from the top row of teeth and seemed to shine with a terrible life.
“Looks like we found our necromancer.” Raam brushed a hand against one of the three wooden slab tables lined up neatly in the center of the room. Although made of new wood, they appeared older due to a dark staining. A reddish brown hue that was unmistakably dried blood.
Raam kept his voice low, eyes straight forward on the figure in the distance. “You two ready?”
No answer was offered. Instead, Galumak pulled out the shortsword he had pilfered from the assassin’s corpse. He could feel the magic pulsing through the hilt, traveling up his arm. Guiding him, allowing him to strike true. He strode boldly into the hall, followed by his companions. As they broke the threshold into the larger chamber, the figure slowly rose to his feet and turned to face them.
“You have proven quite bothersome.” The face underneath the cowl was shriveled and pale, though his eyes were bright with a youth that suggested age had nothing to do with his appearance. “Given your talents I am prepared to-”
“I’m done talking.” Raam thrust his palm forward and shot a blast of eldrich power that struck the necromacer square in the chest. Like a child’s doll being thrown against a wall, he flew backwards and struck the mighty stone alter before collapsing onto the floor with a pained groan. His eyes glared at them with a dark fury, a gravely voice muttered some magical spell and a shimmering veil appeared around him.
The air just in front of Raam’s face displaced as some dark object cut through it with tremendous speed. He was so focused upon preparing his next attack he almost missed the second projectile that followed in quick succession.
“TO YOUR RIGHT!” Lash tossed a ball of flame to the eastern wall, where shadows had collected where it met the floor. Something was growing out of the darkness, like smoke billowing from a pipe, only blacker, and thicker like ink. In the light of their flame, Lash watched as the smoke writhed into the air and collected itself, slowly taking shape to that of a ghostly figure. It had no legs that reached the ground, but it had long spindly arms with fingers like the legs of a spider. And they were reaching out towards Raam.
Forewarned by his companion, Raam through out his arm just as the smokey figure reached him. It’s hands struck his gauntlet and dissipated into smoke once more. Through the armor, Raam felt a chill that rippled through his bones, like a blast of winter. The hellfire in his blood quickly chased away the cold. Turning, he countered the creature with a blast of eldrich power that sent it hurtling towards the wall. It struck the packed earth and exploded into wisps of darkness.
Galumak pressed the tip of his blade into the invisible barrier and thrust all his might into it. It refused to budge or even bend at his might, allowing the dark priest to stand and reach for a mighty hammer left leaning at the side of the alter. The head was made of heavy stone and carved into the face of a serpent. Hefting it in one hand he dropped the veil and sent the hammer crashing into Galumak’s chest.
Pain exploded through his body, he stumbled backwards doubled over, grinding his teeth. Through strained eyes, he watched as the priest readied for another attack. He wouldn’t be given the chance. Pushing through the pain, Galumak rose and plunged the blade straight through the man’s exposed mid-section. The hammer that had been held at the ready aloft fell to the damp ground with a sickening thud. The priest fell only when Galumak withdrew his blade, eyes wide in utter shock. He had thought himself like unto god, his mortality all too evident now.
“You OK?” Lash examined Raam’s arm, where the ghost-like being had connected with him had withered the armor. It was dry and brittle, the skin underneath was even redder than usual.
“Fine, thanks for the heads-up.” He took a step towards the priest before a flash of dizziness overtook him. Suddenly he felt as though he had not slept in days, and his legs could barely hold his weight.
“You are not ‘fine.’ Here...” Lash caught him as he fell, lifting him onto their shoulders before placing a hand on his chest. The room filled with the smell of damp grass after a fresh rain, and though there were no windows, warm sunlight fell upon the Teifling. Slowly, he felt a pleasant warmth shoot through his body, strengthening his legs, and filling him with vigor.
“I have no idea what that thing was, but all it had to do was touch you to do some serious damage. Best we take a rest before pushing forward.”
“Yes...that sounds wise.”
“Galumak?” Lash turned back to find the half-orc standing in front of the 12 foot obsidian statue that loomed upon the altar. In his hands, the serpent hammer was gripped tightly though still as if some repulsive object. In one smooth arc. Galumak swung the hammer wide, striking the statue on the side of the Naga’s gaping mouth. The obsidian shattered and large chunks were sent crashing onto the floor.
Almost immediately the wooden panel behind the alter fell away, revealing a long dark hall that led into a chamber lit with a faint glowing light. The three looked at each other in confusion.
“A secret door?” Galumak examined the hammer before dropping it to the floor. “Did I do that?”
“The head, look.” Lash pointed to a clean line that ran around the neck of the statue. The head, or rather what was left of it, had been twisted on this pivot to one side. They looked back at Raam. “Still thinking we rest first?”
“Yes. We take nothing to chance down here. Remember, it’s not just our lives we forfeit if we fail.”
Both Galumak and Lash found it hard to argue with that. After claiming a set of keys, the only object on the priest’s person, they retreated to the cells where they might regain their strength.
---
The eerie green glow had awaited them patiently, it’s luminescence barely more than that of a candle only steadier, unfaltering. The three could smell and hear water in the distance, but that wasn’t unexpected. It seemed everywhere they turned in this place water had either seeped up from the ground or had flooded in by the heavy rains. Why would this new chamber be any different?
Galumak led them forward, his shortsword held at the ready, head buzzing with the memory of several gulps of wine. The fire in his veins was numbed for the moment, he just hoped he hadn’t overdone it. Unless there was an even lower floor to this place, it would not be long before they met this Naga. He would need his wits about him.
The hidden path behind the altar did not curve or bend, but led directly into a cavernous chamber beyond. The closer they got, the easier it was to see in the faint light. Another underground lake filled most of the space, ornately carved pillars rising from the waters periodically, covered in a bio-luminescent moss that provided the strange green light. But there was something else glittering in the soft light, just out of the corner of his eye.
Treasure. An immense pile of coin and gems massed in a disorganized heap on a patch of dry land to his right as they entered the chamber. It sat upon a crumbling marble dais, bordered on two sides by more marble pillars marked with age. Despite the small number of them, their arrangement gave the impression of a temple frozen in time. This temple’s god, sat coiled in wait upon her hoard of tributes.
“So they come, like all the others to bask in my glorious presence.” Explictica Defilius, Naga of the Rushmores, God to the Serpant cult, rose up to peer down at the three adventurers. Black stringy hair hung from her scalp like lake weed, wet and glistening. Her womanly features were not entirely human, the eyes larger, sharper in the corners, and her cheek bones looked as they could cut diamond. The serpentine coils of her lower half were black as night, striped with a faint olive green and a pale underbelly. When reared up at her full height, it wasn’t difficult to imagine how this impressively terrifying monster could convince others she was a great deity.
“Don’t look in her eyes!” Lash cried out and cast their eyes to the ground. Their heart pounded in their chest, the terrifying grinning visage burned into the back of their eyes.
“More informed they are, smart. Are they smart enough to accept my mercy? Accept my gift?”
“‘They’ are here to end this blasphemy.” Raam stood defiant, eyes cast downwards as he reached for the scroll tucked into the sash around his waist.
“A pity, these humans are so frail. They would have been better servants.” Explictica hissed a collection of magical words as if they were a curse. A sudden spark flared before her, growing into a massive broiling ball of flame. It shot forward with tremendous speed, the heat becoming nearly unbearable. Just when Galumak felt he could not bare any more, relief fell over him and he watched as the flames struck an invisible barrier and followed egulfed it until the three of them were inside a large orb of fire.
Raam let the parchment scroll fall to the ground, the magical words of protection fading into nothingness leaving only a blank page. As the fire subsided he tossed a ball of sulfer and smoke. It passed through the barrier with ease, striking the Naga in a section of exposed underbelly. It barely left a mark, and Explictica only offered a toothy smile in response.
A jolt of searing pain shot up her coils, her head twisted and writhed in agony. She glared down at Galumak, his short sword dripping in blood from where it had plunged within the coils. With a horrific his she struck like a viper, such terrific speed made her appear as no more to a blur to Galumak. He threw up his shield blocking stopping the unhinged lower jaw from swallowing it entirely. However, the two large fangs that hung from the top row of teeth had managed to slip past the wooden barrier, burying themselves into his arm.
Lash lunged forward and lodged the end of their quarterstaff into the corner of the Naga’s jaw. Using it as a lever, they threw all their weight downward, prying the maw open painfully wide even for it’s unhinged state. The corners of the cheek tore, mixing blood with saliva and venom before leaking past the lips in a long line of drool that fell to the ground.
The two puncture wounds in his arm oozed with blood, but Galumak was relieved to find himself neither sickly, nor weakened. Somehow, Pan only knows how, the venom he knew had been pumped into his veins had been neutralized. The fire perhaps? The very thing that cursed him, could it have burned away the toxins that threatened his very life? That was a question for later. For now, he had an opening, and Galumak took it.
Desperately trying to re-align her bottom jaw, Explictica reared up high to protect her wounded face. In doing so, she once again exposed a large section of underbelly. Galumak’s blade drew across it with ease, spilling out fat and tissue and fountains of blood. The Naga screamed in a voice both human and inhuman, a high pitched screech that pained their ears. And then, she was gone. Where a towering serpent had been, now was a void of damp cavern air.
“Where-?” The three looked at each other, as if the other had the solution, though neither offered any at first.
“I can still hear her breathing.” Galumak leveled his sword, searching for something, any clue as where the vile creature had gone. Inside the orb of protection that still shimmered like a gossamer veil Lash, having assumed the form of a wolf, bore their teeth and growled at the empty air before them. Finally, it clicked for them all at once.
“Invisibility spell...” Reaching for the second scroll in his sash, Raam spoke with confidence he did not feel. There was little doubt as to what spell she had used, what he did no know was how powerful a mage she was. The scroll in his hands was strong indeed, but would it be enough to dispel her magic?
In the very instant that Raam had uttered the last syllable, there was a rush of air and a burst of energy through the area. A dark shadow immediately fell upon the grey wolf within the party, Explictica loomed before them, face only inches away from their snout.
“They must help me. They must attack their friends for their God!”
Within their wolf brain, Lash felt something wriggling its way into their mind. A tickle, an impulse. They watched it for a moment, noting how it moved, how it teased the senses and twisted the thoughts that were already there. This charm was not like others they had heard of. It acted like one of the species of lizards within the Dim forest. It snuck into the nest, devouring the eggs that had been laid before laying their own leaving the unsuspecting bird to hatch their young. Once born, the bird would be torn to pieces. Lash’s mind however, was less a sparrow, and more a hawk. A bird of prey that was far from helpless.
With a mind very much their own, Lash lunged forward and sunk their teeth into Explicticas exposed face. Flesh tore from her cheeks as she desperately pulled away, screaming and cursing in a slurred speech.
“You vile, insignificant, creatures!” Twice now, her magic had been thwarted by the teifling. The half-orc was strong, but her coils would crush him to dust. The elf changling would get their comeuppance for resisting her charm. But if she were to have any chance to do any of it, the spell-caster would have to be dealt with first.
Opening her jaw to it’s full size, Raam stared down the gaping maw. He saw the venom sacs just under her eyes, filled like over-stuffed pillows. The ends of her fangs glistened with venomous dew, and in the blink of an eye she struck. Pain shot through his arm, his veins burning as the poison was pumped into his body. But there was another burning within him. He could feel it swell. A dark retribution from his patron, always watching him. With a vengeful smile, Raam reached out and grabbed a fistful of hair, yanking the Naga’s face towards his. In his eyes, Explictica saw a fury and flame she had not witnessed in any mortal creature before. For the first time in her life, she knew fear.
“Who’s insignificant now?” Raam forced his lips to hers in a kiss of death, the blazing inferno that erupted from him engulfing the Naga’s entire head. The room filled with the scent of scorched flesh and incinerated hair. It was only a few seconds before her strained screaming fell silent, and the smoldering lump of flesh that had once been her head fell lifeless into the dirt.
---
Raam awoke to Lash, back to their elf form, shaking him violently by the shoulders. “Raam? You OK? That was amazing!”
“Wha-?” He tried to shake the fog from his mind but found it held fast. There was a gap in his memory that began when the fangs sunk into his shoulder. The rest was darkness. He looked down at his feet to the smoldering heap for answers, but it offered him none. “I...I don’t remember doing that.”
“What do you mean?” Lash examined his wound before laying a hand upon it. Once again a burst of lavender filled the air, warm sunlight fell upon them, and the poison was gone.
“I mean, I blacked out. I...I don’t know what happened. It’s strange.”
“You sent that thing to the King in Yellow, that’s all that matters.” Galumak wiped his blade clean of the dark blood that had coated it and sheathed it at his hip. “It’s done. This nightmare is over.”
“No, not yet.” Raam stepped towards the shore, staring deep into the unexplored cavern that lay ahead. “There’s plenty more of this place. We’re not done until we search through every last room.”
“Any cultists will have snapped out of her charm the moment you barbecued her.”
“True, but the Trogs weren’t charmed. Plus, we need to be sure there aren’t any more of the necromancer’s abominations left roaming around.”
“He’s right.” Lash nodded, only half listening. Their attention had been drawn to the large pile of loot left abandoned in the corner.
“Fine.” Galumak shrugged, taking out a bottle of wine from his pack. “We go through the rest of this place and weed out any stragglers.”
“After we loot the hoard, right?”
“Well, yeah.”
Buy Me a Coffee
#Dungeons and Dragons#against the cult of the reptile god#the protected realm#role playing games#campaign diary
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Of Shadows and Tyr (3/??)
We continue our story of Strive, a Teifling swamp druid who has been charged by her master to travel and experience the world.
Prior parts are here: [1] [1.5] [2]
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“No eggs or gold here!”
THUD.
THUD.
Something impacted hard against the building's roof.
Debris began falling from the Tortles' ceiling. Shadow and I managed to dodge anything that came our way, but the others took some damage.
"Is that the thing that's been carrying your people off?" I asked one of the Tortles.
"It is!" they replied, cowering further into the hut.
"Okay...and is it only one big thing, or a lot of things?" I asked, readying my staff and dagger.
I noted in the corner of my eye that Craven and Valzan were already running outside, pulling their weapons out as they went. Fallon and Shadow remained inside; Shadow did not look pleased at our current situation.
"There's more than one creature," one of the Tortles answered my question, head retreating into shell defensively.
I frowned at that. It had been a long day, and the sun was getting low in the sky. I didn't want to fight more creatures. I stepped to the doorway and peeked outside; Craven was already being set upon by a large, bird-like creature with stag antlers, while Valzan ran at a second, similar beast. I vaguely recalled pictures of our enemies in one of Master's books; Perytons, they were called. They were beautiful, and I would have loved to study one, but these were incredibly hostile; my learning would have to wait.
I looked at Craven, who was closest to the doorway. He seemed to be managing well enough, sword swinging zealously. I decided to help Valzan, hurrying to his side and shifting into a Giant Lizard to help fight. To my surprise, Valzan summoned thunder from the sky, hitting his Peryton to good effect. My own snapping jaws fell a little flat; I missed when I tried to bite our enemy.
Craven was fighting very well for himself; he took out his own peryton with almost flawless ease, even taking the time to make a heroic pose while his kill fell to the ground behind him. Shadow ran out of the hut, hurrying to meet a third peryton that was going to join our fray. To my relief, Fallon and Craven followed her suit.
Valzan finally managed to finish off our creature, but when I turned to join the others, I was horrified to see Shadow get pinned to the ground by the last peryton. It was a deer with wings; it was heavy, and yet Fallon jumped onto its back! I think he was trying to attack, but all it seemed to do was crush Shadow further.
"Semuanya's blood, you're making it worse!" I yelled at Fallon; thankfully, he got off of the beast.
I ran to join them, changing back into myself and throwing healing words Shadow's way. Craven managed to do some good damage, even getting the peryton off of Shadow, and Fallon dealt a final blow, dispatching of it completely.
The scuffle was brief, but brutal, and then we were safe again.
Shadow got to her feet a little unsteadily, then turned to me, squeaking painfully. I thought she was stretching her arms out to me.
"Are...are you asking me for a hug?!" I exclaimed, my heart beating a little faster.
She gave me a bland look then more obviously showed me the wounds on her neck.
"Oh...oh, you want healing. Of course," I blushed, "That makes more sense. May your body be strong," I murmured, and sent a little more healing her way. It wasn't much, but she looked a little better.
"Here, take this potion," Valzan suggested, pulling a potion out of his pack and offering it to Shadow.
She glanced between him and the bottle, and held her ground. With a shrug, I took the bottle from Valzan, but before I could give her the potion, Shadow walked away, off to do her own thing. Valzan and I shared a look, then I put the potion in my pack, saving it for later.
After a short rest and some discussion, our motley little party decided that if the perytons had, in fact, carried off the town crier's daughter, there was a chance that she had been taken to their nest. It was time to search deeper into the woods. We came across a house where more Tortles lived; they pointed us in the direction that they often saw the perytons go.
Trekking along, we found an area with some very sturdy, nest-able trees. I turned back into a Giant Lizard and climbed up the one that had the most signs that something lived in it. To my delight, there was a good-sized next there, large enough for three perytons to live comfortably. I found a purse with a tidy amount of gold, three large eggs, and three old hearts in the nest.
Slipping the purse into my pack, I examined the hearts closely, my own heart thumping high in my throat. To my relief, they didn't look like human or left hearts. They appeared to be Tortle hearts, most likely from the perytons’ latest victims. Picking the heavy body parts up, I hesitated, then added them to my pack as well. They could end up useful; I might find a book that cites the medicinal properties of Tortle hearts, or I could feed Craven's bear with them, later.
It was when I was examining the eggs that Craven's voice started echoing in my head.
Have ye found anythin'? We're gettin' right bored down here! he boomed, surprising me.
I forgot he could link minds with anyone who was willing.
I considered being unwilling.
Then I decided to be a team player.
Haven't found much, I thought, trying not to think of my lovely pouch of gold, or the three, pretty eggs before me, Some hearts. But not the girl's heart, thank goodness! Just...yeah, no gold or eggs here.
There was some silence. The problem with trying not to think of something, and being mentally linked with someone, is of course you're going to think of the thing you're trying not to think about.
A very clear picture of 150 gold pieces spilling out of a leather purse, and three eggs easily the size of two of my fists sprang into my mind.
I could sense Craven smiling.
I'll keep your secret, he grinned, meaning the gold coins, If you give me one of them big eggs there.
...Deal, I agreed, thankful he didn't want the gold.
And that he only wanted one egg.
And that, because it was Craven, he probably wanted to hatch it, not eat it.
I had already climbed halfway down when it occurred to me: Craven didn't think bears hatched from eggs, right?
-----
Once I had rejoined my group, we had a brief discussion about what to do next. At this point, we were all convinced that Condor's daughter had never been in this direction. We unanimously decided to retrace our steps; we had already heard multiple accounts of a seeing small person on the shore that we were originally on. Chances were, she had never actually crossed the lake.
Our return passed without incident. It wasn't until we were halfway back across the lake, when we saw some kind of humanoid at the old dock we had searched earlier, that day. The person seemed to notice us, then dismissed us an unhurriedly retreated into the trees beyond, heading east towards the Manticore Mountains.
It seemed only natural to follow suit. Our group continued tracking our unknown quarry, deeper into the forest. It was dark when we could all make out firelight in the distance. There was a group of goblin lute players, sombrely playing music near the mouth of a cave.
We all approached warily. I turned into a black cat, both to better blend in to the darkness, and to seem unassuming should the goblins notice me. To my surprise, Shadow seemed to prefer me in this form; as we approached the fire, Valzan leading us as was his habit, Shadow scooped me up into her arms. It was unexpected, but I didn't mind. It was a free ride and we looked that much more unassuming.
Valzan made his introductions to the group, who interestingly did not speak much. Instead, they held out to Valzan a bit of paper.
That piqued my interest; could the girl have come through here? Shadow wanted me to stay with her; when I started to jump down to the ground, she held me tighter. However, as a cat, one of my superpowers is disobeying and getting out of tight spaces; I managed to wriggle out and land on the ground neatly, to Shadow's chagrin.
I trotted over to sniff the paper in Valzan's hand. It was moldy. That wasn't helpful: that probably meant the thing was ages old. Condor's daughter would have passed by only a few days ago.
But there was child-like writing on the paper, "Evil Inside. Help."
As soon as he read the words, Valzan was off like a shot, running into the cave without a glance back. I vaguely recalled Elyssia saying something about paladins being sworn to fight evil in all it's forms. Good to know the human took his vows so seriously.
I wouldn't normally have followed him so readily, but sometimes being in animal form gives me odd instincts. The cat part of me was very eager to run; without thinking, I bolted after Valzan, taking no heed to the fact that it would be very, very easy to run into a trap at the end of the cave.
However, instead of a trap, we found ourselves heading towards a red door at the end of the tunnel. Normally, my mind would be screaming about Fae magic, but all of that was suppressed with the exhilaration of running. Valzan kicked the door down as he approached; I enthusiastically helped by leaping up and hip checking the door. Surely, it was only with my key assistance that the door could possibly have been broken down.
I landed on all fours, fur completely standing on end, spittle flying as I hissed at the unknown.
I was ready for a dungeon.
Or a witch's lair.
Or to find three bears enraged that we had interrupted their porridge.
Instead, we were greeted with empty, clean marble halls, and the homey smell of freshly baked bread.
I unpuffed my fur and glanced around again. How...odd. This was not the moldy, dank cave that I had expected. It certainly didn't match the cave that we had just run through. This was a fine house, maybe even large enough to be a mansion. Could it be an illusion? But a cat's nose is rarely wrong; that was real bread that I was smelling.
The sound of stomping came right behind us, and Shadow, Craven, and Fallon piled into the hall, joining us. They, too, looked about in surprise. Craven pointed out a very prominent painting on the wall, a portrait of eight handsome gnomes. I remembered reading a story in one of Master's books, about seven dwarves. But there had been a princess involved; Rose Red, or something. I side-eyed Shadow; would she be...Violet Purple?
Valzan could hear someone groaning, deeper in the mysterious building. He followed the sound without consulting any of us. Shadow shrewdly kept checking for traps; I followed silently, sniffing around corners but otherwise keeping to myself. We came to a bend in the hall, with a door on our left, or another hallway leading to the right. Following the sound of someone in trouble, Valzan opened the door to the left.
There was a room with a fireplace, and two suits of armour. Nothing seemed out of place; Valzan nonchalantly crossed the room, to another door that could be seen there, Shadow and Craven close behind.
However, as he passed, one of the suits of armour suddenly animated, hitting Valzan before he could dodge. I shifted back into myself, immediately, and got my staff at the ready, joining the group in the room. Fallon managed to get a hit in, but Shadow did something strange: to my horror, she used her dagger to cut her arm, creating another scar amongst the many that striped her wrists.
Then, somehow, the dagger came to life with vines of energy; striking out at the suit of armour, Shadow channeled a huge bolt of lightning, thoroughly dispatching the enemy.
I was shocked and impressed, to say the least. That was an incredible amount of power. And she controlled it so very well. Even Valzan couldn't suppress murmuring, "...damn."
But Shadow's eyes...a cold feeling dipped in my stomach when I saw her eyes. They were devoid of...anything. Something was missing from her. The teifling fighting beside Valzan wouldn't notice shiny things at the side of the road, or throw curses at Craven when he acted silly. This teifling was empty.
I didn't like seeing her like that.
Craven finished off the other suit of armour, with my meagre assistance hitting at it with my magically imbued staff. I wasn't sure if they were golems or just suits of armour under enchantment; before I knew it, Valzan had continued deeper into the building, following the sound of groaning, with the others close behind.
I, personally, had had enough of running. I wanted to know where the smell of fresh bread was coming from. I turned back and retraced my steps a little, going down the short hallway and cautiously opening the door at the end.
I was pleased to find a dining room, with a table at the centre housing enough chairs for eight people. Most likely the eight gnomes. There was no food visible, but there was a writing desk nearby with an open journal lying on it. It looked to be logged into regularly, but the last entry was dated one and a half weeks ago. That didn't make much sense for the moldy paper the goblins had offered us. But it definitely indicated that something had happened to the gnomes that lived here.
I also found a few blank notebooks, pens, and a well of ink. Whoever owned this desk probably wouldn't notice if some of it was missing, I decided. I wanted to see if Shadow could read and write; she never spoke, except for spells, but she seemed to have understood the goblins' note. I glanced at the door, then slipped a couple notebooks and some writing supplies into my pack.
I realized I had done a lot of foraging, that day, all things considered. But still no fresh bread...
I heard footsteps in the hall and quickly pulled on my pack and readied my staff. I heard someone run out of the room the others had entered, then hurry away, probably exiting the building. They never even approached the dining room. A moment of silence passed, and then different steps approached. I braced myself for perhaps a gnome who would upbraid me for taking his belongings, but instead, my group re-joined me.
Fallon looked awful. The fight with the suits of armour had not treated him kindly; he looked pale and sore. The others managed to convince him to take a healing potion, and while he did that, I checked out the dining room's adjoining kitchen. There was some stale bread, but also some salted meat that was still good. I added that to my collection of Taken Things, and then we all headed to explore the building further.
There was a second door in the hallway, between the dining room and the room with the suits of armour. Entering it, we found a dark area with a winding path in an "S" shape, to a door on the opposite side; finally, it looked like we were in the cave, again.
Valzan marched across the path first, and soon grimly discovered that the ground would crumble from under him if he walked too slowly; he ran the rest of the way across, and managed to make it to the doorway on the other side.
"...yes, this seems safe," he called back, waving to us across the dimly lit area.
Shadow rolled her eyes, and with remarkable agility, managed to jump across bits of path that curved back onto itself, taking the shortest route directly across the darkness below. Neatly, she landed on the other side, and waited for the rest of us.
Craven went similarly as Valzan, running along the "S," then stopping right where the ground was sturdy, again, and checking behind.
Then, it was my turn.
I have never claimed to be graceful, or strong. Master always told me to thank Semuanya for giving me my intelligence; without it, I would never survive in this world. I was not a fast runner, and I only knew basic staff fighting to protect myself. ��I would never be a warrior; that wasn't what I was meant to be.
So, it was no surprise that after getting about halfway across the path, my foot caught against something and I fell headfirst into the darkness.
I'm startin' to regret wastin’ my last Wild Shape on that cat, I mentally kicked myself, bracing myself for impact.
It was something of a fall; I must have easily fallen a good 30 feet down before landing into some shallow water. I was now bruised and sore, not to mention my ego was neatly flattened, but at least I could still walk. The water came up just below my tail; I waded through the shallows, grateful for being able to see in the dark. I could still navigate towards the other side, and managed to get to where I knew Craven was waiting, up above.
"Oi, Craven!" I called, activating fire in my hands and waving them so that he might see me, "I've fallen and I can't get up!"
"Indeed!" he called back, "Are ye all right?"
"Yeah, I just need a leg up," I answered, sighing, "Have you any rope?"
"Aye, just a moment..."
Before long, Craven dropped a length of rope down, for me. I wasn't too concerned about him being able to lift me; I barely came up to his shoulders, and he was built like a wall. I wrapped the rope around my hips into a makeshift seat, called up to let him know I was ready. As I expected, he began pulling me up without too much difficulty.
Unfortunately, just when I got about halfway up, I heard a faint splash down below. At first, I thought maybe I had narrowly escaped cave eels or some such monster. But then I remembered that we had a sixth group member who needed to cross the path.
"Uh...Craven?" I called up, "Did Fallon make it across?"
"Ah haven't seen 'im yet," the Kalashtar answered, "Why?"
"Um...I think I heard him falling in," I answered, fatigue tinging my voice, "Do you see him on the path?"
"No..." Craven raised his voice, "Oi, Fallon! You alright?!"
Nothing but silence.
"...Ok, Craven, let me back down," I sighed, tugging the rope for emphasis, "He didn't look too well, earlier. If he fell in, he might be hurt."
I didn't know him that well, but he was part of the group, so I had to try to help him.
Craven lowered me back down, and I backtracked, calling Fallon's name, hoping when he didn't call back that he was just saving his voice.
Instead, I found him facedown in the water.
"...That's not what you want," I groaned, hurrying to flip him over before he suffered the indignity of drowning in very shallow water.
He was unconscious, definitely breathing, but he needed healing. I had one spell left in me.
"...Ok, Fallon, wake up," I grimaced, patting the sides of his face to liven him up a bit.
I reached into my pack and pulled out the potion that Valzan had meant for Shadow. Somehow, I managed to maneuver the tall man so that he was sitting up, and I held the bottle to his lips.
"Wizard-man, drink this," I said firmly, carefully tipping the potion so that it just barely wet his lips, "And please don't inhale it or spit it out, instead, because that would be such a waste."
To my relief, I saw him swallow the potion. Some colour came back to his cheeks, and before long, he was properly conscious again.
"Welcome back," I said, helping him to his feet, “C'mon, they're waiting for us.”
Together, we hurried back to where Craven was waiting, and soon we were reunited with our group.
There was a doorway at the end of the path, revealing a set of stairs that led down, down into the dark. Valzan lit a torch, walking ahead, guiding us into the dark.
We were hushed, careful not to fall down the steps, when suddenly it came to us: the unmistakeable scent of sea air.
Semuanya, have mercy, I groaned inwardly, fatigue pulling at my insides, What horrors are yet before us?
-----tbc
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You're doing WHAT to the god?
Context: the players had just taken part in a ritual allowing them to see and interact with a god’s aspect. The players are: a teifling warlord (Ea), a halfling rogue (Octavia), and a dragonborn paladin (Rhogar), we had an elf ranger (Stasi) and a skeleton fighter (Bone Daddy) missing from the session. And then there’s me, the GM…
GM: so, as you bite into the bug, the fog around you lifts. You see an impossibly tall man who looks to be cut out of marble - both in colour and physique. His face is polished into a smooth curve from the eyes down; he has no nose or mouth.
Octavia: I want to take something from him
GM: uhhhh you can try if you like?
[Rest of Party]: oh no please no
Octavia: I’m looking for anywhere he’d hide valuables on him
GM: well, his hair occasionally glows green, probably more bugs like the ones you just consumed; you don’t see anywhere else he could hide something
Rhogar (ooc): wait is he naked?
GM: yeah, you’re not seeing anywhere he could hide something unless, y'know…
>players faff about and behave civilized for a bit, GM is lured into a false sense of security<
Octavia: wait before we go, I want to steal from him
GM: WHAT? How?
Octavia: I’m going to “check his back pocket”
GM: oh no, okay fine. Roll for it.
>Octavia rolls a 1<
GM: you stride up to Varitriel (the god) while he and everyone else stares at you; confident you’re concealed, you go to erhm, “check his pockets” and accidentally caress his undercarriage as you do. He reels back, eyes burning, about to strike you.
Octavia: it was… a trick! (bluff)
>Octavia rolls a 4
#dnd#long post#submission#shit my players say#sfw roll: nat 1#sneaky sneakers sneaking#famous last words#stealing things for fun and profit
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Aasimar
So one of my players is playing an Aasimar but since he’s not white he really didn’t like the stareotype that anything that’s divine, holy or blessed are white (as the Aasimar are depicted as). I told him as long as it’s strikingly beautiful and clearly unnatural and has a hint of divinity he can make his Aasimar look however he wants.
Here’s what he decided: bronze skin. Not skin LIKE bronze, ACTUALLY bronze skin. Like a living statue with a slight tarnish to it and a soft glow or sheen to it. His eyes are black void with swirling blue clouds and white flecks like stars and his hair is jet black and curly. We found these two photos as reference
I will be very honest: i think this looks more divine and holy than a glowing alabaster skinned human. It got me thinking: what are some other appearances for Aasimar besides glowing white skin? Here’s some ideas i came up with
1. Skin like angels. Deva: soft green/blue. Planatar: powder blue. Solar: salmon red/orange.
2. Skin like metals. Reflective gold, polished bronze, shiny silver
3. Skin like marble. Marble comes in pretty much any color but always has vains and patterns in other colors
4. Neon eyes. Purple, green, orange, yellow iris
5. Metallic eyes. No whites, just golden orbs, silver spheres, bronze balls set into their skull
The skin is always going to be glowing/reflective and their eyes reflect light unnaturally. Optional: when injured their blood is gold or silver like celestial ichor
Aasimar are touched by the upper planes just like Genasi are touched by the elemental planes and Teiflings are touched by the lower planes. Just as there are many types of Genasi and an infinite type of teifling variants out there there should be more than just pale human to represent the divine mortal children of the celestial. I personally love my players character and together we worked on a backstory and quest for him (which I’m psyched about) so i just had to share the creativity
#aasimar#Grimm#just dungeon master things#dungeons & dragons#dm#d&d#dungeon master#race#pc#playable character#description#inspiration#creativity#character creation
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Back when I was playing D&D, I had a Teifling illusionist from Limbo named Marble Whitewood who was....not completely sane.
She used to tell people about her 11 brothers and sisters who were all named Marble and when they moved out, her mother lost all her Marbles.
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TPR 050718 - The Lifting of the Veil
The bloodcurdling scream cut through the late afternoon just as Galumak was exiting the Store with his prize gripped between eager fingers. Looking down the dusty road towards the direction of the cry he saw startled villagers exiting their homes, murmuring among themselves as to what could have disturbed their quiet little town. Soon a curious crowd began filing their way down towards the Eastern side of town, towards the hill where the great stone temple watched over them all.
Galumak was almost knocked over as three men dressed in armor pushed their way past him in an urgent run, long swords swaying at their hips with each stride. The local militia from the looks of it. Three men, one perhaps older than he should be for this line of work, the other perhaps a bit more portly, such were the ways of peace keepers in these small towns he found.
He followed behind the rest of the crowd, taking his time, trying not to draw any undue attention to himself. The discovery of the hastily stashed crossbows in the Village Store had made him weary. He was making people nervous, and it was yet to be see who had a reason to be and who was just reacting to a stranger in his town. The time had come to watch and see how things played out.
---
“We have to hide the body.” Lash stooped down and tried to lift the crumpled woman by the shoulders, but she was much heavier than she looked.
“Why? We were only protecting ourselves.” Raam was perhaps cooler headed than the situation would call for, but Lash had a urgency about them, a slight panic in their eyes that hinted at something much more than the carpenter and his wife.
“Yes, but they might not see it that way.”
“Really? Because I have this rather nasty welt that might be convincing.” A large purple splotch had developed where the carpenter’s hammer had struck. Even against the ruddy red tiefling skin, it stood out.
Lash took a deep breath and calmed themselves. This was not Hookhill, there was no reason there would be any preexisting prejudice against her, aside from the ever present racism small town humans tended to hold as a some kind of armor.
“You’re right...you’re right. We’ll just explain what happened, calmly, and everything should be fine.” Lash moved to stand but their eye caught a shimmer on the edge of the woman’s blade. Carefully lifting it from the sand large clumps of debris and dirt clung to the edge, wet from something smeared across the steel.
“What is it?”
“I’m not sure.” Lash sniffed the sword and caught a bitter scent of something over the familiar smell of iron. “Some kind of poison from the smell of it. Biological maybe, defiantly not from any kind of plant.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I’ve lived in those forests for a while now, I’ve dealt with the bandits that live there, so I’ve had my run in or two with plant based toxins.”
“Good to know...” Raam looked around them and noticed a crowd forming. Among them he saw the woman and her three sons from earlier, their faced expressionless, but he felt their eyes on him. Towards the West he saw three men dressed in armor running their way towards them. “Here come the officials, let me do the talking.
Lash nodded, straightening and carefully strapping the sword to their side, taking care to preserve the toxin on the blade. By the time it was secure, the eldest of the three men had pushed through the crowd and took a position of authority between the other two flanking him. His mustache was peppered with white, and though sweat moistened his brow he had not seemed to be as out of shape as the other two.
“Gods...Joseph...what happened here? Who are you?”
“I am Brother Raam Osteres of the Samaritans, I received word that this town may be in need of aid and came to investigate.” Raam stood forward, straight backed, and opened his cloak, revealing a distressed emblem of two open hands over his heart.
“My companion Lash and I were asking this poor man and his wife a few questions when we were attacked by the woman. She came rushing from that door behind us with a longsword that appears to be laced with some kind of poison.”
Lash motioned towards her hip where the sword hung, the toxin still preserved and creating a glossy finish on the steel. Raam continued.
“She was felled in self defense with a single blow to the head. The carpenter then attacked, crazed, screaming about some kind of God of Serpents. He struck me and I was forced to defend myself. We only came to investigate, to help. We did not want this.” Raam motioned to the two bodies on the ground, adding a weight to his final statement that no one in the crowd failed to feel.
The older man looked over the scene briefly as he listened and when Raam had completed, he simply shook his head sadly.
“Well, that’s a lot to take in. You’re damn lucky you’re a brother of the Samaritans, otherwise you’re story would be a very hard pill for me to swallow. Even so, you’ll understand that I can’t take that statement alone at face value.”
“Of course not, we’ll help you any way we can to clear this up...” Raam paused, his eyebrows raised questioningly in search of a name.
“Constable Donovan, and I’d appreciate that.”
“Well, we can start right now.” Lash stepped in, feeling slightly more confident in their position with the lawmen seemingly reasonable folk. “Are you familiar with the Carpenter’s work?”
“Of course, there isn’t a home here that don’t have at least one piece from his shop.”
“Ok, so you’d agree his usual quality is fairly represented by the majority of items on display here?”
Constable Donovan took a brief moment to look over the shop, taking in the finely crafted chairs, tools, jewelry boxes, and other small wood craft items that littered the shopfront. “Ayup.”
“Good, so tell me what you see there.” Lash stepped aside and motioned to the piece behind her, currently in progress when they arrived.
“Looks to me like something that’s attempting to be a chair but can’t quite manage it.”
“Right. That was made by the same man as everything else here. The man was unhinged Constable, raving about some kind of Serpent God. And his wife attacked us out of nowhere wielding a poisoned blade. I’m sorry to say but I think you have a cult on your hands here.”
The two deputies looked up to their superior with unreadable expressions by all save the Constable who simply held up a hand to them and nodded before clearing his throat. “Ahem, perhaps these are things best discussed in private. These poor folk have been through enough shock for one day I think.”
His tired eyes looked up over the two strangers’ shoulders, further down the road and acknowledge a solemn procession of hooded figures carrying a litter down the small hill where the great marble temple sat. “Right, well. Let’s leave the priests to their work shall they?” He turned to the short, plump deputy to his left. “Hulbar, why don’t you make sure everyone finds their way home. Grover and I will take our guests back to the office to talk this over.”
“Yes sir.” The man waddled his way towards the crowd and calmly began shooing people back towards their homes. Lash and Raam watched for a moment before following the Constable down the road to the Western part of town, leaving behind the foul stench of death in their wake.
---
Galumak wiped a dribbling trail of wine off his chin and watched as the strange group made their way back towards where he first entered town. The fat one was still wrangling the locals who all appeared to be human. This made the two elves standing behind the cover of one of the smaller buildings stand out all the more.
They were both shorter than most elves he’d known, but not terribly so, just enough to make you think twice as to whether or not they were in fact elves. Their ears were still a dead give a way, which was why they attempted to hide them under a curtain of platinum blonde hair. One trimmed theirs at the shoulder and curled slightly towards the bottom, the other having perfectly straight locks that fell to the small of his back. If their facial features were any indication there was a strong familial resemblance, brothers maybe, and both hid light armor under common clothes.
The two made more than a couple of glances his way, enough that it was clearly more than a curiosity. Each time he was sure to lock eyes with them, letting them know he saw them and giving away no hint towards his motivations. If it registered, he couldn’t tell, as they were far more interested in the pair of strangers walking with the constable and his deputy.
These must be the two that moved in across from the Stables, he thought to himself. All the excitement must have brought them out of hiding. He followed some distance behind as the two made a convincing show of looking inconspicuous as they tailed the group making their way towards the Constable’s office. Chatting idly to each other while making a slow wandering stride on the side of the dirt road, stopping to comment on this house or the view of the pond. Whoever they were, they were good.
Eventually the Teifling and Elf were led inside a small wooden structure with barred windows towards the rear of the building. The two elves meanwhile took position behind the Golden Grain Inn, whispering softly to each other, any pretense of subterfuge tossed aside as any view of them was now obstructed. Galumak leaned up against the side of the Inn facing the road and crossed his arms in front of his barreled chest.
Three sets of strangers in town now including himself. One group following the other. This was unexpected to say the least, and made his next move all the more difficult. At this point he had no idea who in this town was to be trusted, if anyone at all. According to the stable owner, both stranger and local alike were to be under suspicion. Unfortunately that meant all he could do was wait and see how things transpired. His hand once again fell to the neck of the wine bottle hanging at his side. At least I have something to pass the time, he thought.
---
Lash felt uneasy entering the small building, and when the door closed behind them, they felt every muscle in their body tense and ready for flight. A Constable’s office was not exactly a comforting setting for them to begin with, certainly not any more so having just slain two villagers. The Constable’s boots fell hard on the wood floor as he slowly rounded his desk and leaned with both hands on the top, letting his tired head sag between hunched shoulders.
“Alright, so what’s this you’re saying about a cult? Go slowly, and tell me everything Joseph told you.”
Raam calmly reiterated the incident again making sure each and every detail, no matter how small, was addressed. As he spoke Lash could see the ghostly image of a slight woman carrying a sword toppling over at their feet, dead. They shook their head, trying to dissipate the memory. They barely struck her at all.
“...and that is all there is to tell, Constable.” Raam’s conclusion broke into Lash’s thoughts, snapping them back to attention. “I believe given the circumstances our suspicions are not unwarranted.”
“Dammit Joseph...” Constable Donovan’s voice was mournful, his head shaking slowly side to side as he straightened himself and put his hands to his face exhaling a loud sigh as he pulled them slowly down over his wrinkled skin. “...you always did have a mouth on you.” Tired eyes looked back at the strangers in his office. “I’m sorry he told you, really, I am.”
“Told us what?” Lash looked over at Raam, he was staring straight through the constable, his mouth a grim line across his face.
“The truth. There is some kind of Serpent Cult here, and they are all in on it.”
Behind them the deputy drew the long sword from his hip and stepped between them and the front door. Behind the desk the Constable put a hand on his hilt, not yet drawing, but slowly making his way back around.
“Not all of us, not yet. Some are not ready to accept the gifts my God offers.”
“Like the people on the East side of town?”
The Constable betrayed a twinge of regret, a slight curling on the edge of his lips. “They had refused her, right to her face. Can you imagine that?”
Raam turned his head just enough to get a glance at the space behind him. He noted the deputy standing in front of the closed door. The door, that was not locked.
“Good people by the sounds of it. So, what happens now?”
“Well, it’s just an awful shame you are a Samaritan, an awful shame.” At this point, cold steel was drawn from the Constable’s hip. “Otherwise, we could have just run you out of town. The word of a set of horns ain’t worth all that much to some people, even if your story is backed up by an Elf. But people tend to listen to Samaritans.”
Raam had heard enough, he knew where things were headed. He reached deep inside himself, feeling the power that coursed through his very blood, and touched it. With a loud crash the door behind them blew open as if a powerful gust of wind had flown through the room, nearly ripping it off it’s hinges. Without any exchange between them Raam and Lash turned on their heels and bolted from the room out into the waning light of dusk.
They were just crossing the threshold, Raam’s cloaks already fluttering ahead of them as he leaped of the front steps, when Lash felt the air beside her thrust aside by cold steel. The deputy was at the ready, and though surprised, managed to gather himself enough to lash out at them. The blade dug itself into the floor beside them, leaving a deep gash in the grain. It stuck fast and for a moment the man was stopped dead in his tracks as he struggled to remove it.
Without thinking Lash gripped the hilt of the sword on her hip, and pulled it free from the slight loop of leather. They felt cold iron cut through the fabric of his trousers and into the flesh underneath. As the man grunted in pain Lash spun and bolted out the door, leaping from the porch and into the dirt next to Raam. Their eyes were scanning the area, not sure at all what or who they were looking for. At this point who could they trust?
There, leaning up against a long building with several chairs and tables laid out on the porch, a scarred half-orc draining a wine bottle in heavy gulps. In a town full of humans he stuck out like a sore thumb. The stranger was the best chance they had.
---
“Help! They’re crazed!” The elf shouted towards him, voice faultering slightly in desperation. Next to them the Teifling stood defiant, tall, staring back at the doorway as the two law men emerged with long swords drawn. There had definitely been some kind of scuffle, the younger of the two was bleeding from a wound on his leg, stumbling and leaning against the pillars on the porch. He looked wrong, his face growing pale, his breathing labored. The older man oddly looked far more intact, walking calmly, face unreadable.
Galumak lowered the bottle from his lips but did not move from side of the inn. Getting involved at the wrong time would put him and his investigation in a bad position. All he knew at this point was two people were dead, these two strangers were involved, and they were running from the law of this town. It could go either way really.
The Teifling ended the debate for him. Raising a taloned finger he pointed towards the older of the two men, and somehow, his voice boomed like thunder, amplified by whatever ancient power lay dormant in his bloodline.
“Constable Donovan, on behalf of the Samaritans and our noble Queen whom we serve, I call you out as a traitor and a heretic of the worst order!”
That’s all I needed to hear, Galumak thought to himself. He straightened and stopped the wine bottle, letting it hang to his side and drew his hatchet.
What followed happened so quickly it barely took time to register. The younger deputy became worse with every step he took towards the two. His sword swung impotently in his hand, as if he barely had any strength left to wield it. More often than not he spent his time trying to stand up from his latest stumble into the dirt. His breathing now a loud rasp, a desperate attempt to force fresh air down into his lungs.
While at first in positions to flee, the two strangers now saw that they were no longer at equal numbers. With one last gasp, the sickly form of the deputy fell onto his back into the dirt, stopping the Constable in his tracks and forcing him to re think his options. In the end, he chose the cowards way out, and attempted to flee down the northern route past the front of the inn. For an older man he was fast. Galumak was impressed.
The old man didn’t get far. From his position he couldn’t see which of them cast the spell, regardless, a cluster of briars and vines pushed their way out of the ground, spiraling and twisting their way towards the waning sunlight. The Constable stumbled, the vegetation tangling itself around his ankles. For the briefest of moments, panic set in on his face. He kicked and tore his legs away from the ground in long sweeping motions, taking long strands of vines with him. In a few moments he was free again to move. He turned on his heels once again, his feet pounding away on the dirt towards freedom.
Galumak felt the breeze of an arrow gently brush away a lock of hair as the missile was fired from somewhere behind him. It found its target in the old man’s shoulder, knocking him down once again to be tangled in the vines that littered the road. All three of the strangers on the road turned to see the two elves had revealed themselves. One with a slight smile on his lips as he lowered a bow, the other slowly making his way back to the East towards a small house not too far from the Stables.
“Collect him.” The archer’s voice was melodious, with only the barest of hints of a Faralin accent. “We have much to discuss.”
---
The small house was furnished in only the barest sense of the word. A small table and chair was pushed up against one of the windows facing the Golden Grain in. A small pile of parchment papers and quill lay upon the table, notes furiously scribbled in ink. On the floor of the great room two bedrolls were laid out. Lash thought this odd at first, as their kind didn’t so much sleep as such, however they shrugged it off as a minor comfort and shelter from the cold wooden floor.
The half-orc lumbered into the great room carrying the Constable over his shoulder and threw him down into a chair prepared for him in the middle of the room. Immediately the taller of the two elves began tying the old man up with bundles of silken rope.
“We appreciate your help.” Lash gave Galumak a nod, noticing a slight wheeze in his breathing. “Are you sure you’re OK?”
“I’m fine.” Galumak shrugged them off. “Figure we’re all here for the same reason, right?”
“Apparently so. I am Lash and this is my companion Raam.” Lash offered their hand and immediately regretted the gesture as the half-orc’s firm grip nearly crushed their hand.
“Galumak. Pleasure...”
“Yes, introductions are in order.” Standing, having completed the securing of the Constable, the taller elf offered a slight bow. “I am Dorian, and that is my brother Llywillian.” He gestured over to his brother who had moved to the hearth, rousing a small fire out of the coals and preparing a small cast iron kettle filled with water. Dorian then turned to Raam with bright eyes.
“Well met, Brother. We were not aware the Samaritan’s had caught wind of the rumors yet. Had we known they were going to send someone we would have told them of our presence here.” When Dorian reached out his hand to the Teifling Raam noticed the emblem of the open hands tattooed on the underside of his arm, just below the wrist. It was elegantly done, the ink appearing in a pale blue as opposed to the traditional ink black. The color of the brotherhood.
“Well met indeed. It was quite recent I assure you. What brings you two here then if not the brotherhood?”
“A personal request from an old friend, though I assure you we are on the same mission.” Dorian looked down towards the Constable who had already awakened from the unconcious state the pain in his shoulder had sent him into. Llywillian had dressed the wound just enough to staunch the bleeding, but there was still the dull throbbing pain. Donovan seemed not to feel it, as his thrashing against his bindings grew more and more desperate.
“Look who’s awake. We’ve been keeping our eye on this one and his deputies for a while now. We had suspected they were part of things here but could not prove it, until today.”
“The stable master told me you’ve been here for a few weeks.” Galumak leaned up against the wall, massive arms crossed over his chest. “You haven’t managed to find proof in such time?”
“They are careful.” Llywillian chimed in. He punctuated the statement with a quick prod at the coals. Next to him five small cups had been produced, only two of which appeared to be more than a simple hollowing out of wood. Obviously they had not been expecting guests. “Even in the dark of night, their movements are hidden will. They continue all outward appearances during the day, no obvious change of schedule whatsoever. And seeing as this town sees very little visitors, there’s no obvious outward aggression to be displayed.”
“Have you managed to find out anything?” Lash couldn’t manage to hide their frustration. Here they had been in town for less than a day and had been attacked twice. Obviously, these two were taking a far more slow and quiet approach.
“Of course, we have not been sitting here sipping tea all day.” Dorian smiled, appearing to take no offense to their tone. “The Golden Grain Inn appears to be a center of activity. When we have managed to catch some skullduggery going on, it has usually been people sneaking off in the night to meet in one of the back rooms there.”
“Who?”
“This one for starters,” Dorian again gestured to the Constable, who was giving them all a rather foul look. “His deputies, the woman and her sons from down the street, the carpenter and his wife...although I’m sure by now you’ve guessed that.”
“The family who own the Village Store are in on it as well, I expect.” Galumak chimed in. “The stablemaster said they disappeared for several days not too long ago and then just sort of appeared again out of nowhere. I was there earlier and got a glimpse at a pair of crossbows stashed away in back.”
The brothers gave each other a look before Llywillian replied, his tone suddenly contemplative. “Yes, that does seem to be the pattern we’ve noticed. We would see a lack of movement in select places over town before a return to schedule. We thought nothing of it as we were concentrating on the Golden Grain.”
“How many were there when you visited?” Dorian asked.
“The husband, his wife, and two sons.”
“No daughter?”
“Not that I saw, why?”
Again, the brothers exchanged a look. “They have a young girl who helps move the heavier items. Strong girl for her size, we had the pleasure of meeting her once.”
“Funny, the man had me move a few bags of seed because supposedly his sons couldn’t manage it.” Galumak’s eyebrow crooked, he suddenly had become quite concerned for someone he had not yet even met. This was not new to his personality, but it was still something that never ceased to amaze him about himself. No matter what prejudice and fear was thrown his way, he had yet to become the cynic.
“There’s a house at the end of town that appears to be abandoned.” Raam too felt a growing concern, a blossoming of dread that was seeded when they explored the interior of the home, finding every evidence of a life simply stopped in time. “It is as if the people there had just disappeared out of nowhere. I wonder why it is that some return and others do not.”
Dorian smiled and took a meaningful step towards the bound Constable. “Good thing we have someone we can ask about that.”
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