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on-a-lucky-tide · 2 years

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(Eskel/Lambert, Triss Merigold & Lambert, Berengar; Modern AU - No Powers; Lambert and Merigold are thirsty and Eskel is hot; mentions of arousal; game and book canon)

Lambert sighed into his knuckles. He was debating whether or not to cuss out the fourteen year old who had just taken a running jump to bomb into the swimmer's lane. Again. It would be his third warning and would therefore mean banishment, followed by a screeching hissy fit from some council estate mother with too-big hoop earrings and talons that could rake the flesh from his face.

Luckily for Lambert, he wasn't the only lifeguard on duty that late summer afternoon. His gaze lifted hopefully to his curly-haired counterpart on the chair opposite. Customers tended to react better to Merigold. She had the face, you know. All cherub-like, innocent and butter-wouldn't-melt. Lambert knew there was a feral cat beneath the sweet facade that took no prisoners, and left claw marks of her own. She could deal with the kid and his mother, and come out with flesh intact. He raised an eyebrow at her.

She shook her head once.

He blew his eyes as wide as he could.

She squinted.

He jutted his lower lip.

She mouthed 'I hate you' as she climbed down from her chair and bellowed at the young swimmer, who stopped splashing before the echo of her voice had even faded and began to wade meekly to the edge of the pool.

She was gone for about ten minutes. Long enough to make sure the kid has gone into the changing rooms, and to inform reception she was happy to speak to any screeching parents that might appear to protest. Her pool, her rules.

Lambert settled back into his chair and resumed staring into space. It wasn't that he was negligent, it was just that nothing ever happened in a midtown leisure centre full of old dears and toddlers on foam floats. It was money, but fuck was it boring. The only excitement was the rotation every thirty minutes to a different chair, when he got to stare at a fresh patch of water or kick people down the waterslide.

It was just as he was slumping down into another post that he clocked Merigold watching something like a hawk. There was no noise, no splashing, so it wasn't a drowner or another nuisance brat. The only other thing that could catch her attention like that was–

Oh. Oh, okay.

Lambert followed her gaze to a new arrival folding his towel on one of the old plastic chairs. Apparently, a statue from a long-dead ancient warrior civilisation had decided to come alive and visit a shitty Kaedweni community pool for a swim. His back muscles alone made Lambert want to sink to his knees and beg; they shifted fluidly beneath tawny copper skin as the guy bent down to tuck his sandals into his gym bag, thick backside pushing out against the thin material of his shorts. When he turned to face the pool, he revealed a muscular, thickly furred chest, and Lambert had to slap a hand to his mouth as it began to water.

Merigold's voice crackled softly through the walkie talkie. "Oh my fucking gods. He's wearing shorts and I can still see–"

Lambert glared over the expanse of the pool and turned the walkie talkie off with a defiant click. She wasn't looking at him. The swimmer had waded into the shallows, rolling his shoulders as he prepared to do his lengths.

It wasn't generally professional to oggle a customer as they went about their business. A body was a body and they all worked the same way, and they were all deserving of the right to exist without fucking judgement. From the old girl with her wrinkly smile as Lambert helped her into the shallow end of the pool to the naked toddler fleeing from a parent desperately trying to put a nappy back on. Lambert saw it all, day in, day out.

But he had a type, alright? Said type didn't use the pool usually. They stayed in the weight room on the floor above, flexing in the mirror and saying the most homoerotic shit to their gymbros while swearing up and down they were straight. They were pretty to look at but the moment they opened their mouths Lambert wanted to knock them out with a dumbbell. Not Lambert's scene. Was a man with the mind of Professor Dorregray and the body of Kreve too much to ask? Apparently fucking so, if Lambert's dating record was anything to go by.

Lambert tried to occupy his caveman brain by checking the clipboard attached to the side of his chair, but it was no use. His eyes drifted back to the chiseled body wading deeper into the pool. The guy did what everyone did; hissed as the cold lapped up his core, took a deep breath and then dunked himself under. Watching the water sluice down from his hair when he stood again, following each curve and contour, made Lambert's stomach clench.

This would all be over as soon as the bloke started swimming. He'd flounder around like a St Bernard in a lake and the spell would be broken. There was nothing sexy about a big man doggy paddling. Cute, maybe, in an 'aww how sweet' condescending TikTok video way. But his dick would be entirely uninterested.

Unfortunately for Lambert, Mr Tall, Dark and Too Fucking Hot For His Own Good was apparently born to be in the water. Despite his bulk, the guy cut down the lanes like a precision torpedo, back taut, limbs efficient and smooth. The water poured over his shoulders, flowed over the crest of his arse. Lambert couldn't tear his eyes away. When the guy flipped over for backstroke, his chest flexing and every other asset barely concealed by cloth and water, Lambert had to lift his thighs and adjust in his seat.

Merigold, who had been laid at some point in the last hundred years, was a lot more composed. She smirked at him when the swimmer started doing backstroke, and then again when he hauled himself out to stretch his calf muscles. They looked tight. Could probably do with a massag–ahh, Lambert needed a bucket of ice water.

Berengar came to relieve him on the rotation and Lambert very gingerly climbed down from the chair. If Berengar saw Lambert's raging and entirely inappropriate boner, then he was polite enough to keep it to himself. Lambert scuttled off to the breakroom and inhaled a cup of searing hot coffee, trying to think of wrinkly grannies and the changing rooms at clearing out time to calm his libido.

When Lambert re-emerged, the walking wet dream had clearly finished his lengths because he was heading into the changing room. Lambert glanced around for Merigold, but couldn't spot her, and then looked at the plastic where the swimmer had dumped his stuff. He'd left his goggles behind.

Shit. Lambert walked over and picked them up. They weren't the cheap kind from the leisure centre shop either. Prescription lenses; fucking expensive. With an irritable growl, Lambert went trundling into the changing rooms. It was getting late which meant they were pretty empty, but for a few late arrivals looking to unwind on the jacuzzi. He found the guy standing by the lockers, water droplets running down his back from his mop of black hair, and cleared his throat. "Hey, you, uh, you left these."

The guy looked round, and a pair of the most stunning hazel eyes Lambert had ever seen settled first on Lambert's face and then the goggles thrust towards them. "Ah, crap, thanks," the guy said, and his voice sounded like it had been ripped straight from an old country music album; the kind only played on vinyl while you drank expensive whisky and smoked a cigar. Lambert's knees gave a dangerous judder. The guy wrapped his goggles up. "Always lose my head a bit in new places."

"Yeah, I uh… haven't seen you about before. New to the area?"

"Moved into a new flat by the cricket grounds last weekend. I've just about unboxed the houseplants."

Lambert swallowed. He was a lot smoother than this usually, he'd swear it. But there was something about the weight of those eyes and the lopsided little grin, and that voice. "There's a uh, a good pub near there. Golden Sturgeon. Craft beer and stuff, if you're into that. Not the kinda place where it's all 'the greater gooood' or anything." Lambert put on the hick country voice and then immediately flushed red.

The guy considered him closely, tilting his head like a gods-damned big puppy, and then he smiled again. "Sounds good," he thrust his free hand forward, "'m Eskel."

"Lambert." The handshake was firm and warm. Lambert had to resist running his thumb over those strong fingers for a little too long, and tucked both of his palms into the small of his back as soon as Eskel released him. "I'll, uh, see you around then."

"Absolutely."

Lambert high-tailed it out of the changing room like someone had set his fucking arse on fire.

***

Lambert groaned into his forearms as Merigold mocked him. They had ended up in the cocktail bar as they did most Saturday nights, and she wasn't impressed with his lack of outcome. "You didn't even get his number. Pathetic."

"I'd like to see you string a coherent thought together with that rack in your face, fuck me."

"Eww, gross," she said, swirling the umbrella around her gin glass. "Not him, you. But, the good news is, I tried my play and he's definitely not into women."

"Or your game's not as good as you thought," said Berengar dryly as he sat down between them.

"Please," Merigold rolled her eyes, "don't kid yourself. Anyway, he did ask whether you were on shift at the weekend, and I said yes, so I swapped us around. I'll work Monday and Tuesday, you're welcome."

Lambert choked on his beer. When his throat was clear, he squinted at her. "I coulda had plans."

"You? Plans? Chance would be a fine thing." She sipped the rest of her drink, leaving Lambert to fester in his irritation, and then hopped up from her chair.

Lambert followed her gaze across to the room to an unfortunate bloke in chinos with a fuck-awful haircut. Everything about him screamed Daddy's Hedge fund, and he could practically see the dollar signs pop up in Merigold's eyes. "Beep-boop, new target acquired."

"Fuck off, Lambert," she said airily through her most dazzling smile. She'd already made eye contact, and was preparing to move in for the kill. Berengar sidled off to the games machines as she left, and Lambert pulled out his phone to doom scroll. Anything to stop thinking about glistening tits and hazel eyes.

#witcher lambert #witcher eskel #lambskel #eskel/lambert #modern au #lifeguard au #eskel is a bear #lambert is an otter #them's the rules #part 1/?

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stinkybrowndogs · 2 years

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Critterfolk worldbuilding- background info

What makes a critterfolk?

Using redwall as a loose guide, there are a few "rules'' for which species can be played and which cant. These include:

size: the largest playable species thus far are wolverines and badgers; both animals are medium sized mammals. The larger the animal, the more difficult it is to accomadate them withen the worldbuilding. The size difference between a badger and a mouse is already quite large, but the size difference between a mouse and a bear is completely impractical. Having large playable species like wolves or bears also raises other questions- how does society compensate for both such large creatures and the tiny? If all of these animals are sentient, what is available to fill the need for mechanics such as mounts, familiars or animal companions? Im not going to tell you what you can and cant do- you may draw the line where ever you see fit.

tool and object manipulation: i would recommend staying away from hooved animals (such as goats or horses) and animals without the ability to manipulate objects (fish)

(birds and snakes fall into an interesting category; without proper arms to manipulate objects, how do we create a pc that can use weapons, cast spells or otherwise act withen the 5th edition mechanics. This does present challenges with giving them certain weapons; how do you imagine a bird would wield a sword, or a bow and arrow? How does a snake use any weapon at all? Ill tackle snake and bird mechanics later)

Critterfolk, whomst encompass the playable races, npcs and the world at large are the main focus of this game. Critterfolk are generally bipedal, use weapons and tools and communicate with each other and amongst the different species. They tend to be small in size, and may be preyed on by beasts or even other races. Contrary to Jacques writings, none of the critterfolk are inherently bad or evil. Predators and prey are equally capable of being any mixture of moral values.

Beasts incompass any animal who is too large or impractical to use as a pc. This includes large predators such as wolves, tigers or bears, as well as hooved mammals like horses or deer. Beasts can be used as mounts for pcs, food sources, or a source of conflict.

Invertebrates and fish are the 2 groups of animals that critterfolk both farm (for food or raw materials) or keep as pets (mechanically, familiars and animal companions).

(While for some critterfolk a large beetle may be just a small snack, for the smallest folk, like mice or shrews, large invertebrates make a sturdy mount)

Foods and Diet:

Hey, don’t animals like mice and moles get preyed on and eaten by animals like fox and weasels?

Yes they do! This can be an interesting source of conflict in your game (think zootopia) but if this is not a theme or story you are interested in exploring there are other options.

While carnivore and omnivore animals can technically safely consume other critterfolk, it is seen as taboo. There may be certain cultures or groups who practice hunting of other critterfolk, but it is uncommon. Carnivores and omnivores find protein in other places; fish, invertebrates, and beasts. Animals like badgers and hedgehogs have a mixed diet and often practice fishing or bug keeping. Larger carnivorous critterfolk may work cooperatively to hunt animals like boar or deer, and animals such as the Wolverine are capable of taking a beast on themselves. Some critterfolk may be scavengers, finding fallen beasts to pick clean. There are many explorable cultural differences that could be interesting and fun character backgrounds or storylines!

Languages: Languages are decided by taxonomic class. There are similarities across all critterfolk languages on the mortal plane.

Mammalian, Avesian, Reptilian, and Amphibian (languages of mammals, birds, reptiles and amphibians, respectively)

This is all a bit on the nose but that makes it easy to remember. i could sit and try to come up with more clever names, but that would just be more confusing than necessary.

Other languages:

Common: same as 5e common, the universal language that most critters know how to speak

Infernal: spoken by devils of the infernal plane

Abyssal: spoken by typhonic beasts

Celestial: spoken by the phoenixes of the celestial plane

Primordial: spoken by those from the elemental planes

#critterfolk #my art #sorry idk how to fucking organize these #I’m just dumping thoughts and sketches #I’ll jump into races soon #and rule edits #and available mounts/familiars #and other bs #the otters have tide pool farms!#very proud of that #ALSO if anyone is interested in running a game n wants the main doc #please hmu #it is unorganized and perpetually being edited #but has all the info needed

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