#so. there aren’t aasimar in my world but the ones that exist are made from diamonds and are mostly workers for the astral plane | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

strixhaven · 1 month

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Okay you've been mentioning Iziador a bunch recently and you've officially piqued my interest lol. What's his deal? You've mentioned a Curse, some vampire-adjacent qualities, and his one morbillion problems but I'd love to hear more about him/ his backstory 🩵

Iziador’s my Ghostslayer Blood Hunter, now also a Phantom Rogue given our current game is a 5e Gestalt one! He’s a character I’ve had for a few years now and played for a while in a now-defunct campaign, but his backstory was way messier and not as thematically coherent as it is now. I’d been rewriting him and swapping some stuff about his backstory, personality, and aforementioned curse in my free time when my good friend and former fellow player @ aterabyte offered to DM a game with me and another friend after I told her about some of the stuff I’d changed.

His exact deal for 2.0 isn’t 100% set in stone yet, but so far I’ve got a lot of the outlining done and have just been chatting w Tera and the other players/moth about it (also spoilers warning right here for Red and Jade if you happen to be reading this!)

Bit of lore groundwork to cover before digging into his whole deal though—souls and the magic tied to them, how to manipulate souls, are a big part of both of his campaigns and a large part of Izzy’s story has to do with his soul. Setting-wise, the current campaign is taking place several hundred years after an apocalypse killed off a huge chunk of the planet, but everyone left living is on landmasses that vary from the size of a farm to the size of large countries that were rocketed into the sky to avoid the apocalypse. Lots of cool floating islands and airship shenanigans. It whips! Ghostslayer Blood Hunters specifically also have a lot of lore relevant to their base of operations, the dead city of Bourreé, that’s closely tied to Izzy, but I’ll get to that in a bit.

Tera also pulled from my homebrew world when it comes to some of the lore, mechanics, and nature of tieflings and aasimar for the setting. Tieflings and aasimar are actually the same species that simply exist on a very wide spectrum when it comes to their appearances and the distinction is a largely arbitrary one made based off cultural values about appearances and how that relates to their views on a person’s morality, worth, and social role. And because they were created by Scávaun, the goddess of symmetry, they’re always either born as twins or two people sharing/having an identical soul. Tera added some lore to that for her world where there’s a set number for how many pairs exist at a time, and they both have to die before another pair enters the world—they now make up a larger portion of the setting per capita as a result of the apocalypse, given that they used to be spread throughout the world and now populations are much smaller and more concentrated in the far tinier landmasses.

Aaaand with that explained, Iziador’s deal should hopefully be a bit easier to understand in the context of the game.

Iziador being cursed is (understandably) integral to pretty much every aspect of his character and life. The exact mechanics and reasoning for it aren’t 100% set in stone as of yet, but the way he’s cursed has a lot to do with the nature of his soul and the aforementioned city of Bourreé. While the exact cause of the city’s death and destruction is unknown (for now at least), the city is to a degree undead and a kind of cultic mass of souls, and Iziador is functionally an extension of Bourreé given physical form. When I talk about vampiric-adjacent qualities of his curse, a lot of that has to do with how the curse manifests through his soul—he’s directly tied to the city even pre-becoming a hunter, and Bourreé uses him as a conduit to feed and accrue more power/satiate its hunger through the souls of the creatures and people he kills, is present for the death of, and/or more passively feeds through the bits of despair and misery surrounding him. Iziador acts as a life for death & tragedy as a result, and finds himself drawn to and draws a lot of this to him.

That he’s so fundamentally tied to Bourreé and the why of his being is something he doesn’t know, and is most likely a mystery to all but the city itself. He wasn’t born in Bourreé, he has no hunters in his family history that he knows of (doesn’t even have any tieflings/aasimar, it’s all just humans and half-elves), neither of his parents had any connection to the city as far as he’s aware.

The other Ghostslayers could definitely tell that there was something both deeply off and deeply familiar about him, but no one was sure of the why or how either—all they know is that his mentor in the order found him one day, went “shit, if we don’t take this kid in, someone else is going to find him, and it is not going to turn out well,” and it’s been a mess ever since. Iziador was a controversial recruit to say the least, and more than a few of them thought he was far too big of a risk to have properly join and undergo the Hunter’s Bane, but ultimately “we’ll train him and see if his curse can be better understood over time and under our care” tentatively ended up winning out. It was definitely a huge improvement over his previous life—he’d been kicked out of his home and living on his own in the Carisian capital for a few years when his mentor found him, and for as much of a dysfunctional mess the Ghostslayers were and for how wary many of them were towards him, Izzy found Bourreé to be place he was ultimately quite comfortable in. For reasons that cannot possibly be explained, the city felt familiar and like he belonged there.

But the Ghostslayers have always been and will likely always be a tense, messy group of people, and Izzy fucking up and accidentally getting a fellow recruit killed not long after he’d undergone the Hunter’s Bane made that a lot worse. Made much worse by the fact that the recruit he got killed was the twin to a guy he was close friends with and also the apprentice of one of the leaders that pretty openly hated his guts and was very vocal against his joining. One thing lead to another and by one thing I mean his friend’s mentor trying to kill him, and by another I mean Izzy just murking his ass instead and bolting from Bourreé because ohh boy oh man this is. a mess. to say the least.

So he’s currently level 1 Ghostslayer Blood Hunter/ Phantom Rogue and on the run. Good times!

There’s a lot more to him all and I’m sure I’ll be chatting Even More about him in the near future, especially as the game gets going, but this is already a lot LMAOO. But yeah. Rotating him in my mind.

#rambling about my blorbo time. so much more i could mention and i’m sure i will add on to this later #asks #iziador #long post

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a-dragons-journal · 3 years

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Do you think it’s okay to be angelkin but not believing in a religion/god?

If you're asking whether it's okay: Frankly, your personal beliefs are no one's business but yours. As long as you're not hurting anyone or advocating for anyone to be hurt, you're fine. You can have all the contradictory beliefs in the world and while I might be mildly concerned for your critical thinking skills depending how far you take that, there's nothing inherently morally wrong with that. You wouldn't be the only angel I've seen to not believe in God/gods.

If you're asking from a theological standpoint whether it makes sense/fits within a single ideological framework, that's a somewhat different question that I'm happy to help you explore now that that big important thing is out of the way. To preface this, I'm a big believer in internal consistency - basically, whatever you believe about the metaphysical/spiritual/religious, it should be consistent with itself and you shouldn't be contradicting yourself at any time. If you are, there's a logical flaw somewhere that says one of those two things must not be true, if they can't both be true at the same time. (However, things may appear to be contradictory sometimes which aren't actually when you dig a little deeper.)

Frankly, that second question depends on a whole bunch of factors, primarily 1) your personal explanation for your being angelkin, 2) how you're defining "angel," and 3) closely linked to #2, whether you believe angels can exist without God/gods. Let's go through them one at a time:

1) Your personal explanation for your otherkinity. If you think your otherkinity comes from (or might come from) pretty much any psychological source, this is a moot question; angels don't need to literally exist in any sense (physically or non-physically, in this world or any other) for you to have them as a psychological kintype. Archetypal resonance and probably some other explanations for otherkinity that are slipping my mind also fall into this category. Similarly, if you believe in a multiverse, that probably also answers your question; gods don't need to exist in this world to potentially exist in other universes, which eliminates the need for the question.

(If you simply don't know (or don't care) where your otherkinity comes from, then there's still nothing inherently contradictory about identifying as an angel while not believing in God or gods, because any one of the above explanations could potentially apply and make it internally consistent. You don't have to pin down which one of them you think it is for that to be true. It can be an "I don't know what it is, but it's probably not [x] because that doesn't make much sense" situation.)

But let's say you happen to believe that either a) you were (or will be) at some point literally an angel (whether in a physical or purely spiritual form) in this world, or b) you were/are/will be literally an angel in another world, but you don't believe there were actual gods in that world either. In that case, the question is still relevant, and we move on to point 2:

2. How you're defining "angel." "Angel" isn't nearly as broad as "dragon" in terms of umbrella terms, but it can still mean a number of things. For many people, "servant/messenger of God/a god" is a part of how they define "angel", so an angel existing in a world without at least one god to serve wouldn't make much sense - they would no longer be an angel, but something else. However, you might simply define an "angel" as a very powerful, semi/quasi-divine being that isn't quite powerful enough to qualify as a god themself. Or what you're describing as an "angel" might be even less related to the typical definition and be something more similar to air elementals or aasimar from D&D - mortal or semi-mortal beings, but with "celestial" qualities that make them superficially seem like "angels" to us (or at least make them close enough that it's a convenient shorthand to explain them). Whether that truly "counts" as an angel is probably up for debate, but there may not be a better term for it, so it may be what you're stuck with regardless.

So: How do you define "angel"? Or, perhaps more effectively: Write down a definition of "angel". Then (afterward, not before), write down a description of your kintype, with whatever details of appearance, physiology, culture, etc. you deem important, without using the word "angel" (or any derivatives like "angelic," or even "celestial" if you want a challenge) anywhere. Then reread that description, compare to your written definition of "angel," and see if they match. Try to explain (written down, preferably) why or why not your kintype reads as "angel" to you, in as much detail as you can. Hell, try to write two arguments, one for why it should and one for why it should not be counted as an "angel", if you want, and then compare how strong each argument is!

(Bonus round: send your written definition and description to a friend and see if they think they match, or send just the description and ask if it would qualify as "angel" in their mind (and why/why not, and what they'd call it if not), or send the argument(s) you wrote down for why and/or why not to them and see if they think the argument is sound/which argument they think is stronger! This is not because their opinion is automatically correct - their logic may not be sound, or you may simply still disagree with them - but getting a second or third opinion is rarely a bad thing.)

Now, hang onto what you wrote down - it's going to be important to this next part.

3. Do you believe an "angel" can exist in the absence of God/gods? Take another look at the definition you wrote of "angel." Assuming you've made it this far and aren't just reading out of fascination at the thought process, if there's anything necessitating the presence of a god in there, you have a problem. And that wouldn't be unusual! When you say "angel" to someone, typically they're immediately going to think of a being connected to/serving a god, most often the Christian God.

But there may be exceptions to that - as I described earlier, you may essentially be using "angel" as a shorthand to describe something that's not really technically an "angel", but which we don't have a more accurate word for that's in common usage - something to get the point across in casual conversation, which can then be explained further if the topic of conversation necessitates that. Or you may consider any semi/quasi-divine being not quite powerful enough to count as a god an "angel," regardless of whether there are more powerful beings present that they serve. There's some room for interpretation there, in my opinion - or there may be a word that fits that kind of being better that I don't know!

That... pretty much covers my thought process on how one would prove that out if the answer isn't immediately obvious, I think? That got Way longer than expected, sorry ^^; Best of luck figuring things out!

#my *four* religion classes in college were taught by a prof who was big into *philosophy of* religion does it show jkfjdlkgjs #i loved him so much and he taught me A Whole Bunch about philosophy and things like this which i am thrilled to pass on #otherkin #angelkin #actuallydivine #long post #rani talks #asked and answered #anonymous #for that matter we could talk about how you're defining 'god' if you fit into that 'quasi-divine being' definition of 'angel'#bc what is that if not a god itself; if there's nothing more powerful/divine to compare it to #but that would be a whole discussion probably fjdkgjs

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the-wotog-collection · 3 years

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some new(ish) kids

“new” as in they didn’t exist yet when we last posted. so some of them are at least 9 months old. anyway!

list under the cut:

CAS

- they’re a half-elf monk! but now that i think about it it would be kinda funny if they had a level or two in rogue

- honestly? they’re a frat boy, but one who drinks respect women (and everyone, really) juice

- complete thembo. they have a -1 int, but +5 dex and +3 cha so who’s really winning here

- seriously when i say they’re a thembo i mean it. cas can dodge bullets all day but they don’t know that a tomato is a fruit

- they’re a people person and respectful and are very much work hard play hard. i love them

PUMPKIN

- now this is a bastard right here

- he/they tiefling rogue. yes they stole that crown what about it

- very much like mollymauk tealeaf i’m not gonna lie. they’ll charm the pants off of you and run away with your whole coin pouch

- smth i love about pumpkin is 1) their last name is pye 2) they have aliases bc in nearly every town they’ve been in there’s a warrant out for his arrest

- pumpkin pye (persona), a flirty rapscallion. if they had to pick one alias to stay as, this would be that one

- apple pye, a quiet sweetheart. kinda country bumpkin-esque

- pecan pye, taciturn but honest (as he can be while using an alias and on the run from the law and generally up to no good) and a hard worker

- underneath all the layers? he’s kinda sad and lonely, still a flirt and a rapscallion but considerably less, and sometimes he just wants to stay in bed instead of going out and getting into all kinds of trouble

- oh also! he’s self conscious about his freckles, and usually uses some kind of makeup to cover them up if hell brain is acting up/he’s causing trouble

TENJIN

- i’ll be honest i do not remember if i still have their picrew

- i do nvm

- this is tenjin! iirc they’re a drow enchanter (homebrew class my cousin made) but ig in a legal game they’d be a divination wizard

- he’s such a sweetie, oml

- fun fact he has autism! mostly nonverbal and gets overwhelmed super easily, and has a whole pouch full of trinkets that they fidget and stim with

- baby. baby boy

- really fun to play actually

BEE

- she’s here to kick names and take ass, and she’s all out of names

- a whole lesbian. most of why she does what she does is to protect pretty girls

- human (shocker, i know) cleric of a storm god that i forgot to write down

- anyway!

- do no harm but take no shit is her motto. her methods may be borderline illegal, but hey, as long as the thing gets done it’s fine

- usually.

- basically her only method is swing a bat around until people talk and if the bat hits anything/anyone, well. that’s not her business

- oh yeah her bat. it’s infused with electricity and deals lightning damage as well as bludgeoning. it’s sick as hell

- she’s pretty rad

RAY

- everyone needs a weed druid

- okay but seriously. they eat every plant they come across to 1) figure out what they do (they have insanely high con dw) and 2) for magical power

- are they high most of the time? yes. are they really sad actually? also yes

- they aren’t religious, but they do worship the deity their childhood best friend (turned lover, yes) worshipped

- i might talk about that more later :)

- anyway they’re super chill and also one of the few drows i have, iirc

WALKER

- okay now we’re starting to catch up

- his name isn’t actually walker, but it’s what everyone calls him so that’s what he goes by

- he/they (wow theres a lot of he/theys huh) fallen aasimar gloom stalker ranger

- basically think of the edgiest anime boy you can imagine and go “what if he went to therapy”

- he’s such a good boy! yes they still do the adventuring thing, but make a point of going to therapy every week

- they’re making some great progress :)

- while he’s basically a witcher and gets treated like one (i.e. poorly), he just wants to settle down somewhere quiet when there’s no more evil in the world to grow vegetables where the only one around to judge him for being mute is his crow

- the picrew didn’t have a crow so please pretend that’s what the pigeon is

VAL

- valor is a tiefling fighter who came into existence bc i rewatched netflix castlevania and was super gay for striga so i made a character inspired by her

- also has autism, but in addition, she has ptsd from her days in the royal army. she’s seen some shit yall

- isn’t very good with social interactions, a lot of stuff goes right over her head and she’s just awkward as hell, but get her talking about her special interest (military tactics) and she will talk for hours. please let her

- fun fact she met her wife bc she was fishing in a bog trying to catch dinner and fished out a wholeass lady instead

- she’s buff as hell. she could use literally anything as a weapon and make it hurt

UNNAMED WIZARD

- i don’t have a name for them yet BUT i do know that they’re a bitch

- yet another he/they, this time we have a neutral evil wizard who doesn’t care who gets hurt as long as they get results for their experiments

- think albedo genshinimpact but with almost no morals

- yes he’d cast ninth level spells on his party if he was researching something. no he would not feel remorse. probably

- idk i haven’t fleshed him out yet i just know that he’s a bitch

MOUSE

- finally! my favorite character on this list

- this is maisy, but she’s so tiny that everyone calls her mouse

- when i say tiny i mean she’s a halfling and also seven years old. she’s fucking little

- little human druid girl who basically raised herself in the forest and can & will make friends with literally any animal she comes across

- her arcane focus is her flower crown, which also has berries growing on it. they grow back every time she picks one to give to her friends :)

- she’s so fucking pure oh my god. actual cinnamon roll and everything that’s good in this world

- her rat’s name is rat. he’s her friend :)

- and also dog sized compared to her it’s hilarious. she has a little leash for him made of vines and particularly spry twigs

- have some bonus art bc oh my god cutie

#mod ash #oh boy here we go #cas #pumpkin pye #pumpkin #tenjin #bee #ray #walker #valor #val #maisy #mouse #art tag? art tag #ash doodles #that only applies to the art of cas. it's one of the few pieces i'm proud of klajdshlj

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civilorange · 4 years

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once i was here,

yasha remember those months. // ao3

________________________________________________________________

Whole forevers pass as you sit in the quiet place inside yourself.

Deep within the recesses of your mind you linger with a palpable fear of what exactly you’re capable of. You watch hands that have always been yours raise the rusted edge of Skingorger and plunge it into the soft stomach of a weathered monk in blue—his eyes bulge, and his mouth parts in a harrowing howl.

Bodies do the strangest things as they die—they shake and tremble, thrumming around the edge of your blade as their muscles contract and press harder on the untended metal. And then something inside goes far away, and they slacken.

You’ve always known this, but watching it now as you are—a guest (a ghost) in your own body—you really see how the color crawls away in his eyes. You see the exact moment he dies.

“Oh, wonderful, Orphanmaker,” Obann drawls, his oily presence sliding through your mind, inking through the edges and pushing you further and further away from the view of what your body is doing. “You’ve made me such a lovely playground to play in.”

Tearing your blade free, the blood spurts and he slumps—his blood so red against the pale floor, the sound of his body collapsing echoing through the halls.

Before that night in the cavern—before Obann, before the Laughing Hand, just before—there had always been the faintest roll of thunder in your ears, just for you. Reminding you that no matter what might seem to be, you’ve never really been alone.

But now there’s only silence.

Cold and heavy.

You strain, trying to rush forward through the dark to throw yourself back into your body—to control those red soaked hands of yours. They’ve been red for weeks now, Obann doesn’t care how it makes your heart ache to see the red grow brown and stiff on the joints of your fingers.

How you watch it flake off in the night, the tips of your fingers rubbing together to turn it into the finest of dust. Absent, considering.

You keep a tally in your mind—one, two, three—of how many bodies you leave in your wake—ten, eleven, twelve—but after a while you stop. You stop trying to remember what your body does in your absence, what your horrible hands do with no hesitation as Obann whispers bitter little words into the shell of your ear.

“Soon, Orphanmaker,” he says often, late into the night, the rattling wheeze of the Laughing Hand growing slow and sluggish as the hours pass in almost silence—the softest chuckle drifting from what must be the litany of mouths carved into his enormous bulk.

Some nights, long after the sun has fallen, you’re given a gift.

It isn’t every night, it isn’t even one night in a handful, but often enough—there’s a voice. A twinkling voice that makes you feel lighter, makes you feel less like the monster you know you are—and probably have always been.

“Heey Yasha, it’s me—Jester.”

Always soft, always like she’s trying not to wake someone. You wonder where she is in the world—the Empire? The Dynasty? Somewhere totally new?

You can’t close your eyes where you are so deep down inside, but you can imagine her—bright eyes, infectious smile, a warmth to her that had nothing to do with heat. A warmth that bleeds across miles—realms for all you know—and touches the cold edges of you. “Just—wanted to let you know what we’ve been doing. We made a friend—she’s an aasimar! Do you know—…”

You want to respond, you know logically you can—but you’re unable to. Your fists clench, and your mouth parts—you can feel it, but nothing comes out. You sit in silence.

Always silence.

Except when there isn’t.

“Heey, Yasha. Did you know Fjord’s accent isn’t even real? He actually sounds pre-tty sophis-i-ti-cated. He told Uk’otoa—(Uk’otoa)—to go fuck off and threw—…”

“We—lost Nott today, she died and this might not even reach you. And you’re lost too, and I don’t even know what we’re doing—…”

That had made something inside you crumble, something otherwise untouched—a piece of you that Obann couldn’t scratch away with dirty nails and oily words.

Nott died? Jester had sounded sad, had sounded despondent, but—she didn’t sound devastated. You think of how she had screamed your name as those doors closed, how no one had ever sounded so…broken…about you.

You’re the one left behind—or, you were, before you started leaving first.

No, she didn’t sound devastated.

So you hope.

“Soooo, thought about that message and was like Oh My God, Yasha probably thinks Nott’s dead, and no, no, no, we got her back. She—…”

You’ll never know what she was going to do, say, or be, but you’re relieved. As relieved as you can be as your body burns with anger and your sword gouges through another hapless body. Fodder, Obann had laughingly called them. People who had no hope of standing against you, no hope of holding up the weight of your downward swing—you’re so very good at killing, even before Obann you’d known this, but there’s a disconcerting freedom now.

As if the shackles that cage you now are so very different from the self-imposed ones you’ve always chosen to bind yourself with.

You’ve always been a tamed monster, but now—now you’re on the loose.

Tethered only with the ill-intention of a creature burning red with hellish eyes.

“Heey, it’s me—again. Just—checking in. I—saw today. You…probably feel pretty bad, and I want you to know I know it isn’t—…”

There’s a crackle in your ears for the first time in so long, the electricity skittering over your chin and down the back of your neck eases the burn of Obann’s command. The voice—Jester’s voice—eases you even more. The Stormlord might be your salvation, but Jester—Jester’s something more tangible. On your best nights you think of her as family, the entire Nein, but on your worst nights you consider them your punishment.

Those who you’ll always disappoint.

But tonight, with Obann’s burn in your blood, and the Stormlord’s lightening crawling across your skin, you need her. You need this simple connection of someone who cares—this reminder that you are you, even if your body isn’t.

“—oh, sorry I got cut off. It isn’t you, and we’re going to get you back, I promise. Promise, promise. Keep fighting, Yasha. You’re so—…”

Because Jester thinks Yasha, and that is you.

It will always be you.

As the clouds whisper away and the sky is clear, you find the most beautiful flower. It’s gold, and purple, and red—swirling together, you’ve never seen one like it before. Your chin against the new breastplate Obann has fostered onto you—wrist thick tusks curling over shoulders, cracked leather and metal sticking to the blood and sweat on your skin.

You want to hold it, this beautiful untouched piece of nature—you want to touch something without ruining it for the first time in months.

You watch absently as your hand reaches out and graces just a fingertip against a petal that reminds you so very much of Mollymauk.

Somehow, you know that you can force your fingers to pluck it free, you know that Obann doesn’t see any worth in this silly little weed. You know. So you swim closer to that slanted reality that is just beyond you at every moment, for you don’t sleep when your body does, for you aren’t your body—you just exist in darkness.

You coax, and encourage, and plead, and after much hesitation, your body plucks it free from the ground—so simple, but it’s something you want.

It’s brilliant as you spin it between your fingers, the colors blurring into a kaleidoscope. You smile, your body does too, and with a smooth effort that gives you more hope than you should have—especially months into this—you tuck it away into your breastplate before Obann can see.

Before you’re forced to be just that much less you.

Obann talks. A lot.

The words drift and spin in the hollow emptiness around you, and you think he simply must like the sound of his own voice.

“Soon, Orphanmaker,” he says it so often, plodding along with a whip of the tail and a twitch of his wings. Soon to what, you don’t know. To the Angel of Irons, to a menagerie of death dealers, to some inevitable bloody end.

“She’ll love you,” his voice is soft, and you don’t think it should be. It should be razor blades and warning klaxons, it should be bright red and viciously wrong. “You’re perfectly broken. Your chains self-imposed and your hunger ageless.”

He’s whispering the word lovely while reaching out to cup your cheek, but there’s a splash of electricity over the curve of your jaw and into the growing black of your hair.

The darkness from where you’ve existed these months grows cold and darker somehow—and you feel it, you feel the bristling touch of that otherness inside that links you to something otherworldly.

Your wings snap open, swallowing the light and Obann’s eyes shrink, pupils going to pinpricks, his hand halting.

“You’re mine, Orphanmaker,” you want to scream that you’re not that person anymore, whoever they were, whoever you are right now. You’re Yasha. You’re a member of the Mighty Nein, you’re good.

But your wings are black and broken things, skeletal and cold.

His fingers shiver, and his jaw clenches, but he doesn’t touch you. He doesn’t come any closer, and your body might not see him as an enemy, but your soul does. You do.

He’s backing away, glaring, “soon.”

“Heeey Yasha, it’s me—Jester. Sorry it’s been a while, we were inside the Happy Fun Ball, and you wouldn’t believe what we found in—…”

Sometimes you don’t even notice the days without messages, without blood.

The only two things that catch your attention anymore.

“We’re coming, Yasha. I promise. There’s so much super important stuff I want to tell you. Soon.”

You can only smile, and it feels so odd when you can tell that your numb cheeks pull upward into one as well. You and your body, smiling, together.

She didn’t use all the words.

Soon turns out to be a chantry in Rexxentrum.

You scream at every step your body takes, you howl as your hands—still flaking rust colored blood—pulls Skingorger free from your back sheath. You’re chanting no, no, no, no but your lips won’t move. Your knuckles go white under the rust and there’s a burning anger welling up beneath your skin—you burn with it, you expel harrowing growls as your carve through the air, hacking and swiping, and intent on ruining these people you call family.

It gets worse, though, so much worse.

Nott’s face goes blank, and those bright eyes grow far away and you’re horrified for her—you’re worried, no, you’re terrified. You don’t want this for Nott, you don’t want her to ruin anything she might regret, and you don’t want her beautifully green hands to grow dark with blood.

Some part of you that’s still broken—and always will be—want to knock her unconscious before she can hurt herself in ways that have nothing to do with open wounds and spilled blood.

But your body turns, and the Skin-Gorger drags a sinister scratch across the floor, sparks dancing and trilling in the cacophony of chaos around you. Everything blurs and you wish that you could close your eyes and pretend that you aren’t going to carve your way through your friends.

Beauregard is beautiful in her movements, brilliant as she pushes Obann out of her mind, wonderful as she puts herself in front of her friends—her family—and the enemy. You. There’s blood on her tan skin, and bruises around her eyes, and you wish you could simply fall on your blade. Tumble forward and just end this.

But you’re not in control, and you do so much worse.

There’s a part of you that doesn’t wonder at how easily you slice through her, at how her body arches and spins and falls to the ground. How her blood isn’t even remarkable against all the rust still staining you—it with grow brown and turn to dust with age like every other ounce of life-force spilled on you.

Her blistering blue eyes close and her body goes slack and you scream—move, move, go—but your body rights itself and rotates the edge of the glaive so that you might be able to drive it down and into the center of her chest and ruin.

Red spurts and spills, and you can’t stop the shudder of your frame under the control.

You’re shaking as you turn, ripping the tip free, tears sliding through the rust staining your cheeks—a plea in your graveyard eyes. Asking, pleading, for someone to put you down.

You need to die before you kill anyone else.

After the doors close, and after the Nein gasps for what little breath they can be afforded, you lean against the wall. Skingorger in hand, but you wished you could still feel Magician’s Judge—you haven’t felt it in ages, the subtle touch of magic thrumming against your palms. The promise of a better tomorrow, of the truth being unveiled.

You watch them, each and every one of them—except Nott, who you will move heaven and earth to retrieve—and you sink down to your knees. You bow into yourself physically because you cannot do it mentally alone anymore—you are Yasha, body and soul, and you’ve missed being you.

“Jester,” you say, softer than soft, because you can’t help the flinch at the guarded look Fjord gives you, his fingers curling like he might wish to pull his new blade from the ether. But Jester—

—sweet, stronger than them all Jester—who could still smile after everything. Who still looks at you like someone she loves, despite every reason you’ve given her to the contrary. She hops up and over to you, clasping your hands in hers and pressing her horns against your collarbones like Mollymauk used to. The blunt scrape is comforting, the weight of her more-so.

“I missed you,” she says into your chest, and you can feel the wet drip of her tears soaking into your rust flaking clothing. “I missed you so much.”

You don’t move at first, don’t dare move, but her relief in infectious—like her laughter, and her smile—and you can only last so long before you’re clutching her to you. She’s talking, but you can’t hear her, and you don’t think the actual words really matter. No, they’re pretty unimportant—it’s the scratch of her nails into the fabric of your cloak, and the shake of her shoulders as she cries.

“Thank you,” you say, squeezing your graveyard eyes closed for a moment, trying ot push away all the bad so that you can focus on Jester’s good.

“I didn’t do anything, it was Caduceus.” Extending her to arm’s length, you smile—an awkwardly unsure expression, you know—and shake your head, because she doesn’t know.

“Not for,” she stumble, grimacing. “Not for—for that. For—for thinking of me. For sending all those messages. I—…” You want to be elegant and charming, you want to say exactly what you feel, and want her to understand that she’s most of the reason there was still someone for Caduceus to save. That she reached you when the Stormlord couldn’t—that for a few months she was stronger than any deity.

You reach into the hard edge of your breastplate, pulling free the flattened flower that had reminded you so much of Mollymauk. It’s discolored after so many days hidden away, but it’s still beautiful. Reaching out you tuck it behind her ear, and smile.

“—…I heard you.”

#critical role #cr spoilers #yasha nydoorin #the mighty nein #jester lavorre

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eotheria · 6 years

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The World of Eotheria according to Lady Valentine

Part 9: Celestials, Fiends, Aasimar, and Tieflings

Angels and demons are known in Eotheria, though few have actually seen any, and it’s far too easy to make assumptions about what they are. To the layman, angels are divine beings of pure goodness that protect the weak and fight against evil and impurity. Demons are hideous and blasphemous creatures that seek to corrupt everything they touch and dominate the world and its people. A struggle between good and evil, heaven and hell, black and white, as old as time itself.

Let’s get this out of the way right now. Neither the celestials of Empyrea nor the fiends of Sheol have the best interests of the mortals of Eotheria in mind. The angels are truthful when they say they want to protect us. Unfortunately, their idea of protection is to protect us from ourselves by stripping away what free will and individuality we have, leaving us all as nothing more than cogs in a great machine, until our world resembles a graveyard where the corpses happen to be mobile. The demons aren’t in all honesty much better; things like murder, rape, and theft are considered personal matters to demons, who abhor the very concept of law and order. Such a way of life would turn Eotheria into a bloodbath where only the strongest would survive. The struggle between Empyrea and Sheol is not one of good and evil on Eotheria. After all, if there is one thing I’ve learned it’s that you don’t have to be evil to commit evil acts; you only have to believe you’re good.

Empyrea and Celestials

Empyrea is an echo world created by the Primordials when they banished the celestials from Eotheria. I sadly have very little first hand knowledge of it. I visited only once, for about six seconds, before my skin caught ablaze and I was forced to return to the material world. Vampires as old as I are harmed by very few things, but Empyrea carries with it a vast light as pure and bright as a hundred suns. My acquaintances who have visited the echo world tell me it is a beautiful mirror of the angels themselves; serene, regal, and holy. Not so much as a shadow or even a sunset to be found. Because it is an echo world, things that appear in the material world have equivalents in Empyrea. For instance, the great lake that borders my city of Roselake appears in Empyrea, where I am told it is a wondrous spring of pure water where beautiful flowers and warm light are abundant.

Actually getting information about how Empyrea is run is difficult. The celestials seem to know of outsiders coming in almost immediately. Attempts at deception or persuasion fail under the critical eyes of the angels, who punish such transgression with extreme prejudice. Even if you do come to Empyrea with noble intentions, your safety likely depends on what sort of angel finds you first. Some angels are kinder than others, and will give you the option to leave Empyrea of your own volition. Others take no chances, and slay (or purify as they like to call it) intruders on the spot. The best i can tell is that the angels are run by a council of seraphs, but how many there are, what roles they play, and what other ranks are in the hierarchy are anyone’s guess. If I had a contact in Empyrea it would be easier, but getting an angel to act as a spy is like pulling bulette teeth.

Angels do not often appear in Eotheria, but when they do, it is always through a summoning spell. The more powerful the celestial being, the greater the scope of the spell required. The most powerful celestial to appear in Eotheria, the arch-celestial Malakhi, was one of the aforementioned seraphs, and reportedly his summoning took four years to complete and required components of such rarity that I doubt anyone would dare to try it again. Like all extraplanar beings, celestials that die on Eotheria are not completely destroyed. Rather, their spirits are returned to Empyrea where a new body slowly reforms for them. And yes, this means that Malakhi is indeed still alive, though I’ve not heard any mention that he’s attempting to pull a stunt like he did forty-five years ago.

In the past, celestials have had a better reputation than fiends, as most tend to associate them with goodness and purity, as opposed to the evil and chaos of fiends. Of course, the reality is much, much different, but it is primarily the reason why the celestials have had relations with mortals good enough for their mortal progeny, the aasimar, to have a nation of their own, whereas the mortal progeny of the fiends, the tieflings, are very rare and widely scattered throughout Eotheria.

Sheol and Fiends

Unlike Empyrea, I do have some knowledge of Sheol, having visited the plane many times in the past. It is the polar opposite of what others have told me Empyrea is. A world of darkness and chaos, rather than light and serenity. Like Empyrea, it is an echo world. Going back to the example I used before, the great lake that borders my city of Roselake is a lake of blood, over which floats a crimson sky with a bright moon, with decayed and dead trees around the lake shore.

Despite the rather horrid picture I paint of this world, it’s really not that bad. Not compared to Empyrea, at least. Unlike the angels, fiends generally don’t care much about outsiders coming to Sheol as long as they don’t try to mess things up for everyone. I still don’t recommend a vacation there, however, unless you’re particularly strong. Fiends can smell weakness over a thousand miles and will be more than happy to make you their playthings if you’re not able to stand up to them. Still, if you can prove yourself, you could do a lot worse than having demons for acquaintances.

The law in Sheol is quite simple: there is none. Just as angels are sticklers for order and structure, demons just tear that all down and do whatever the hell they want. If there are any leaders in Sheol, they will invariably be the most powerful of demons, those who can hold their power through strength and might. Other demons, such as the yugoloths, make their living by selling their skills to the highest bidder, acting as mercenaries. All demons absolutely despise rules and restrictions, and for that they hate the celestials most of all. Unfortunately the only way to Empyrea from Sheol is through Eotheria, and vice versa. Perhaps you can see now why we have the Primordial Ban, ere the angels and demons use our world as a war zone.

Like angels, demons must be summoned in order to come into Eotheria while the Primordial Ban is active, and the stronger the demon, the greater the ritual needed to summon it. Perhaps the most common demons found in Eotheria, though most don’t realize it, are the succubi and incubi. These demons are able to assume humanoid form at will, and tend to blend in disturbingly easily in the urban areas of Eotheria. Most are just shameless hedonists looking to get their rocks off, but some are actually employed as spies by some of the more important people in this world. And yes, I employ a few in the Blood Pact as well. I've actually taken a succubus as a lover before, and while they are very good at what they do, I ultimately would not recommend it. At best they sleep with your entire house staff behind your back. At worst they become faithful and plot to violently murder anyone who so much as looks at you, but I digress.

Aasimar and Tieflings

Aasimar are native to the small nation of Avaniel, which split off from Laguna roughly a hundred years before the coming of the goddesses. The humans of central Suvitha of the time were notable in making pacts with angels, ultimately resulting in the birth of the aasimar race. Aasimar are easily identified by their ashen white skin and platinum blond hair, making them look similar to albinos, though with bright yellow eyes rather than red. They have a rather rigid form of government that is quite similar to what I imagine the celestials of Empyrea would use, being ruled by a council of nobles, with several different castes below.

Avaniel has had a rocky relationship with the human kingdoms since its founding, having a number of on-again, off-again wars, with Laguna and Pecra both often trying to reclaim Avaniel, but to no success. The fact that the aasimar allied themselves with the Kordran did nothing to help their relationship with humanity, though many would argue that they only did so as a means of self-preservation. After the Cataclysm, everything changed. The Kordran violently turned against the aasimar, who turned to the Kresnik empire for aid. Avaniel now exists as a vassal state of the growing Kresnik empire as a result. While many aasimar are not happy about this new state of affairs, few are willing to outright betray their new allies of the Kresnik empire, as their honor will not permit it. However, not all aasimar follow the strict code of law that their angelic ancestors do. Call it a trait of their human ancestry, but some aasimar choose to live more individualistic lifestyles away from Avaniel. These so-called “fallen” aasimar can take many roles: that of bandits, rogues, or even freedom fighters looking to bring down Kresnik and liberate Avaniel.

Tieflings are comparatively rarer. It’s not that the populations are much lower, so much as that they’re far more widespread and disorganized than aasimar. Then again, that seems to be a recurring theme: chaos vs. order. Their demonic heritage is easily noted, often manifesting in horns, red or light blue skin, cloven hooves, and tails. Some of the more exotic tieflings have even more drastic mutations such as intense body heat or scaly skin, but these are very rare. While tieflings have no nation of their own, they are most common in what was once Laguna, having small villages peppered throughout the region. Laguna had always been the most magically inclined of the Seven Kingdoms, and many of its archmages made pacts with demons, resulting in the tieflings.

Though treated with suspicion everywhere else, tieflings had good relations with humans in Laguna until the Cataclysm, when the leaders of Laguna summoned fiends to counter the celestials summoned by the Kordran. After the Cataclysm and the subsequent destruction of the kingdom of Laguna by the Church of Galan the remaining Lagunese humans blamed the tieflings for the Cataclysm, even though they had almost nothing to do with it. It got so bad that Kresnik and the Church itself stepped in to absolve the tieflings of any wrong doing. While the tieflings are generally grateful to the Kresnik empire for this, the recent acquisition of Avaniel, and the subsequent alliance with the aasimar, has worried the tieflings considerably. Needless to say, the two races do not get along at all, though I have succeeded in getting an aasimar and a tiefling to work together in the Blood Pact without killing one another, so I suppose they can get along.

The Baatezu

There is one last thing about Sheol that I am hesitant to talk about, though I suppose it’s best if you know rather than not. Most beings in Sheol are highly chaotic with little regard for rules, social structure, or order. Most beings, but not all. There exists, in the deepest corners of the echo world, a group of fiends that stands in defiance of the chaos that has manifested itself in Sheol. The demons fear and despise these creatures, who are alternately called “devils” or “baatezu”. According to a number of arch-demons, they were caught in Sheol when the demons were. The two races immediately turned on one another, with the demons emerging victorious, but the baatezu remain in Sheol still, plotting and planning for the day when they will bring their dominion over not only Sheol, but Eotheria as well.

I personally have not seen a devil, but I know they exist. They are the demons’ opposite: orderly and efficient rather than chaotic and savage. They seek to dominate rather than cause destruction, bending weaker creatures to their will. Some particularly unfortunate warlocks may find themselves unknowingly entering a pact with one. It is often through these warlocks that the baatezu plan their moves, playing a long game of chess and subtly manipulating events throughout Eotheria to suit their needs. And the truly frightening thing about them is that most do not realize the work of a devil until it is far, far too late.

In the next chapter I will talk about two of the less common races: gnomes and kobolds.

#eotheria #angels #demons #dungeons and dragons #homebrew

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kronetalkstabletop-blog · 7 years

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Let’s talk about Railroading.

Hey guys, Krone here.

Today, I want to talk about a buzz word that lay heavy on the minds of GM’s old and new. The word that I am talking about, of course, is “Railroading.” Now, for those who don’t know what the word means, “Railroading” is a term used in a tabletop game, where the GM (Game Master) leads the PCs (Player Characters) from encounter to encounter, trying to set up situations in a way so that they know exactly what will happen, from Point A to Point B, and finally to Point C. Points A, B, and C aren’t usually interchanged, and the prep is entirely dependent on the players following the chain of events that the GM has set up. Railroading is usually an indirect comment on someone’s GM’ing and not an actual playstyle, in the way of, “Oh man, that session felt really on rails today.” The term is usually held in a negative connotation, as many people see it as a restriction of player choice in the fiction. Player Choice and Agency is a big deal; it’s basically the reason why we play tabletop role playing games at all. Unfortunately, the term sometimes creates a blanket effect, and tends to encompass play styles that focus on Mission or Quest Based Narratives, since they are often seen as a restriction of choice for the players. This often shies GM’s away from constructing a campaign based on Missions, instead trying to cover all bases in an expansive sandbox world, which is really freakin’ hard to pull off! It sucks to be put in that position, where your players unintentionally expect you to have answers for every nook and cranny they take their characters. That’s why linear missions are great! They allow you the ability establish the narrative within new games and be able to get the players invested in a setting they previously have no idea of. Yet there’s this fancy concept that sandbox, or open world games, are the only way to go; that you must have prep and a solution FOR EVERY SINGLE THING THAT CAN EVER HAPPEN EVER. No. That doesn’t have to be the case. I’m here to tell you that “Mission Based Narrative” can be a bunch of fun and still grant player agency, while keeping a linear flow that a GM can keep an easier track of.

So what does “Mission Based Narrative” mean anyways? Well, let’s break it down into two, easier to digest, parts. “Mission Based,” meaning almost exactly as it reads; the campaign you are designing will be mostly mission or quest based. How the players come upon these missions is up to you. You could handle them the traditional way, i.e. have them receive missions from a mayor in a town, from a mega-corporation in the city, a friendly alien race on the planet Hraxmar, etc. Or, you could frame it like a show, with each major “episode” being another mission for the players to do. The point I’m trying to make is, while you create a vibrant setting in which the PCs exist, you want to use missions to help build the world around the characters, allowing your players to create and experience the fiction within them. Missions give you a way to direct the 2nd word, Narrative. “Narrative,” meaning what is happening right now right here as I am talking to my players about orcs and eating potato chips. It is the ongoing idea, fostered to myself by the great mind Adam Koebel, that the idea of story does not exist until after the session happens. This makes narrative about the now, focusing on what is happening from moment to moment. So in a sense, the main definition of “Mission Based Narrative” is the style of GM’ing through constructing missions that unfold in play. Prep is a good thing, but not when it tells you how the session is going to unfold before the dice are even rolled. That’s no fun! It also eliminates possibility of that buzzword that I used a lot before, “Player Agency.” Player Agency is, simply put, the amount of power that the players have to contort and change the fiction through their player characters. It’s an important thing, and something that we as GM’s want to inhibit as much as possible. So how do we do this? Mostly through the prep and rules we set for ourselves as the GM.

While railroading mostly focuses on the idea of going from A, to B, and then to C, we want to have a similar structure, but not exactly to that extent. We want the A’s, B’s, and C’s to be in the game, but we don’t want them to function as stepping stones for the players. Think of them instead as forces of nature driving the narrative into directions that the main antagonist(s) wants them to go. Let them be interchangeable, and let them be interrupted, but don’t ever let them dictate what happens after the players run into them. Set a situation, give the forces of evil motives to work towards, and let the players place themselves within it. Then, let the dice roll. One of my favorite games of all time, Dungeon World, words this perfectly. “Play to find out what happens.” Don’t ever let yourself create situations that you know exactly what will happen if player x does thing y. Use your imagination and think in the moment. You may think you’re bad at it, but trust me. Once you have the hooks, npc’s, and player motives in your notebook, the next logical thing will come naturally. Personally, what I do to help myself with this, is to ask questions in my prep, not make statements. Why does the Wizard want the staff of xanatar? Who does player x not expect to see again at the tavern? Will the Bruised Knees help out their gang brethren? Questions like these don’t limit you to one possible outcome. They let you brainstorm as the narrative wheel is churning, and when the time arrives, you can make use of one of your questions and turn it into a statement answered by the players actions towards your A’s, B’s, and C’s. If I ever need to include statements about what is going to happen within the next session, I always stick to this rule of thumb: Never include the players in the events that will be going on. Let the player’s be outliers, and the events as turning wheels that won’t stop just because the players ignore them. That way, events will happen unless the players stop them, giving them reason to engage and you opportunities to make their lives a little bit more complicated. We do, after all, play to see what happens, whether good or bad. Let the narrative flow with the players as the main attention point, but don’t feel afraid to let the cogs turn behind the scenes. Last, but not least, let your players do what they want. I’ll say that again. Let your players do what they want. I’m not talking about letting your players grow wings without being aasimar or leviate into the air without a jetpack. I’m talking about things that catch you off guard, things that might sound crazy to start out. If they’re difficult or risky, add extra consequences upon failure, but let them roll if you believe that it is something that is possible for them to do within the mechanics of your game. This is how the stories that all your players tell their friends afterwards are created. They are the life breath of the game. Say yes to rolling the dice.

So you’ve reached the end! If you made it this far, thanks! This is such a passionate hobby and I find people who teach me new things every day. As usual, I’m Krone and I like to play the occasional role playing game. I’m pretty new about this writing thing, so if you have some advice to help me with writing, or just want to talk more about we can reinforce linear narrative, feel free to comment! I mentioned two names: Adam Koebel, and Dungeon World. In fact, Adam Koebel is the co-author of Dungeon World, and is an all-around cool guy. He currently GM’s a few games over on YouTube on Rollplay, and is actually one of my main inspirations towards becoming a better GM, so go check him out! I’ve talked about prep a good deal in this post, so I think I’d like to talk a little bit more about the different types of prep there are, mainly the difference between High prep and Low prep, so keep a look out for that. And as always, thanks for reading.

CIA�:

#tabletop rpgs #dming #d&d #rpgs #krone talks tabletop

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tony-dnd-adventure-logs · 6 years

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Grimm Hellmaw’s Adventure Logs - Grimm’s Backstory

Hello friend,

My name is Grimm Hellmaw, and after recent experiences, a friend I hold dear to me suggested I document my experiences in case... well... I don’t get up from the next beating I take. I take a lot of risks when fighting alongside my friends, and let’s just say that my recklessness has my girl worried about me not coming back to her. That story will come, of course, but I figure I should start from the beginning so y’all can get to know me more, and I get to reflect on some of the highlights of my recklessness for posterity’s sake.

I don’t have a lot of memories from my early days. My mother was the streets of Glimmer’s Grove, and my father was the constant hunger I had to fight day in and day out. There aren’t any specific memories that stick out, but there’s this general feeling of despair that comes up when I try to think back on my childhood. People were awful. Whether it was me being a dreg of society, me being a half-orc, or me being a sore sight for the eyes of the bourgeois of the city, I never had any favorable interactions with the townsfolk of Glimmer’s Grove. It’s alright, though. Even if these people didn’t think I would amount to much, I wanted to prove them wrong with selflessness and my earnest smile. I wanted to be able to protect and win over the very people that wouldn’t think twice about a useless street urchin such as me. The people of Glimmer’s Grove may not deserve me, but I want to be THE example of that old saying “don’t judge a book by its cover.”

In my young adult days, I ran into a man that changed my life. Tibalt Grey would normally be looked upon as an unassuming man, but if you got a good look at him, you would see this wild, yet contained look in his eyes. This offputting observance aside, he was one of the kindest souls I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting in my life. He saw me in my tattered clothing, but was one of the first people to approach me and treat me like something more than the dirt beneath his boots. I don’t know what made him so comfortable with me, but he started talking to me about how he’s the last living member of the Grey Syndicate, a crime family that I had only heard stories of in the deepest, darkest alleyways of Glimmer’s Grove. I would see some of the toughest, battle-worn men cower at the mention of this group, and I would see some of the seediest, nastiest criminals speak of them fondly. While public reactions varied, there was a consensus that they would land on: the Grey Syndicate is not what it used to be. Talking with Grey, it couldn’t be any more obvious. He was a warm, gentle heart that was willing to talk openly with a social pariah such as myself, and take genuine interest in me.

He asked me about life, what my dreams are, and he also enjoyed interjecting with an odd fact or two about ghosts. I’m normally a guarded person, so while I tried to resist as well as I could, he ended up prying out of me my dream of protecting the people that would sooner spit at my existence than treat me as the living being that I am. Upon hearing that, he started to talk about how he wanted to right the wrongs his family committed during the height of the Grey Syndicate’s rule on the shadows of Glimmer’s Grove, and since he could see a similar light and fervor in me, he wanted to take me in and provide me with room and board at the cost of going through some special training to assist him in his path of redemption.

I have to be completely honest, I didn’t even think about what that training would entail. After living on the streets for all my life, I would have given up everything for a roof over my head, and regular meals. Little did I know at the time, Grey’s well-intentioned training would send me through literal hell.

Old man Grey’s fascination with ghosts stems from the training that he has been through. His family, while a successful crime syndicate, was also a long line of Blood Hunters that specialized in all things ghosts. You wouldn’t believe how he spent his free time. He’d take me to the sick wards of Glimmer’s Grove, help tend to the people there, offering up all kinds of money, goods and relief that he could to the healthier people, and observe the soon to be extinguished lives of the sick and elderly. I’ve been numb to death since I would see it on the streets regularly, but the kind of death you see in these wards is different. Lives being claimed early by disease, elderly people that say they’ve experienced all that life has to give, but have that dread and and a look of yearning in their eyes, it’s sick, really. Death on the streets equates to either falling down on your luck, or crossing paths with the wrong person. The people in these sick wards, for one reason or another, are dying too soon, and have no control over when and how they die.

Alongside the regular trips to the sick wards, Grey taught me a lot of what I needed to know to become a Blood Hunter. He taught me how to fight, and about all the different kinds of Blood Hunters that walk the earth. I’ve always been a quick and adaptable learner, since I’ve needed to think on my feet to survive. He was pleasantly surprised with my progress, and I quickly became established enough to start to figure out what direction I would take in my path of the Hunter. I abhorred the trips to the sick ward, and while I was pretty decent with my alchemic studies, I figured if I wanted to truly deal with the evils I will face, I needed to become what I hate the most.

I spent days on end researching the fiends of the world. Grey, knowing I will not be following the same path he and his family have been following for generations, let me stay home on his trips to the sick wards, letting me have free reign of his library. I tore through those books, trying to find a worthy source for my new powers, and upon reading one of the last untouched books in his library, I came across one of the Lords of Hell, Belial. It’s amazing, really. One of the Lords of Hell, whose name stems from the word “worthlessness”, came to me in one of the last books I haven’t read. The Lord of Pain, causing me pain by taking so damn long to even reveal himself to me. It was a match made in, I want to say heaven, but really, hell.

To create this pact with Belial, I needed Grey’s help. When I approached him with this, he was reluctant at first, but knowing I wouldn’t be able to realize my full potential, he assisted me with reaching out to Belial. He led me to a void of space, where I called out to Belial. It was a surreal experience, communicating with one of the Lords of Hell. He was amused in finding a surly half-orc, looking nothing like others that seek pacts with him, commanding his attention. Off of amusement with this, and a rather graphic comment on my… erm… appearance, he wanted to hear what I had to say. Knowing that he is the Lord of pain and suffering, I spun a tale about how I come from nothing, knowing nothing but the pain and suffering of the streets I raised myself on, and I mixed in a lie about how I wanted to cause this same kind of suffering to the people that ignored the streets. Upon hearing that lie, Belial went from being amused to upset in a blink of an eye. He saw through that lie and chastised me for my arrogance. That aside, he decided that he didn’t care what I would use his powers for. He agreed to the pact, but there was an additional cost that came with it. He gave me an insatiable lust, and demanded that I feel the pain that I cause, condemning me to only use blunt weaponry as my rites for calling his powers. With my pact complete, Grey and I went back to the mansion to continue my training.

Grey went into uncharted territory as he helped me train with my newfound abilities. He’s known a couple Blood Hunters that cross into Warlock territory, but he didn’t really know what to do with me. He did the best he could with the resources he had, but I had to do a lot of self study to catch myself up to speed on this whole Warlock business. Grey’s library had a few books on the subject, but I had to take to the streets again to find some local clerics of Belial to help me understand what I’m capable of. They were a lot easier to convince than Belial, of course, so they helped me hone my newfound abilities, and… well… quench a certain thirst that has started to eat at my conscience.

Once I had a better handle on my abilities, and my newfound drive to bump uglies with just about anyone I came across, Grey started getting me in contact with various groups around Glimmer’s Grove to start hunting some of the local evils. I’m not one to brag, but my adaptability and desire to learn helped me excel with these groups, leading to even taking down a manticore with Elena, an Aasimar that’s not only kickass with a blade, but someone I’m still adventuring with today. There will be more on that coming up, but there’s still a bit more I need to wrap up here before I get this journal caught up to the present day.

One night, after coming home from another successful hunt, I came home to the Grey estate, noticing that something felt off. Old man Grey normally greets me on my return, but I walked in to a quiet mansion. I immediately ripped through the mansion, trying to find Grey. Outside of the difference in my welcome home, he’s not normally a quiet guy. He likes to read aloud, and he’s got a rather noisy way of existence that wasn’t present that night. After looking for an hour, I found him collapsed in the library, clutching at his chest. I’ve seen and now caused a lot of death in my life, so I knew he was knocking on death’s door, but a mass genocide of the world as I know it wouldn’t have prepared me for what I was about to experience.

I immediately elevated his upper body and tried to get him talking and normalized, but there wasn’t anything I could do for him. I tried to talk to him about my hunt that night, and keep the conversation light, but I think Grey could tell that I was starting to get frantic and shushed me. He told me that he didn’t have much time left, and was upset that he wasn’t able to see me through my full training, but that he had an old friend at the Adventurer’s Academy that would be able to help me continue my training. With that being said, he said that he was thankful that I was in his life, and passed in my arms.

I was absolutely torn up with Grey’s passing. I thought I’ve had to deal with a lot of pain and suffering in my life, but having one of the only people I care about passing in my arms tore me apart. I swear I could feel Belial smiling at the misfortune I experienced that night. I’ll spare you the details on my grieving, since it was an ugly experience all around, but I’ll tell you that I did promise on his dead body that I would uphold his life’s work, and go tell his friend at the Academy about his passing.

There’s really not much to say about what happened after that. I donated the Grey estate to the sick wards of Glimmer’s Grove with no intention of coming back to his mansion. The memories of my life in the estate are painful, even to this day. When your source of happiness and fulfillment in life is gone, and that’s all you have to remember it by, there’s no reason to keep it around. I needed to keep myself moving forward, especially since I need to continue Grey’s work, and find his old friend at the Academy. With no reason to stay in Glimmer’s Grove, I made my way to the Adventurer’s Academy, where I’ve caught myself in a whole, new mess.

I’m getting tired, so I think I’m going to keep it at this, for now. Stephanie is knocking at my door now, and I would like to spend some time with her after getting my ass handed to me today. Oh yeah, I guess I should clarify: Stephanie Nitro is the girl, and the friend I mentioned previously. I don’t know who the hell is going to stumble across these logs, and even though I know who she is, if these logs end up in someone’s hands, they should at least know what’s going on. I could write about her for days, honestly, but I’ll save my gushing for a later entry in this journal. Also, about that whole “insatiable lust” thing I mentioned earlier, let’s just say that my self control has improved greatly from those days. Things are sweet with her right now, and even though my loins are feeling something fierce, I want to keep it sweet. She’s a good girl, and she deserves as much, especially after what my… uh… friends I quess? After what my friends and I ended up doing to her family.

Once again, more on that later, but for now, I’m going to enjoy a nice evening with my girl.

#dungeons and dragons #dnd #dnd 5e #dnd character #blood hunter #critical role #matt mercer #grimm #grimm hellmaw #adventure log #journal #text post

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d4bbl3zdnd · 7 years

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Children of the Gods

((Sorry for the delay to the post. Personal life is creeping in and I didn’t have time to get this out earlier in the week. Things should be smoothing out soon.))

Now that we’ve tackled the daunting task of introducing a playable race that didn’t exist back when I was originally planning the world of Cambreon, we now get to indulge in adding some of my favorite playable races: the planetouched. For those of you not familiar, the term “planetouched” refers to races that have some touch of planar heritage in their blood. They aren’t fully extraplanar, or even halfway, but the planes to enhance their natural abilities in ways that make them distinct. The most well known, currently, are tieflings. These planetouched have fiendish blood, but not enough to make them half-fiends. Their opposites are the aasimar who are touched by celestial blood, but we’ll be focusing on them in a later installment. For this week, we’ll be focusing on the genasi, or elemental planetouched.

It’s Elemental, Dear Watson

As I mentioned, genasi are individuals whose bloodlines have been touched by elemental outsiders. Since the elements in Cambreon are the gods themselves, these are individuals who are touched by those gods, much like the heroes of Greek mythology. While not direct children of Cambreon’s deities, they still somehow exhibit traces of godly power. Perhaps they were born during a strong storm, or their mother froze to death but they survived. Regardless of how they came into this world, they are treated as scions of their respective patron.

Genasi were a type of character race that I ran into way back in 2001 when I bought my first D&D book; the Monsters of Faerun Monster Compendium for the Forgotten Realms campaign setting. At the time I didn’t know what the Forgotten Realms was, nor did I own any of the core rulebooks, but I knew that I could borrow what books I needed and that this book had monsters none of my friends had ever encountered. The genasi in that book were strictly an NPC race, but mechanics for use as a PC race weren’t far behind.

As soon as I decided how much the elements had a hold on the world of Cambreon, I had to make genasi a playable race. Thankfully, the Princes of the Apocalypse player companion had them as playable races, so I was able to take what I liked from the Pathfinder version and make them work in 5e. My final race were very much a homebrewed hodgepodge of both Pathfinder and D&D5e genasi, but they fit the world that I wanted them to be a part of. I think I got them pretty right because one of my players even decided that he wanted to play an earth genasi over any of the other races. Now that the mechanics were set, I just needed to decide how the different genasi made their places in the world.

To Each Their Own

Air genasi, touched by Auris, are natural travelers. They are lithe of build and quick of wit, and usually revel in their connection to the Laughing Wind. When an air genasi child is born, the parents usually sigh knowing that their son or daughter will likely grow up to be quite a handful. Genasi, in general, are treated differently because the elemental touch often manifests itself physically in some way. In air genasi, this can appear as white or blue hair, skin that is pale or looks frostbitten, a soft wind that always moves around them, flesh that is always cool to the touch, or any number of other air-related anomalies that make it pretty obvious the person is touched by Auris. Air genasi combat this by embracing their nature; often becoming rogues or bards, wandering the land and living by their wits. Because of their planar influence, all genasi also have a predilection for sorcery, so a disproportionate amount of Arcane Tricksters are air genasi.

The influence of Auris also manifests itself in some less-than-obvious ways. Having been created in part by elemental air, all air genasi are breathless. After a while, breathing becomes more of a habit than anything; a courtesy to normal folks who expect to see the chest rise and fall when someone speaks. Air genasi can also use the air itself to cushion their falls like a feather fall spell, though it requires a lot of energy and can only be done every so often. The 5e air genasi cast levitate instead, but I liked the Pathfinder version better in this case.

Earth genasi, touched by Terris, are stern and stubborn. They have broad builds and are usually gruff and quiet loners. Parents of earth genasi are usually devout Terrans, and the arrival of such a child is an event to be celebrated. Rarer than the other genasi, they can be identified by their rough skin, coal-black or gem-colored eyes, gravelly voice, disproportionately large feet or hands, or even something as obvious as green or iron grey hair. Because of the nature of their birth, earth genasi are often apprenticed to the church of Terris at a young age, and many work as rangers or druids to protect the wild spaces that they feel akin to.

Terris’s influence gives earth genasi superhuman abilities, like all genasi. Because elemental earth is mixed in their veins, earth genasi are resilient against electrical damage. The earth inside of themselves just absorbs a good deal of the energy, harmlessly diffusing it into the ground at their feet. All of Terris’s creations also respect earth genasi, which allows them to act as though under the influence of a pass without trace spell once a day. I felt that the Earth Walk feature of the 5e earth genasi was redundant with the pass without trace, so I went with the Pathfinder resistance.

Fire genasi, touched by Friga, are hot-tempered and impulsive. Strong and stern, they command the respect of everyone around them. Due to Friga’s penchant for anger and destruction, fire genasi are probably the least welcome of any genasi child. Many parents stoically raise their fiery child hoping to lead it down a proper path, but more often than not fire genasi run away from home and strike out on their own as soon as possible. Fire genasi revel in the greed of their elemental influence, often wearing garish or expensive clothes and jewelry. Even if not decked out in such a way, you can always pick them out by a number of possible physical attributes such as charcoal grey skin, red or orange hair that moves like flames, eyes that glow when they get angry, unusually warm skin, or some other ignan trait. Easily upset and always itching for a fight, fire genasi make excellent mercenaries, often going down the fighter or barbarian path.

Being children of fire brings with it a few perks that can assist the ostentatious fire genasi on their paths to glory. Their elemental blood keeps them warm when it’s cold, but also means that they are completely comfortable with extreme heat as well. It’s not uncommon to see fire genasi in any climate wearing the most garish outfits without a care in the world. This fiery blood also means that they can produce fire from nothing much like the produce flame cantrip, and they can do so as much as they like. I actually liked this trait from the 5e version better than the Pathfinder, but I got rid of learning burning hands at level 3, as well as the darkvision, in exchange for the cold resistance from the Pathfinder version. It may actually have made them a bit OP, but I’ve yet to have a chance to playtest them.

Water genasi, touched by Aquos, are thoughtful and kind. They may be slow to anger, but their wrath is formidable. Most genasi are born to human parents, but water genasi are equally as likely to be born to elven parents, due to their connection with Aquos. Personable and kind, water genasi are a delight to be able to raise and often grow up to be very well-adjusted members of society. While often teased simply because they’re different, in elven communities this teasing comes more from the genasi being pampered and favored by all of the adults. The aquan nature of their heritage manifests in ways as obvious as the growth of gills, hair that always looks wet, or scaly skin, to more subtle things like webbing between the fingers and toes, large dark eyes, or blue/green hair. Because Aquos has such a devoted following (especially in elven communities), water genasi often become clerics of their patron. Even those that do not take to the faith still find themselves drawn to water and frequently become sailors of some ilk.

This affinity for water is built into the very fiber of every water genasi. They can breathe freely both in and out of the water, whether their gills are obvious or simply an adaptation of their lungs. Being so free in the water also means that most learn to swim at a very young age and move as well in the water as they do on land, if not better. Their sometimes clammy skin also makes them resistant to acids as they simply wash off without doing much damage at all. Like all genasi, there is some sorcerous nature about them. This manifests in their ability to shape water like the cantrip of the same name and eventually create or destroy water like the spell. The water genasi is the only one where I sided almost completely with the 5e rules. It actually added more to the subrace than what was done in Pathfinder, and still considered it balanced, so I wasn’t going to argue.

And that’s the way it goes; four genasi for the four elements. I absolutely love this playable race and would love to be able to find a game to play one in, but not every DM allows them as they have never been considered a “core” or “standard” race. It really is a shame because the genasi give a lot of cool RP opportunities to people who play them. Even in a world populated by half-orcs and dragonkind, you kinda stick out like a sore thumb. Don’t worry though, next entry we get back to some normal stuff with everyone’s favorite annoyance; the gnomes.

#homebrew #genasi #d&d 5e #d&d #Campaign setting #world building #D4bbl3z

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