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chronicles-of-kats-dnd-game · 7 months

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Lost Mine & Abyss Session 13 - The Spider's Web

-The party follows the bugbear king to his throne room, Valark vanishing along the way. The king sits in his throne, motioning the party to sit at a nearby table- where their employer, Gundren Rockseeker, sits weakly, arms chained to the table.

-The king explains that he is being paid 300 gold for the delivery of the party for the Black Spider- but that he likes the Black Spider even less than the party, and so will let them go if they can beat his price.

-The party begins to pour out their combined treasures, coming up with 350 gold. The king approves, but says that he is receiving services from the Spider as well, and asks what else they can offer to him.

-Sen protests that he was not part of the original group. The King counters that anyone who has meddled in the Spider's plans must be captured, by his orders- they must all negotiate. They protest that they were only sent as protection, and know nothing of his goal- while the King says that the dwarf has said they are very important to unlocking it, and that under threat of torture said he could not do it without them.

-King Grol allows the group to speak among themselves. Gundren begs for the party to free him. Sen notes that he has no money on him. The dwarf pleads that they will all become rich if they can just get him to the mine, that they will all receive their payment, a bonus, and a share of the mine's profits. He tells them that he's the only one that knows the forge's location- the Black Spider can't find it without him, and they must speak a phrase only he knows to activate it. He desperately tells the party that if he is a liar, they are free to kill him.

-The king interrupts them, asking if they have come to a conclusion. Vierna first, asks for some information on the Black Spider, asking which House he is from. The King does not care for the ways of drow, but says he has spoke of Mizzrym- that he is watching out for two of that house. Vierna asks if Valark is one of those names. The King confirms, and asks if he is traveling with them. Vierna says he is on his own path. The King says this knowledge of Valark raises the base price to 400- his employer is very insistent on finding him, and is the one thing he fears.

-Dakwert speaks up, taking off his magical necklace and offering it out. He tells the King of its powers, of how it gives him his magic- and that it comes with a built in tutorial! He protests that he has a very good axe and no need for spells. The warlock tells him it could give him a bigger axe, an axe on fire- Green Flame Blade used to demonstrate. Showing more of its storage power, he begins shoveling all of the offered treasures into the extradimensional necklace, asking that they let all of them go in exchange. (😭)

-The King thinks on this deeply, then takes the necklace and wraps it around his neck, the gnome's necklace a tight choker on him. The warlock tells him that its magic will take an hour to work, but to trust him that this will be all he needs and that he can let them go. The King proceeds to roll a nat one and trusts this statement completely (😭). He walks over to unlock Gundren's chains, sits back down on his throne to admire his new necklace, and tells the party they may leave.

-He gives the party the additional information that the Black Spider is in Wave Echo Cave, working to find his way through it, but cannot make much progress without the dwarf's map. He shares as well that two twin drow of House Mizzrym are the Black Spider's greatest fears- their names Valark and Virith. Where one is, the other is never far- and that they are very good at hiding themselves. The Black Spider is also nothing without his staff, he says. He gives a request to the party that they kill him.

-As the party takes their leave from the throne room, the King picks up a Sending Stone, speaking into it "Your wizardness, we have your adventurers." Reclining on his throne, he tells the party he's given them a head start- and that he suggests they start running. Sid launches the angrily restrained Creak towards the throne, missing him as she hangs from the wall. A response comes from the stone- "Understood. I'll be on my way." He ignores the goblin, telling them they have about a minute until he teleports in, and recommends again that they run.

-The King apologizes, saying that if they can manage to kill the Black Spider, he will be fully on their side- continuing to sit still on his throne, watching. Dakwert, deprived of his magic, starts running from the building, Sen with him to warn the druid, who starts preparing his spell of speed for their getaway cart. Sid prepares his Spirit Guardians. Vierna asks for the Sending Stone, the King tossing it to her.

-A loud crackle of magic sounds from the next room as a teleportation circle activates. The door to the next room opens to a coin flashing through the air from the hand of a drow wizard and activating an aura of magical Darkness, blinding the party. He then casts Rime's Binding Ice, freezing Gundren and Vierna in place.

-Sid, unable to see but in front of the wizard, takes out his Scroll of Thunderbolt and casts it upon his enemy, setting his robes on fire. The orc sends a mighty Magic Missile his way- blocked by the drow's shield spell as magic flows around his robe. Dodging through the Spirit Guardians, the drow wizard launches another blast of ice towards the orc, freezing Sid in the process.

-Appearing from the next room, Creak launches at the Black Spider with her daggers, missing and hitting his cloak instead, a maniacal laugh sounding through the Darkness. Sen charges back through the other side of the castle to shoot the wizard from behind, Dakwert hanging on to him. Creak gets another attack in making the wizard turn in fear, whispering "Glory to House Mizzrym" to him, heard only by the orc.

-Dakwert calls his familiar to him from the necklace, the psuedodragon leaping from the bugbear king to Vierna to break her out of the ice. The orc breaks out Sid next to him as well. The Black Spider reevaluates his situation, casting Invisibility and disappearing from the battlefield. Creak hisses and runs for the teleportation circle room, swinging her daggers in a blind rage. From the caged other tower, the angry screech of an owlbear is heard.

-The pseudodragon flies to Gundren, thawing out the dwarf to reveal his life rapidly fading. It sends a telepathic image to Dakwert of the dwarf's situation- and of the Coin of Darkness's location. Sid charges in to help, stabilizing him with Spare the Dying and carrying the dwarf on his back, picking up and deactivating the coin on the way.

-Unfrozen, Vierna starts yelling obscenities into the Sending Stone, its duplicate alerting the party to the Black Spider's general area- climbing up the open-ceiling owlbear tower. The party continues launching attacks towards the drow in his attempts to leave, as he continues to cast Misty Step to keep distance into the Wood. The Pseudodragon's bites and Sen's arrows continue to find him, Vierna continuing to yell after him. Badly beaten, he shouts into another Sending Stone calling for the wizard Iarno's help- and is eventually teleported away.

-Opening the door to check on Creak, Sid is flooded by a powerful energy as he finds the teleportation circle destroyed, dagger marks all around, and a goblin staring very intensely towards him. The dragonborn picks her up along with Gundren, and starts carrying them back to the cart. Defeated, Creak gives no resistance.

-Frustrated, tired, and badly weakened, the party makes their way back to their cart and the waiting druid. Seeing that they got what they came for, the cart takes off down the path, magically sped along. The orc runs up last, jumping on the back for Vierna to drag him up- while the drow smiles and instead drops him under the cart's wheels as they are removed from the party, the orc's strange stone bouncing onto the cart. There, our session ends!

#October 30 2023 #Lost Mine and Abyss #session recaps #dnd #lmop #lost mine of phandelver #dungeons and dragons

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mandalorian-mayhem · 6 years

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Single and ready to mingle

I decided to make a list of my single OCs and little profiles about them.

This is a list of the ones I don’t have to sketch right now.

Under the cut if you’re interested!

Name: Malani Talak

Species: Human

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Bi/Pan

Short Bio: the second daughter of Idrinas and only descendant of a cursed family name, Malani works hard to prove her father’s name worthy of recognition. She is powerful and prefers the use of force-lightning to her own personal strength to set herself apart from her sister. She enjoys extravagance.

Name: Virith

Species: Miraluka

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Lesbian

Short Bio: A Jedi knight. She and her younger brother, Sicarth, were raised by the order, though they maintained a relationship of sorts. She doesn’t tend to stick with all the teachings of the order, enjoying friendships and relationships. Her brother is her closest friend and confidant.

Name: Sicarth

Species: Miraluka

Pronouns: He/him

Sexuality: Gay

Short Bio: Like his sister, he was raised by the Jedi and maintained a form of relationship with Virith. He adheres to the rules more closely than she does, especially after an incident where his boyfriend at the time nearly died to protect him. He felt it was some sort of payment for ignoring the rules.

Name: Silais

Species: Twi’lek

Pronouns: They/them

Sexuality: Pan

Short Bio: The younger sibling of Daesha. They also followed her into a life of criminal activity, running jobs as a gang enforcer on Nar Shaddaa and practicing the ways of the force in secret. They maintain that everything that was done was for their survival, even after they leave his old life behind. They tend to lurk around the core worlds anymore.

Name: Jayara

Species: Pureblood Sith

Pronouns: They/them, she/her

Sexuality: Bi/Pan

Short Bio: Jayara is an assassin who was trained by Larana Cyress prior to her disappearance. They showed great promise and continued their training under Idrinas. They have since obtained the title of Lord and plan on taking an apprentice of their own. They have a love of sweets and enjoy reading whenever possible.

Name: Guilialia

Species: Mirialan

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Panromantic asexual

Short Bio: A clone of the Republic spy, Rainee Ordan. She was created to be an imperial spy, under the thumb of Darth Malus. Another of the clones broke free of his control and Guilialia, the most promising of them, was sent to collect her. While she was searching, she managed to find her own freedom. She now works as a mercenary.

Name: Caszara

Species: Mirialan

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Bi

Short Bio: A notorious smuggler. Caszara claims she was born to live life on the edge, doing whatever she feels like. Most of her motives are guided by money, though she has chosen a few things based on her own loose morals. Her bad decisions tend to stop when it comes to the Hutts... Even if the pay should be too good to pass up.

Name: L’eiva

Species: Human

Pronouns: They/them

Sexuality: Bi/Pan

Short Bio: A former republic soldier and current mercenary. L’eiva became disenchanted by the republic when a family member republic hero nearly died. They hated the idea of it and left, ending a two year long relationship when they did. They worked hard to create a reputation independent of either side in the war. Eventually, they discovered that the relative that their relative had defected to the Empire. They tend towards Republic-aligned jobs after the news comes out.

Name: Rasee Vywyn

Species: Togruta

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality: Bi/Pan

Short Bio: The older half-brother of Nundhiasa. He spent his whole life talking about how he was going to leave his home world of Tatooine to travel the stars, though the plans live his life travelling have never truly come to fruition. He has traveled, though it’s mostly to visit his younger sister and her family and it’s usually with their grandfather. He currently runs a droid repair shop.

Name: Eryata (last name unknown)

Species: Rattataki

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Lesbian

Short Bio: Eryata defines reckless. She has been imprisoned on several occasions for her aggressively anti-imperial behavior, but has managed to break out numerous times. She is part of a small group of bounty hunters, but they all manage to have time to take their own individual jobs. She prefers jobs as either a sniper or a bodyguard. She is also quite the smooth-talker.

#My ocs #Eryata #rasee vywyn #l'eiva #caszara #guilialia #jayara #silias #sicarth #virith #Malani Talak #ask me if you want any more information on these guys #swtor ocs #all the single ladies #and gents #and enbies #Well that I can put up right now #part one though

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babyblueetbaemonster · 2 years

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Shishi Report --- Ald Velothi House Redoran Quest

Why walk when you can fly~

#tes #the elder scrolls #morrowind #nerevarine #tes oc #oc: sundros #Theldyn Virith #house redoran #Shishi Report #we don't have quest marker in this game #we ask around for direction like a real mer #i have no sense of direction #and the 'on foot' path description is too complicated for me #but somehow my gut feeling is quite accurate???#what a miracle

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kettlequills · 3 years

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the burning fire within

Henon's shirt rips while he is cutting wood. He takes it to Tinoryn to be mended.

My entry for TES Fest 21, prompts family and apotheosis. CW: referenced character death, fantastic racism - it’s set in Windhelm, you know the drill. I also wrote this in about an hour at 2am last night so, uh, enjoy. On A03 here.

Henon Virith was angry. Nothing new, that. He hefted the axe over his shoulder and brought it down with a satisfying crack. Two neat halves of firewood fell away to collapse perfectly onto the growing stack either side of the chopping stump. He swung the axe again. Crack. Again. Crack.

He could do this with his eyes closed. Sometimes he did, imagining sneering Windhelm guards under the axe’s blade. Imagined he’d found the insincere bastard that had come swaggering into the Grey Quarter one day, to inform Henon his mother had been ‘found dead’.

“Hunting accident, looks like, no sign of her partner,” the guard had said. Had the temerity to look at Henon softly. Henon remembered the words like they’d been burned into his soul.

“My-” Crack. “-condolences-” Crack. “-lad.” Crack.

Three more logs joined their split fellows. He rolled his neck until it cracked and kicked the piles in just the right spot to have them topple down neatly so it looked like he stacked them. Another log went on the stump.

Henon had anger enough to fuel him for years.

His next chop was powerful enough that his axe stuck into the chopping stump. Helon grunted. Placing one foot on the stump, he grabbed the axe handle and yanked. The burning muscles in his shoulders bunched under his shirt. He tugged, once, twice, then heaved as hard as he could. With a crunching rip, his shirt tore across the shoulders. The axe came loose.

Henon bit down on his knuckled fist and the molten fury that ignited the sleeping fire in his body. Deliberately, he lowered the axe onto the stump. Then he closed his eyes, exhaled slowly through his gritted teeth, tried to remember the breathing exercises the Priestess had taught him last winter to control his anger. Henon inhaled, exhaled.

Once. Twice. Three times.

In his mind’s eye, he pictured the searing rage inside of himself as a bonfire. It would be wild, messy, sparks ripping off the crackling wood like arrows. Heat would roll from it like a wall, and the flames inside would laugh and leap like crackling tongues.

“That sounds like a good fire, Henon,” the priestess’ encouraging voice was gentle in his memory. “It’ll keep lots of people warm. But an unchecked fire will set beds alight at night. How much fire do you think we need right now?”

“Not much,” Henon muttered aloud.

Henon imagined, carefully, lovingly, pressing soft cold soil over the edges of the fire, tightening its circle. He kept going, shovelling handfuls round the edges, shaping the fire he saw until it was bright and strong, but no bigger than a hearth-fire, banked and safe for the night.

One final time, Henon exhaled, then opened his eyes. Calm settled like a blanket onto his stiff shoulders. Without the punishing ache of the anger he’d used to fuel himself, Henon suddenly became aware of just how sore he was, how sweaty, how his arms trembled with fatigue.

He glanced at the sky. The sun was halfway down the sky, hovering almost directly over the Palace of Kings. No wonder. He’d been chopping wood for hours.

Henon cast an eye over the piles of wood. His mind ran quickly over the calculations as he vaulted the ice-slick rail onto the steps of Candlehearth Hall. The sums came easy to him; he didn’t need to look twice.

No Susanna to watch him today, calling laughingly for him to take off his shirt; he’d have to go in and ask for his earnings directly. A shame. Henon liked Susanna. Liked kissing her even more, when she leant down over the railing rosy-cheeked. She was soft, everywhere soft, like bitter anger had never found her. She made quiet animal noises, warm breathy sighs, when he touched her, her breasts, her hips, between them. It was fun, and casual, and she was always happy to see him.

It didn’t take Henon long to collect his wages and stack the fruits of his efforts by the fireplace. Even sour old Nils was grudgingly silent at the amount, though the door closed on a snappish comment when he saw the rip in Henon’s shirt baring his shoulders.

Henon jogged down to the Grey Quarter, letting the surge of annoyance work itself out through the drum of his feet on stone. He’d get his sparking shirt fixed. Nils didn’t need -

Exhaling raggedly, Henon focused on the hearth fire, the little curl of smoke that would lick out the chimney. By the time he had made it to Avalathil Tailoring, he was clearer-headed.

The tailor’s was poky and small, and the old sign’s paint was curling. Below it, a brazier sat, thickly fed with coals and fire-runes. Henon paused by the brazier, looking down at the soft red glow of the runes, and felt a little surge of warmth that had nothing to do with the brazier.

Tinoryn. He always left a little flick, right at the end, like a signature.

Henon went inside.

“Welcome to Avalathil - oh, hi, Henon.” Tinoryn was bright and cheerful as ever. He bounced up from his stool behind the counter with a wide, infectious grin. “How are you? I thought you were working today. Did you finish early? I’ve heard the ships are coming in, they might want more help unloading if you want extra work. We’ve had two sailors already come in with mendings, and one of them mentioned getting a whole new outfit commissioned, if you can believe that!

Apparently they went to Solstheim, you know, that island off the coast, you can see it from the Point when it’s clear out? Anyway, well he liked the look of the clothes they wear, and he wanted something similar that wouldn’t ‘have him freeze to death faster than a skinned horker’.”

Something in him settled at Tinoryn’s chatter. He was always the same, always happy, always with a story to share. Henon found himself smirking as Tinoryn imitated the sailor’s dour tones.

“I’d want to see that,” he said.

Tinoryn’s nose wrinkled. “Eurgh! A skinned horker? That’s gross, Henon. It would be all wet and red in there, like muscles! It would bleed everywhere! Though I suppose they do have to skin them to get the furs off. But definitely not while they’re alive! That would be horrible. We add clothes, not take them away here. Speaking of,” Tinoryn’s smile, somehow, became even brighter, until Henon swore he could see each and every one of his teeth, “Can I do anything for you? Ruvene’s not here, so you just have me.”

“That’s just what I want,” Henon said, and shrugged off his shirt. He had to wrestle with the buttons for a moment, and when he looked up, the highs of Tinoryn’s cheekbones had flooded with pink and his soft lips were parted. He didn’t react when Henon thrust the ripped shirt towards him, his gaze trapped somewhere at Henon’s chest. “Tinoryn?”

Self-consciously, Henon rubbed at his chest. He couldn’t see anything there, apart from maybe a bit of sweat in his chest hair. Tinoryn was much more fastidious than Henon, but it was just sweat. Tinoryn’s attention made him feel odd, prickly-warm, like he wanted to square his shoulders and straighten his back. He’d been shirtless around him plenty before.

Tinoryn blinked, then his eyes refocused on Henon’s face and he was back to beaming. “Yes! Of course, I’ll take that. Just another fix? Hmm, yes, you’ve torn it, right across the shoulders. Nasty! But it won’t take that long and it’s been dead in here today, all of our orders are all done that I can do without Ruvene’s permission, and you know I’ve read everything I brought. I have been so bored I started talking to the mannequin. I’m calling it Dolly. Because it’s a doll? Or a mannequin, I suppose. A doll for clothes. I can do it for you right now! We’ll have to add in a panel here for you if you keep broadening up though.”

“Not now,” Henon interrupted uneasily, “Just - can you fix it? Like it was?”

Tinoryn’s eyes softened. “Yes, just like it was. I know how important this is. It suits you, by the way. It’s the last one, isn’t it? From your father, Azura keep him.”

“Thanks. And yeah.” It sounded a bit strangled, but Henon couldn’t bring himself to care.

It was stupid, probably, but he trusted Tinoryn not to mess it up. Ruvene would have just added the panel to the back, grumbling at Henon for sentimentality. But of the shirts that Henon had inherited from his father, the others were gone, all torn, ripped, mended to oblivion by Tinoryn, or lost over the years. When he wore it, he thought of their shapes, how they were probably the same in the arm, but that his father’s wrists had maybe been thicker, because it was stretched there. Henon didn’t remember much of his father. Henon had not been that old when he’d been found dead on the docks, sitting on one of the crates he was meant to be unloading, frozen to death with a peaceful smile.

“Uh, how much?”

He fumbled awkwardly for his belt pouch, but Tinoryn was already waving him away with a sunny smile.

“Ruvene’s not here,” he said conspiratorially, “No one will know, let me just fetch my needle and thread. Besides, no need to charge for such a simple fix.” He hopped up and rummaged around under the counter, fishing out a small wooden box with a triumphant, “Ha! There you are. I swear it hides… You know I can teach you to do this, if you want.”

Slipping a silver thimble onto his thumb, Tinoryn pulled Henon’s sweaty shirt into his lap. He eyed the rip critically, holding the needle between his lips as he threaded it. Henon watched, impressed by his dexterity.

“I don’t need to know,” said Henon dismissively. “You’ll do it.”

Tinoryn smiled down at Henon’s shirt. “That’s true.”

Henon rounded the counter and dragged Ruvene’s unused stool over with a clattering scrape of groaning wood. He slumped onto it and rested his tired arms on the countertop with a groan. Their knees pushed together under the counter for space, Tinoryn’s bony leg warm against his even through layers of clothes.

“You don’t have to stay, it’ll take me a moment,” Tinoryn added, glancing at him from under his eyelashes as he stitched. They were thick and dark, curly like his hair.

“I’ll wait,” said Henon. He didn’t have many other shirts, and besides, whenever Tinoryn’s bright eyes strayed to Henon’s bare torso, the tips of his ears flushed cherry-red. It made Henon feel powerful in a way he couldn’t describe, like how he felt when Susanna clung to him brokenly when he touched her. Like Henon was the only ship in a storm he had created.

“Alright then,” said Tinoryn, and then he quieted, concentrating on his work.

Henon fiddled with a coin as he waited, a septim from this morning’s earnings. It flew, golden gleaming, around his slate-grey knuckles, spinning over the countertop like he held it on an invisible string. Idly, he played a counting game with himself, one taught over long hours of solitary boredom. One, two, three spins to the right, seven, eight, nine, to the left, one flick up, twelve. Then back around again, adding each number of spins, until he tired of it. Numbers were easy, but soothing, too. They were predictable.

He was beginning to feel tired, sleepy, even. His fatigue was catching up to him. The pressure of Tinoryn’s leg against his was comfortable, the sound of his breathing familiar. The shop was warm and quiet, a little dusty in places, with thick bolts of fabric hanging down from the walls. The mullioned windows were frosted white, dim shapes passing by and setting distant shadows to chase each other across the rolling hillocks of prepared cloth. Dolly the mannequin waited patiently in one corner, crowned by a glorious confection of gull-feathers and snowberries wrapped in stained jade silk, someone’s earnest attempt, Henon thought, at making spring into a hat.

Henon flipped the coin into the air and caught it, a shining disc like the sun held between his thumb and forefinger.

“Wow,” said Tinoryn from beside him. “How did you do that? That’s amazing! You just caught it, so fast!”

Henon glanced over, and Tinoryn’s expression was unreserved and inquisitive, brilliant with pleasure at the trick. “It’s not hard,” he said, uncertain how to name the feeling that Tinoryn’s eagerness aroused in him. “You just, look, like this,” he demonstrated.

“Can I try?” Tinoryn asked, eyes round, and Henon handed the coin over.

Tinoryn made a valiant attempt at throwing the coin, but it hit his hand as it fell, rebounding sharply off his knuckle and disappearing into the darkness below the counter. “Ouch!” exclaimed Tinoryn, “Oh, that is much harder than it looks. You made it seem so easy! Do you want me to find your coin - oh-”

Henon had already slid off the stool into a crouch, scanning the darkness for a glint of gold. He grunted, it was dark, and dusty under the counter, cluttered with boxes and cloth scraps. He spotted one or two needles, but no coin.

“Here, let me help,” Tinoryn said above him, and Henon looked up at the gentle snap of fire crackling into existence.

What he saw then arrested him completely.

It was Tinoryn, just Tinoryn, but… Tinoryn was leaning forward on the stool, his boot planted on the floor to stop him from falling. Henon reached to touch his calf, felt the muscles engaged in supporting his weight through his trousers, and had no words for the nameless surge of feeling that pooled in his gut.

In one hand, Tinoryn held Henon’s shirt, the other, a crackling fire spell, humming with magic and energy. He was smiling, as always, bright and soft, and the flickering firelight shimmered off his dark, curly hair, the hint of wetness on his lip. The ties that held his shirt (soft green, like grass) were loose, leaving space for the shadows of the fire to race over his collarbones, a smooth triangle of soft grey skin of Tinoryn’s skinny chest. Henon felt his mouth flood with saliva, felt the strangest urge to lave his tongue along the arches of Tinoryn’s collarbones, scrape his teeth over the skin until it reddened like the tips of his ears.

Tinoryn’s eyes had always been bright, ever since they were children. It was one marker of being a strong mage, that slight lambent glow, like the magic couldn’t quite be contained within him. But now, they looked like the heart of a fire, or maybe lava, brilliant, burning, changing everything in its path. Like a beginning, like being reforged anew, into something divine, Henon felt blood rise warm on his cheeks, knew Tinoryn could see how it flushed his chest ruddy. He wanted -

“I think I see it,” Tinoryn said happily, breaking the spell. “Down there, see, just under that - yes, you’ve got it, there!”

Henon cleared his throat, feeling bizarrely awkward as he slipped the coin back into his pouch. It was just Tinoryn. He straightened up, stretching his back until his spine popped.

“Thanks,” he said, “for the light.”

“Thank you for the practice!” Tinoryn’s face lit up again. “I finished your shirt, by the way! All done, good as new.”

Henon traced his fingertip over the mend. He could barely see it. Tinoryn had done a great job.

“Thanks,” he said again, and reached out to clasp the back of Tinoryn’s neck, his thumb pressing into his curls. They were soft. Tinoryn’s neck was warm and solid under his palm. “It looks good,” Henon added, not wanting to be churlish, but as he stared down at Tinoryn he was not quite sure if he could even remember what the shirt looked like.

“Oh,” said Tinoryn, and his hands clenched oddly in his lap like he was holding them down, and his face flamed red. His ears were pricked forward though, clearly pleased. “It’s my - pleasure, Henon, really.”

“Say,” said Henon, “you want to get out of here? I reckon we could go and nail some helmets with rocks down in the training yard round this sort of time.”

Clearly tempted, Tinoryn bit his lip. Henon watched his teeth press down on the soft flesh and catch on tiny ragged edges of skin, saw how it made his lips flush pinker, saw the wet dart of his tongue. He tightened his grasp on Tinoryn’s neck, thumb smoothing down his hairline, feeling the tiny feathery hairs there tickle his skin.

“I can’t,” said Tinoryn, sounding truly disappointed. “I have to watch the shop for Ruvene.”

“Alright,” shrugged Henon. He grabbed the edge of the counter and heaved himself up to sit on it, grinning at Tinoryn’s delighted surprise. Now he was here, Henon found that he didn’t particularly want to leave. After all, the tiny tailor’s shop did have something in it that held his interest. “Guess I’ll teach you that coin trick while we wait.”

Tinoryn’s radiant smile in answer was more than enough.

#tinoryn othravel #henon virith #skyrim #tesfest21 #inkwrites #tinoryn/henon #dawn #apotheosis #my fic the burning fire within

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pteradoxical · 7 years

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AFTER 12 HOURS this has been completed!!! Thank you so much for commissioning me @rurikredwolf! It was an honour to take a crack at Virith. I really love her!! <3 Virith: @rurikredwolf Art: @pteradragon For the above mentioned names usage only. Any copying, tracing, redistributing, usage, reposting, or the removal of my watermark/signature will be considered theft and I will report any people who steal my work or claim this as theirs. The person who this art was made for may re-upload to their account or other platforms but ONLY if proper credit is given. This may not be used for commercial reasons unless discussed with me.

#PteraART #My art #Virith #Olivia Carr #Commission #myart #Dragon #Rurikredwolf #Coloured Bust

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444names · 2 years

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brythonic deities + tolkien fiction names of unknown origin + black speech names

Abeorn Abnod Abnos Abnotatis Abuluxena Abuxendena Adbugbúrz Adbuxenus Adonasgus Adonnis Adonnus Adonos Adonus Adorgul Adorleg Adron Aerimbis Aernextiria Aeron Aertriga Agasts Agrab Agrastris Agroc Agrus Alastrigast Alens Alenus Amarushnákh Ampesul Ancadata Ancasgush Andamaus Andatucamul Anisagramog Anius Ankil Anlocimbag Anlonnach Annos Anobagrus Anobarn Antia Antria Aranlotou Arannia Arduf Ardufagrus Arduis Aridius Arnae Arnus Arosegoi Arotus Artara Artarn Artianobis Arudiush Atobishnákh Atushnákh Auhúrz Ausis Ausisanus Avalas Avalasgil Avalis Avaltio Avankilena Avanus Avena Avenaeris Aventarab Avenuns Avenus Averiga Aveteponaer Avetishnákh Azogus Azogush Baglûg Bagrauf Barvos Beasgashgol Beast Beastasts Beaste Belas Belatarius Belatirith Belauf Belioseg Belis Bellatios Bellisantia Bello Belloc Bellos Beorba Beorgoi Beorgus Beorlens Beornast Beornus Beorrus Beorvos Bollasgus Bollus Borast Boratia Borgus Borigasguns Boris Borish Borlentis Borlenus Borlo Bornus Borrus Brigas Brintiros Britannus Bugbúrzlug Butch Buthak Buthful Buthrobius Butian Butiomar Butis Buxovaltis Buxovannis Búrzlugus Camarnus Cambuxenach Camornus Canianusis Carvenaers Celatuceta Cerie Cetianos Ciconus Cidamorna Cidarnus Cidinach Cidinunnus Cidius Cimbelis Cimbell Cimmogus Clocimmogul Closegoi Cocicur Cocius Colfimbius Collatios Collo Conach Conuns Conus Covalatus Covin Coviris Covius Dagra Damarus Dandenus Dankil Dankilenach Dartios Dartrithag Darum Darus Datis Eilegoi Eilena Eilenaeris Eilens Eilentiris Eilenus Erebius Erelinder Erelio Erellonos Erellus Eressonnus Eresta Esgasts Esgil Esgileris Esgullisson Esgullo Essios Essonos Essontarona Essonus Esucamul Fagluis Faglúk Faith Faithus Faitissis Fancadsus Fandam Fandericoc Fandros Fankilens Fannis Fannus Fanod Forrus Forveta Galtia Gazmo Gazmogmios Gazmonus Gazmos Golfimbrish Gollintiros Gollio Gollisama Gollo Gollonnus Golloth Gollus Gorban Gorgoi Gorgunusull Gorios Gorithaglûg Gornach Gornaers Gornagarab Gornus Gorrus Gorvers Grabuxenach Gradbush Gramonasga Grankouta Grannos Gricoc Grimbeorab Grina Grita Grius Groborgomo Gutaramarus Hueta Huetintucar Huetis Huetta Husio Indar Innus Iovalinus Lagûl Lambus Lamedarnus Lamnae Lamog Lamogus Lamorgus Lampes Lamul Laramos Larauf Larnaer Laroseg Lasta Latisagrond Latonus Latus Laveris Lavettartri Lenthak Leris Lernus Leucandata Lonnos Lugbúrzlug Lugdufagdus Lugduin Lugdus Lugus Lurangerius Luxenach Luxoveton Luxovitar Maniae Mapomorn Mapon Mapontia Mardus Maufaga Mauhúrz Mauns Minaer Minaglugus Minnus Mogus Montata Morguns Moricolg Mornusios Morrus Morvete Mullon Mulug Muluis Muluxenus Muzga Muzgasterin Nagar Nagluinach Naniannus Nanodens Nanus Nemar Nemarum Nemernach Nemetia Neria Nessonach Netis Nextis Nextisamo Nobor Notater Nuinnus Nuinus Ogmiosegus Orlend Orlenus Orlios Orlis Orloc Orlos Radamog Radatonach Radbus Radramorn Radramulur Ranotus Rashnákh Rastepon Rimbarn Rimbel Rimbriganus Rimbugdusio Rimmo Rushgomo Rusio Sarab Sarnagara Sarus Segoi Segullo Segus Segusus Shagarus Shagunnus Shorgusus Shorlios Shorna Shorrus Shorvos Slata Slaternus Slatobornus Slaunus Smedonia Smedorn Smetatio Smetio Snach Sucamark Sucerian Sucetioseg Taranod Tarvos Tentis Tobius Tondroth Tonus Touthag Toutia Towerinta Towern Towernus Towers Trabarna Trabel Tramna Trech Tresteris Tritiris Ufthfull Uglug Uglus Ugluxena Uglûn Umbel Umbelavena Umbis Umbri Umbug Umbus Vendonos Ventria Venus Vernus Verotuceris Veter Vetinoder Vetirinna Vetta Vherin Vhete Vhetis Vinna Vinnia Vinnus Vinos Vintinoseg Vintis Vintrebis Viridagûl Virinod Virithful Virota Vishgoi Vissios Vissona Visus Vithak Woodena Woodendina Wooderie Yaglúk Yagrata Zagrabnos Zagus

#name stash #444names #444 names #dnd names #character names #markov namegen #markov name generation #markov #markov gen

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