#rezmir

[tactax-art]

Yeah let's just go with that our group is "not fond" of Rezmir...

#dnd 5e #Dnd #Dnd npc #Rezmir #Hoard of the dragon queen #<- no spoilers for that pls #Half dragon #Dnd half dragon #Dnd trf art

[admiralshiba]

miss rezmir

#rezmir #half dragon #dn #tyranny of dragons #my art

[giganotus]

favorite thing about playing a DnD campaign module: finding out how much we deviated from the original module's plan

#ttrpg #dungeons and dragons #rise of tiamat #I don't read ahead but I do sometimes backread #out of curiosity #my group and I are good at not metagaming too much #but anyway apparently Cyanwrath was supposed to die WAY early #but we kept that fucker alive #WE'RE LIKE 2 CHAPTERS AWAY FROM THE ENDGAME #AND HE'S GETTING A REDEMPTION ARC #WE USED A REVIVIFY ON HIM AFTER WE SAW HIM GET STABBED #it's so funny #Rezmir's alive too but she's not getting redeemed

[wrathoftiamat]

SESSION ONE: The One Where The Party Is (Mostly) Naked In The River

Cy, Elio, & Jupiter are introduced and each make their way to the town of Greenrest where they inevitably collide. We are introduced to each character and aspects of their past and current goals and a threat looming in front of them.

Cylanestriel Blackwood is an elven vengeance paladin who has been a member of the Keepers of the Secret Hoard for seven years after her death and subsequent resurrection. When she first arrived, the dogma of the cult centered around the veneration of dracoliches. In the last few years, with the return of a cultist named Drea Silrajin and her upheaval of the cult, their focus has shifted to prepare for the return of Tiamat. Since her arrival, Cy has ascended in the ranks to the position of Dragonsoul, a military rank under the Wyrmspeakers, the most powerful in the cult. It was her job to break in and train new recruits. Most of the cult is underground, woven through lava tunnels and magically carved barracks For the first time, Cy has been allowed on the surface of the caldera. The air is crisp, the sky is clear. Drea stands above the cultists gathered on the rim of the caldera, amplifying her voice while giving instructions on how the keepers are beginning to mobilize, their efforts to recruit dragons and raids to find treasure for Tiamat's hoard. She finishes with the words, "We will be the only, the holy remembered." Cy has been summoned to Drea's quarters. Along the way, Rezmir, a black dragonborn and one of the wyrmspeakers, gives Cy a butch nod. When Cy arrives, the door of Drea's chambers are cracked open, and she catches a glimpse of Drea looking weary, sunken into her chair. Her little red pseudodragon Nelvik settles onto her shoulders. When Cy politely knocks, she sees Drea reassemble her presentation. Drea wishes to send Cy out into the world on a mission. Cy is eager, yet polite. She has been tasked to go to Greenrest and find Bahamut's Holy Avenger, to claim it for Tiamat's hoard. Cy accidentally reveals she once lived there, and later, instinctively lied about who she was with, to protect the one secret she felt was her own. Halfway through the conversation, Morena Eclissi barges in, evidently late for the meeting. She and Drea share tense eye contact before Morena sits and joins the conversation. Drea reveals that Morena will also be coming to Greenrest, only days after Cy. While Cy has been tasked to retrieve the Holy Avenger and return to the cult, Morena and Rezmir have been tasked with heading an invasion and finding a civilian who has been unraveling secrets about the keepers. When Cy is excused, she lingers, eavesdropping on Drea and Morena. She listens to them briefly flirt, before Drea explains that Morena is to cause as much clamor and attention as possible. Cy leaves when they start to flirt again and realizes there's no more information to be gained. [FULL TRANSCRIPT]

Before she leaves, Cy retrieves less ornate armor that will not betray her allegiance. She travels on horse to Greenrest, the very same path she took when she left all those years ago. It's the first time she's been alone in years and she still feels like she's being watched. She didn't expect to lie about her time in Greenrest, it's the one secret she was able to protect when she was indoctrinated by the keepers. It is hard to reconcile that with her zeal for Drea's vision.

Elio Eclissi is a dragon-blessed young man, the scion of Bahamut. Recently, he had returned home for the first time in a couple of years to visit his family before completing his Paladin training. When he arrived home, he discovered that his twin sister, Morena, cursed by Tiamat, was nowhere to be found and his parents had no interest in finding her. We meet him dressed in fine, ceremonial armor in a carriage with his father on his way to the temple of Bahamut to swear his oath. Benicio, his father, was rushing the ceremony along, so Elio could compete in the Melee of the Pious. It's an important day, however, the disappearance of his sister, and his parent's indifference, is weighing on him. His carriage is stopped in the street by Fizban, who telepathically communicates with him about his doubts. He tells Elio to choose his own path. Elio wants to go find his sister. Fizban gives him a single golden-scaled gauntlet and tells him to find its owner. He offers to distract Elio's father, Benicio so he can slip away, and asks Elio to do his grocery shopping. Elio slips away into the crowded streets of Waterdeep and finds himself at the shop of Ava, a tiefling blacksmith with fused circular horns. She has often tailored his armor and forged his sword. She looks at the gauntlet and tells him that it was crafted during the last Dragon moot; it was Dwarvish, and he could likely find more information in Greenrest. She gave Elio her cloak to help him disguise his appearance, it's rather large on him and the hood blocks his vision when pulled up. He then does Fizban's shopping and goes to his flat in the city, uses a key to drop them off, sees Fizban's dragonchess board and plays an opening move. He procures a horse, a large white percheron named Odette and sets out onto the road alone for the first time in his life.

Seven years ago, a half-elf, Jupiter King's name was not Jupiter and he was not free. He was an indentured servant, sworn into contract and swimming in debt in a traveling carnival. He was one of their finest aerialists. Tonight, the circus had a bevy of important guests. His boss, a summer eladrin named Caprice cornered him and pressures him to perform a truly incredible act, with only twenty minutes until curtain. Jupiter originally mouths off, but then reluctantly agrees to 'get it together'. When Caprice leaves, Jupiter flips him off. Foxglove, a shifter, attempts to comfort him by giving him an awkward shoulder pat and more information on the mysterious, important guests. The night proceeds with the circus' best foot forward, performances full of air and sophistication, except for a displacer beast too many. Eventually, it is Jupiter's turn to perform. HIs specialty is in aerial silks and trapeze. He starts with a silk routine, set to ethereal music to appeal to the visiting fey. It is full of sudden drops, twists, and turns. At one point he makes eye contact with a small dragon, settled on a pillow. She has opalescent scales, large luna moth wings, and they're watching Jupiter intensely. When he gives them one of his performance smiles, she appears to be delighted. When his performance is through, Jupiter begins to do maintenance backstage. Caprice is furious. He berates Jupiter for upstaging his other acts. Jupiter is sweltering from the heat of Caprice's rage, who punishes him by making him collect trash on the grounds like he did when he was a child. Foxglove cuts in and gets Caprice to back off for now, but his rage is far from quelled. Armed with a broom, Jupiter heads out as the crowd disperses, accidentally bumping into a taller man with locs in platinum armor. Jupiter is unaware that this is Bahamut. Jupiter furiously doing chores. As he goes to take the last bit of garbage out, he sees a small group gathered farther away from the tent at the edge of the light. This group includes the same man he bumped into, the faerie dragon, and an archfey. He immediately tries to eavesdrop. The faerie dragon Dasha gossips with the Archfey, who has glittering silver fish scales across his body. Both Dasha and Bahamut catch him listening, though Dasha is the one to speak. She is captivated by him and impressed that he is self-trained. She gives him their name and he introduces himself as Enivyre. Dasha asks to have his name. He's not doing much with his name. He gives it to Dasha. In return, she tells him that soon someone will change his life and hit him like a bolt of lightning, and that some time in the future, the name Silvergleam will be important to him. She gives him a gift, evidently, a regift of something Bahamut gave her. A vial of glowing liquid that functions as a lantern of revealing. When Jupiter looks up, Dasha is gone. When he comments on this, the fish Archfey is also gone. Only Bahamut is left. He converses briefly with Jupiter, telling him he enjoyed the show before walking off. Two weeks later, with the help of a paladin named Cassiopeia, Jupiter escapes. Now, Jupiter King is an inquisitive rogue running odd jobs for Rian Nightshade, a spy in an organization that operates in Waterdeep. She has a job for him. Rian instructs him to find Jenna Silvergleam in Greenrest. Jupiter, with some friendly banter and complaining, leaves towards Greenrest. While he goes south, Cassi is heading north. When they depart from each other, they ask for Ilmater, her deity, to watch over each of them. [FULL TRANSCRIPTS]

Greenrest is a small mountain town nestled around a central keep. There's a river winding its way around the far side of town, a small church, businesses and homes litter the street. There appears to be some sort of festival in swing.

Elio is the first to arrive, a knight on his white horse, however, his cloak is covered in dirt and he looks haggard. He is not used to living on the road. A villager approaches him and offers him a circlet of autumnal foliage which he accepts. He learns that they are celebrating the harvest. As he enters town he is pointed towards the leaders of the town:

Governor Nighthill, a regal looking human man. Estéban, a dwarven man, the castellan of the keep who appears to be who's holding the town together. Ellie, An "oddly helpful half-elf".

Elio asks them if they have any information on where he could find a blacksmith who could tell him more about the gauntlet he has. He shows the gauntlet and Estéban is stunned. It is his gauntlet that he lost during the last Dragonmoot. Elio informs him that he was given it by Fizban and is happy to return it to its owner. He is directed towards the keep where he is able to find a place to sleep in the barracks. Elio immediately leaves his things on his bed, including his extremely expensive, gaudy ceremonial armor, and takes his dirty self, clothes, and a bar of soap down to the river to wash himself and his clothes.

Cy rides into town after him and similarly, finds a place for herself at the keep. She sees Elio in the water and doesn't immediately recognize him, but is interested by his massive executioner's sword on the riverbank. She says hello to him and he ends up inviting her, not in any flirtatious way, if she wants to join him in washing her clothes. She accepts. Upon Elio introducing himself, Cy immediately realizes who he is and begins to gauge who he is. She begins asking him questions about himself, realizing her perceptions of who he is based on his sister's viewpoints aren't entirely the person she sees. She begins to empathize with him, but is also beginning to plan on if she can hand him over to the Keepers, specifically Morena.

Meanwhile, Jupiter also enters town. He opts to go under the name Ceres and attempts to ask Estéban and Ellie if they know Jenna Silvergleam. They both seem to but are not sure of her current whereabouts. He also gets directed to the keep and ends up sharing a bunk with, who he doesn't know is Elio. Jupiter sees the extravagant armor on the bed and takes a moment to snoop through Elio's belongings. He doesn't take anything, simply leaves a note telling Elio not to leave his stuff out unless he wants someone to take it. WHen he leaves the keep he notices Elio and Cy by the river, in their underwear, now sparring with their greatswords.

They have very different fighting styles. Elio is controlled and like he's unsure of his own strength, still coming into it. He swings a massive sword but his attacks are still careful and not meant to seriously injure; he's coming at her with the blunt edge. He's much stronger than he looks. Cy hits fast and savage; she still strikes with the flat of her blade but is less concerned about injuring him. Her sword is slimmer and she relies on getting under his guard. Despite this, Elio is overpowering her, that is, until Cy blurts out that she saw Morena on the road on her way here.

This abruptly ends their sparring as Elio is stunned, and shows Cy a picture of Morena inside his locket, trying to ensure they're talking about the same person. They are. Elio is too naive to clue into this coincidence. He is so overwhelmed and thankful, he asks Cy if he can hug her. She accepts; this is the first time she has been hugged in seven years.

Once again, Jupiter has been watching this entire exchange, from half-naked washing their clothes, to half-naked sparring, to half-naked hugging. He is perplexed. Elio eventually sees Jupiter watching and invites him to come down and talk to them. Jupiter is slightly off put, but does, and tells both of them to call him King. They introduce themselves and Jupiter mentions that he is in town looking for someone, but doesn't specify who. Cy says that she's looking for an ornate sword. Elio suggests, since they're looking for things in town and he's waiting to see if his sister arrives, that they could help each other out and keep each other company. They agree to meet later to have pastries.

While Elio waits with pastries, Jupiter continues to poke around town and finds little information. Cy visits the house she used to share when she lived in Greenrest. She almost doesn't recognize it, it's a completely different structure. With some investigation, she realizes the foundations of her home are still there, just blackened and charred from a fire. In those ruins she also finds a rusted, dirty, yet ornate sword with a dragon-wing shaped hilt. The blade is stuck in the scabbard. Later, Elio deduces that it's a magical effect, not mundane rust. Apparently Fizban had passed through the town a few weeks previously, mumbling about fresh produce, and left the sword behind.

The party sleeps through the night. Jupiter wakes early to once again circle town, unable to keep himself from wandering. He notices as the sun rises, a dragon rapidly approaching on the horizon. He turns and fires an arrow at the keep's bell to alert everyone. As the bell rings, we end the session.

#campaign: recaps #tyranny of dragons #i do not think i am going to tag this with every single character. that would be. many.

[voidsteeth]

The Kiss

Time slowed to a crawl.  

His blade was mere inches from its mark - the heart of the woman covered in black scales.  The source of his companion’s aggravation and terror.  The cause of so much strife and anguish.  He could end it here and now.  He would end it here and now.

Except.  

The portal.

The brilliant flash of purple light and swirling energies.  The man who appeared on the other end.  

He looked the same as he did that night he ran away.  Smooth head covered in tattoos.  High red collar on red and gold robes.  And eyes that gleamed with such brilliance.  Such warmth…  

Moth felt his dagger start to slip from his fingers when the man locked his golden eyes on his.  And just like that they were young again.  Boys from another lifetime.  The same height, the same build.  Holding hands while a parent ushered them from one home to another.  

He could feel the warmth of the other boy’s hand in his.  And when he looked up from his feet, he saw those gold, gold eyes locked on him.  The little changeling blushed and looked back down.  His hand tightened on the other boy’s.  And he felt something stir in his chest when he felt a return squeeze.  It made his father’s beratement fall away.  So far it didn’t matter.  Nothing mattered but this connection.  This link.  The tight grip and the warmth from the other boy’s hand.  His wondrous smile when Moth felt his eyes flicker - black then gold.  

The words spilled out from between his lips before he could stop them.  “What?  No…”  He was surrounded again by his companions.  Bloody and bruised.  Worn down from the fight with Rezmir.  

His dagger was inches from her chest.  Her chest, which was falling away.  Falling away and into the arms of the tattooed man, who’s eyes were still locked on Moth’s.  They crinkled around the edges.  There was something there.  Something he was trying to convey and didn’t bother hiding it.  Longing…

They were young men.  Staring at each other from opposite sides of a table.  They had become close friends as they grew older.  Always at each other’s sides.  People wondered why such an upstanding boy like Argos had fallen in with such a delinquent like Morgan.  But they would hold each other’s hand tightly and ignore the criticisms.  They were each other’s shadows.

This night felt different.  They were at a tavern with money Morgan had lifted out of some passerby’s pockets.  Argos knew by now that Morgan was a thief and a scoundrel, but he didn’t care.  He went along with it without complaint and laughed when their hands were clasped once more.  

The table sat between them now.  

But it felt like the distance was nothing.  Especially when Argos looked at him like that.  Like he was the world and everything inside of it.  Morgan felt himself blush and bite his lip, and Argos followed the movement.  His tongue slipped out of his mouth - he was about to say something, something important.  Morgan leaned closer in his chair.  

But whatever was going to be said was interrupted by someone losing control of their pet zombie.  There was a commotion as guards were called in, and people were told to exit the tavern quickly while the pet was put down.  Argos grabbed Morgan’s hand and the two fled the building before they got caught up or trampled by masses leaving in a huff.  

They laughed and laughed as they entered the night air.  Thay was an unusual place where the undead lived alongside the living.  And occurrences like this happened every now and then.  

They were use to it, and nothing was out of the ordinary.  Except this night…

“Soon.”  The man on the other end of the portal said, Rezmir tucked safely in his arms.  She looked terrified.  He looked… Pained.  Never once breaking eye contact with Moth who’s dagger was almost out of his hand.  

The portal closed with a snap, and the two were gone, leaving him and his companions behind.  Kriv let out a loud and angry grumble that could have been a roar.  Caeden sighed in frustration.  Ellie and Vaylen came up from the stairs and helped check the others for their injuries.  

“Caeden you look different.”  Vaylen said worriedly.  

Moth’s grip tightened on his dagger as he put it away.  He kept staring at the spot those brilliant golden eyes had been.  The shape of that mouth as it uttered a single word.  The conversation of the others fell away as he lost himself to his own thoughts.

The two of them ran, hand in hand as they fled the tavern and back to the safety of Argos’ home.  They leaned against the stone wall under the library window where they had met years ago.  

“That was fun.”  Argos had begun to say, before he was cut off by Morgan.  Shoving him against the wall as he reached up to kiss him.  The changeling moved before he could think.  He had to stand on his toes to reach his now taller friend’s lips.  His hands pinning the taller boy against stone.  

There was only a brief moment of surprise.  A single sound of startlement.  But it was enough for Morgan to flush and pull away.  “Sorry.”  he grumbled as he looked away.  That was foolish.  Foolish and stupid.  Just because Argos had looked at him like that, hadn’t meant he wanted to kiss him.  He was acting stupid from the wine they shared at the tavern, he knew that.  

“Kiss me again.”  He heard Argos say, almost as if he was stunned by the words that had come out of his mouth as Morgan was to hear them.  

Morgan turned back to look at him, eyes wide and flickering, though he was sure Argos couldn’t see in the dark.  His breath stuttered in his lungs when he felt hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look up.  And then Argos was upon him.  Kissing him.  His mouth warm and lips soft.

It was then that Morgan knew.  He was put on this plane to kiss Argos, and to be kissed back.  He leaned into his friend’s body.  Felt the thrum of his friend’s heart beating in his chest mere inches from his own.  He felt his body shrink and his ears elongate.  He didn’t care.  Couldn’t care.  Argos wanted him as much as he wanted Argos.  Nothing mattered in the world except for the feeling of this connection between them.  The warm that grew between their bodies - 

“Moth are you okay?”  Vaylen interrupted his thoughts and the tiefling was snapped back into reality.  

“What.”  He asked shaking off his reverie.  

“Are you okay?  It’s okay if you’re not.  Do you know that man?”  He laughed.  And laughed.  No, he wanted to say.  No, of course he wasn’t okay.  The last time he saw that man he was running away.  “Of course I don’t know him.  Must have me confused with another tiefling.”  

“Well I hope you didn’t do anything like steal from him.” “I hope not either.”  

“Moth!”

The lies came to him as easily as changing his skin.  He hid his shaking fists under his furred cloak as he forced a smile.  Forced away the boy he knew.  The boy that became the man who stole his heart.  The one he laughed with and kissed away.  That boy was dead.  He had to be.

“Let's go check on the others.”

#drabble #dnd #words are scary and im being very brave

[ltdbanana]

Tiamats roll in tales from the yawning portal d&d

#Tiamats roll in tales from the yawning portal d&d free#

If we can destroy the masks or otherwise get them out of the cult’s possession it could be key to defeating them. In an audacious bid for power, the Cult of the Dragon, along with its dragon allies and the Red Wizards of Thay, seek to bring Tiamat from her prison in the Nine Hells to Faerûn. Note that while some dragons may share some characteristics of … Legendary Resistance (1/Day). Paul Kidd 290(83) D&D3 Beruto of the Carp Dragon "Dweomered Dragon Scales" Christopher Campbell 308(39) D&D3 Betrayer's Shroud "Bazaar of the Bizarre: The Rewards of Villainy" Wolfgang Baur 238(28) D&D2 Bigby's Demanding Ram "Bazaar of the Bizarre" Mark Galeotti 178(17) D&D2 Bimbomushi (gem) "Bazaar of the Bizarre" David Sweet 40(44) D&D1 Bison. They met a bandit called The Black Spider working for the Cult of the Dragon. The In-Fighters provide a certain amount of chaos and I was pleased they didn’t assume every encounter could only be dealt with by combat. Black blue dragon seat covers $35 (sac > Rocklin Ca). The name is taken from Tiamat, a goddess in ancient Mesopotamian mythology. T-shirts, posters, stickers, home decor, and more, designed and sold by independent artists around the world. If she is wearing the Black Dragon Mask, Rezmir can take up to two legendary actions between each of her turns, taking the actions all at once or spreading them over the round. When Tiamat assumes her throne, her draconic children shall serve her as dukes, and her clergy as their mortal vassals. People have already covered at length the problems with Hoard of the Dragon Queen.

#Tiamats roll in tales from the yawning portal d&d free#

So long as you hand over the dragon mask to me, you are free to go. He has turned into a half Warg, half First game will be Saturday, the 28th at 12:00 noon EST Keepers of the Secret Hoard, the Wearers of Purple - not to be confused with the Purple Dragons, the famous and heroic human knights of Cormyr with their purple dragon heraldry - rather, The Cult of the Dragon has been a force of evil in the Sword Coast for centuries. The Black Dragon Mask* was now in the heroes hands, along with a mouthy sword that practically dripped with evil intent. Temple of Tiamat is classified as a trail queue, and a minimum amount of 14K item level is required to enter it. (archive) Hoard of the Dragon Queen Campaign Forum Black Friday 1416864024 Kurt Pro. Black dragon mask hoard of the dragon queen.

#Tiamats roll in tales from the yawning portal d&d

[sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-shelby]

Possibly my most epic DnD session yet! (now with sloppy illustrations!)

****Late-game spoilers for Hoard of the Dragon Queen****

I play as Killian Lyle. Level 6 human fighter, eldritch knight, lawful good. +4 str, con. -2 cha. You know the type.

Others in the party are: Rat-Rat, the forest gnome druid. Syrris, the wood-elf rogue. Montagor, the half-elf bard.

So, the last thing Killian did the session before was reenter a tavern our party got kicked out of and try to bribe the tavern keeper to help us get past some baddies. Big tough-looking tavern keeper grabs his weapon. *Roll initiative* End of session.

In Killian’s hands were a shield and a loaf of bread he had recently been served in that tavern. He was alone, the rest of his party discussing plans outside. We all rolled initiative, but only Killian was aware there was going to be combat so far. A couple of the party members got to go first. Basically just wandered town square, taking in surroundings. There are a whole bunch enemy guards nearby, watching, but not picking a fight with the group. 

Killian’s turn. He steps forward and tries to FORCE THE LOAF OF BREAD INTO THE GUYS MOUTH to catch him off-guard and maybe keep him quiet for a second. SMASHING SUCCESS! Guy is unable to stop me from jamming those carbs down his throat and drops his weapon. I bonus action my sword to my hand.

Tavern-keeper’s turn. DM has the guy do a con save to make sure he doesn’t CHOKE TO DEATH AND DIE!  *shit, shit, I didn’t want to kill him!!!* Luckily he saves and is able to clear his airway of bread. He starts swinging fists and misses.

Keep going in initiative order. Guest calls out “HES FIGHTING THE BARTENDER!” Most guests at the tavern flee upstairs, but 2 pull daggers and join in. Montagor the bard hears some commotion and opens the door to see Killian shoving bread down the tavern-keeper’s throat and other people moving in with weapon’s drawn. Tries playing the bagpipes nice and loud for extra diversion, but nat 1′s and pops the bag. Syrris the rogue comes in and starts quietly and *permanently* eliminating anyone attacking with a weapon. Killian tries multiple times to thunk the tavern-keeper on the head with the hilt of his sword well enough to knock him out, but the dude keeps fighting. Poor guy can’t make a single hit though. 

This fight’s going longer than Killian was hoping. He tries a different tactic: INTIMIDATE. Another smashing success. Like a 19 or something, since intimidate is his one charisma-based skill that doesn’t get a negative modifier. BARTENDER GETS A NAT 1! Surrenders. Killian backs off just before the Captain of the group of enemies walks in.

“WHAT”S GOING ON IN HERE!?”

Killian gambles on deception. NAT 20 “Some guys were fighting the tavern-keeper. We helped. They’re dead now.”

Intimidated tavern-keeper nods, says they were going to rob him.

Enemy captain thanks us for protecting his friend and leaves. WOW, DODGED A BULLET THERE!

We head out too, Killian dropping a couple of gold coins for the tavern-keeper as he heads out, and start looking for a good way to get past the guards. We’re trying to get into a GIANT ICE CASTLE that’s about to FLY AWAY. Time’s running out. I’m not sneaky, but we’re about to give it a try, see if our amazing rolls continue. We decide to peek in the giant stable that had HUGE REPTILIAN GROWLS coming from it. This would either be really bad or really good for us. 

Really good! Tied-up wyverns along one wall, riding harnesses on the other. The ice castle begins to take off. Guess we’re doing this! We smell the stink of meat from a nearby building. The rogue is unable to carry a full pig carcass herself. Killian goes to help. NAT 20! Throws a pig over one shoulder, and a sheep over the other and marches off toward the wyverns. Killian has crap animal handling skills, but Rat-Rat the druid doesn’t. Killian keeps the things distracted with bites of meat, Rat-Rat puts the harnesses on them with great success. We climb on, again without incident. And Rat-Rat is apparently a natural-born dragon-rider because he came up with an incredible plan that worked without a hitch. 

Minor-illusion the image of a fat turkey, flying just out of reach of the wyvern. Bard prestidigitation’s the smell of juicy meat coming off the “turkey”. Wyverns were eager to follow. Probably more complicated than it needed to be, but hey, it has pizzazz!

We are able to catch up to the ice castle and land they wyverns near another stable that they seemed trained to fly to. Looking around, ogres and kobolds seem to pay us no mind. Guess randos flying in on the backs of dragon things is a normal sight around here. But as it starts getting dark, creatures seem to hurry their tasks and make their way indoors. We figure we’d better do so as well. Quietly enter the first door we approach. Amazingly, nobody’s there. Not out and about anyway. There’s a comfortably furnished room right when we walk through the door, but we decide to keep exploring. Rat-Rat casts detect magic. The comfortable room has an illusory wall to an outside platform, but nothing else of note. 

We hear a familiar voice arguing with another voice in another room. A wizard we’d rather not exchange blows with if we can help it. Luckily, according to the DM’s dice rolls, they notice nothing.

Then, further down the hall we heard another familiar voice. Rezmir, the dragonborn cult leader we’ve been tracking for MONTHS. Basically in the first spot we look. Wow, really? And none of us are hurt. Most of us have all of our spell slots and other abilities still available to us. Could this be more perfect? Rat-Rat does see a bit of magic in the room in the last moments before his spell times out, but that’s to be expected, right?

There is a lock.“It looks much more complicated than any lock you’ve encountered before”, the DM tells us. But our rogue is pretty skilled in her arts. She decides to give it a try. 

“With my modifier that was a 30.″ Huh. What luck. DM said later that was a DC 25 lock. 

Rezmir was inside, sitting on her bed in her pajamas, just loving on her doggos. I mean attack drakes. Not paying us any mind whatsoever. *roll initiative*

Syrris goes first. Perfect opportunity for an assassination with her poison dagger and all those extra dice rolls she gets in just this sort of situation. She steps into the room and is SNATCHED UP AND HELD DOWN BY A SENTIENT AREA RUG! I should’ve drawn this part too because I can’t help but imagine the magic carpet from Aladdin wrestling the elf.

Anyway, fighting then ensues. Attack drakes come running, keeping the rest of the party besides the rogue out in the hall. Rezmir starts out unarmed, and shoots off a scary-looking spell at our bard. It misses and melts the wall behind him. Thank goodness it missed. Rogue takes 2 turns escaping the rug, Rezmir runs for her sword across the room. Rat-Rat’s moonbeaming Rezmir rather successfully. Killian and the Montagor are mostly in melee with the drakes, but Killian did start with a firebolt to Rezmir’s face. This fight hurts, both sides taking plenty of damage.

The rogue is taking the brunt of the damage trapped inside the bedroom with the dragonborn and that mean magic carpet. She takes it like a champ, but there’s a turn for the worse when she’s ready for healing. The bard’s starts coming to her aid, and she takes more damage, this time from the sword. Healing has no effect from that point.... The sword did something to stop her from regaining hit points, and after the significant damage from its blade, that’s bad news.

Bard and Rogue get caught in a breath attack, and the rogue goes down. Killian and Rat-Rat are still outside of the room, Killian around a corner and can’t actually see Rezmir from where he’s at. Shit. We still have one drake remaining. Killian tries his best with two attacks to eliminate it, but does min damage on both and it remains standing. Fuck it. Time for an Action Surge. Moves past the drake to where he’s in melee with Rezmir herself, stepping out from around the corner. Double attack again. Hits on both. NAT 20 ON THE SECOND! 

“How did it happen?”, the DM asks. I’m floored that I managed to down her in that hit.

“Killian steps around the corner, swinging his sword to where her saw the breath attack originate, slicing through her pajamas into the scales beneath. He then makes eye contact with her and sees the recognition in her face as she looks his way in surprise, even as he’s pulling back his sword for a second strike. Killian lunges full-force, plunging the sword right through her before she has the chance to react.”

“FOOLS!”, she cries out with her final breath as she disintegrates into ash, her sword and a couple of keys clanging to the floor where she had stood. Simultaneously an ornate chest in the far corner of the room violently explodes, destroying anything that might’ve been inside.

We rush to the Syrris, and Rat-Rat stabilizes her. Killian places her on the bed to rest. Then eyes turn toward the items Rezmir left behind. Killian voices that the rogue won’t be pleased to see the chest exploded when she regains consciousness, but doesn’t personally care much that the loot is no more. The party uses one of the keys in the pile of ash that was Rezmir to relock the room so they can use the comfortable chamber for a night of recuperation before continuing venturing back into the castle.

“Killian, I think you’re the only one of us that could wield that sword.”, Rat-Rat squeaks, pointing to the one remaining object on the ground.

The sword is jagged and black with a purple crystal in the hilt. Something about it makes Killian uneasy.

Killian replies, “A greatsword... Doesn’t really suit my fighting style. But it seems a powerful blade. ” Then he picks it up off the floor feeling powerful magic coursing through it, and hears a voice in his head.

“Hello”, the sword whispers, darkly. “You enjoyed that kill, didn’t you.”

Oh man, having my lawful good, magic fanatic, fighter boy weigh the benefits of wielding a legendary magical sword of untold power, against the moral drawback of it being intelligent and EVIL is going to be a wild ride. He has attuned to it, and we’ll see where this takes us. 

I’m still reeling from all the amazing things that happened in this session. What a day for Killian in particular. 

#dnd #dnd stories #dnd art #dungeons and dragons #human fighter #eldrtich knight #hoard of the dragon queen #dnd story #rezmir #dnd comic #magic weapon #dnd adventures #sketch #fighter #hotdq

[everyaccentthesame]

Preparation for running Tyranny of dragons: The Cult of the Dragon, reimagined

[DO NOT READ AHEAD IF JOINING MY GAME, SPOILERS AHEAD]

The Cult of the Chromatic Dragon

Cult factions were created by [Redacted] to bind together the Cult of the Dragon, the Church of Tiamat and allied organisations, into his new Cult of the Chromatic dragon, and minimise frictions between factions. Essentially creating a sub-cult for each aspect of dragon-kind, [Redacted] was merciless in separating out individual cells and giving individuals appropriate roles. He has encouraged competition between cults, including subterfuge, assassination and even cases of armed conflict, knowing it cements loyalty to one’s own faction, which, in a way, cements the faith in the Cult of the Chromatic Dragon.

The concept of each Cult faction was created during the Council of Tiamat’s Ascension, where their individual roles were laid out and structures created. During this council the Cult of the Dragon, the Church of Tiamat and multiple other smaller dragon-worshipping organisations were forcefully merged then split apart into five new wholes. The council is also notable for having a death toll equal to a small war, as any objections were overruled with extreme prejudice by the new masters of the draconic cults.

There are, however, lingering remnants of the old guard- followers of the scaly way of the cult of the dragon that disagree with the Cult’s new direction, including many of the oldest and most influential members of the Cult of the dragon. In addition, the wearing of purple has been retained as a common way of declaring who is in command across the cult, and many Wearers of Purple prefer to pursue personal ambitions over the wider cult’s goals.

 The Red Hand

 The largest and most military minded of the sub-cults and also the most obsessed with wealth, the Red Hand was founded to be the strong right hand of the cult, its largest and most powerful force, reflecting the attributes of the red chromatic dragon. The Red Hand revels in assaulting heavily defended targets with significant concentrations of wealth, using overwhelming force and savagely efficient tactics and strategies. They are not content until they’ve taken anything of any conceivable value from a target, including slaves and prisoners. Their might is currently concentrated to the south and east of the sword coast, with forces ready to react when great force is needed. Much of their activity is self-directed, set on training and enlarging their forces through recruitment of humans and goblinoids, as well as creating a large slave-army out of those it deems unfit for membership.

The force is composed of the Cult of the Dragons more conventional forces, including those new recruits deemed of a suitable mien, minor elements of the church of Tiamat that favoured red dragons above all others and significant elements of the remnants of the Red Hand of Doom, a Tiamat worshipping Hobgoblin horde defeated many years ago. This section of the cult spends much of its time drilling and training, working to synthesise cult, hobgoblin and draconic tactics. The Hand even has a number of notoriously arrogant red dragons on retainer, which they work with to perfect how they will fight together in a significant conflict.

The Red Hand only recruits those they deem to have the correct attitude and skills in battle. Professional soldiers, knights, mercenaries and disciplined warriors are all welcomed with open arms. They also recruit those that seem to have potential to be a great warrior, but lack the training. Of those they capture in raids the Red Hand has created an army of fighting slave-soldiers. These slaves are promised a place in the Red Hand and a chance to gain proper weapons and armours if they prove themselves skilled and bloodthirsty in battle, and death if they refuse to fight the Hand’s enemies. Few refuse an offer of promotion to the cult proper, as the conditions the fighting slaves are kept in are atrocious and require constant activity and marching to keep the slaves physically and mentally exhausted. Those that are promoted are encouraged to quickly forget their old lives and to be grateful to the cult for letting them escape the slave-armies. Thus the ranks of the Red Hand have grown full of skilled, fanatical and desperate warriors.

Because of their draconic allies, the cult has a wellspring of Kobold labour that replenishes rapidly. They despise these weak dragonlings, but make great use of their subservience, having them take care of basic errands and menial tasks. The cult also has a huge number of goblin tribes forced into its service, recruited by the hobgoblin elements of the Red Hand, which are mostly kept corralled in a separate area whenever the Red Hand is encamped. Neither of these forces is considered part of the Red Hand, but they are considered expendable auxiliaries, and are herded into battle when it is tactically expedient to do so. They are considered just equal to the fighting-slave forces of the cult, and greater than the slaves that perform non-combat functions for the cult. To the Red Hand, a warrior, no matter how lowly, is always superior in rank to a civilian.

The Red hand favours strength and despises weakness and believes conflict and flame can separate the strong and the weak. Those looking to prove themselves ritualistically burn their bodies as displays of devotion, and for those the dragon god favours, when these burns heal they may develop a layer of scales or other draconic features over them. Some particularly deranged and power-hungry cultists toss themselves head-first into pyres to receive blessings- those few that survive these experiences usually are crippled for life, but some are blessed, becoming creatures akin to half-dragons or dragonborn. Most cultists of Dragonfang rank or above have some form of burn on their bodies, and those of higher ranks have more burn scars and draconic features.

The Red hand has been taking territory in Vaasa, Damara and lands around the moonsea, and holding it. They prefer not raid, only conquer or raze, and either way they ensure their targets of looted of all wealth. Another, smaller part of the red hand is present in Mughorm, recruiting from a populace that already venerates dragons, and preparing to be part of the push into Tymanther, where they hope to convert many of the ‘misguided dragon-kin’. Some more independent Red Hand warbands have taken up raiding, working with other cult cells to provide their military expertise and strong sword-hands in taking hard targets, often in exchange for the lions share of the loot. Finally, a contingent of the Red hand, under the command of Draegloth Bladelord, have been placed in charge of security and the final defence of the Well of Dragons, made up of some of their their mightiest fighters and an adult red dragon, Skylkyth.

The Red Hand believe firmly in expansion through conquest, a result of the fusion of the credo of red chromatic and hobgoblin philosophy. They view the subjugation of populaces as a holy act, and many have almost heretically strong ties with Banites. When they defeat an enemy armed force, they give the survivors a choice: join or die. Those that choose to join are forced to kill their erstwhile compatriots to prove their loyalty, and quickly pushed into ‘taking the flame’ and other rites- any hesitation or refusal is punishable by execution, either immediate or on the pyre, until they have proven their loyalty well enough. When the Red hand needs to take resources, they take slaves as well. They then divide these poor souls into the elderly/disabled, children, and those of fighting age. The elderly are tasked with performing labour, those unable to do so are killed. The children are either sold or raised to venerate dragons as cultists. Those able to fight are given an option- join the ranks of the cult or be sold/killed.

The Wyrmspeaker that rules the sub-cult is [Redacted] himself, though he rarely deigns to manage the day-to-day affairs, given both his proclaimed lordship of the entire Cult of the Chromatic Dragon and mysterious duties that see him disappear with his inner circle for months or years at a time. Indeed, [Redacted]’s  prolonged absence from the realms has left the various, the Wearers of purple for the Red Hand have taken it upon themselves to take more initiative to achieve their own ends. The most senior Wearer of Purple among their number, Severin, is attempting to usurp control over much of the Red Hand, though

 The Azure Wing

 The Azure Wing are not the largest faction, but they are powerful in the cult, being the most skilled and able in the breeding and creation of dragonspawn, and in the changing of humanoids into more draconic forms. Many of the wizards associated with the Cult of the Dragon were directed to join this cult, though many of them, especially the Necromancers, resent this imposition. Many members of the church of Tiamat, including powerful Clerics, have joined the cult, bringing their experience of manipulating dragonspawn The Azure Wing is only just having breakthroughs in many areas in the breeding and creation of the spawn, partially due to infighting and the reluctance of many members to engage in this new path. In addition, the cult has succeeded in attracting many members who have draconic heritage, granting them special treatment as they have come to appreciate and venerate the draconic form more and more.

Gradually the Azure Wing is gathering an army of Dragonspawn and Undead, keeping their powerful creations hidden away from prying eyes in isolated laboratories and seemingly abandoned fortresses. Thought their current experiments have peaked at the creation of draconic-flesh golems and drakes, new access to dragon eggs, granted by the Dragon masks and the new Wyrmspeaker for the cult, has greatly improved the speed at which their research progresses. The ultimate goal of the cult is to create the dragonspawn of old, mighty beasts that are spawned from Dragon Eggs, especially the fabled Godslayers, and speed up their growth through magical means to allow them to participate in the final battles of the cult.

Dragonspawn are draconic monstrosities created according to Tiamat’s design out of dragon eggs corrupted by dark magic and her malevolent will. They range from gargantuan monstrosities to tiny spies, from mindless monsters to cunning intelligent creatures, but all are built for battle. The methods to create these creatures are obscure and hidden by ritual and superstition, but all require dragon eggs, corrupted by profane rituals. For this reason, many Dragons are opposed to the creatures creation, and only through the power of the dragon masks has this secret been kept hidden. The cults experiments in creating dragonspawn have not just been limited to creating novel life- many cultists have taken to submitting themselves to modification, seeking to integrate the draconic with their body through dark magic and surgery. Worse still, some sects have found it to be easier to mutate and corrupt living humanoids into draconic creatures and will use prisoners for that purpose.

Because so many of the powerful necromancers joined the Wing, the Wing now lays claim to the loyalty of many of the Dracoliches that the cult once created, including those that were brought under the direct control of cult cells. [Redacted] has collected the phylacteries of many of these Dracoliches, personally destroying several to intimidate the others into obedience. Many rankle at this imposition, and would gleefully betray the cult, and only reluctantly follow orders under the threat of their phylacteries being destroyed. Still, given [Redacted]s absence from the realms, some are refusing orders outright, working to locate their Phylacteries, which they know must be stored somewhere on this Plane, and would work with adventurers to return them. Still others remain loyal to, or at least under the sway of their necromantic transformers, the old wizards of the Cult of the Dragon. Some of these wizards are full devotees to the new cause, while others are wistful for the return of Sammaster and the old ways.

The Azure Wing has been taking part in the raiding of the Sword Coast, as well as in the southern lands, taking the opportunity to put their creations to the test, and have been responsible for many atrocities. The Cult’s central base of operations, and the residing place of the Blue Wyrmspeaker, Galvan and their mask, is Castle Perilous, where they assisted the Red hand in clearing out forces of Bahamut from Damara and Vaasa. Here they have revived ancient spawning pools and reservoirs of necromantic magic, allowing them to progress with dark experiments, often on the terrified citizens of Vaasa and Damara.

They have a presence in the Dracolichdom of Threskel where a cell has been working with the ruling undead drake, Alasklerbanbastos, who was originally made into a Dracolich by the cult of the Dragon. Alasklerbanbastos’s support has been wavering however- he does not entirely believe Tiamat would favour undead dragons like himself, and fears being displaced from power in favour of a living dragon. He sees a great threat coming from Tchazzar, the ancient red draconic ruler of Chessenta. Though Tchazzar is a chosen of Tiamat, he has long preferred to nurture his own cult and claim godhood, but it is little secret that both the Red hand and the Jade Fang have sent agents and emissaries to convince him to lend the might of his forces and his own considerable combat ability. Alaskerbanbastos fears that Tchazzar is being offered rulership over the entire southlands in exchange for his aid and has agreed to commit fully to the cult if Tchazzar is prevented from joining, or even better, destroyed. The Azure wing has agreed, and works to bolster these efforts, knowing that if Alaskerbanbastos joins through their efforts, they will rise greatly in the esteem of the cult, even if their actions hurt the cult as a whole.

To the chagrin of the Jade Fang, the Azure Wing has been credited with the recruitment of allies form the Red Wizards of Thay. While the Jade Fang’s representatives attempted to infiltrate the courts of Szass Tam, the Wyrmspeaker of the Azure Wing, Galvan his contacts to establish a rapport with rebellious cells of Red Wizards, led by Rath Modar, his cousin. The contribution of the Red Wizards magic to the Cults activity has been a great boon and made up for setbacks the cult suffered in its failure to crack the secret of creating Dragonspawn in the early stages of their work.

Galvan the Blue Wyrmspeaker is an Archmage who favours schools of necromancy and lightning evocation, an interest he picked up during his education on the creation of Flesh Golems. An aged human whose life has been extended by multiple forms of magic yet has resisted the temptation of lichdom. He was old when Sammaster returned to the realms in the 1300s and has come to see Sammasters failure with the Dracorage Mythal as a divine event, as without the Dracorage, dragonkind would once again come to rule. He views Sammaster as ultimately misguided, but necessary for the completion of the prophecies found in the chronicle of years to come. He is unsure of the wisdom of summoning Tiamat to the world, but relishes a chance to practise his art and is terrified of [Redacted] , for he knows the full consequences of wielding the hand of Vecna. Galvan was the one to introduce the Red Wizards with the cult and innovate the mass-production of undead and dragonspawn for the cult, and is thus high in the Cults esteem, though slow progress in the creation of Dragonspawn has marred his reputation somewhat. Galvan’s age has given him great patience, and he knows he is close to creating something… magnificent.

  The Jade Fang

 The Jade Fang perhaps has the fewest competent warriors, monsters or magic-users in the wider cult, but of all its compatriots, it wields the widest influence on the realms. The fang is responsible for almost all non-hostile dealings with the wider world, charged with representing the cult in person and manipulating matters from afar. The current members of the Fang have been recruited from diverse backgrounds, most anyone with charisma or wider influence in the realms. This includes merchants, nobles, dignitaries, diplomats, bards and more. Entrance into the Fang is often made out to be akin to an elite club or society, and comes with significant benefits, courtesy of the cult. Indeed, many join the Jade Fang not knowing of its involvement with the wider Cult of the Chromatic Dragon until it is too late, by which point the cult knows too much about them and has too much dirt on them for them to ever escape.

Jade Fang cultists are often the nicest and most outwardly amenable members of the cult. Many hide a vicious streak, but some are genuinely nice people, who just happen to believe that the reign of dragons over the world is both inevitable and desirable. Others are simply in the Fang for the connections and influence membership can bring. Cultists will often attempt to retain their outward humanoid appearance in order to improve their diplomatic relations with others, but a common cult rite is to encourage members to build up a resistance to poisons and venoms through regular imbibing of small amounts, and because of this many cultists often appear sickly, pale and wan. The draconic changes these acts cause on their bodies are often incredibly subtle and hidden, though on occasion a more obvious mutation will occur, in which case an agent must either abandon their position or conceal it, perhaps covering it as an injury. Blessings of Jade Fang cultists can include increased perception, glibness of tongue and the development of retractable, venomous fangs.

The Jade fang coordinates the mercantile interests and finances of the wider cult. While all parts of the cult are expected to supply themselves, the Fang can provide resources and wealth to other sub-cults when needed, though it rarely does so freely, except under the command of [Redacted] . The Fang uses all forms of underhanded tactics and the resources of other sub-cults to ensure that its merchants always get the best deal, and that rivals always seem to suffer unfortunate accidents, whether to cargo, or to their persons. A great many wealthy noble houses and merchants have the Fang to thank for their recent successes as it has brought to bear all the old influence of the Cult of the Dragon.

Similarly, the Fang has been entrusted with securing powerful allies amongst the kingdoms and cities of the civilized peoples, where their most trusted agents bump shoulders with kings, queens and archmages. There has been less success on this front- the truly powerful of the Realms do not need the Cults help, but a rare few have been manipulated or converted to pledge allegiance to the cult. No monarchs have yet pledged, but success has been made in Cormyr to set up the succession of a ruler that will allow the Cult free movement through their land (allowing the red hand to reach the Well of Dragons without having to cross through the Anauroch desert or facing the armies of Cormyr) and refuse to commit forces against them. When the time comes, representatives of the cult that go to proclaim the Cults goals and demand the surrender of the cities and kingdoms of the realms will be of the Jade Fang, and many compete for this position.

The greatest success to date has been gaining the allegiance of the Eldreth Velthuraa, the achievement of which elevated the current Wyrmspeaker, Neronvain, to his position. The Eldreth Velthuraa have been led to believe that Tiamat will cleanse the Realms of all non-draconic humanoids, but that Evermeet will be preserved, and have been promised that the elves will be allowed to settle the lands alongside the dragons as equals. The Eldreth Velthuraa are no fools, and realize that they will be wiped out too, but believe that Evermeet can survive the Dragon Queen and her servants long enough for them to enact the Dracorage Mythal once again and introduce a new age of elven supremacy.

Recruiting at a street level is one of the most important duties entrusted to the Fang, and while less grand in scale than its mercantile efforts or its diplomatic forays, without it the cult would be a fraction of its current size. Recruiters, as in all cults, look for the downtrodden and destitute, and offer them a chance to part of something greater, to experience real power, and to gain prestige and status beyond which society currently affords them. In a realm wracked by the Sundering and a great many evils and injustices, their tactics have been incredibly successful, though the real challenge is turning the recruits into proper cultists, while keeping any activity secret from local authorities or organisations that oppose cult activity.

While the Jade Fang does have some operatives skilled in the arts of combat, they have the least of any sub-cult. They retain their status and prevent the other sub-cults pushing them around not only through their control of the flow of recruits and gold, but also through the fact they are in charge of hiring most of the cult’s mercenary agents. While most of these are hard-scrabble mercenary companies looking for the next payday, some of the things the Jade Fang treats with are more Fiendish in nature, hiring Devils and occasionally Yugoloths to work with them. Indeed, the Jade Fang’s Wyrmspeaker, Neronvain, treats with many Greater devils working to remove Tiamat from the nine-hells.

Alongside the Sable eye, the Jade Fang must constantly oppose and avoid the agents of the ‘goodly’ factions of the realms, as well as other churches, though it tries to do so in a more ‘hearts and minds’ kind of way, avoiding direct conflict. On occasion the Jade Fang will require agents to engage in assassination and spying, usually against targets that the Sable Eye cannot reach through stealth, but they prefer not to- such actions risk compromising their Agents cover. The Jade Fang has come into increasing conflict with the agents of the Harpers and Lords alliance as they increasingly come to manipulate the courts of the great and powerful.

The leader of the cult, Neronvain, is the son of king Melendrach and this status still grants him significant respect and admittance to elf-friendly courts across the realms. He currently resides deep in the misty forest, organising cult activities and raiding against elven settlements. In these raids he uses only non-elf agents and is using them to drum up support for the Eldreth Velthuura, while also advocating for them in court. He uses a network of ancient elven teleportation circles and his trusty griffon mount to travel rapidly across the realms and is famous for being both overly enthusiastic and controversial. Seen as a naïve idealist, as well as a hedonist, by many, he is in fact incredibly manipulative, charming and has been using the resources given to him by his new allies to great effect in stirring discord and conflict amongst those that would oppose the cult of the dragon.

 The Sable Eye

 The Sable eye has been tasked with keeping order in the wider cult and ensuring that its enemies and erstwhile allies are prevented from learning of its existence or growing too powerful. It is also tasked with orchestrating campaigns of terror and fomenting strife through famine and pestilence. It is composed of those agents of the old Cult of the Dragon and the Church of Tiamat more suited to the subtle arts of spying, assassination, interrogation and intimidation. Entrance into the Eye is unusual in that it usually occurs horizontally, with an invitation to a member of another sub-cult that displays desirable talents, fanaticism and loyalty. Recruitment is often laced with significant incentives, such as increased authority, wealth, access to magical items and less arduous duties. Those recruited directly into the sub-cult are always those that chose to join the wider cult voluntarily and are undergo severe vetting to ensure their loyalty and weed out any spies or potential traitors. All in all, the Sable Eye is the most difficult Sub-Cult to join, but possibly the one that grants the greatest degree of freedom and power from the outset.

Members of the Sable Eye, as a result of the stringent recruitment methods, tend to be proud and of the attitude that they are superior to the members of other sub-cults. They also tend to be highly skilled in their chosen area of expertise and dedicated to the wider cult’s goals. The Sable Eye revere acid as a tool of cleansing, and believe it reveals purity, and will ritualistically daub their bodies in just enough to irritate their flesh. Though painful, this process, accompanied by the correct rites, eventually creates patches of acid-resistant black scales that absorb light and hide motion from the eyes. In addition, many are granted mutation of more esoteric form- those that risk daubing their eyes with acid may go blind, or they may be granted greatly superior vision in the darkness, their eyes turned to cat-like pupils, those that suspend their extremities in vats of acid might be granted painful transformations into claws or simply lose them, some may even be granted wings.

Of the two main duties of the Sable Eye, the one that it is known and feared for within the cult is its work policing the other sub-cults. It has explicit permission from [Redacted] to spy upon the other sub-cults and a duty to report any traitors in the ranks, and even has the power to eliminate those within the cult that it deems subversive, though any assassination against a target of Dragonwing or above must be approved by a Wyrmspeaker. In addition, the Sable Eye is important for ensuring that other sub-cults cleave to the overall will of the Cult of the Dragon, and do not let petty vendettas and rivalries get in the way of achieving the overall goal of the cult.

Members of the Sable eye will join the raiding parties or task groups from other sub-cults and act as a constant reminder of the watchful eye of the greater cult. In addition, they will act as advisors and specialists in subterfuge to these groups, ensuring that the cults activities don’t garner too much unwanted attention from the wider world, an important activity as the cult ramps up its operations. If too much ire from other factions is drawn at this early stage of cult activity, then the cult will be unable to assemble the resources to complete its plans. They are also favoured inquisitors and interrogators amongst the cult, combining their expertise with inflicting pain, a terrifying mien and a trained skill at questioning to quickly extract information the cult needs, or to uncover any traitorous acts from amongst the ranks.

The other main activities for which the Sable Eye is responsible are theft, spying and assassination, jobs for which their agents are highly suited. The theft of powerful magical artefacts is an important goal of the cult, as many will be useful in their ultimate goals or in achieving secondary goals. They typically seek objects of great power and importance, with wider abilities than just offensive power.

The Sable Eye also works with the Jade Fang to work with, or eliminate, criminal organisations such as the Xanathar guild, thieves’ guilds, or guilds of assassins. They have come into conflict with these organisations just as often as they have managed to arrange cooperation, however, and certain parties are increasingly alarmed by the increasing presence of the cult in the criminal underworld. They have recently begun to engage in wider criminal enterprise to help fund their increased scope of activity and to provide tribute to the wider Cult, ranging from protection racketeering to fraud to engaging in the trade of illicit substances to piracy.

The Sable Eye has found itself in increasing conflict with the shadowy Zentarim and the Harpers network. The Zentarim have had multiple items stolen from them and are growing increasingly concerned about the Sable Eye’s influence in the criminal underworld, including alliances made with the Xanathar guild, an old enemy of the Zentarim, with the aid of the Jade Fang. Their agents are now beginning to wage a subtle, hidden war, outside of the public eye, as the Zentarim increasingly begins to interfere with the operations of the wider Cult. Though the Zentarim and the other factions of the Sword Coast are not natural allies, they nevertheless have a common purpose in this matter, and some limited cooperation has been achieved.

The Wyrmspeaker of the Sable Eye is Rezmir, a black half-dragon, who is a skilled combatant, assassin, and practitioner of shadow magics. She has become extremely personally involved in the transport of the cults looted treasure across the sword coast, taking charge of ensuring that it reaches its destination without piquing the interest of factions opposing the cult. She is also highly aware that members of the cult may try to steal from the hoard being transported, so has the agents of the Sable eye ready to clamp down on any theft being perpetrated- by the other factions, of course.

 The Ivory Claw  

Of all the sub-cults of Cult of the Chromatic dragon, the Ivory Claw is seemingly the most disorganised, and the most apparently fanatical and barbaric. It forms the expendable muscle of the cult, the base mass of swarming bodies sent to overwhelm and intimidate the Sword Coast, the scouts and skirmishers, scavengers and raiders. They gladly induct recruits from all walks of life, no matter their prior skillset, allegiances or outlook- anyone willing to join enthusiastically with their worship of Tiamat is accepted, no questions asked. The claw will recruit from any race or species, but the majority of its recruits come from human communities. Recruiters of the Jade Fang also send recruits that are too fanatical and unskilled to be useful elsewhere to this sub-cult, including many powerful warriors deemed too chaotic and unmanageable for the Red Hand. Furthermore, most that approach agents of the cult actively looking to join the cult are directed to join the Ivory Claw, as it is both widespread and willing to accept anyone who wishes to praise Tiamat. Despite this, the Ivory Claw remains only the second largest sub-cult, after the Red Hand, as its strength is constantly being expended on ceaseless raiding and acts of brutal devotion, activities which have increased exponentially in recent years. Nevertheless, it is perhaps the most quickly replenishing and vigorous, and its agents will be those which opponents of the cult will face most in open combat until the Red Hand receives orders to march on the Sword Coast.

 The Ivory Claw likes to portray itself as a welcoming family of faith and community, that offers purpose to those that join (at least to potential recruits, to its victims it is little more than a pack of slavering barbaric raiders), though it is clear to anyone joining that this ‘family’ has a very cruel and vicious streak. Each new recruit is inducted into a ‘warrior band’, a tribe-like group of warriors led by a Dragonfang. This band sleeps together, eats together and fights together. It expects every member to welcome a new recruit, and will provide them with new clothes, weapons and (very) brief training in how to use them. After this the generosity of the cult quickly ends, with the recruit being granted few rights or privileges, left at the edges of the campfire, as the more experienced cultists laugh and carouse amongst themselves. The new member is expected to join in the cult as it engages in its ritualistic acts of worship, before being thrust to the frontlines of the next raid. If they survive their first ‘blooding’ their status in the band improves, and they begin to be allowed to join the band proper, granted limited privileges over unblooded recruits and a small portion of loot- though nothing more valuable than a silver piece.

All this time the Dragonfang or one of their four lieutenant Dragonwings will be observing the new recruit, as well as any other recent inductees, ensuring that they integrate well into the group and begin to earn their place, and that they display no signs of disloyalty or subterfuge. Any suspected spies are dealt with brutally and immediately. A cultist that survives five successful raids, in which they manage to achieve at least one kill (slaughtering civilians is fine), or otherwise comport themselves with ferocity and fanaticism, will get promoted through the ranks to become a Dragonclaw- an eponymous ‘ivory claw’, and is inducted in the arts of draconic magic. New Dragonclaws are apportioned a greater share of loot and may even take slaves for themselves on raids.

From here, a Dragonclaw must prove itself in the eyes of the Dragonfang in command of the band- those that show sufficient skill and devotion are further promoted to Dragonwing, usually upon the death or promotion of another Dragonwing. A Dragonclaw is welcome to challenge a Dragonwing to a duel for their position as well, though this rarely ends well for the Dragonclaw, as the duel is to the death and Dragonwings are skilled and magically empowered combatants. Ascension to the rank of Dragonfang occurs when a Dragonwing challenges and defeats the current Dragonfang of a warband, and then is granted full authority of the position when the band is next visited by a Dragonsoul, or on rare occasions, the Wyrmspeaker.

 The Ivory Claw, though it seems simple and barbaric, actually implements a large number of highly effective tools to turn new recruits into frothing fanatics, loyal only to the Claw and Tiamat. These strategies were devised by [Redacted] ’s lieutenants and a number of veteran recruiter and organisers from the old Cult of the Dragon and Church of Tiamat. The creation of the warrior bands, as described above, is but one of the tactics used by the cult to indoctrinate their followers, making a follower feel isolated when separated from their newfound ‘family’, and only complete when working within their band. Each band is too small, with perhaps 50-100 or so members, to effectively rebel, and the leaders of each band are incentivized to seek to join the ranks of the Dragonsouls.

Mandatory participation in vile rituals of sacrifice and torture leads the cultists to feel they have crossed a line and can never return to normal civilized society. The leadership of the Claw distributes psychogenic and hallucinogenic drugs that make cultists feel both elated and truly spiritually aware and savage during religious ritual and before combat, leading to the cultists anticipating and demanding both, as well as creating an addictive tie to the cult. The nature of the drugs is a deliberately kept secret in order to ensure that the cultists can never fulfil their addiction without the help of the cult and their warband. Cultists are encouraged to engage in sexual and brief but fierce emotional relationships with other cultists, in order to tie them even more emotionally to the cult. Contact with family members and friends from one’s old life is forbidden, with the exception of those that may be open to recruitment.

 It is commonly said that there is no leaving the Ivory Claw but through death, by both the Claw’s members and its foes alike. If a member of the sub-cult attempts to flee the band, the entire group will drop what it’s doing and hunt them down, and entire villages have been raised for harbouring a single fugitive ex-Claw. Cultists are encouraged to hate theses ‘traitors’, and whenever a band suffers set-backs, it is often blamed on hidden spies and traitors in their midst.

The Claw is often deployed to support other bands of cultists and will often be recruited by Wearers of Purple to accompany them on missions for the Cult. They are often treated as little more than expendable fodder, but the bands follow slavishly nevertheless, fanatical in their worship of dragons, Tiamat and the Cult of the Chromatic dragon. Otherwise, the Ivory Claw is left to reave and raid as directed by their local Dragonsoul and wearers of purple, typically in areas that are away from major population centres but contain many isolated populations of humanoids. Some accompany Jade Fang diplomatic expeditions to treat with ‘barbaric’ tribes in the far north and other lands, as both security and to impress those tribespeople with the cults’ similar way of life.

The leadership of the Claw has an entirely different mien from the cult at large. Chosen for a completely different set of characteristics, those of Dragonsoul and Wearer of Purple rank are usually proficient warriors, but also circumspect and manipulative social climbers and leaders. Contrary to the beliefs of most of the Claw’s cultists, they often are promoted from outside the organisation, taken from sub-cults such as the Jade Fang or Sable Eye, and a great many are members of the old guard of the Cult of the Dragon, or agents introduced by [Redacted] himself. These leaders have a better grasp of strategy and work to ensure the brutal fanaticism and savagery of the cult is directed where it is most valuable, while also letting bands remain mostly self-sufficient and independent. The leaders treat with each other in comfortable safe houses in isolate regions of Faerun, where they live lives of luxury while protected by an elite caste of fanatically loyal berserkers, culled from the ranks of the Claw. From these places they organise raiding, recruitment and coordination with the wider cult.

The current Wyrmspeaker, Varram the White, is a dwarf that was once a Battlerager, and integrated many of that cult of warriors’ doctrines and tribalistic worldviews into the Ivory Claw’s indoctrination techniques. He considers himself more of a philosopher and researcher of people than a cultist and will often spend long periods observing the behaviour of prisoners and cultists when put into cruel and unusual circumstances. Nevertheless, he is prone to fall into rages when provoked, struggling to deal with the anger issues that originally led him down the path of the Battlerage, linked to the death of his wife and child at the hands of bandits. He uses these rages in a constructive manner, however, to understand what might provoke his followers into similar states of mind when required. This led him to create a creed of dragon-touched berserkers dedicated to Tiamat within the Ivory Claw, which can fall into great but controlled rages and serve as bodyguards for many of the more senior members of the claw, and as shock troops for the cult. This achievement led to his elevation to the position of Wyrmspeaker of the Ivory Claw, but he has been struggling to manage the position and maintain control over the sub-cult.

The success of the Ivory Claws methods of indoctrination and recruitment has led to other cults to adopt many of their practices. The ranking structure of ‘Dragonclaw’ to ‘Dragonsoul’ has widely been adopted as a way of designating rank and cult secrets to cultists. The Sable Eye, the Jade fang and the Azure Wing have their own ‘warbands’ of cultists that take in recruits in a manner akin to the Ivory Claw

 Wearers of Purple

 Without central organisation, the 5 ‘Heads’ of the cult would be little more than a squabbling group of loosely affiliated factions. Recognising this problem, [Redacted] co-opted the wearers of purple from the Cult of the Dragon and made them into a special caste within the Wider Cult. These individuals have authority and power invested in them to demand obedience from any member of the cult, aside from other Wearers of Purple and the Wyrmspeakers. The Wyrmspeakers have the authority to appoint normal cult members to the rank of Wearer of Purple, but to do so requires a special ritual, where the prospective member is granted access to the innermost mysteries of the Cult of the Chromatic dragon.

A Wearer of Purple therefore often leads specific cult activities that require a multifaceted approach beyond which individual sub-cults could provide, such as finding long-lost magical artefacts, coordinating raiding activities, gathering and moving resources or organising assaults against powerful targets. One Wearer of Purple cannot overrule another from a different sub-cult, so most groups of each sub-cult of any importance are assigned a wearer of purple to oversee operations and command any auxiliaries from other sub-cults. When Wearers of Purple in the same sub-cult disagree, the most senior (whomever received initiation as a wearer of purple first) is granted authority, but only while they are present.

Each Wearer of Purple is (usually) associated with a specific colour of chromatic dragon and sub-cult and is given a title loosely based on the colour of dragon they favour. For example: Tallis the White, Langdegrosa Cyanwrath, Alson the Argent.

 The Wyrmspeakers  

The Wyrmspeakers are wearers of Purple that have been placed at the head of each of the Cult of the Chromatic Dragons. Charged with ultimate authority over their own faction, and charged with ensuring that the ultimate goals of the Cult are achieved, they are promoted based on the merit of achievement, and the leaders of the Jade Fang, Ivory Claw and the Sable Eye have been replaced multiple times as their Wyrmspeakers have fallen out of favour for one slight or another. Only the Red hand (whose Wyrmspeaker is [Redacted] ) and the Azure Wing have retained their Wyrmspeaker since the Chromatic Council.

 Dragons

 Given the Cult of the Chromatic Dragons focus on serving dragonkind, most drakes in their service do so voluntarily, out of lust for power, promises of wealth or sheer boredom. Some serve out of coercion, as the Cult has stolen their eggs, mate, or some other emotionally valuable item to them, but such practise is frowned upon by the cultists. Most of the factions of the Cult prefer to associate with those dragons of the hue that their faction is associated with and make great promises and bribes to acquire their services on raids. As the power of the cult has increased, so has the number of Dragons pledging loyalty to it. Some metallic dragons have even sided with the cult, mostly out of the belief that they could use the renewed rule of dragons to improve the lot of the smallfolk, though some have joined out of fear as well. The former are often unaware of the cults ultimate plans, while the latter are.

#dnd #tyranny of dragons #hotdq #hoard of the dragon queen #the rise of tiamat #rot #tod #d&d #dungeonsanddragons #cultofthedragon #cultofthechromaticdragon #arkhan #neronvain #rezmir #galvan #varram #dragons

[captaincleverusernamehere]

i love my school dnd party...

all i had planned for today’s session was a quick hunting trip, since one of the players wasn’t available. They ended up bargaining for their lives and earning themselves a probationary position in the Cult of the Dragon. And also killed two giant elks.

#last session they all got taken hostage because one of the sorcerers snuck into the tent where almost ALL of the inner circle was at the #moment; got herself and everyone else captured; and they all depleted literally all of their spell slots because they were against #frulam mondath; azbara jos; and rezmir and cyanwrath AND all the guards outside the tent #literally the only reason they weren't executed is because the frulam is the mother of the sorcerer who snuck in #which is something that at this point the sorcerer suspects but doesnt know for certain. i can't wait to confirm it when she comes back #anyway yeah thats all im just so happy with this campaign #even though it's supposedly like the most hated published module fgsjhdh. we're having fun with it #:) #dnd #dnd dm #hoard of the dragon queen #tyranny of dragons #cult mention #school

[fisyx]

My d&d party just pulled off a heist (more like a pickpocketing) that almost went horribly wrong but they turned it around in the best way, all survived and got out with the object they needed and I'm glad because my heart couldn't take much more of that

#thank fucking tyr #that was nerve wracking #that encounter could've been a tpk #but more likely at least one death #but they avoided that mostly #dnd #d&d #dnd 5e #hotdq #hoard of the dragon queen #rezmir's fucking pissed

[beethereal-knight]

Commissions! One for a fashionable kobold and another for an armored-up Rezmir with resurrection issues

#my art #pathfinder #dnd #kobold #commissions #dragonborn #character design

[istadris]

Highlights of last D&D session:

Expectations: a brave group of competent adventurers cleverly outwitting the cult of the Scaled Tyrant despite the odds and trials set on their paths. Reality: 35 minutes of debate in a swamp ending up on “The matter is settled, we are NOT eating any bullywugs legs!” “Just because you don’t have any culinary curiosity doesn’t mean it’s necessarily cannibalism !”

DM: “You’ll need some rp and a good roll to convince your patron” Warlcok: “Nat 20!” Barbarian OOC : “Holy shit you sugar daddied his ass !”

Once again, the patron’s Warlock breaks the 4th wall and reaches into our reality, this time by giving shitty rolls to all of our Fighter’s attacks to compensate for the Warlock’s excellent rolls.

Fighter: “I’m going upstairs” Barbarian: “I’m sure this won’t end well for her again so I’m following her (spoilers: I was right)

“Anyway he’s racist so we’re punching him”

(while planning how to kill in a spectacular fashion the bullywug shaman to win over lizardfolk while scaring the rest of the bullywugs into submission) : “I can put him on the tower’s windowsill,  sigh “the things I do for loyalty” and then push him.

Fighter : “Barbarian, Ranger’s Wolf, I choose you!!”

“My pseudodragon is upset we had to use his food as giant lizard bait” “Your pseudodragon is a pet, he doesn’t get to voice his complaints so he shuts the fuck up” “He’s a sentient and sensible creature with rights!” “He may be sentient and sensible but he still ain’t got no rights”

Who would win: Two high-ranked cultists casters with several spells to protect them while hindering and damaging their enemies Or 1 angry barb

The plan : sneak into the castle, kill a bullywug shaman to win the lizardfolk to our cause, try to keep a couple of cultist lieutenants alive for questioning but not Rezmir,  the half-dragon leading the cell, because she would be too fanatic to answer, all of this as sneakily as possible.

The results: Two dead lieutenants, the entire castle alerted, ending the session with half of the cultists surrounding us, haven’t even found the shaman, “guess we’ll have to try our luck capturing Rezmir alive”

#dnd adventures #dnd #d&d #Rasmina

[darkelfshadow]

The sword you took of Rezmir in Skyreach Castle.

#D&D #DnD #5th #5e #HOTDQ

[wrathoftiamat]

CY TRANSCRIPTS – SESSION ONE

Cy's meeting with Drea and Morena.

DREA: Come In CY: You wanted to see me, my lady? DREA: I did. Did you come alone? [BEAT] That's fine. Cylanestriel, how did you like your taste of being above ground? CY: It's incredibly bright I'll be honest. DREA: It is. CY: Are you sending me back out? DREA: I believe you're ready. CY, straightening up another inch: Ready for? DREA: Ready to go out there and do our work. CY: That's an honor; did you call me here to tell me I graduated? DREA: I brought you here to tell you I had a job for you. CY: A job? DREA: Well you know about the collection efforts. I have something of a crown piece I would like you to find.It would be a thorn in the side of our enemies and would do us good. It's an artifact of the first world. Bahamut's artifact. A sword, ornate called Holy Avenger. I want you to demoralize them. CY: Oh I'm good at that. DREA: I know you are. CY: I'll be taking away his teeth effectively. Do you know where it is? DREA: Typically the weapon is stored in Waterdeep but there is a grand melee taking place and they've temporarily moved its location. Our sources say they moved to Greenrest. CY: I'm familiar, I lived there briefly. DREA: Very interesting, what were you doing in the area? CY, realizing she's given away something private: I had moved there for training initially. There was another paladin of Bahamut there at the time. I think he's since moved on. (Cy intentionally lies about the gender and identity of this person.) DREA: There must be some feelings there for you. CY: Perhaps, but it's more of an asset to already know the area.

At this moment, Morena Eclissi rushes into the room.

DREA, watching her critically: Where were you? MORENA: I'm sorry, I slept in. CY: Did you get some rest? MORENA: Yeah, I got rest. I'm rested.

Drea gestures for her to sit. Morena quickly obeys.

DREA: The two of you will be going to Greenrest. Cy will go first, and Morena will be a few days behind. CY: Why? So we don't attract more attention? DREA: There's more to be gained in Greenrest than just an artifact. You will have to pass on your own as a civilian for a while. Don't let them track back to us. There is a civilian there who is uncovering secrets that I don't want getting out. Rezmir is on the case. Your sole duty is to retrieve Holy Avenger. You set out immediately. Rezmir, Morena, and a retinue will be following later with a dragon. CY: This is an invasion isn't it? DREA, smiling: Yes, but you come right back. Questions? CY: I don't think so. Thank you for the trust and communication.

She shoots Morena a curious look, trying to gauge whether she is okay. Morena shrugs. Cy is excused and leaves the room, but lingers past the door to eavesdrop.

DREA, smug: Did something keep you up last night? MORENA snorts: Won't happen again. DREA: No I expect it won't. Remember; Cylanestriel is silent, your goal is anything but. I need you to get their attention and be a big enough distraction that Cy can leave undetected. And I have every faith in you. MORENA: Is there anything else I should know? DREA: Nothing that comes to mind, you have time to wait.

#campaign: transcripts #ch: cylanestrial blackwood #npc: morena eclissi #npc: drea silrajin

[voidsteeth]

"I'll come for you."  

The first words between them in months.  Years?  I'll come for you.  And it was a stupid cryptic note that could have been just as much a threat as it was a promise.  

He would know that handwriting anywhere.  If he smelled it he knew he'd smell cinnamon and fresh ink on old parchment.  And the slightest scent of magic.  Of Weave.  The smell so distinctly *him* that.  That…  that he feared would make him break down again.  

And once was plenty enough.  Especially after getting caught by Caeden.  Sniveling like a child who had been told no.  Moth was older than that.  Better than that.  He shouldn't cry over some note left mysteriously to him.  He shouldn't cry over some man from his past.  

But here he was.  Watching the dwarf burn the room in holy fire.   Note clutched in his hand.  And he felt...  Small.  Hopeless.  Hopeful.  Like a great weight sunk down in his chest.  Like a lightness filled him.  He wanted to throw up.  Instead he changed.  Unconsciously.  Into his human guise.  The one he grew up wearing.  The one he spent his whole life as.  The one he knew him as.  

Memories flooded him with the scent of the fire burning away the room like he so wished he could his past.

"Careful, the ink hasn't dried yet."  He said as Morgan picked up the spell tome.  The ink could still run and it would ruin hours of work if he so much as lifted the page.  The mage's writing so precise and neat.  

"You know I won't hurt it."  Morgan smiled and rested his hip against the table.  "I just want to admire this for a little bit."

He sighed and stared at Morgan's jutting hip bone.  "You're being like this on purpose."  

"I am."

"How can I get my book back?" 

 Morgan traced the symbols and runes as he hummed.  Each line of writing.  His finger just barely dodging the drying ink.  "I'll give it back for a kiss."

He snorted and shook his head.  "You're a brat you know.  Come here."  

In one fluid movement Morgan put the book back down and slid onto his lap.  

"Are you going to go to bed?"  Caeden asked snapping Moth out of his memories.  

"No.  I.  I'm going to stay up a little longer."  

"Well, get some rest, okay?"  There was concern there.   But also a tiredness he couldn't cover.

"Yeah…"  He couldn't rest.  Not looking or feeling the way he was.  Not with the note clutched so firmly in his hand that his palm would bruise.  

He slumped on the floor there, back against Rezmir’s door and watched the room as the fires slowly pittered out.  When sleep did eventually find him, his dreams were a cacophony of jumbled memories. 

“What does this word say?”  He asked from his spot on his friend’s lap.  Somehow they had gotten into the habit of sitting on the floor, with books and parchment spread all around them.  Morgan sprawled out on his stomach on Argos’ lap reading, while Argos used his back as a makeshift table.  It was comfortable in its own unusual way.  For the most part Morgan was as still as possible to give Argos a good surface to write on.  But when he had a question about some word he didn’t understand he would shift and wiggle to get his attention.  Like he did now.

Argos looked over, scratching at Morgan’s lower back like he would a favoured pet.  Morgan was learning Common this day.  And Argos smiled at it.  After all, it was his idea for his lover to know it.  “Just in case.”  He would say.  Though Morgan never knew what “just in case” meant.  He had no plans of leaving Thay.  Not while Argos and his father were here.  Not when they could build a life together here.  Raise griffon kitlings.  

Except Morgan didn’t trust them after one cantankerous one tried biting off his hand once.  Maybe kitlings would be nicer.  Or at least less dangerous.  

“Which one?”  “This one.”  “You’re still getting caught up on this?”  Argos laughed but it was soft and kind. “I know, I know I’m hopeless.  But you still love me right?”  “Of course.  Always.”

~~~ “I don’t know about this…”  Morgan started, looking through the open slit in the door.  The room beyond was full of people.  Idling and milling.  Talking in small groups and laughing.   Some of them had shorn hair, some of them did not.  All of them wearing bright and vibrant red.

“Morgan, trust me, they’ll love you.”  Argos leaned down and kissed the tip of his pointed ear.  Pointed still from the reveal that he wasn’t human.

“They’ll think I’m a favoured pet you mean.”  The smaller of the two said, venom in his voice, his body stiff and leaning back against the solid chest of the wizard.  “They won’t.  They won’t.”  He put his hands on Morgan’s upper arms and stroked them up and down trying to comfort his lover.  “They’ll just see me with the most beautiful man in all of Thay and they’ll be jealous.  Especially if you wear these.”  He let go of Morgan briefly to fiddle with something in his robes.  Morgan turned to look at him and watch as he took out a small box and lift the lid.  

Delicate laced metal sat in the box.  Decorated by little flowers and moths, that almost looked like they were alive.  Gold, of course, to match the earring Morgan gave Argos not too long ago.  “Ear cuffs?”  He asked quizzically.

“Yes.  They’ll hide your ears so you just look like a human, and no one will give you a second look.  Well they might.  But that’s because you’re very handsome.”  

Morgan bit his lower lip as he stared at the cuffs like they were a noose.  Like a collar that was already wrapped too tightly around his neck.  A commitment he was afraid to make.  Not to Argos.  But to the whole of Thay.  This was his coming out party.  And soon everyone would know that the mad hermit had a son.  “They’re beautiful…” “They’ll look even more beautiful on you - here, let me help you put them on.”  Argos took them from the box, and delicately wrapped each one around Morgan’s ears.  Though his hair was long enough to hide them, they still poked through the dark locks.  Argos smiled despite this, and kissed Morgan slowly, as if nothing in the world mattered but him.  As if they were the only two people in the world and there wasn’t a gathering of Red Wizards and Argos’ other friends in the other room just beyond this door.  

Morgan whined and reached up to pull lightly on Argos’ hair.  Something which he knew his wizard liked.  And something to hopefully get out of this party Argos had planned for him.  Argos groaned and leaned in, pushing Morgan against the wall.  Bracing his arm next to Morgan’s head so they could stand chest to chest.  

“You’re not getting out of this that easily.”  Argos mumbled against his lips.  “Come on.  The sooner we get this started, the sooner it’ll be over.  And how much happier you’ll be for it.  Come on, they don’t bite.” “You said that about the griffons”  Morgan muttered following him through the open door.

~~~

Morgan laughed, reaching up to touch Argos’ scalp.  His head was freshly shaved and the beginnings of tattoos were starting to decorate it.  Thick dark lines and delicate small runes.  “What have they done to you, my love!”  

Argos smiled.  Beamed.  He was proud of what had happened earlier that day.  “You know Red Wizards don’t keep their hair like the black cavalry does.” “But that was your best feature!”  Morgan bemoaned, tracing the ink along his head.  Each and every line was a new mark to map on his skin.  “I thought I was going to marry a handsome man!  Now what am I to do?” “You want to marry me?”  Argos spluttered and pulled away.  Golden eyes wide with surprise. “Well of course I do.  Unless there’s someone else that you’ve kept from me?”  Morgan arched an eyebrow looking suddenly serious and very upset.  It had always been them.  Them together since boyhood and nothing would come between them.  Nothing *could* come between them.  

“No!  No it’s not that I just-”  Argos hid his face behind his hands and Morgan burst out laughing.  Pulling his hands away and leaning up for a kiss.  

“I’ll still love you, even if you have no hair.”

~~~

Argos paced the small living space while Morgan dusted and organized his father’s bookshelf.  They were frustrated with each other.  This was the only point of real contention between them.  

“Join the Red Wizards with me.”  Argos said after a lifetime of pacing. “You know I haven’t the mind for magic.”  Morgan replied cooly.  This was not the reason Argos said he wanted to visit.  And it grated on him that he had been caught like this unawares.  So he focused on his chores and making sure the library was as neat as possible.

“I can teach you though!  You can be my apprentice!”  Morgan looked over finally and glowered.  This had been going on for the better part of half an hour.  

“If my father can’t teach me, then what makes you think you can?”

“I got you to learn common.”

“And he taught me infernal.  What’s your point?” “My point is that I’ll miss you and you should be by my side.”  Argos was exasperated.

Morgan put the book he was holding down and leaned his weight on his hip.  Arms folded.  “Do you really think your lich would allow an elf into his ranks as a Red Wizard?  I’ve seen how the military treats non-humans, Argos.  It’s not good.” “You’re not - he’s our lich, Morgan.  And he’s not that bad.”  Argos went to run his hands through his hair, but scratched his scalp instead.  The tattoos that covered his head had long since been finished.  “Listen, you're sneaky.  You could be a spy.  It’d be fine.” “And still not a human.  Open your eyes, Argos.  The best place I can be is here in my father’s lab.  Or do you want me treated like a slave?” “You’re already his slave!”  Morgan sucked in a sharp breath and looked away.  It was a sore spot for him that his father used him as a tool as much as he treated him like his son.  But the blow wasn’t softened any coming out of his lover’s mouth.  Argos realized his mistake immediately and stumbled over his words.  “I- Morgan I’m-” “Get out.”

Argos took a step closer, arms open and hands spread.  If Morgan allowed it, he would wrap his arms around him, and hold him tightly.  Kiss his hair and stroke his back.  But Morgan was in no mood for niceties.  Even from Argos.  “Morgan, please I’m sorry I-” “Get.  Out.”

The wizard ceded ground then, and nodded despite Morgan still looking furiously away.  He lingered in the doorway of the cottage, words hanging off his lips if only he dared to speak them.  And left.

#drabble #angst #more moth writing weeee #also known as a collection of memories half remembered

[the-starkindler]

So I guess I could upload some of my older art (back from when I had other Tumblrs/art names lol) This is my beloved Rava, a Valor Bard that I used in the Hoard of the Dragon Queen/Rise of Tiamat campaigns for 3-4 years. Shown left is the very first concept art for her in 2014, and on the right is a concept of her ‘reborn’ design as of 2018. SPOILERY THINGS AHEAD FOR RISE OF TIAMAT/HOARD OF THE DRAGON QUEEN!

 I was a noob at 5e when I made her, and didn’t realize homebrew was a thing. DM doesn’t really homebrew, so he told me to use the racial traits of a Tiefling, so I suppose that’s what I’ve always considered her. She actually started life as a literal goat, until a wizard accidentally made her a sentient humanoid child. Not only did this wizard decide to study her cognitive growth and development, but he ended up becoming a father figure to Rava as well. After his passing when Rava was 16, she set out to make a living for herself, and found that not everyone was welcoming to someone as unusual as she was. She took to a life of petty thievery, prostitution, and of course, busking the streets of wherever she was. She made quite the name for herself, and eventually took up weapons for a life of adventure to expand her horizons. Her goal in life has always been to just have fun and practice her craft; and of course get famous. She fell in with a party of travelers who are eventually tasked with stopping the summoning of Tiamat, and in the process acquires the black dragon mask upon killing Rezmir. Rava had hoped to obtain all of the masks for herself, but she never gets that chance... Just before the party headed to their final battle, they made a quick side quest in hopes to obtain some magical item that might help them in the fight against Tiamat, should the cult succeed. It is here that Rava was killed by a vampire, and in the process, the vile magic in the place she died cursed her so that even if she were resurrected, she’d only die again days later and her soul would be shattered. The final fight was supposed to be this epic heroic thing, and it ended up being much more somber and desperate (and epic in that sense that it was so tense and so amazing when it was over). Thankfully, the party was barely able to stop Tiamat as she was being summoned; with only 2/5 players left conscious, Rava fired the final blow, embedding an arrow into the left eye of Tiamat’s red head. The fight now over, there was the issue of the portal that did not close with the defeat of Tiamat. Long story short, the aforementioned fused dragon masks were brought to Rava, and she being the only person present to have attuned to one of them was the only one able to close the portal. That meant going into the Nine Hells and not being able to come back the way she came; if at all. Her friends, of course, were all intending to go with her, but a powerful NPC ally held them back at Rava’s request. Rava closed the portal, but all went dark for her. Her soul was shattered, and scattered across multiple places in the Nine Hells.  Bahamut, seeing this, was able to retrieve her body and belongings, keeping her physical body preserved until her friends can put her soul back together. We were going to have a homebrew campaign that dealt with this quest, but we never got to see it through. So I’m writing my own ending. Rava is made whole again, and she obtains all the masks. Being a magic item attuned to her, when she wears it, it doesn’t appear as a mask on her face. It instead fuses to her, giving her draconic features like iridescent scales on her body and ridges on her horns. (Also sidenote, the white fade in her hair symbolizes/is a side effect of her death) During the game, I told my DM I wanted Rava to earn a title or nickname to be known as. She had no surname, until that time. She eventually was known as Dragonsong. Her friends used some of their remaining funds to erect a statue in Waterdeep in her honor. Shit was rad man, I miss that game.

#my art #starkindler studio #rava dragonsong #d&d #i guess it homebrew lol