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inc0rrectmyths · 10 months

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Laxman and Shatrughan sick fic.

(Modern Day AU)

Note: artemis and apollo won in the poll, but since @hobgoblin-meat provided me with Hanuman and Vibhishan hcs. So i owe him this cuz he requested it :)

and also ik this is really bad lmao, I wrote it in a hurry but hope you like it.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was one of those days when Ram and Bharat and their wives were off to work at the same time. Meaning Laxman and Shatrughan were left all alone and were expected to take care of the house.

Laxman had proposed the idea of him going out to get some snacks for them. It was raining heavily outside but Shatrughan after refusing for a few times did agree to the plan.

"I will be back in fifteen minutes, Shatru. Don't worry for me. " Laxman said as he jumped out into the rain and Shatrughan saw his figure disappear in the foggy, rainy weather.

Shatrughan said a quick prayer to Indra and walked inside to close the windows. Or bhabhi Sita will be annoyed because of wet curtains.

An hour passed away but Laxman was nowhere to be seen. And Shatrughan started worrying about his brother. He knew his brother had an allergy from rain water. And to top it all, it was raining more profusely than before.

The boy decided it would be good to stand outside the gates and look for his brother. And he was correct. Just minutes after standing near the gates, with an umbrella in hand. He spotted his brother. A bag in his hand. Walking weakly towards him. Forgetting about the rain, Shatrughan ran towards Laxman, the umbrella falling from his hand.

"What in the heavens Laxman? " he supported his brother. Laxman was drenched and his body felt hot.

"I thought the rain would stop, so I didn't bother to take an umbrella. " he muttered weakly.

"You're an idiot. You know you have allergies. It's kicking in. Your body is boiling. "

The duo walked slowly inside the house. Shatrughan and Laxman had almost the same physical proportions and it was hard for the younger one to lift up the older one. So in a painfully awkward way, he supported his brother and climbed up the stairs to their shared bedroom. He gently placed Laxman on his bed. Quickly running to the washroom and grabbing a towel to dry himself and the sick idiot who sat and coughed on the bed.

"How are you feeling? " Shatrughan asked, his hands slowly drying his brother's hair with the towel.

"Terrible. My head hurts, my limbs hurt, everything hurts. " Laxman said weakly, his voice hoarse.

Shatrughan's anger finally went away as he finished the drying session and sat beside his brother. Slowly touching Laxman's forehead. They both shared an understanding look and Laxman dropped his body on the bed, quite hard. Shatrughan let out a giggle.

"You're a drama queen. '' Shatrughan got up and grabbed the medicine box. Carefully selecting a couple of pills and a cough syrup.

"Do not do anything dramatic. I will be coming from time to time and feeding these to you. Ok? And tell me if you need anything. I'm… " the younger boy trailed off. "I'm there for you. "

He said and left the room. It was not very common for them to be affectionate with each other. Laxman who was always sticking with Ram never actually spent a lot of time with his twin. And it wasn't completely Laxman's fault. Shatrughan himself preferred the company of Bharat over others.

The day went by with Shatrughan handling the whole house alone. Cooking dinner for both bhaiyas and bhabhis, cleaning the house and taking care of Laxman. Since it was an allergy, the fever went away pretty quick. But Laxman still complained about body aches. And after a lot of whining, Shatrughan finally agreed to give him a massage.

"I can't believe you're doing this Shatru. " Laxman laughed, as he enjoyed a good head massage.

"Shut up. Don't tell bhaiya about this. You have a habit of spilling every little secret of ours to Ram bhaiya. "

"As if you don't do the same thing with Bharat bhaiya. " Laxman acted annoyed.

Silence fell upon them. Laxman closed his eyes, trying to avoid the awkward atmosphere.

"You know, you can also spend time with me. We are twins after all. " Shatrughan said, his voice soft, unlike the manly deep voice he actually had. Laxman could clearly hear the pout that was forming on Shatrughan's lips.

"You know I love and care about you, right? " Laxman opened his eyes. Looking directly at Shatrughan. "You are just always so distant with everyone. Sometimes it feels like you only recognize Bharat bhaiya. " Laxman slowly sat up, flicking the pout on Shatrughan's lips.

"Hey! It hurts! " Shatrughan yelled, gently slapping his brother on the arm.

"Sorry. "

"It's fine. But Lax, have you ever considered spending time with me? I was young, the only person I considered mine was you. But you left me for Ram bhaiya. I had no one. And Bharat bhaiya treated me like his son. The love which I wanted from you, I got it from Bharat bhaiya. " Shatrughan was fiddling with his fingers. A thing he did when he was nervous.

"I think we both are at fault. " Laxman held Shatrughan's hands, stopping the constant fiddling.

"Don't use that brain too much with that sickness still in you. I don't want a mad twin. " Shatrughan laughed.

"The only one mad in this house is you. "

"Urmila agrees with me. "

"Shrutakirti agrees with me! "

"Our girlfriends don't have a say in this. Let's just stop. " Laxman raised his hands in defeat.

"Take rest Lax. I don't want the elders to come and find us in this condition. "

"Stay with me. "

"Yeah no way! I don't want your allergy. And also your feet are freezing what the hell. " Shatrughan jumped out of the bed.

"Shatru please I need warmth. Listen to your older brother. "

"We are twins?!? "

"Still I came out first. "

"Die. "

"Don't wanna. I almost died in the war, remember? " Laxman immediately regretted his choice of words. The smile on Shatrughan's face vanished.

"Hey sorry. " Laxman reached out to hold his brother's hand and pulled him closer. Hugging his waist.

"I know it was traumatic for you. We both were young back then. " Laxman rubbed his cold hands on Shatrughan's warm ones.

"Lax, what would have happened if Hanuman failed to bring sanjeevani for you? " Shatrughan whispered, his hands freeing themselves from Laxman's grip, and gently placing them on his brother's shoulders.

"Why think of something that's never going to happen. I'm alive and healthy. In front of you. " Laxman kissed his brother's arm.

"I guess I'm just scared of losing you. I don't like most people, like you said. But my brothers mean everything to me. Ram and Bharat bhaiya are of course almost like a father to me. But you, Lax. You're half my soul. And I can't function without you. I don't hate you Lax. I never did. "

"I know. I know meri jaan. "

"Stop. "

"You'll never lose me. You'll never be alone. I'm blessed to have you as my twin Shatru. I thank the gods everyday. You're forever going to be my favorite. "

"Cheesy stuff ew. Go sleep, I will cover up for us to the elders. " Shatrughan pulled himself away from Laxman's embrace and stepped out of the room, taking a peek in to make sure Laxman was going to sleep.

Oh Narayan, please do not ever repeat something like this. Shatrughan thought to himself. The exchange he had with his brother today was something he never expected.

So I guess Laxman and I do love each other. Interesting. He laughed to himself. Some feelings were better unsaid. And he will make sure that Laxman and him never ever verbally express their love for each other again.

#i used some hindi words #ask me i will translate them #hindu mythology #hindu mythology fanfic #fanfictions #fanfics #ramayan #modern au #laxmana #shatrughana #fluff #sick fic

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themultifandomgal · 2 years

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Sweet Pea- The New Girl pt3

When I wake up I feel like my arms are restricted

"Ahhh your awake. Perfect. As you can see your in the middle of our garden. My guess is the Serpents will be here in the next hour or so” I can feel that I’ve been gaged so I can’t speak. The guy with curly hair walks away and I’m left alone wondering where Veronica is. I sit on this chair for what feels like hours. I’m hoping that the sheriff comes soon.

I hear a twig and start to freak out until I hear Jugheads voice

"Hey YN. You gotta be quiet ok" Jug cuts the rope, but as he does the lights turn on and out walks a woman and the guy who spoke to me earlier

"Hiya Jug. Welcome back to the Southside"

"I thought this bitch might get you to show up. We need to talk"

"No we don't Penny I'm here for YN"

"You sure about that?" Suddenly I'm pulled into Malachais grip, he's holding a bat with nails on to my chest "If you didn't want trouble why have you been sending spies all summer trying to get in our business"

"Just let YN go and we will leave"

"I'll make you a deal. Back off and you can have YN . Unless you want a reply of Riot Night and this time YN will be on the right side" I really have no idea what’s going on right now. I’m absolutely petrified

"Your Jacket. The Southside isn't yours anymore. Take it off or we could always take it off your dead limp body" Penny shrugs

"Fine you can have the jacket just let YN go and stay out of the Northside"

"Oh you don't get to make demands" Malachai says putting more pressure on my chest

"Ahh" I scream being able to feel the nails on the bat dig into my skin

"It's ok baby I'll fix it later" Malachai starts to kiss my neck

"Let her go hobgoblin now" Cheryl says holding a bow and arrow

"You can't tell me what to do" then the nails are ripped out of me as an arrow shoots into his shoulder. I run over to Jughead

"Fine. You want it the hard way. Kill them all"

"Cheryl aim your next arrow between Penny's eyes" Penny puts her hand up to stop the Ghoulies "take one step closer she'll release that arrow. And Cheryl doesn't miss"

"Congratulations you just made the Northside fair game" Jughead takes my hand and leads me towards the others

“Hey are you ok?” Fangs asks with concern in his face

“Of course shes not Fangs. She’s bleeding”

“I’m..” I touch my chest and see blood on my hands “oh..”

“Instead of just starring at her why don’t we get her to the hospital? who knows what was on that bat” Toni takes my none bloody hand and guides me to the truck.

6 months later

I wake up sweating and crying, I had another dream about that night

“Hey, hey, your ok” I’m pulled into Sweet Pea’s arms “the Serpents won’t let anything happen to you. I won’t let anything happen to you” Sweet Pea strokes my hair trying to calm me down “I promise” I sigh

“Thank you Sweets”

“Why don’t we watch something, take your mind of things”

“Yeah, I’d like that” I look up at Sweet Pea smiling

“What shall we watch? your choice”

“Legally Blonde?” I smirk. Sweet Pea groans throwing his head back “orrr we could watch The Princess Diaries”

“Legally Blonde it is” Pea kisses my lips then gets out my laptop and places it on the bed and puts up Netflix

“Thank you Pea, for that night”

“It was all Jughead” I shake my head at him

“Toni told me that it was you who pushed for the Serpents to come and get me. Toni said Jug was going to get his dad to bring me home, but you wanted to make sure I was ok. Thank you Pea”

“I’ll always be on your side and help you. And Malachi won’t ever touch you again” Pea kisses my head. I lean my head on Pea’s shoulder and we begin to watch the movie.

#sweet pea x y/n #sweet pea x oc #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea #riverdale imagines #riverdale

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prettywordsyouleft · 2 years

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Gatekeeper

Pairing: BamBam x female reader

Genre: fantasy / adventure / demon au / romance

Warnings: brief mentioning of past torture / blood / curses and prophecies / this has fantastical characters such as demons, elves, and gods

Word count: 6466

A/N: Welcome to the third week of Frightful October. The theme is Demonology, and this is a continuation of my story last week set in the Enchanted Forest. It is also set in the King of Demons world.

This story could be read alone, but it has a lot of nuances from the previous story that you might wish for more information on.

The King’s Sorcerer | The Huntsman | Gatekeeper | The Secret Library | Stories Told on Hallow’s Eve

A lot of entities in Sheol underestimated his role as Gatekeeper. Whenever they approached the platform that he managed, BamBam could tell their emotions would be one of three things:

1. Shock and awe of the cascading lava waterfalls or bubbling pools that lined the pathways up to each gate.

2. Horror, because not everyone likes lava, BamBam included – it did melt exceptionally well, and he had had one too many run-ins with lava spikes over the centuries.

3. Disinterest in the Gatekeeper himself. Which was fine, he supposed. He wasn’t much to look at upon first glance. Much like any demon, he had decent enough looks, and if he didn’t smile too widely, no one would see the razor-sharp teeth in his mouth right away. His lithe body didn’t remarkably stand out as a weapon, and his good-natured ways often made people overlook how deadly he was.

Because the Gatekeeper was, in fact, dangerous. The King of Demons wouldn’t leave just any demon in charge of his dominion gates, and not anyone could master the precise nature of opening and closing them either. Some had to be routinely checked that they opened still, and others, well, it was better that no one ever entered them – not even BamBam. The Gatekeeper was an important role in Hell, and so many few respected it.

“Surely I don’t need permission to cross into the wild fields from the likes of you,” sneered a hobgoblin, and BamBam sighed heavily.

“No one can enter without permission from the overlord himself.”

“Don’t be so lazy. Just flick the switch!” cried a shapeshifter, throwing their hands up in the air dramatically.

“It’s not as easy as that. Besides, there are levers not switches!��

“I could run this platform more efficiently than you are,” commented a snobbish ogre, and BamBam didn’t even reply. For one, he had no hands, so unless the ogre had a telekinesis gift, it was rather unlikely the gates would open, much less run more productively than they already were.

BamBam was fed up with all the objections to his role. He was deadly, dammit! Didn’t anyone see this?

So, when a strange human dropped onto the centre of the platform, BamBam growled at the interruption to his perusing of a spicy novel. The man had the sense to leap up in fright, teetering on the precipice of a lava bed. His dark eyes scanned the area, and for a moment, BamBam thought the man would shrivel up and die at the teeth he could see gleaming in his mouth.

Instead, he groaned loudly. “For goodness sake!”

“Nothing good about being here, mortal,” BamBam slithered out, still annoyed that the man wasn’t cowering.

No, he looked indignant. As if BamBam was the one who put him out.

“I was told that portal would lead to Casaria! Where the hell am I now?!”

BamBam smirked, shifting closer to the man. “You’re in Hell.”

“Where are your manners?!” cried the fool, and BamBam frowned. “I’m a Lord. Surely you can tell! You didn’t address me properly. Oh, I’ve had the most terrible of times! First, the king promises me a princess if I go into the Enchanted Forest, and then I’m captured by fairies! Can you believe it?!”

BamBam could, in fact, believe it but the man didn’t even stop to let him speak otherwise.

“After the most embarrassing and undignified rescue by some elf creature that looks more devilish than anything I’ve ever seen, I was made to traipse through an unending landscape for two whole months! As if this outfit was made to be worn for more than a day!”

As the man heaved in a deep lungful of air, BamBam observed the once fancy threads were now in tatters.

“Finally, I’m taken to some palace, and they had three portals. I was told to go through the left, but I’ll be blasted to know which is left or right, and now I’m here. I want to go home, and I demand you take me this instance!”

Finally, he was silent.

BamBam had a right mind to torture this man. Not only had he turned up unexpectedly from a portal that he was unaware of, he then unleashed his discourse on BamBam, who had no interest in hearing it, when he had been right in the middle of quite the saucy scene between a demon and angel in his book. For that alone, he should push him into a lava bed and see if he came back out or not. But the last time he had done that, the King of Demons had appeared out of nowhere and decided to throw BamBam in afterwards. It wasn’t an experience he’d like to morph back together from again.

And then he remembered something the man had said. “Some elf creature?”

“Is that all you take from my tirade?! Of course, Elves exist! Didn’t your mother ever read you bedtime stories about the Fae and Elves of the Enchanted Forest?”

“I didn’t have a mother,” BamBam retorted, which made the man blanch when he realised who he was actually talking to. Good. The human needed another dose of fear.

“Good gracious, with a mouth like that, I doubt she’d want to have you suckling at her bosom!”

BamBam bristled. “Now listen here—!”

“Don’t waste your breath on him,” a new, but familiar voice purred, and both males turned to look at the newcomer. BamBam couldn’t help the devilish grin that spread out his mouth.

“Hello, gorgeous,” he crooned, though he only received an eyeroll in return. At least this time you reacted to him in some way. The last time BamBam had seen you, you had acted as if he wasn’t standing by your side at all.

He should find you frustrating, and to some degree he did. But you were nightmares incarnated, and he had always had a taste for such darkness.

The mortal, however, shrieked. “Not you, again!”

“Let me tell you, I’m not much fond of you either, Lord Seokmin. You went through the wrong portal.”

“I demand to be sent back home at once!”

You looked at BamBam, a bored expression marring your stunning face. “Could you send this insect of a man back to Casaria? I’m liable to do damage if I so much as touch him.”

“Insect?! Why I ought to—”

BamBam was already over at the Other Realms gateway, heaving the lever up and to the left a smidge. He then spoke softly to the gate, coaxing it to open and show the bustling capital of Casaria on the other side. Lord Seokmin was relieved at the familiarity and with an audacious glare at them both, marched his way through until the vortex sucked him in whole. BamBam then disengaged the gate and turned back to face you.

“It’s been a while, Curse-Breaker.”

“Not nearly long enough, Gatekeeper.”

“Come now, surely you’ve missed this handsome face of mine,” he teased and grew delighted when your insolent expression twitched in suppressed humour.

You leaned forward to inspect him. “I just can’t seem to find this handsome face you talk of. Where abouts should I be looking?”

“You are the breaker of many hearts, Y/N.”

“And you should just continue working on your acts of seduction.” You nodded to his discarded novel across the way. “Angels do it for you, huh, demon?”

“There is an angel here now,” he announced brightly, then shrunk back a little, waiting to see if the Prince of Sheol had overheard him. Thankfully nothing happened, but he thought to add on just in case, “But she fell from piety for another demon, not I.”

“A pity then.”

“Alas, I much prefer your make of—”

“You know I no longer hold an interest in men, Bam,” you said whisper-soft, and had he not the hearing of a higher entity, he would have missed it. Flashes of the time he had discovered you broken in the human realm beside the floor of a lover rushed to the surface, and you hissed, as if you too were sharing the same vision. Blinking away how that had gone for you and the handsome mortal you had fallen for, BamBam carefully brightened his expression so as not to darken your mood further.

“So, where did the portal come from? It’s not authorised by the King. He’ll be mad.”

“Jaebum doesn’t make me quake in my boots, you know.”

“I should, given I am the Devil,” came the voice of his king, and you both turned to see pure sin walking towards you. BamBam snickered, anticipating what Jaebum would do over this mishap. He certainly wasn’t in trouble. A portal into Sheol was an inconsiderate choice without his permission.

However, you blandly shrugged your shoulders. “I’ve seen you naked, Jaebum. You do nothing to invoke fear into my heart. Nor are you much more than a mediocre—”

“Curse-Breaker, have some tact,” Jaebum urged, glancing between where he came from and BamBam. “My wife thinks differently.”

“So, the news is true? A human softened the heart of the King of Demons?” you scoffed, and thunder filled the air. You didn’t so much as flinch.

“Given your past at softening, shouldn’t you hold a little more respect?”

BamBam wanted to shrink back from this conversation now. He knew his lord had a temper, and from the few experiences he had in your company, it was evenly matched with yours. And whilst he considered himself a dangerous demon, he was also pragmatic about saving his skin, especially since the time the Devil had skinned him of it.

“I’ll just leave you two,” he murmured, not listening to the fight brewing, and backed away step by step.

“Hold, Gatekeeper, I’m not done with your services yet,” you proclaimed a moment later, and BamBam stuttered to a stop.

Jaebum arched an eyebrow. “Since when can you ask for his services without my permission? He belongs to me.”

“Do not act pompous in front of me. I simply came to solve an issue we had caused. If I could just be on my way—”

Suddenly the world around them was flung sideways, and darkness covered them like a cloak. BamBam, uncaring of the argument any longer, launched into action and dashed the familiar pathway back to his control centre. This was the fourth instance of this in the past week, and he needed to figure out what gate was rebelling now. Tempers now forgotten, you joined Jaebum as you both rounded to his side.

“Which gate?!” – “What is going on?”

BamBam didn’t answer you or his king, instead he watched the unrest surge towards the Ancient Realm once more. That was the second time it had done so, the other two firing towards the Human Gateway. Jaebum, having knowledge of which gate was what on the dashboard, let out a string of curses.

“Not now!”

“What is going on?” you repeated more loudly, at the same time as the ground stopped shaking and light filtered back in. You were more frazzled than BamBam had ever witnessed, which you promptly smoothed away with an insolent expression.

“The Gods choose to cause chaos simply at the worst of times,” Jaebum muttered, glaring at the skies above. “They choose to punish me.”

“Is she closer to birthing now, my King?” BamBam questioned, and for once, the Devil answered with a straightforward nod. He had served Jaebum for centuries now, and whilst the man did frighten him, he was also aware of his emotions. The tension in his body didn’t come from your unannounced appearance. No, it was because his human lover that was carrying his child was getting closer to birthing the Antichrist.

He supposed it was also a foreign sense of the unknown for his king pulling his features tight as they were. He was about to become a father for the first time, after all.

“You got her pregnant?!”

“The baby is a blessing and I’ll have you strung up if you think otherwise,” Jaebum snapped, and you had the foresight to nod in agreement.

“I don’t mean disrespect, but surely you realise changes will happen to the realms that you own gateways to. If trouble brews behind them, they will show unrest here.”

“I’m aware, Y/N,” Jaebum answered tiredly, running a hand down his face. “I don’t have the time to solve any issues right now. I have to stay here with my bride. She hardly likes me leaving her side for long as it is. The pregnancy has required more endurance than we both expected.”

BamBam saw you swallow down your retort and gave a calculated but visibly lazy shrug otherwise. “I’ll do it.”

“Do what?”

“Look into the unrest for you. Then we can be even.”

Jaebum’s expression softened. “You never owed me a debt, Y/N.”

“But as an elf, we claim debts for our services. We will be even if I do this.”

“I can’t send you through the gateway alone. Especially into the Ancient Realm. There are multiple steps to unlock.”

BamBam nodded sagely. That was one of the Gateways he hadn’t opened in centuries. He had no desire to either.

You beamed an uncharacteristic smile at him then, and if he hadn’t swooned by such beauty, BamBam should have realised it to be foreboding instead. “Your Gatekeeper is the best in all realms. He can assist me.”

“I am the best— hang on, what did you just say?!”

Jaebum grew thoughtful. “You are not wrong there.”

“I think you’re a little wrong,” BamBam countered, darting his focus between you both.

“And I’m sure many would fail, whilst he would excel in opening locks,” you continued as if he hadn’t refuted the claim.

“Someone needs to man the gates. I’ll stay here. Take one for the team. Send Mark, you trust him best, my liege. Or how about Jackson? He’s a mighty warrior. Is Yugyeom back from the Heavens yet?”

Jaebum smirked. “I’ll have my brother come and look after the gates. He knows them better than I, given he built them. Now, aren’t you always hassling me about wanting to go on an adventure, Bam? Surely, you’re curious about what’s on the other side of that gate.”

“Not particularly.”

“I won’t do it without Bam. He’s the only one worthy to stand at my side,” you announced, staring at him deeply. If he worried about compulsion working on him, he’d wonder if that was what you were doing, but instead, he marinated the word worthy around in his head.

He was a tiny bit curious now.

“Done. You both go looking in the Ancient Realm for why there is such unrest, and I will consult my prophet for any news about what is going on here. If he tells me anything, I will send word to you. I lend my most valuable demon to you now, Curse-Breaker. Please return him to me.”

BamBam glanced at his king in shock. He puffed up his chest in honour and bowed formally to the man before stepping towards his lair to prepare. Your bemused expression held, and BamBam couldn’t help but grin back. “I’ll just prepare for our journey.”

“Pack lightly. We may be gone for some time.”

“I told you that you wouldn’t need that much stuff, Gatekeeper,” you chastised after BamBam had closed the first Gate behind you. Jinyoung was the last face he saw from Sheol, and he didn’t know if he liked that or not. Your sudden chatter seemed odd too, and BamBam realised it was because you were nervous.

He supposed he ought to be too, given the place you were entering.

“Have you been to the Ancient Realm before?” he asked, and you nodded slowly. “Oh, good. We won’t need to find ourselves a guide.”

“My mother was laid to rest here,” you mentioned, blinking several times in a row before smoothing out the emotion. You did it so often that BamBam became aware of all the little moments right before you shut them out. It felt like he was in on a secret, one you let so few see.

“I don’t know much about this realm,” he admitted, walking more confidently than he had sounded before leaving Sheol to the next gateway. He reached into his pocket for the mini version of his dashboard and angled the device near the keyhole. Gears whirled and clunk inside it before settling on a shape. He slotted the key in and turned the lock.

You visibly fidgeted.

“Do you not want to be here?”

“It makes me uncomfortable. The sheer amount of power that resides here…” you trailed off with a shake of your head. “Even I don’t know what to make of it.”

“And the Gods chose to disrupt this resting spot for what reason,” BamBam mused, not really posing the statement as a question as fog seeped up around his legs. Once through another gate, he knew there was only one more, and you were teetering on edge.

He reached out a hand to touch your shoulder and felt how frozen you were. Moving his heavy backpack around, BamBam tugged out a shawl and threw it unceremoniously around your shoulders. You caught it before it slipped off and into the fog. “Thanks. And there was a prophecy once. Not told by your demon prophet, but one from my own court. It spoke of the darkest depths of the world creating new and unforeseen life causing those at rest to seek retribution.”

“You come here for your mother?”

Again, you nodded. “She needs to be our main priority whilst here.”

“What do you mean?” BamBam frowned, pausing in front of the final gate he needed to unlock. You glanced around before closing your eyes. “I’m sorry, Y/N, if I’ve sullied your mood further—”

“I was meant to be queen after my mother’s death. But I have a sister, and she is much better than me in every way.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

You gave him a wry smile. “She has the nicer traits to rule Elventia with. And whilst it was I chosen by the throne on my mother’s death, I abdicated the title. Elventia would be ruled in darkness if I sat on that throne, and our people suffered enough of that under my mother’s reign. She is partially what made me who I am today.”

“Beautiful in every way?” he offered lightly, and you smiled genuinely despite your pain.

“A nightmare, Bam. And whilst I relish in who I am now, I wasn’t once accepting of my shadows, my darkness. I don’t wish my people to be either.”

“Spoken like a true leader. No wonder you and Jaebum get along so well.”

He treasured the dramatic eyeroll you gave him. “Open the gate, keeper. If the prophecy is true, we’re here to seek out my mother.”

“For help?”

You shook your head. “To stop her from seeking out the deadliest retribution.”

“Well, that sounds dangerous.”

“I thought you were the most dangerous demon in all of Sheol?” you posed, as BamBam used his everchanging key once more. He glanced at you cautiously. “You told me that, don’t you remember?”

The vision from earlier came back, and he saw a younger version of you both in that dank stall, his hands pressed across your slashed abdomen. He had talked a lot to you to distract the pain. He hadn’t realised you were listening – or believed him.

Patting his shoulder with your free hand, you gripped the shawl with the other and stepped through into the Ancients. You shot him a determined smile. “I guess we’re about to find out how true you are to your word, Gatekeeper.”

The journey into the new realm was disorienting. Much like in Sheol, the world morphed under their feet as they travelled, leading them through ruined temples, strange and dense greenery, and beside large tombs that gave him more heebie jeebies than the prophet’s lair back in Hell. He’d rather be smited over and over by Jinyoung than enter one of them. It seems like you held the same opinion when you shuddered passing another tomb.

“The Elven catacombs are where we need to head,” you announced some way into the journey, which BamBam was equal parts thankful for the information and hesitant by the thought of going underground. The mausoleum-styled tombs you had already passed were bad enough, and they seemed to be just one level. He hadn’t asked about the destination, and you seemed to refrain from giving him further information to stew over.

He needed a distraction, and fast.

“So do you seek out women now?” he asked, and for a moment, you didn’t deign a response. Then he heard you snort. “What? It’s a fair question.”

“You ask of my love life, demon?”

“What’s so wrong about being curious?”

You side-glanced at him. “Says the male who was keen to stay on his little Gatekeeping platform and not follow me here. I wonder, is it just a little bit of praise that motivates you?”

“I’m not afraid to admit that it does,” he replied, raising his chin a little. “So often am I overlooked in my role. It’s nice to be deemed worthy of something more than turning keys, pulling levers, and assisting entities across the realms.”

“You are worthy,” you murmured, and Bam grinned at you.

“And you are deflecting from my question.”

“I haven’t… with anyone. Not since my mortal lover,” you announced, and BamBam nodded once.

“If it helps, I haven’t either. Apparently, I need to work on my seduction—HEY!” He squawked when he felt hands over his waist, but you were quick to disarm whoever had started to violate him. Turning, he saw a woman in what appeared to be acolyte robes, and eight others now surrounded them.

You canted your head to the side, your elven blade digging into the side of the woman’s neck that you held. BamBam eyed each individually carefully, searching for a weak point in their defence. However, as he was good for, he started to talk, trying to lessen the threat you presented together.

“Hey guys, out on a worshipping stroll, are we?”

“You do not belong here,” one man on his right spoke, and BamBam nodded eagerly.

“You’re right, we don’t, but whilst we’re here, how about being a little more accommodating? I’d say we don’t bite, but I’m pretty sure she does, being an elf and all. I might have all these chompers, but my stomach is really sensitive, so I don’t put in food that won’t settle well. Acolytes are too holy for my tastes.”

“You talk… a lot.”

You snorted. “Tell me about it.”

“I will tell you about it. I get pretty lonely up in my Gatekeeping position.”

“Bam, you’re not helping.”

“Oh, so now I’m not helpful, huh?” he questioned, pouting for effect. He nodded infinitesimally at you, his gaze falling towards the petite redhead on the left. You tracked his observation. “I knew I shouldn’t have followed you and my king’s orders. But here we are amongst some nice people, and you want to call me out like this? Got any more robes free, friends? Maybe I’ll stop being a big bad demon and join your cause instead. Who are we worshipping? Greek Gods? Norse legions? The bogeyman?”

“Does he ever shut up?” another robed person asked exasperatedly, and Bam grinned at her, watching her step back a little at the sharpness of his teeth.

“I can answer that myself. Nope. I hardly ever do. I like the sound of my voice and especially when it’s helpful. Such as now!”

And within a blur, you both had struck – you to the fair maiden to grab someone they were protective of more than the woman you held, and he towards the leader of them all, kicking the man in the back of his leg and disarming him a moment later.

“And look at that, I’m not even out of breath!” BamBam arrogantly proclaimed, tightening his grip on the man now struggling to get out of his control.

“We aren’t what you think!”

“Considering I’ve felt a whole lot of fighting leathers under these robes, I can only imagine,” you mentioned, shedding the robe of the girl you held. She wore a navy set of leathers to a legion he hadn’t seen before.

BamBam winked. “So maybe feeling up women is your thing now.”

The exasperated look you gave him made him chuckle. You pointed your blade at another of the group watching on calmly. “Who are you guardians of?”

“We come together from the forgotten Hallowed lands. My name is Airi, and we are protectors of the Old Gods.”

“Which one are they, again?” BamBam asked, humming slightly. “They all seem pretty old to me.”

“From the lost times of our history. The first Gods that were entombed by the current Gods ruling now.”

“To be fair, I wouldn’t say that where either of us come from, those Gods rule us,” you spat, and Airi nodded softly.

“Agreed. We are here to prevent a prophesied war. If the Old Gods rise, only those from the Hallow will stand to fight.”

“This sounds like a fantasy novel I was reading just last week,” BamBam mentioned, but you shot him a glare, so he stopped with the deflecting commentary. You wanted more information.

“You know of the prophecy too?”

Airi nodded. “Many realms do now. And since the King of Demons has chosen to create new life, we are all on edge about it coming true. We are here to stop such events.”

“Two things. Pretty sure my king didn’t realise having a baby with his queen was such a bad idea,” he mentioned, ignoring the incredulous look many of the warriors gave him. “And secondly, if you’re the ones here to stop the prophecy, we’re doomed. Considering how easily we disarmed you all.”

“It was their trap to make us listen, Bam,” you admitted, loosening your grip on the woman you held. She nodded tersely, glancing at your ears, and then darting over to a comrade.

“Her ears… she looks just like—”

“Don’t. She knows who she is,” Airi stated after some unspoken moment with you. The warrior stepped forward. “We will need your assistance with the Elven Queen. She is the cause of the unrest in these realms.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll have no issue with dealing with my mother.”

They followed the warriors for some time, BamBam carefully watching each of them individually. He had noted their weaknesses and strengths by the time they got to their destination and decided he much liked Airi. The others, whilst obedient enough to their male leader Myos, seemed to gravitate towards the female more. He wondered if they put up a front by having Myos as their visible leader and Airi was actually in charge instead.

You seemed to have great respect for the woman too, and whilst he had been joking earlier about your sexual preference, he was a tad bit jealous that you paid more attention to her than him. He realised he was a creature greedy for attention and praise.

“Mr Demon,” the young maiden whispered, and he glanced at the red-haired girl falling into step beside him. “Are you truly the Gatekeeper of the Realms?”

“Well, just those located in Sheol,” he confirmed, and the girl’s eyes rounded. He supposed he had to be known of in more parts of the universe than he realised. BamBam puffed up his chest again. “It’s a big task and not just any demon can do it.”

“Wow. I never thought I’d see a gatekeeper in all my years.”

“Years? You’re what, sixteen?”

She laughed. “Five hundred and eleven.”

“But you look barely out of your youngling years.”

“We of Hallowed blood age exceptionally slow.”

“Every day is a learning day, isn’t it?” he marvelled as she giggled again.

It was then he realised a moment too late what the girl had observed whilst he had been looking at each of them about his own weaknesses. He had been easily separated from you and entered a chamber without a door once closed. He glared at the entity before him and roared.

“Let me out now!”

“We cannot let the Elven Queen rise from her eternal rest. She holds the key to waking up the Old Gods.”

“I get that and can assure you that Curse-Breaker feels very much the same!”

“Have you ever wondered why your friend was given that name?” the woman folded her arms under her bosom and looked at him critically. “Why would an elf be shrouded in such darkness if her fate was to be anything good?”

“Screw you and your ideals of good and bad. The Gods above are wickeder than any demon I know, yet we’re labelled the bad ones. You’re trying to convince the wrong choir here.”

“Perhaps, but in this case, don’t you think it strange to travel here to stop a queen that’s already dead?”

BamBam threw himself at a wall. It didn’t budge. “Again. Wrong choir,” he gritted out, searching through his panic for a way out. He had to stop, had to think.

“If the queen were to see her daughter again, do you think she would allow her to just walk away without doing what she wants? Your friend was controlled by the queen until she killed her. Do you really think she’ll allow her daughter a second shot at destroying her?”

“I’m about to destroy you if you don’t shut up and let me think!”

“But what fun! Wasn’t that what you tried to do with us?” she asked gleefully, and BamBam decided he hated her. He despised everything in this godforsaken realm, and most importantly that he had let you be taken from him. He made a vow when he found you in the stall years back that if he ever crossed paths with you again that he wouldn’t let someone harm you.

He sure as hell wasn’t going to break that now.

It came to him in a startling moment of clarity, and before the warrior could even blink, he used his nail to cut into the tip of his finger and let his demon blood well. If he was destined to be a Gatekeeper for all of eternity, he should in theory be able to open any barrier before him. He held the belief that his blood could also be a key, and it worked. Not allowing himself the moment to be pleasantly surprised by what he had uncovered, BamBam chose to rely on instinct to find you. He moved faster than he had in a long time, darting down pathways, and pressing his blood to walls that seemed to be in his way. The longer it took, the more ruthless he became until he stopped still in the middle of a room full of eternally slumbering elven elders. He didn’t have to look far to find the one who was your mother. You looked alike and yet so different that it hurt to think of all your unspoken grievances.

“You can’t believe you’re just like her,” he murmured softly and noticed when you came out from behind the lavish glass coffin. He tracked you carefully, noticing how wound up you were. “I don’t even know her, but you’re nothing wicked like her.”

“You don’t know me either.”

“So, you tricked me to come here, is that it? You needed me to open all the doors so you could come and wake up your evil mother one more time to set the prophecy in motion?”

For a moment you didn’t speak true of his suspicions, but then you looked away, and your voice trailed out. “There is a curse on our lands. I am so graciously named to break curses, or did you miss that point?”

“Your name is not Curse-Breaker. It is Y/N. And you mean more to this world than breaking curses. Your sister no doubt believes this too.”

You swallowed back down your emotions. Your expression grew hard, cruel even. “And live with the Fae curse above our heads forever?”

“You will break it another way. You killed her once, why wake her now?”

“Because she planned to use me to waken the gods. I didn’t believe in it, didn’t want to. Turns out I was born to do just one thing in my life.”

BamBam stepped forward, shaking his head at you. “I believe you were born to do many things.”

“Like what?”

“Do you need me to praise you and list off all the reasons why, right now, when we’re in a bit of a dangerous situation?”

You blinked several times but didn’t deny his statement either. BamBam expelled a shaky breath.

“Fine. I’ll tell you. I know you’re the strategist of the family. Your sister no doubt leans on your intelligence and asks you to help her with ruling Elventia. I’ve watched you in strategy meetings in the past, so don’t think I don’t know this about you. I also know you’re fair even when you’re being cruel.”

You laughed darkly. “You saw what came of that human, BamBam.”

“After the way he cut you up, I’m amazed you didn’t take your time inflicting smaller nicks into his body until he bled out. I would have been crueller than you were in making him scream.”

“Perhaps.”

“You say more in your actions than words, and your insolent, broody mask is a cover-up to a wildly sensitive and beautiful female underneath. Who craves attention, the right kind. Who wants to be helpful but can’t abandon her shadows either – the only friends she’s had all her life.”

“E-Enough.”

BamBam was on top of you now, crowding you near the coffin. “I know that I’ve always been attracted to you and that my heart sings wildly whenever you’re near. And that you didn’t need to convince me to come here, I would willingly follow you right into the eye of a deadly storm if that’s where you were heading.”

You were shaking now, and when BamBam reached out for you, you didn’t flinch away. In the smallest voice he’d ever heard from you, you said, “I don’t want to do it.”

“Then let’s not,” he replied, using his powers to lull you into slumber. He picked you up, marvelled at how right it felt to have you in his arms and then turned to leave. He knew the Hallowed warriors would be somewhere, but he didn’t care, not when he had to get you out of here. He would cut them all down before he allowed anyone to harm you now.

In his haste to leave the chamber, BamBam didn’t realise how close he was to an ornamental figure on the wall, nor how a sharp piece of it pierced your skin, two drops of blood spilling to the stone beneath you both.

You roused some days later, much to BamBam’s dismay. Looking around the room you woke up in, you realised instantly you were back in BamBam’s lair. He observed as you clicked the pieces together and gave you a shy grin. “Sorry. I figured the best place for me to watch over you was here.”

“How did we get back?”

“I carried you.” You blanched, looking at his exposed arms. BamBam huffed. “I am stronger than I look!”

“I know, but… the warriors! Did you kill them? They weren’t bad, just working for a different cause.”

BamBam could think of one he’d loved to have killed but shook his head. “I didn’t touch a single one.”

“They let you take me?”

“They didn’t have much of a choice. I created a temporary gateway.”

Your eyes rounded. “You can do that?”

“Of course, I can. I’m not just any Gatekeeper, you know.”

“And I didn’t wake her?”

“Your mother is still sound asleep, and there’s been no further unrest coming from inside the gate.”

You relaxed back onto his bed, pulling the blankets up to your face for a moment. “This scent. It lingered with me for the longest time.”

BamBam sniffed the air, frowning at which scent you meant. He was a rather tidy demon, and the blankets on his bedding were clean enough. You chuckled. “Your scent. You. After saving me, it’s all I could smell for years.”

“Really?”

You nodded. “I never thanked you for opening that gate that day. You helped me first, didn’t you? When he first harmed me. Before I tortured him. You were there before your king was.”

“I was.”

“Thank you, BamBam.”

“Thank you for not hating me for putting you to sleep in the Ancient realm. It was a chance I had to take.”

“As long as everyone is safe,” you said slowly, staring strangely at the wall. He wondered if you were connecting with your sister somehow. You relaxed again, which made him realise all was well. He had done his best and saved the world whilst at it.

“Rest,” he told you and got up, but you grabbed his hand, yanking him down until his lips crashed upon yours. The kiss was briefly intense, and his mind was still spinning even after you smiled at him and fell asleep again.

Stepping back out onto his platform, BamBam felt different. His adventure wasn’t one he was ready to take again any time soon. In fact, if the world could just stay quiet for now, he’d be more than pleased. Especially if he could convince you to spend more time in Sheol before returning to Elventia.

He was mulling over these thoughts when a sudden shadow formed over him, blocking the entire view of the platform. He gulped, looking up at Yugyeom, Sheol’s prophet. He hardly saw the entity unless there was something wrong. And by the look on his stony face, Yugyeom hadn’t quite seen a happily ever after in store for him.

“A mistake occurred whilst you were in the Ancient Realm.”

“A lot of them did, actually,” BamBam agreed apprehensively, nodding in thought.

Yugyeom shook his head. “No, one you didn’t mean to have happen. But it did. And so, the prophecy came true.”

“What? The Elven Queen didn’t wake.”

“She didn’t need to. She wished to break the curse on her family line by the daughter she created with darkness itself. Her blood was the key.”

BamBam turned to look in the direction of you peacefully asleep in his bed. He then glanced back up at Yugyeom.

Yugyeom’s eyes went unseeing, his voice dark and foreboding. “The Old Gods will rise, for Calamity has been born.”

_________________

NEXT: THE SECRET LIBRARY

[Frightful October Masterlist] | [GOT7 Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist]

#kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #bambam fiction #bambam fanfic #bambam scenarios #bambam au #got7 fiction #got7 fanfic #got7 scenarios #got7 au #pwyl; frightful october #frightful october #kpop fiction #kpop fanfic

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theadventuresofgarlandodra · 9 months

Text

The Adventures of Garl and Odra Manyboots- Witch Hunt

Prev.

“Garl. There’s someone at our table. I want her gone.”

Garl grimaced as he lifted his head off the bar just enough to look at his minuscule partner. “Mmm? What’s that? What time is it?” He murmured.

“How much did you drink last night?” Odra rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I got down here, there’s a bitch at our table, and she wants to talk to us. Says she has a job. Are you sober enough to hear it so she’ll leave?”

Grumbling, Garl slipped off the bar stool, cracking his neck before looking up at the corner table that Odra claimed was ‘theirs’. Sure enough, there was someone there- two hobgoblin bodyguards and one fine lady they were accompanying. She had fiery red hair down to her waist, the slit in her dress went up her thigh… she was a sight for mortal and god alike. She spotted Garl and winked, and like that Garl was wide awake. The gargoyle bolted to his normal seat, nearly trampling an unfortunate gnome on his way to get there.

Odra sighed. “Every time it’s a hot one…” she murmured to herself before following her companion. She pulled herself up onto her chair and glowered at the ‘table thief’. “Sup.”

The woman laughed. “Oh, so you are Garl’s partner, Miss Boots.”

“It’s Manyboots.”

The woman ignored the scowling Odra and leaned in towards Garl. “You’re quite a looker, that’s something your fearsome reputation leaves out,” she said.

Garl puffed up a bit. “Flatterer,” he said. Odra fake gagged and Garl whacked the back of her head to shut her up. “My partner mentioned something about a job?”

“Right, of course. Business first, pleasure second.” The woman sat back up. “I’m Anne. I come to you for help because I need two strong fighters to handle this problem.

“I live in an estate in the nearby forest with my mother and sister. We like the peace of living outside of town, but we’ve been haunted by a horrid witch.” Anne fanned her face. “She’s a horrid thing, sacrificing animals and impaling what’s left of them on tree stumps, poisoning our food stores, and worst of all, seducing our stable boys out into the fog where they’re never seen again… I…” Anne wiped a tear from her eye, “she stole my love from me. The man who meant the world to me, and I’ve never seen him again!”

Odra gritted her teeth. “So, kill the witch?” She guessed. “Easy ‘nough, but it’ll cost extra- stone dumbass has a magic weakness.”

“That’s the other half of this job.” Anne tapped her fingers together and smiled sheepishly. “The witch… my mother wants to speak with her. She wants to know why she’s targeted our family, how we possible could have wronged her.”

… Fuck a duck.

“You want us to capture the witch? Alive?” Odra scoffed. “Lady, I doubt you have that gold for that-”

Anne snapped her fingers and one of the hobgoblins proceeded to rest a bag of gold about the size of Odra’s head on the table. She took out a few handfuls and placed it on Odra’s lap before repeating the action with Garl, only with a little more leaning forward and winking.

“That’s the down payment. You’ll get the rest of the bag when you bring us the witch.”

Odra stared at the gold on her lap before she snatched it up and grinned. “Done. Where’s the bitch?” She asked, tucking the coins in her shirt.

Anne beamed.

“Thank you so much! The witch roams close to our home, you’ll find her easiest in the evening and night, when she’s on the hunt…”

~*~

Three days of tracking and at the stroke of midnight, the hard work paid off.

Odra crashed through the undergrowth, cackling wildly as she chased the hooded figure running up ahead. “Come on, we were told you were scary! Garl in a pink dress would be scarier!” she called after the runaway.

The figure didn’t stop. She hurled herself over a fallen tree and continued to run. It was clear she had no plan about where she was going to go, she was just desperate to get away from the crazy rapier wielding goblin chasing her… and clearly she forgot about the gargoyle.

Garl landed in front of her, startling her enough that she fell backwards on her ass. Garl grinned menacingly and pressed his sword up under her chin. “You’re done running,” he growled.

Obviously this scared her into stillness, as she was still trembling on the ground by the time Odra caught up. “Nice to know your fat ass can still fly,” she teased as she grabbed the woman’s clawed hands and tied them together.

“I’m not fat. I’m heavy.” Garl leaned down to look at their captured witch. “Now, let’s see what this scary witch looks like.”

He flicked her hood off and dark curls tumbled down over her face. She managed to blow a few locks out of her mismatched eyes- one was blue, meh, lots of people with blue eyes so who cared- but the other was bright cherry red. Save for the pale green skin and a slim pair of horns that sprouted from her temples and wrapped around the back of her head, she didn’t look like an evil, scheming witch who stole boyfriends and sacrificed animals. She looked much more like a terrified teenage girl.

“There’s been a mistake!” The girl yelped.

Garl snorted before he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. “Don’t care. You should’ve put up more of a fight,” he said as he started walking, Odra skipping next to them and singing a little ditty about the gold they were about to get.

The girl squirmed briefly before going still. “They?” she asked.

“The lady and her family that live in a nearby mansion, she said you were terrorizing ‘em,” Odra mockingly tutted her tongue, “such a bad witch. They want to talk to you because they’re softies.”

“What are you talking about?” The girl glanced between Odra and Garl a few times. “No one lives in that mansion, it’s abandoned.”

Both Odra and Garl froze. Odra frowned. “They said-”

“Listen to me- I don’t think this lady is who you think she is!” The girl shook her head from side to side. “I don’t hurt people. I’m only a healer, I keep to myself because-”

Odra fake snored loudly, cutting off the girl’s explanation. “Don’t caaaare! Listen, even if her address isn’t what she told us, she’s still gonna pay us a buttload of gold!” Odra reached into her shirt and pulled out a handful of the gold.

The girl squinted at the gold before she scowled and snapped, “Dispel Magic!”

Odra watched as the ‘gold’ faded into a pile of worms. Her jaw dropped. “Wha- Garl, check your gold!”

Garl frowned but he kept the girl on his shoulder as he dug into his wallet. Sure enough. Worms and beetles. He growled as he threw them into the ground and stomped them into the marshy earth.

Odra stuffed the worms in her mouth, chewing on them for a moment before she spat them out. “Bitch paid us in worms?! Worms!? Not even tasty worms! Fine, Garl, put her down! Where’s that fucking mansion!? I’m gonna rip that lying cheapskate’s guts out and string them out on the way home!” she screeched. Garl promptly dropped the girl on the ground, she nearly stumbled and fell on her face but caught herself at the last second.

“Follow me.” The girl tucked her skirts up near her waist best she could with her tied hands, revealing her bare, callused feet. “I know the building she talked about.”

Odra was practically frothing at the mouth as she stormed after Sahsi, Garl taking up the rear with his sword swung over his shoulders.

It was only a few minutes of silent rage before Odra had to ask.

“Where’s your fucking shoes?”

“My dad was a halfling. I never wore shoes living with him, I won’t wear them now,” Sahsi stretched out her foot. “And er, you can call me Sahsi. I’m Sahsi Humble.”

Odra snorted. “You’re too tall to be a halfling.”

“I’m only half, er, halfling.” Sahsi twirled a wavy lock of hair around her finger. “My mom’s a hag.”

“People fuck hags?” Odra blurted out.

Sahsi gawked at Odra’s bluntness. “I- um- well, she’s a Green Hag-”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“… She can… make herself look different,” Sahsi cleared her throat. “Illusion magic. It’s their specialty.”

Odra nodded before glancing over at Garl. “Think Anne was a Green Hag? Ooooh, you could’ve swapped spit with a haaagg…”

Garl snorted. “She wasn’t my type-”

“Wait, Anne!?”

Sahsi nearly tripped over another branch in her surprise. “Nosy Anne came? In person?” she asked.

“With a stupid name like that, she’s definitely a hag,” Odra snickered.

Sahsi turned back forward, visibly tense. “Um. Hmmm. You sure you want to talk to her still?” she asked in a shrill tone.

Garl glared down at Sahsi. “Mmhmm. She still need to pay us,” he growled.

Sahsi gulped before she hurried on ahead.

The mansion at first glance seemed wonderful, beautiful, covered in ivy, honestly downright cozy. Sahsi muttered another ‘Dispel Magic’ though and it all faded away. The stables were rotting, skeletons of both animals and humanoids littered the grounds and hung from the ruins of a haunting manor. It would make the hair stand on the neck of a normal person. But neither Odra or Garl really had any hair, so Odra just scowled. “Anne! Hey, bitch, we got your witch! You have some explaining to do!” She shouted.

A shrill cackle filled the air and Anne materialized with her hobgoblin guards in the yard. “Well, you actually talked to Sahsi? I figured you’d just knock her out,” Anne said with a shrug.

“Well, we used to, but Garl kept accidentally killing them.” Odra gave Garl a dirty look and he nodded. “His knock out punches were too good. So where’s the gold and what’s the deal? This scary witch,” Odra gestured frantically towards Sahsi, who smiled meekly, “didn’t even try to fight us! She just ran away! So what’s the big deal?”

Anne scoffed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Sahsi, you need to stop being a selfish child and come home. You running around like a careless fool is causing our mother so much stress. This goes on much longer, you’ll never be who you are meant to be. You’ll fade. You’ll-”

“Go jump off a cliff.”

Sahsi glowered at Anne. “I won’t fade. I just won’t be like you, or like Screeching Lucy, or like our mother. You’re awful, manipulative, you all just- just use everyone around you! I’m not going to be that. And if that means I’ll never reach my full potential of power, then so be it. I won’t become a hag. Not now. Not ever.”

Anne gasped. “You ungrateful little girl! Our mother loves you!” She shook her finger at Sahsi. “You should be ashamed of yourself!”

“If she really loved me, she’d accept what I am. And that I choose what I’m becoming.”

Anne looked ready to slap Sahsi in the face when Odra cleared her throat. “Hey, hey, as much as Garl and I are enjoying this dramatic discussion about your fate and family and whatever- Garl’s horny after you led him on with this fake face of yours, and I just want to go home and drink beer. We brought you Sahsi. Where’s our money?”

Sahsi gaped at the pair of ‘heroes’ while Anne scoffed. “You really think I’m going to pay you two?” She shook her head. “Please. You’re not worth two coppers, let alone the few hundred gold I made you believe was in that sack. You’re just a goblin. The only reason I hired you was to get your gargoyle friend, he’s the real power I needed here. You… you are just vermin. Garbage. A- why- what are you doing?”

Odra was laughing. Tears streamed down her face as she shrieked with hysterics, finishing it off with a slap to her knee.

“So, let me get this straight. You lied to me. You’re not going to pay me. And now you’re insulting me?”

Odra straightened up before she took a dagger from her belt.

“Nosy Anne, you are one stupid bitch. We were going to help you. Now we’re going to kill you.”

With that, Odra cut loose Sahsi’s wrists. “Back us up,” she hissed before throwing the dagger right at Anne’s head.

Anne slapped the dagger away and the disguise promptly faded away- red hair turned dull gray and moldy, a perfect face wrinkled and grew several warts on the tip of her nose, and her curvy build hunched and sagged. “Griktig, Naldren- kill that goblin vermin and her rock for brains friend,” she rasped.

Odra pulled out her rapier from her waist and grinned ear to ear. “Have fun trying,” she said before charging forward. She caught a glimpse of Garl’s shadow above her head and saw those hobgoblins visibly pale.

Oh, how quickly they realized mistakes had been made.

A few hours later, Odra was enjoying that beer back in the guild, Garl sitting by her side, and a blushing Sahsi sitting across from them.

“I really can’t thank you two enough,” Sahsi nodded at the pair. “You saved me back there.”

“Ehhhhh,” Odra twisted her mouth, “I mean, we were hired to kidnap you first. And if she did pay us, we would’ve just thrown you over.”

“… Well. You changed your mind. And I’m so thankful for that.” Sahsi smiled sweetly. “If you ever need a healer, I’m your girl.”

Odra hid her face behind her beer. “Well, um, neat,” she grumbled. Why did good people have to be so fucking nice?

Garl broke the weird atmosphere by getting up. “I’m going to Fit for Kings,” he grumbled.

Sahsi frowned. “What’s… Fit For Kings?”

“Brothel down the way,” Odra stuck a thumb out, “head right, you can’t miss the building with the enchanted gold lights hanging down the sides of the doorway.”

Sahsi’s face went bright pink. “Oh! Um, have a good time?” She immediately cringed at herself and Garl paused for a brief moment before hurrying the rest of the way out, but there was definitely a hidden smile on his face.

~*~

“… So the mercenaries you hired turned on you after you refused to pay them. They killed one of your hobgoblins. And the other is…”

“Traumatized and will need a few weeks off for recovery.”

Anne couldn’t look her mother in the eye. It was one thing to have fucked this up on her own. It was another to fuck up a request from the queen of the Hags herself- Ancient Genevieve, the most powerful green hag in their era.

Currently she was sitting on her throne with some odd human noble as her footstool- oh the fetishes the rich had- rubbing her temples and looking more than a little irritated. If Anne was any of the other hags, she would be booking it, but being a momma’s girl gave her the privilege of not being obliterated with a finger snap. She’d get a five second head start.

“I underestimated them, I know,” Anne admitted. “Come on now, it was just a stupid goblin and a horny rocks for brains gargoyle that couldn’t keep his eyes off my boobs when I hired them for the job! How was I supposed to expect-”

“Odra Manyboots is not your average goblin, pumpkin.”

Oh boy. You know she was mad when she started using Anne’s childhood pet name.

Genevieve leaned forward, applying more of her weight on the human’s back. “She’s the one goblin in the Lockmere Adventurer’s Guild after she and her ‘rock for brains’ companion proved their mettle by slaughtering Biting Blanche.”

The blood drained from Anne’s face. “Biting Blanche? No, you’re not serious, she was an Annis Hag with several ogres under her command! She killed dozens of heroes sent to take her out! It would take more than-”

“A goblin and a gargoyle?”

Genevieve sighed. “Anne, Anne, Anne. You’re smarter than this. Once they caught onto your scam, you should have just paid them. Then your sister wouldn’t be running around unobserved, in danger from the foolish humans that would burn her rather than accept her or other such horrible fates. You failed.” Genevieve kicked the noble away and got to her feet, Anne shaking as her mother approached.

The hag queen’s hand rested on Anne’s shoulder.

“You’ve disappointed me.”

With that cutting remark said, Genevieve walked back to her throne and sat back down, the noble scrambling to get back under her feet. “Replace your personal guards for now. And I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”

Anne gulped. “Y-yes mother,” she curtsied before bolting from the room.

Genevieve sighed once her daughter was out of sight. “Honestly, Sahsi, if I didn’t love you so much, I would’ve already given up on you,” she murmured, tapping her fingers on her armrest.

That was just part of being a mother, she supposed. Loving your children, even when they didn’t listen to you.

#writeblr #writing community #creative writing #writers of tumblr #fantasy stories #dnd homebrew #goblins #short stories #spilled ink #the adventures of garl and odra manyboots #fantasy comedy #short fantasy stories

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getallemeralds · 1 year

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doip. / 2.21.23

first doip of the new year! aaaand i wish i was asleep. <- woke up early for physical therapy joined vc while jorb was rehearsing the intro. OOPS. gives me time to reread my notes! OH YEAH ALSO THIS SESSION IS SPECIAL. alongside doip., our gracious dm jorb has been running a one-player campaign with @bahamutgreen! which is taking place in the same area and time period as doip., and seeing as we're down a guy and green's been having fun in her solo campaign, she's joining in! Chaos Ensues.

me: [talking abt how im tired] jorb: don't worry, the binturong can drive the bus me: yeah, i'll give the binturong my keys, why not

[still farting about before the session starts] jorb: chaos, chaos! i can do anything! me: i roll to do anything. where is my dice [one dice-finding montage later] me: 60! jorb: you can teleport up to 60 feet away that you can see. me: cool. i teleport 60 feet straight up

me: i've already misread some of my flavour text as "you can't discern color in darkness, only shades of gay." green: amen. jorb: 50 shades of gay. me: NOOOOOOOOO

jorb: alright it is 4:20 in my timezone- me: nice. jorb: -are we ready to begin?

LAST TIME, ON DRAGON OF ICESPIRE PEAK! After reutrning from Neverwinter with new supplies in toe, our heroes . i have fucked this up so bad. we beat up the rats, fixed donjon's ratness, and then tobias journeyed off into the wilderness. farewell my guy. time to go to dragon barrow! Will they be able to brave the dangers alone? Find out… today!

nyx: fun fact: binturongs smell like popcorn. green: this is the best animal ever.

nameless has depression! TIME TO GO FIND A SWORD. [me getting stepped on by pepper while jorb and nyx do narrative]

nyx: i turn into binturong form and climb up on alidaar. me: alidaar is grateful for his cold resistance. nyx: nameless has wet little hands. me: alidaar does not have wet resistance. nyx: does he have little hands resistance? me: no.

ran into a hobgoblin on the way! (jorb faked us out into thinking it was green's character. rude.) apparently there's lights over the barrow at night! green: yooo, aliens pog me: WHAT DO I ROLL FOR UFO nyx: anything can be a ufo if it's unidentified and flying. you could throw a pancake REALLY FAST

hobgoblin: once you're done in the barrow, could you help me with something? alidaar: yeah, sure, i love throwing out helping hands to anybody that crosses my path- that. sounded more sarcastic than i meant it to. I'D LOVE TO HELP! [..] me: OUR GUY THAT TALKS GOOD AT THINGS TURNED INTO A RAT, I'M DOING MY BEST

apparently the hogbogling . fuck. the hobgoblin . hoblin. the hoblin (targor bloodsword) had a bad run-in with the followers of talos and his whole squad died (HE DIDN'T LOSE 25% OF HIS SQUAD. HE DIDN'T LOSE HALF OF HIS SQUAD. HE LOST HIS ENTIRE SQUAD. sorry ive been overtaken by demons) so we're gonna help him out after we check out the barrow

green: i can chat as barrel crab.

the lights have vanished! definitely not spooky. I ACCIDENTALL Y ROLLED AS THE BARREL CRAB adventure paused while i draw my cat. NYX'S ROOMMATE ALSO HAS A CAT NAMED PEPPER pepper distraction time

alidaar: i throw nameless [up the slope] and run up. jorb: IT'S 30 FEET! alidaar: ok i don't do that YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAA KEPESK! kepesk!! kepesk is trying to do.. something?? there's a bunch of stone spikes on the barrow and kepesk is messing with one of them. and failing. alidaar and nameless just kinda Watch

kepesk: IS THAT A BINTURONG? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE alidaar: i heard there was a cool sword, do you need help? nameless: [turns into a bear] kepesk: THAT IS NOT A BINTURONG

with the power of teamwork (two lizards and a bear), we have nat20'd this bitch open! kepesk: i'm just here for fun! jorb: roll a deception check. me: [STARTLED LAUGHTER] kepesk: i'm not here for a sword and i can share very good.

[derail about halfling!nameless climbing all over alidaar like weevils and kepesk thinking they're alidaar's kid]

after hearing alidaar talk about wanting to kill a dragon, kepesk handed over the map of the barrow! apparently he wanted to steal the sword bc he thought it sounded cool but figures we'll get actual use out of it. alidaar's chill with it though

me: is this place empty? i probably should've checked for traps or something- jorb: as you round the corner you see- me: AH, (it's a will-o-wisp! they're little bitches and resistant to a lot of things. a lot of things including "just about everything alidaar can do and most of what nameless can")

nameless decides to approach the willowisp! nameless: i step.. more- jorb: ok you fall into the pit [...] nyx: i have a spell called 'find traps', why didnt i use it?! me: we haven't had traps before-- green, desolate: i did. [...] kepesk: you think they're ok?? alidaar: no. [walks in]

rescued nameless! thankfully alidaar has rope. and also thankfully nameless has not gotten fantasy tetanus. or fancy tetanus kepesk: i have a potion of healing, if you need it - not that i. care or anything me: great, the lizard is tsundere (affectionate)

new plan of action: THROW NAMELESS. jorb: just gotta do some googling real quick.. me: where there's a will there's a way! nyx: where there's a will there's a wisp

OH MY GOD I GOT A NAT20

nameless tried to thorn wip the willowisp in mid-air and missed. and also getting yeeted did 1 damage to the wisp, who takes half damage, so it took no damage. and then nameless got bonked from being thrown.

nameless turns into a dog and is awkwardly crammed into a tunnel. also kepesk poked the willowisp with his magic sword and evaporated WOLF WEARING GOGGLES. BOTTOM TEXT the sequel to teen wolf: scene wolf

made it through! there is a whole-ass dragon skeleton embedded in the wall, and on top of the skull is a sword! nameless as a direwolf walks up and hormfs the sword jorb: let me get something here… me: [worried] did the music change? AW FUCK THE MUSIC CHANGED HM. NAMELESS GOT ATTACKED BY. SOMETHING. AND WE ARE NOW IN COMBAT. WITH SOMETHING. HELP

[alidaar vaults over nameless and then spends 5 minutes remembering how his mechanics work] nyx: ..so alidaar, you are standing on the sword right now that i am holding me: [looks] OH. I AM, nyx: which is going to make the thing im going to do next a little difficult, me: im doing the dark link thing.

NAMELESS IS SWINGING THE SWORD

jorb: does a 29 hit you? me: [looks at my 17 ac] me: Y EA,,,,

oh hey kepesk is a barbarian! RAGE TIME! also storm aura! We Are Now On Fire (we're fine)

jorb: you could try to take the sword- nyx: no. fuck you. me: alidaar makes grabby hands at the sword and nameless turns away nameless: rrf. >:( (NAMELESS'S CURSE IS ACTING UP. AAAAAAAAAAAAA THE SWOOOOOOOOOORD)

nyx: i swing the sword again. jorb: against all odds, that's a hit I AM TRYING TO WRESTLE THE SWORD AWAY FROM NAMELESS. IT IS NOT WORKING fuck it breath weapon time BREATH WEAPON NOOO </3 (it did not do much)

once again, nameless is a dog with a sword nameless is no longer a dog with a sword. nameless is now holding the sword in their mouth as a halfling "i could try to take the sword from nameless again but i'd feel bad bullying them" NAMELESS ROLLED A 20 ON THE SWORD BUT WE HAVE DISADVANTAGE SO INSTEAD IT WAS A 6,, MEAN

THROW THE INVISIBLE BEAST IN THE TETANUS PIT (this is not possible) alidaar grabs the sword, stabs the beast with it, and then nameless GRABS IT BACK jorb: it is the invisible stalker's turn! me: is it gonna steal the sword? jorb: it doesn't look like it's doing anything. kepesk? green: i take the sword. [...] me, a couple tiles away: i take the sword back. jorb: from over there??? me: i reach over and i make grabby hands at the sword.

oh we have been stabbing at nothing for the past few turns. lol. lmao apparently once i got a hit in with the sword, the whatever-it-was went away! me: who has the sword again. i want it back nyx: uh, you me: i take it back from myself. […] kepesk: so do you think that thing is valuable? alidaar: oh yeah for sure, this is primo shit nameless: 8(

nameless gave kepesk the pole of collapsing! and also threw tobias's mystery key at him. still holding onto the sending stone though. time to explore the rest of the dungeon! ah fuck more wisps nyx: i take a step forward. jorb: you fall in the pit.

nameless, at 2 hp: i am going to leave. nameless goes outside, pulls out a blanket, and curls up and goes to sleep kepesk: mammals, am i right? Alidaar And Kepesk's Terrible Dungeon Raid (we found the other two wisps, but decide to go to the One corridor that DOESNT have a wisp because i am SMART and remembered there were 3 and. then i got a faceful of poison for my troubles. bro this sucks) alidaar misses with his sword, then instakills the wisp with his axe. "alidaar is looking from the sword, to the axe, and is clearly doing math on how worth it this trip was" KEPESK HAS BEFRIENDED A SKELETON HORSE

me: i have so much blood and most of it is outside me now (i am at 4 hp) jorb: [at green] do you want to rage? me: PLEASE NO,, jorb: you could get the sword…………… green: nameless looks up and sees me ride past on a skeleton horse holding the sword and cackling and goes "where's alidaar?" me: alidaar is facedown on the floor. in the family guy death pose.

wisps have an ac of 19 jesus christ. but also it just fucked off mid-battle so kepesk gets to loot everything (alidaar is Very Injured lmao) nameless was crying and then kepesk rides his honse up the stairs and meanwhile alidaar is literally crawling his way up super bloody and agonized kepesk: didja see my horse? :D kepesk cheerfully asking everyone if they like lutes (alidaar: i like flutes! its like lutes but it has an f in it! kepesk: that's so true! we should start a band!) nameless gets the lute. kepesk lowballed it to them because if he threw it full force he would kil them instantly

alidaar: [dizzy] oh right,, there was,, a man,,,,,,,,,, alidaar walks to the side of the hill, lays down, and rolls down the hill oH MY GOD ZODIARK (THE HORSE) IS HUGE back to tagor's camp! he's a bit worried abt zodiark bc. skeleton horse. kepesk: the horse was dead when i found it. [..] tagor: you went in one man and an animal and came out three men, no animal, and a.. skeleton horse.. nameless: bold of you to assume the binturong didn't turn into the skeleton horse. we are trolling the SHIT out of tagor lmao. this poor man has no idea what's happening.

backstory: tagor went off on a hunting party with his squad of goblins and hobgoblins, but got ambushed by followers of talos! 2 or 3 of them and a wolf vs like a dozen talos-ers. they were cornered, had no choice but to fight, and tagor was the only one left standing out of the whole scuffle. he went back to get reinforcements, but everybody in the castle was dead and he assumed the talosers did it. (it was kepesk. kepesk did So much murder.) our trek to find a talos outpost lead us to falcon's hunting lodge! so far it's a warm reception OH NO HE'S HOT time to team up with falcon the hotguy! he's ALSO dealing with the followers of talos and would like us to do murder. wahoo! we are good at that! also he's gonna give us cool boots

nyx: can i ask a question? jorb: sure, in character or out of character? nyx: i'm a binturong, i can't ask a question. jorb: oh. jorb: if you're gonna ask if you can wear two pairs of boots, you cannot

talos! god of storms and war, big stinky. gruumsh was an evil god that made the orcs do evil etc etc, but gruumsh's son tempus, god of honorable war, got fed up and killed him + freed the orcs. orcs are now, like, fucking Normal. and then talos showed up! some believe talos is gruumsh, having somehow survived, and the followers of talos believe that very intensely and seek to reinstate him as chief god of fuckshit. this entire thing is to try and work around the fact that we keep having to murder orcs left and right. the orcs we're roughing up are specifically shitty, but outside of that orcs are just like. a normal part of society now. oh hey nameless lore, potentially? nyx was checking something with jorb. hrrmmmm

new boot goofin! kepesk: man, these guys are treasure magnets, i'm stickin' with them [..] alidaar: i'm good with the guest house, we're all friends nameless: [looks at kepesk] [looks at alidaar] [shrugs] alidaar: [shrugs] kepesk: i'll be friends with anyone for a free room!

it is 11:30 pm. i am so tired. ALIDAAR IS NOW LEVEL 5! aaaaand roll20 does stuff differently now. what is a charactermancer. son of a bitch jorb and nyx booped off to dm chat to talk about Doing A Scene as nameless levels up which is. definitely not worrying at all. oh well not my problem i've got a cool sword (and also got to chat with green about how stuff's going so far) OH RIGHT THE MYSTERY INVISIBLE FOE. yeah we were fighting an air elemental and alidaar killed it when he hit it with the sword. alidaar is not a special chosen one he's just very proficient in swords

and that's game! what a fucking mess. i love doip. [goes directly to bed]

#leo chirps #dnd #ttrpg #doip.#contains: several doodles; sword hot potato; twice the amount of scalie as usual

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sheep-magik · 1 year

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Well, other thing I forgot to post this when I first done them, you see a year ago I was trying to gm a homebrew a pathfinder campaing I made because I couldn’t find material to use to do my first campaign as gm, long-story-short it was a flop. But I did few designs of few characters and just like it’s world, I kept it to recycle everthing I built for that campaign for other personal projects of mine. But for now I want to show you guys the first designs I did for that campaign, the first Boss and his allies, of course, I’ll be naming them by order: Sargent Oliver Cervantes: The Great Hobgoblin Sargent, Oliver Cervantes Bardin. The first boss that my party of players first face in the introduction of my homebrew world, he's a charismatic, heroic but weary man of the Hobgoblin Republic, who likes to prepare everything beforehand to ensure victory in any mission he leads, his troops -hobgoblin or not- love him for this qualities of and would show their devoltion and loyalty on the battlefield, but despite his leadership skills, great renown, unfaltering tactics and successes, his tender heart and care for his troops, leads him to often disagree with his superiors, preventing him from advancing further in the ranks to the point that his own wife and children outrank him. This conflict and the poor leadership of his superiors, will lead to his downfall at the hands of the heroes of the story, after getting sent off to a suicide mission, alongside his most fresh recruits under the excuse of artillery training. Lieutenant Loretta Cortéz: Lieutenant and field medic who works under Sargent, Oliver Cervantes, as his right hand, as she aids him and his men during the first boss fight against my players on the homebrew campaign I made. She is grumpy, and very perfectionist, but has a soft side hidden deep within her, unknown to everyone but her twin sister, and those close to her. She enjoys to write romantic poems and melodies, as well paint beautiful landscapes in her free time. She's also known for her natural skill in fencing and tactics, as well medicine, making many think that she's what a hobgoblin should aspire to be in the army, but because of this idea that the people has of her, she considers this artistic side of her a weakness of sorts, and she embarrasses greatly whenever she’s seen doing this activities, so she tends to hide whenever she’s creating art. Superior Private, Annetta Cortéz: Hobgoblin Superior Private and Engineer, Annetta, who works under Sargent, Oliver Cervantes, as engineer and siege gunner in charge of testing their army newly developed artillery, as well, she's Loretta's twin sister, and while she's not a genius like her sister, she knows her way with machinery, and firearms, originally she was gonna be firing cannon balls to my players while they were trying to attack the first boss, but my players were smarter, and destroyed the black powder reserves before facing the Sargent Cervantes, so instead, she's firing her musket from a safe distance to cover her sister, Loretta, while she heals her fallen comrades. She's a bit cowardly and timid, and prefers to be left alone as she tinkers with all sorts of things, specially, her beloved musket, which she takes pride that she builted up herself, but despite her introvert demeanor, she rarely strays away too far from her twin. Recruit, Serena Angelos: Minotaur Recruit, Serena, who works under Hobgoblin Sargent, Oliver, she's a strong barbaric warrior that managed to overcome the eternal rage that runs through her boiling minotaur blood and instead enters into a state of eternal tranquility and awereness, and while she doesn't gets stronger and tougher out of this like the average minotaur does with their anger, she does get nimbler and clear of mind, originally she was going to be helping Annetta to possition the cannon to fire at my players during the first boss, before becoming a recurrent miniboss later on, but for how my players are handled her situation, and imprison everyone before trying to befriend them, so that never happened... Personality wise, she's a wise, calm and docile gal, that behaves very mother-like towards those close to her, wanting to help them in pretty much any situation they might get into, this motherly devotion also extends to the battlefield as she won't think twice before sacrificing herself and willingly taking a hit in place of one of her comrades just to ensure their safety. But don’t let this laid back demeanor fool you, she’s still a minotaur through and through, so she more than happily take up your challenge if you think you can fight her. Recruit, Victoria Montenegro: Gnoll Recruit, Victoria, who works under Hobgoblin Sargent, Oliver. She's a fast and strong soldier of the hobgoblin republic, specialized on entering and exit the battlefield quickly and shredding anything and anyone inside it even faster before the enemy can even react, but she also has a knack for machinery, and scouting. She's a bit cynic who grew under the ideology imposed by her parents that the weak serves the strong and so that she's must be the strongest of them all in order to succeed in life before she was dumped into the military academy when she was at a young age, where this ideology was reinforced even more, and so, she grew up with with an oppressive expectation that she must prove herself on everything she does, and by the time she graduated from the military academy, she was so strong that she could outwrestle even the mighty minotaurs that trained her with ease, but during her training, she became close friends with the minotaur, Serena, as well a small half-goblin with a big zweihander, who together showed Victoria that there’s more to life than might alone, and became almost inseparable since then. On the surfice, she’s blunt, brutish, hot-headed and very aggressive towards anyone, a natural cynic that pretty much mocks you with her presence alone, as it is obvious that she doesn’t believe anything you say to her, but deep underneath her rough exterior she’s caring, honest and very loyal friend, that would go to the ends of the world for the sake of those close to her. Originally, she was gonna be a recurring miniboss for my party, alongside Serena the minotaur, but in after the cannon thing happen, she was gonna fight my players on the first boss fight to put pressure on my party, but I didn't knew that one of my players had ray of enfeeblement, and got hit by it before getting ganked and k.o.'d cold as soon she showed up... Though she did started improving once the party started to take her into their adventures. Recruit, April De La Rosa: Half-Goblin recruit, April, who works under Sargent, Oliver, and daughter to the late Hobgoblin General Warlord who used to rule her nation. Despite her size and appearance, she's a capable fighter, strong enough to wield that sword that's twice as big as herself with relative nimbleness and ease, unlike her compatriots, she enlisted on to the Republic’s Army, in hopes to become strong enough to avenge her parents after she lost them in during an siege at the capital of the Republic at the end of a devastating war, that took place 5 years prior the story of the homebrew takes place. During this siege, she witnessed the moment her mother fell in combat trying to defend her and her people, while barely surviving the merciless onslaught herself, as proven by the terrible scars that mark her entire body, a massacre that only stopped when her father was declared dead, after he was exectured during a judicial duel against the leader of the enemy who led the siege. After that day, she picked up her father's zwaihander, as well parts of her mother's armor, before swearing to claim the life of the man who responsable of their deaths, using those very items to serve justice. She would grew up alone and full of hatred until she met Victoria and Serena, who becomes likes sisters to her, as they help her to see the world beyong just vengeance, and while she still desires to avenge her parents, she also started to wish to follow her in father’s footsteps to protect her people and to prevent them of suffering the same as her. Just like Victoria and Serena she was gonna be miniboss later on after the first boss, also, she was simply a normal goblin, but her Strength was too low to carry the sword, so I made her a half-goblin instead. She got K.O'd pretty quickly too, after getting ganked, she tanked enough to be able to at least attack, but the die I rolled a 2... so yeah, no way she hit a paralyzed and prone giant with a roll that low...

#fantasy #rpg #goblin #hobgobln #gnoll #minotaur

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amildartist · 20 days

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Drabbles of a Witch and Their Weird Baby Creature | Chapter Two

The Name Game

It was staring at you again. The small creature you found three days ago—the one you had to spell asleep to make it stop biting you—was calmer today. However, it appeared to pick up a new tactic to piss you off. Staring. Glaring. Glowering in your general direction if you so much as breathed. It...He had a smug smile on his face whenever you looked at him. The few times you'd been able to catch him not committing psychological warfare against your person, he was muted like the first time you found him. It was a lost look. Subtle, thinking; you could practically see the wheels turning in his small head. There was a hint of melancholy in those moments, but then his face would snap in your direction and, like a switch, he would put on that same insufferable front. That wasn't the only problem.

You still had no idea who or what the fuck he was.

Looking down at your compact notepad, you dug your pencil through another creature possibility. He was not a redcap. At least, you didn't think he was a redcap. He did spend the second day trying to break your kneecaps with his head which was, surprisingly, as hard as a hammer. Your eyebrow twitched remembering that. It was mortifying trying to explain why you went to work with bruised knees. From your coworker's snicker, you were pretty sure they didn't buy the 'I got a new cat and they're excitable' excuse. They certainly didn't buy it when you stopped going to work in shorts.

It also wasn't particularly fun having to run around your couch while a small creature chased you like a man possessed. Despite that small, chubby body and short limbs, he was oddly spry.

He wasn't looking at you anymore. You blinked, slowly moving your pencil away from your body. His eyes followed it. "Of course! You can run so you should be able to write." Your insight was answered by a scoff and exaggerated rolling eyes. "Shut up, goblin," you cheerfully said, springing out of your seat and standing in front of him. "Come on," you wiggle the pencil and notepad like they were a pack of catnip, "bask in my genius and do the write thing." You smile at your own pun; he blankly stared at the writing utensils. You proceeded to fan the notepad in his face. "You know I could just keep guessing on what you are but-"

The notepad was torn away from your hand. Not even the sharp sting of the papercuts diminished your shit-eating grin. He reached for the pencil with demanding fingers and roughly tore it away from you as well. You went back to your armchair while he quickly scribbled on the paper, his tongue sticking out in concentration. A few minutes of nothing but the soft scratch of the creature at work. Finally, he leaned back, patted the paper, and crossed his arms. You jumped up and quickly grabbed it. Finally! You would get answers and then you could get rid...

It just said bitch over and over and over.

You glared at him. He glared at you, his mouth twisting into a cattish smile.

"You're the bitch," you muttered under your breath. Louder, you said, "Redcap! Bluecap! Goblin! Hobgoblin! Uni-"

It had the desired impact you wanted. He quickly grabbed the notepad back and set back to work. This time, however, you stayed hovering over him, your eyes promising to continue with the list of magical creatures. You only discovered how much he hated your list today, but you were doing good work with the information. He particularly hated your unicorn guess. He started foaming at the mouth with your demon guess and then chewed through your nice couch pillows. They lay empty and fluff-less on your floor, mere shells of their comfortable plushness.

You leaned further over him, your shadow dwarfing his diminutive body. His yellow eyes peered up at you for a second before he swiftly twisted himself back into the room's lights and waved his hand at you in a shooing motion. Not going to happen, goblin. Under your oppressive presence, he finished writing.

The first thing you see—that wasn't another tango line of 'bitch' and a crude drawing of yourself—was Adam. Off to the side was a lopsided drawing of a figure with horns, a mask, and a halo. "Your name is Adam then?" He nodded with a puffed-out chest. Tapping rapidly with his pencil, he drew a dark arrow to the drawing. "Ah, so that's you." He grinned widely in response and you couldn't help but grimace. "It's, uh, nice." It looked like it was melting. Before you can ask what he was, he tapped at a lower part of the paper at a series of words you hadn't noticed.

You froze.

Angel. First Man. Dickmaster. I fucking rock.

"What the fuck?"

He was an angel? Adam? The Adam from the Bible? You took in a deep calming breath. "Okay," you started, pointing your index finger in his face, "I'm not calling you Dickmaster." The narrowing yellow eyes were your only warning before he bit.

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#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #reader insert #gn reader #found family #comedy #short chapters #accidental baby acquisition #reader is kept non-gender specific #reader is confused about the strange adam creature they found in their trash #reader is a witch #drabbles of a witch and their weird baby creature

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caffeinated-problem-solver · 1 year

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Byron Lennox

I've been meaning to write a backstory for my current D&D character. I am currently running him in "Out of the Abyss" which is being run by @msterdoctorman. Potential spoilers for that campaign (but probably not since we're not very far into the campaign). I figured if I'm going to write prose I might as well share it. I hope you enjoy.

Byron Lennox, in the course of his life, had never been missed; that is, until he was missed for exactly 3 hours, 24 minutes, and 19 seconds. Since then he has worked very hard to not be missed again, ever present and responsive. He has become the misser, professionally even. Byron fills his life with the death of others: grave digging, undertaking, and (most importantly) eulogizing. He can tell you a half dozen stories of any of the people occupying graves under his care, many of whom he buried himself. Yet here he sits, his back to a cave wall thousands of feet below the people he's missing.

He scratches away at a journal, his wiry frame lit dimly by a glow coming from his ink well. It's a neat trick he picked up some years ago, casting a light spell on the ink means he can write fairly comfortably in very dark spaces. The page fills with light as his well-practiced hand passes over the blank space; the script, tight and neat, seems to belong more to an expert scribe than a dirt-crusted man with a shovel. As the ink leaves the pot and subsequently the quill, its light slowly dies out as it leaves the source of magical luminescence. Byron expects this and doesn't mind. It merely tells him the ink is dry enough to turn the page.

The faint light shines in the deep dark of the cavern, the group has called it a night, not that that means anything down here. Byron volunteered for this watch as a chance to clear his head and do some writing now that he has his journals again. The shadows he casts on the wall blending almost seamlessly into his long, dark brown hair, pardon the few individual lines of silver that have grown in. His face is motionless apart from his cold, icy blue eyes, which dart across the page making sure every paragraph flows into the next. He looks over at the group of people he'd just escaped prison with, they were his to miss now too. Chronicling that many lives would take many, many "nights" like this. Even elves, with their hundereds-years lives didn't give him pause. The only life that he questioned could fit in his pages, is the one he doesn't think he'll ever write, the story of Byron Lennox.

Many years ago

Byron was the oldest of six children, with all the responsibilities that holds. After his father passed, he was offered a job at the local church, keeping the grounds. He managed to make enough to keep his mother and siblings fed. He began working on the headstones himself and eventually he became THE person to go to to make sure your dearly departed was treated well.

It was during one of his rounds of the cemetery that he met the new cleric, from one of the big seminaries near the capital. Percy was bookish with high flying ideas and a more novel approach to the rituals. Full of life and bright, Byron was drawn to him like a moth. Percy, too, for his part found Byron's words exhilarating compared to the boring verse from school. They fell head over heels for each other.

Things started to change when the traveling merchants started to tell stories about the roads getting more dangerous. Too afraid to camp in the woods, they refused to seek trades any further than a day's ride. Within a month, they refused to travel at all. Hobgoblin raiders were cutting off supply lines into and out of the town. They didn't ever pass the stone markers into town, but without supplies from the nearby villages and farms, famine spread.

The elderly and the young were the first to succumb. The deaths were so frequent Byron was running himself ragged trying to supply a proper burial to each soul. Percy finally convinced him that the need was for a mass grave; Byron shuddered to think of the piled corpses rotting together, but Percy swore he was going to do something for the dead.

More time passed and Byron had now buried each of his siblings and his mother. Alone in the world, apart from Percy who had become obsessed with finding an end to this siege and justice to the dead, Byron seldomly saw him out of the church library buried in tomes older than the cornerstones themselves. One night Percy declared that he had found a way, It'd take some careful study and math more akin to wizardry than divine rite, but he could undo it all. Byron had no idea what he meant.

It didn't matter, though, during the night the alarm bells sounded. The hobs had breached the borders and were sacking the town. Byron quickly threw on his long leather jacket and picked up his shovel, far from a knight in a armor with a trusted blade, but no less on a mission; Byron would not lose Percy. Percy was already in the library gathering ingredients and herbs that hadn't been fit to eat during the siege. Byron would make sure the invaders didn't make it onto the consecrated grounds of the church and yard.

The town burned, brightening the night. The church was safe for now, dark save for the amber stained windows into the library burning with candle light. A sign to Byron that his beloved was safe and alive. Turning from the warmth and hope of one light to the heat and desolation of another, Byron looked towards the town. A band of the attackers was now headed up the hill towards the church.

Byron was not an experienced fighter, but a shovel doesn't require an experienced hand. It came down hard against the skulls and ribs of the hobgoblins. Byron fought in a sort of fugue, having taken several slices across his body from their blades. It wasn't until he felt a heavy blow crack through his ribs and puncture the tissue he'd promised to Percy that he froze. A sudden recollection flooded through his mind as all heat left his body, each tender moment he'd shared with another. Each person he'd touched had died by now, Percy was the only person who would remember him, could remember him. In the windows above Percy, taking a moment to check outside, let out a wail that turned into a sob.

Darkness overtook the hill that Byron laid on, the invaders were in the church. As the creatures ransacked the reliquaries the light in the library grew brighter and brighter, eventually bursting out, shattering the windows. Silence filled the void left by the slaughter, fires burned down, the monsters, sated, left to wherever monsters go when the nightmare is done. The sun came up and with it, a staggered breath.

Byron bolted up from the ground, covered in blood, disorientated to say the least. The only thing on his mind, the only thing that could be, was Percy. Rushing into the ruins of the church, Byron found himself in the library. Circles and sigils that made his eyes blur were spread all over the floors and walls. In the middle of the room, prone and unmoving, was Percy. A knife stuck out of the robes he'd been wearing, he hadn't stopped the spell until his dying breath.

Byron stayed there, beside the vessel of Percy, for a long time. He wasn't sure how long but he'd noticed a sunset or two. He hadn't even realized he wasn't hungry, he felt nothing in those days. There was suddenly, at least to him, the sound of talking, shouts, and horses. An ironclad knight walked into the library, calling out, surprised to have found a survivor. He had been appointed by the church in the capital to retrieve a relic the church had housed. He surmised it must have been taken during the raid and asked several questions to the almost unresponsive Byron. Having gotten as much information as Byron had, he and his compatriots mounted their horses and headed of into the forests to seek what they saw as prey.

Shaken out of his stupor by the event Byron returned to what he knew best, preparations for the dead. The mass grave had made it simpler, as Percy had told him. Byron couldn't bring himself to put Percy there though. He spent hours carving a stone, more hours still a fine pine casket, and the longest time digging the grave, deep and even. A town, buried: a gravedigger, finished.

Byron walked out of town, intent on never returning. The walk to the shore wasn't exhausting like Byron used to think it was, instead it was meditative. As he heard the distant crash of waves on the stones, the sound of time wearing everything away, he felt peace. As he flung himself from the cliff face he felt a rush of wind. As he hit the waves and rocks he felt a now familiar rush of cold as life left his body. Hours later, as the sun set, he felt panic grip him as he jolted up: wet, sore, but alive.

Years passed and while it never made sense to Byron, things started to be clearer. Percy must have accomplished something that night, but certainly not what he'd meant to. Byron could never rest with his lover or his family. He'd never need someone to dig for him as he'd dug for others. The fear that had licked his mind that night so long ago would never come true. He'd always be able to tell the stories of others and ensure their immortality with his own. He began taking up the same work he had performed in his own town. Working there just long enough to not draw any attention.

Decades passed and Byron's body was much the same as it had been when he would lay in bed beside Percy, Percy's body had long since formed a rich soil that plants grew over. Byron had filled innumerable volumes with the stories of the dead. He'd studied and practiced the funerary arts of a hundred customs. On one day, which felt like any other, he dug a grave and as he dug the earth shifted and opened. He fell, a familiar rush of wind; thousands of feet below the surface, he stopped, a familiar rush of cold. He awoke, a familiar panic, in a dark cave, unsure if he'd see the sun again.

#oc #d&d oc #fiction #out of the abyss #spoilers #tw death #tw sui attempt #ok to rb

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adventures-of-the-creeping-bam · 1 year

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NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: THE ADVENTURES OF THE CREEPING BAM, BOOK TWO: ONE COLD TRAIL - CHAPTER 21

If you’re new to the story, please go check out Book 1 first …

Book 2 Chapter 1 is here …

IMPORTANT: Please note this story includes content that may be considered mature, such as moderate battle violence, some strong language and occasional mild sexual scenes.

If you want to support my writing, feel free to swing by my Patreon or Ko-fi.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: KESLA

Pulling one of the stacked chairs free from its place against the back wall, I carry it back to set it down in the proper place before taking a moment to unbuckle my swordbelt. Thinking about it for a moment, I wrap the strap around the scabbard and pass it to Shay, who accepts it amicably enough. Might not be the best idea to set it down on the floor beside me while I’m seated this time, no matter how cowed our young guest is. Better not to leave any temptations to hand at all.

After another beat of consideration I shrug out of my coat too, taking a long, drawn out moment to fold it before holding it out to Gael. They look at me for a beat before stepping forward to collect it, but I don’t need to look at them to know they’re fighting the urge to give me a look right back. I just keep my eyes on the young man planted in the chair in front of me as I start to unbuckle my right-wrist bracer, taking my time with it, making a show as I start to slip out of it. Once it’s free I hold this out too, and it’s collected quickly enough, allowing me to unbutton the sleeve of my shirt and start rolling it up to my elbow. Once I’m done with that I start the whole process again with the left. I don’t look away from him once.

He won’t make eye contact with me, which is a good sign. I’m keeping my face neutral, not being overtly threatening, but the implication in what I’m doing’s clear enough. He can see that, while I’m no longer wearing my sword or handaxes, I still got my knives to hand. I let his imagination run as I prepare myself, taking my time to let him stew.

We’ve ended up in a backroom, somewhere in the small labyrinth of sorting rooms, restricted access book-stacks and stores frequented by the attendant staff and other clergy, usually not accessible to most of those who are welcome in the rest of the temple. I’ve been assured this is about as secure as the place gets, not only guarded by the same physical forces who police other Order territories but also warded with powerful defensive magics that are well-maintained by the resident wizards on the temple staff. There’s no danger of us being disturbed here, and it’s no more likely our prisoner could be traced than the curse could be remotely activated through the barrier spells. At least that’s what they told me, I don’t know how it all works and I still ain’t entirely convinced I really trust it.

This room’s just used for basic resource storage, no books or magic items, just chairs and boxed supplies and the like. A space was cleared in here in anticipation before we arrived, and it’s easily large enough to accommodate all of us and our new guest, with room to spare. We’ve had no trouble spreading out around him as he sits in a lonely wooden chair, back to the wall, directly under the light of one of the oil lamps mounted around the walls.

There were three guards in here when we arrived, along with an attendant, but they cleared out as soon as we requested a little privacy. Now the only other person left is one of the resident wizards of the temple clergy, conspicuously not the same one who collected the boy when we first arrived. This one’s younger, but the moment I met her I was utterly convinced of her competency. She’s a sharp one, the look she gave me when we arrived saw right through me, and when I asked if she was sure the curse was good and neutralised she actually rolled her eyes before answering me.

I’ve never met a half-hob before, but I’ve heard about them even so. They’re a rare thing, hobgoblins don’t tend to breed easily with other races, apparently, but when they do the results tend to be pretty interesting. From her swarthy, somewhat leathern skin to the thick bristly patches of hair growing around her more subtle snout, there’s a certain harsh, feral edge to her features that’s nonetheless quite striking. Her eyes are even darker than my own, but there’s more white in them too, they’re more human, which takes me by surprise, and I suspect she might be more comfortable in sunlight than her parent, whoever they might have been. She wears her thick, somewhat unruly dark hair bound back in a long braid, and it matches her robes, which are simple, somewhat worn and entirely without frills. It seems to suit what’s clearly a no-nonsense personality.

Mistress Shul Mivzida insisted on staying, just in case the myriad security precautions and counterspells somehow failed to keep the curse from reactivating during the interrogation. I mainly agreed because, despite the fact she barely clears five feet in height, she’s one of the most intimidating people I’ve ever met, and the boy seems to be completely terrified of her, which is very useful in this kind of enterprise. Finally she insisted we just call her Shul, and I instantly took to her after that, since I don’t like all this formality either.

Now she’s just stood by on his right, arms folded across her slender chest, glaring down at him with narrowed eyes and thin, tight lips that are an especially neat touch if they are simply put on. She’s happy to defer to me, she made that clear, but I had to promise I wouldn’t do anything that might shame her look in the eyes of her superiors. Hopefully I won’t have to let her down on that, I’ve already grown almost irrationally fond of her.

Once I’m done with my sleeves I look down at him for a drawn-out moment before I finally start to give my knuckles a little work out, taking my time as I crack every one before giving my hands a loosening shake. He winces a little at each sinewy pop, and even though he won’t look up I really have to fight not to smile seeing his reaction, knowing it’s already starting to work. I wait another few beats before I finally pick up the chair again and turn it round before straddling it backwards in front of him, leaning over the backrest as I fold my arms and rest my chin on top. Just watching him.

“Okay, let’s start simple, shall we? What’s your name?”

He still doesn’t look at me, barely shifts his face at all, but there’s the briefest loosening of his lips, like he wants to answer me before checking himself. Planting my feet a little firmer, I rock forward a little on the chair’s back-legs to lean a jot closer.

“C’mon now, ain’t like I’m asking for your deepest secret here. Right now I just wanna be civil. Know who I’m actually talking to. I gotta have something to call you.”

This time he looks up just enough to glance at me from under his eyebrows, and it’s a furtive and anxious thing indeed. Again, that quick little parting of his lips, there and gone before I can be sure I really saw it. He holds my eye for a moment before looking down again.

“It’s not very polite, y’know. Somebody’s trying to engage you in polite conversation and you won’t even give ‘em a name to go by, ain’t friendly at all. If I don’t know what to call you I gotta make something up.” I sit back a little before I look round at the others, considering my options. “What about Bob?”

Gael cocks a brow at me, shifting their feet a little, still holding my coat folded across their arms while they cradle my sword, my bracers clutched in one hand. If they were really irritated about that, don’t seem like it’s lasted, I see a little amused quirk to the corner of their mouth at the suggestion.

“How about it, Bob? Feel like talking to me?”

Raising his chin a little, the boy frowns now, finally looking me full in the eye as he juts out his chin, and I reckon he’s trying to seem intimidating in his indignance. “My name ain’t Bob. That’s a dumb name.”

“Oh, I dunno, I known a few Bobs in my time. To a man they were good, forthright, reliable. Men who could be counted on in a crisis. You don’t wanna be associated with that kinda strength of character?”

His frown deepens a touch. “Ain’t saying that, it just ain’t my name, so it feels dumb you calling me that. I don’t like it.”

“Well if you told me your real name I wouldn’t have to call you Bob, would I?”

That makes him narrow his eyes, regarding me coldly as he tries to decide if I’m fucking with him. I wanna smile seeing it, but manage to fight off the urge. Finally he lets out a little hiss as he bares his teeth, looking down again. “Wull.”

“Wull?” I repeat, turning it over in my head a few times. “Yeah, you’re right. That is better than Bob, ‘least for you. Suits you better, I’d say.”

“I ain’t gonna tell you shit, lady. You can act tough as you like, I won’t squeal on my mates. Might as well just go spit, yeah?”

Resting on my folded arms again, I regard him for a moment. “Honestly, I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Wull. You seem bright enough, but you were still dumb enough to get yourself stuck in this shitty situation in the first place. How’d that happen?”

Another furtive look up through his brows, more of a glare this time, but he doesn’t maintain eye-contact any longer. “Like I said, go spit.”

“Yeah, that’s real cute, kid.” I rock forward a little more this time, making it seem like I’m just moving in for a closer look, then whip out my right hand quick and snatch up his wrist, yank it up towards me. He winces, hissing at the pain in his battered shoulder as I pull him out of his slouch, and he tries to struggle free but my grip’s like a vice as I reach over with my left hand and pull his sleeve up.

They took his bracers and gloves to do their work on him, so it’s simplicity itself for me to access the sigil tattooed in stark black ink across the back of his wrist. It’s a deceptively understated work, but drawn in a surprisingly talented hand, the dark grey lines of ink curving with pleasingly smooth artistic flair. If it didn’t represent such an ugly piece of magic I could almost find it beautiful to look at, but instead it’s inherently repellent to me, so I drag his wrist into his eyeline as I lean in close to his face. “Look at it, you stupid little shit. Look at what they did to you, what you let them do to you. This is seriously what you signed up for? To let them mark you with a fucking walking death sentence? Are you really that stupid?”

He looks up at me again, and this time there’s none of the reticence, the nervousness. He’s angry now, eyes narrowed and full of venom as he spits: “Yeah, I did that, I agreed, because they’re my friends. I ain’t gonna just turn on my friends to save my own skin. Don’t you even get that?”

Letting go of his wrist, I sit back a bit, watching him sidelong for a moment. “No, I do, I get it. Your friends are like your family, right? You’d die for ‘em in a heartbeat, if it came to it. I’d do the same for my friends, every one of ‘em.”

“Then you get that I ain’t giving you shit, no matter what you do to me.” He looks me over for a few moments, clearly noting the various knives I still have conspicuously on my person. “Not that you can do much to me, not really. You seen how this shit works, an’ you got an idea why it works. So all this shit you’re threatening me with, you can’t even do that, so I don’t get what you’re even flexing for in the first place.”

Leaning my chin on my folded arms again, I cock my head. “Oh no, you see, that’s just your problem. You think you know how this all works. You ever actually tortured anybody before?”

His eyes widen at the word torture, he can’t help it. He opens his mouth to reply, but comes up short.

Smiling now, I lean in on the back legs of the chair again. “A lot of people think the serious torture’s all about fancy instruments and special techniques, but mostly that’s just bollocks. A lot of the real pain a human being can inflict on another, you don’t even have to break the skin to do it. There’s places on your body I could cause you unbelievable amounts of pain without shedding a drop o’ blood and I could have you screaming for days without causing you any actual damage at all.” I lean an inch or two closer so all I have to do is whisper to him. “You ever had anyone yank on your balls before? I mean really tug ‘em, hard?”

His lower lip starts to quiver now as he starts to shrink down in his chair, clearly wanting to get further away from me but not having anywhere he can really go. “What … what …”

“There’s points on the soles o’ your feet, all I gotta do is poke nice an’ hard with a stick and you’ll squeal like a pig. Your hands too. It’s all to do with nerve endings, they way they just bunch up in certain places, your body’s made in funny ways and it can be really detrimental for you sometimes when you run into somebody who actually knows what they’re doing.” Again I lower my voice so I can whisper as I lean close enough to breathe right into his ear. “Your back? That thing’s a fucking playground, believe me. I��m gonna go nuts on that.”

When I let my gravity land me back on all four chair-legs again I keep the smile on my face, brushing my errant hair up out of my face again so he can get a good look at my eyes. He’s looking at me like I’m some kind of demon now, I swear, he’s completely terrified of me. He’s clearly been sweating the whole time we’ve had him in here, and not just from the pain of the injuries Gael gave him, but he’s thoroughly bathed in it now. That makes me smile a touch wider. “Course half the work’s already been done for me, ain’t it? I could go to work on that shoulder o’ yours first, that’d give me a nice little opening before I’d even have to think about moving onto virgin territory.”

For a long, drawn out moment he just watches me, eyes wide, lips drawn to a tight line, breathing fast through his nostrils while the sweat continues to pour down his face. I keep my eyes locked on his the whole time, but then I got him transfixed now, don’t reckon he could look away if he tried. The room’s become very quiet now, the only sound now is his rapid breathing, and in the back of my mind I wonder how much I’ve worked on the nerves of my friends who’ve just had to listen to me talk like that. If they’re wondering just how far I actually would go if he actually calls me on what’s not really a bluff in the first place.

That’s the thing that’s gnawing on me a little, that I’m working really hard to keep from showing as I look at him. It’s not that I can’t do all that shit I just said I could, and maybe worse. Problem is I know, if really pushed, I actually could. And it scares the hell outta me …

And then he licks his lips. He probably doesn’t even quite realise he’s done it, he just can’t help it. I’ve got him. So I stand up, casual as I can, and he flinches back as I take hold of my chair, turn it round, and plant myself again, the right way round this time. With nothing between us now, which sends a message all on its own. When I lean forward this time I’m not smiling anymore. “All right then, how about I just start folding your fingers back on themselves? Don’t need to draw blood to do that.”

“No! Fuck no! Gods, please …” He manages to stay in the chair when he flinches back this time, but it’s a bloody miracle. “Don’t touch me!”

“That’s kinda how this works, though.” I reach out again, both hands this time, a little more forceful now. “Tough break, kid. Pardon the choice o’ words, mind.”

“Stop!! Please, for the love o’ fuck, just stop! I’ll talk, just … just don’t! Please!”

Watching the tears pour down his cheeks as his dam breaks, I don’t have to look down to know his bladder’s gone too. Fuck … that worked better than I hoped it would.

When I look up at Shay I’m a little taken aback by what I see in her face, it’s an expression I’ve never even seen her make before. She looks genuinely disgusted with me, and more than just a little bit, too. It’s all I can do to keep from letting the shock show on my face, and I can’t hold her gaze for long at all. Gael won’t even look at me now, I notice, and even Darwyn seems a little uncomfortable.

Thel … she doesn’t seem at all shocked like the others, she’s just watching me with cool curiosity, and I’m sure she’s trying to work me out again, taking this new information into consideration. I wonder what she might’ve done if it was her taking the lead here.

I take a deep breath and sit back again, letting it out slow as I reach up and brush my hair back a little more forcefully now. My hands are shaking, ever so slightly, I can only just pick up on it but it’s telling enough, so it’s harder still for me to keep my face good and straight as I pick my right foot up and set it down across my left knee as I fold my arms. I wait for the boy to calm down a little, for his breathing to slow enough that it doesn’t look like he’s on the verge of a full-blown panic attack.

“All right, then. Guess we’ll start simple.”

Wull’s breath shudders when he lets it out, but his voice doesn’t break much, which is a good enough sign, I suppose. “Um … yeah. Sure.”

“Who d’you work for?”

He doesn’t answer right away, instead licking his lips again and reaching up, very slowly indeed, to mop his brow with the back of a very shaky right hand, like he doesn’t want to seem like any kind of threat at all. Finally he takes another breath, and this time it doesn’t hitch when he lets it out. “Vandryss.”

The name doesn’t ring any bells. I turn to Darwyn now, wanting to gauge her own reaction, but she’s not looking my way, eyes conspicuously focused on the floor now. I clear my throat very loudly, and she almost jumps out of her skin when she realises I’m trying to address her now. She regards me with wide eyes for a moment, then shakes her head, and it seems she’s with it enough to realise what I was asking before delivering a negative.

Thel shakes her head too when I regard her, but I’m less surprised there. I know she’s not really local, even if she might work out of here like we seem to have adopted Hocknar as our own these days. After a moment’s consideration, she adds a shrug to drive the point home.

Okay, maybe I need to press a little. “Who’s Vandryss?”

Wull watches me for another moment, wariness in his eyes again, but when I glance down at his hand, then back up to his eyes again, flexing my fingers as slow punctuation, this seems to be warning enough. “This creepy bitch, she’s the one we all answer to.”

I look up to Gael for a moment, and at least this time they’re actually willing to look at me again, a little bit of a frown touching their brow now. Turning back, I take a moment to choose my next question. “Wizard type, is she?”

This makes him frown too, narrowing his eyes a little, but it’s just from confusion. “No, she’s … ain’t really sure, to be honest. She’s a fighter, like you an’ these two, but … I dunno. There’s something wrong with ‘er.”

Sitting forward again, I lace my fingers with deliberate slowness, more to keep my growing urgency in check, really. “Wrong how? Tell me about her.”

“I dunno …” He licks his lips again, frown deepening, and thinks for a moment. “Thought she had some elf blood, ‘least to start, cuz her ears are kinda pointy, but … she ain’t got that glow, y’know? I mean she’s pale, but … I dunno. More it’s just sallow, like she never got any sun a day in her life. Hair’s white as bone, too. Might mistake her for an albino ‘cept for her eyes.”

“What about ‘em?”

“They’re green. Like really green. Got a proper glow in ‘em, it’s kinda fucked. I saw her in the shadows one time and I swear I saw her eyes way before I saw the rest of her stepping out. Creeped the hell outta me.”

Again, I look up at Gael, who just shakes their head again, frowning deep. I’ll admit, that description ain’t ringing any bells with me, either. “Anything else?”

“She got a whole lot o’ sharp teeth in her mouth, too. And black nails.”

Yeah, that don’t sound right either. Better ask Yes about that when we’re done in here, see if it rings any bells with her. She knows a whole lot more about dark, wrong shit than I’ll ever learn, I reckon. Taking a deep breath, I try to keep my voice level as I plough on. “So how come she’s in charge o’ your group, if you don’t even know who or … honestly, what she is? I thought you said you and yours were s’posed to be tight.”

“We are!” He sits forward for the first time, hands on his knees as he speaks with fervour, and there’s some strange new note to his voice now, might be desperation. It rattles me a touch to hear it. “We’re like a family, like you said. Vik was the boss for all the time we was coming up, then suddenly one day that creepy bitch just turned up and he was like, hey guys, this is Vandryss. She’s in charge now.” He ain’t flinching when he looks in my eyes now, and he looks desperate as he sounds now. “It was fucked up, but … he’s still Vik. There’s nothing wrong with him, he ain’t acting any different. So we just … went along with it.”

“Just like that? That didn’t seem fucked up to you?”

“Vik’s the boss, he looks out for us and he knows what’s best. So he decided to take orders from this … Vandryss, I ain’t gonna argue.”

“Vik … he’s the one in the wolf mask, right?” Thel interjects now, taking a little step closer on my side, arms still folded. She’s still playing it cool, but … there’s a little bit of an edge now.

“In the …” Wull looks up at her now, blinks for a moment, almost like he’s never actually seen her before, even surprised to see her in the first place. Maybe he’s just rattled by this conversation. “No, that’s Tog. He handles my crew. There’s like … I dunno, half a dozen of ‘em, maybe? Tog answers to Vik, so like I said, he’s the boss. I mean sure, if Tog says we do something, we’ll do it, but if it sounds dumb we’ll question it first. But not Vik. What he says goes.”

Wow … this feels a little like we’re getting talked round in circles, it’s giving me a headache. I look at Thel and she’s starting to frown too, and when I catch her eye she just shrugs. Turning to Gael, I find they’re as thrown as me, and Shay seems similarly perturbed. Even Darwyn’s thinking hard now.

Okay … well, least we got him talking now. Keep going, then. I take another breath and sit forward again. “So the mark, the one you all got slapped with, who put that on you? Was it this Vandryss, or was it somebody else? A wizard, maybe?”

Wull’s eyes widen a little at that. “Yeah, she … we seen her a few times now. She works with Vandryss. I dunno, she ain’t like her. She’s … I dunno, she’s kinda nice, I guess.”

“Nice? Really?” I look up at Gael again, and they’re moving closer now, leaning on their staff a little as they start listening harder. “How come?”

“When she put these on … I mean, it was done the regular way, they brought in some regular tattooists, couple o’ those pros from the docks, I’m sure. I dunno which ones, ain’t that many of us really bother with that kinda stuff, but … well, like a few of the other I got myself one once before, when I first came up, so I knew they were pretty good, definitely seemed to know what they were doing. They put the tattoos on, but she was there the whole time, every line she was muttering this … I dunno, something under her breath. It was weird, almost didn’t really sound like words, it was more … um …”

“You felt it, more than you heard it.” Gael prompts him “Am I right?”

“I … yeah, it was. That was weird.”

“An incantation. She was focusing on the sigil as it was being transcribed, making sure the magic took hold as required. Did it warm up as it was being applied?”

“Yeah, got proper hot. Whole lot more uncomfortable than the last one, I don’t mind telling you. Nothing I couldn’t live with, mind.” He sets his jaw, narrows his eyes again as he turns back to me. “I’m tough.”

“Course you are.” I try not to sound sarcastic as I say it, but it’s tricky.

Thankfully I don’t reckon he picks up on it, he just looks down again as he thinks. “Yeah, well … no, she was kinda sweet about it, really. She warned me it might hurt more’n I expected, so I guess I was kinda prepared for it anyway. And she apologised about the pain after, which surprised me some. But yeah, she was nice.”

“Tell me about her. What d’you remember?”

“Well, she was … I dunno. She was older, but not really old. Same age my ma would’ve been, maybe, if she were still round. She had some grey in her curls, see, rest was black. And a few wrinkles on her face, but not so many she weren’t still pretty. Well, kinda pretty. Y’know what I mean? How … I dunno �� pretty in a certain light, that’s how I heard it said once.” He keeps his face turned down, but he tries a furtive look my way again, and this time I reckon I can spot a little blush starting in his cheeks. “I mean, she was nice to me, okay? Made me remember her easy.”

“You get a name?”

He frowns again, seeming frustrated now. “Um … no. Never got one. Tog said not to ask, said we weren’t getting paid to ask questions.”

“So you’re just goons for hire?” I try not to sound too disappointed, but I don’t reckon I succeed too well. He looks up at me, a little sharper than I’d like, then nods. “Yeah, that’s about bloody right, ain’t it? I take it your boy Tog probably don’t know much more’n you do, not really?”

“I dunno … he likes to make out he’s way more in the loop than he is, sometimes. He’s a flash bastard, so he wants to look like he’s a bigger deal than he is, but yeah, you’re right. He’s clueless as the rest of us, really.”

Nodding, I look over at Darwyn, who’s stood off to the side now, and if I didn’t know better I could think she’s not even following the conversation anymore the way she’s just watching the nearest wall, stroking her chin. Seeing her jogs my memory, though, and I’m glad of it given how loose my brain must be getting now with the fatigue.

“This wizard woman, or Vandryss … whichever one, either of ‘em ever have an orc with ‘em?”

“You mean that massive fucker turned up in the alley earlier?” Wull’s wide-eyed and skittish again, clearly a little rattled by the memory. “First time I seen him. Scared the fuck outta me, honestly didn’t even know he was actually on our side ‘til he started swinging that bloody sword at them.” He nods towards Gael.

Yeah, I didn’t think that was gonna pan out either, not after he said he didn’t really know who the wizard was either. This line of questioning ain’t getting us anywhere. Time to follow a different track.

“You know anything about the folk that’ve been disappearing, at least?”

“The … they what?” Wull looks genuinely scared now, casting about the entire group like he’s looking for anyone who might be able to help him out of any hole he might be about to dig for himself. “No, that ain’t us. We ain’t doing that.”

“But you’re mixed up with that all the same. You do get that, right?”

“Maybe … maybe so, but … that weren’t us. I mean, yeah, we heard about some o’ the other crews being involved in something like that, but it was … I mean that was just rumours, we didn’t know one way or another. All we ever did was muscle-work. I swear.”

Watching him for several beats, I decide I believe him. That proper rattled him, sure, but he was surprised, not guilty. I sit back for a moment, thoughtful now, although part of me also hopes one of the others might pick up the slack too, ‘least now we got the kid cooperating proper.

It’s Darwyn who steps up to it, which takes me by surprise, and the boy too, Wull jumping a little as she steps up to his side and starts speaking to him. “Where’d you get all the gear? The weaponry, the tools, the better armour pieces some o’ your lot were sporting? That’s all Thieves Guild stuff. Means your lot are in deep shit just walking round with it since you clearly ain’t in the Guild in the first place.”

Wull blinks, visibly startled, then looks my way, questioning and a little bit of pleading too. I just look right back, trying to be cold as I can with him right now. “Better answer her, kid. Save you from a whole lot worse if you just come clean.”

“Um … that was from Vandryss too, I reckon. Can’t be sure, it was one o’ the other crews brought it in, but … I mean, you don’t gotta think about it too much, y’know?”

Darwyn hisses through her teeth as she steps back, clearly pissed and I don’t blame her. For just a moment it felt like she might’ve hit on a potential lead, but no, again it makes sense. In a way it tells me something new about this all anyway, something else that makes a worrying but pretty fiendish kinda sense too. They’re being smart about this, using muscle that don’t know any better and keeping ‘em in the dark about what they’re actually doing, only parcelling out the absolute essentials of information so none of ‘em get an actual idea. They’re compartmentalising, and being real clever about it too.

Means we ain’t getting a lead that way. This boy won’t know who’s actually behind this any more than we would. Instead all we’ve really wound up with is a new face with a name we ain’t even seen yet, and a couple confirmations we can’t really do much with. But …

Sitting forward again, I take a long moment to order my thoughts, work out exactly how I want to carry this next question forward, in the very slim chance it might actually pay off with an actual lead, which I worry might be the last one we can get here. So I take a deep breath before I start and hope like hell. “Wull, this is real important, so I want you to think real hard about it, okay?”

The boy blinks again, looking at me for a long moment before licking his lips once more. He’s slow answering too. “Yeah. Sure.”

“I want you to tell me everything you can remember about those tattooists.”

TO BE CONTINUED ...

#never split the party #The Creeping Bam #the adventures of The Creeping Bam #book 2 chapter 21 #fantasy fiction #original fiction #original fantasy fiction #to be continued

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themilkybarboy · 3 years

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community bits that deserve more love 🥰

Asian population studies when Annie is like change the subject and Chang goes CHANG the subject !!!!!!! And u realise he has been up there the Entire time

Jeff singing the song from ghost from outside the pottery class

The weird noise the Dean makes when Shirley is giving birth

Brittas dorky Halloween costumes like babe I love u

The continual shut up Leonard run

The bit where Chang is like to britta don’t wear as much lipstick as you did on Valentine’s Day it makes your mouth look like a coin purse then when it’s all tense because britta has just declared she loves Jeff and Chang is like brittas hey britta ur lipstick looks better

In dungeons and dragons when Jeff is like i can fix this,I’ll find a fatter neal

Abed whole build up of a story about going to cougar town and they way he ends it so solemnly with I pooped my pants

Abeds face when him and Jeff have “ a real conversation” and he realises oh no Jeff is mentally unstable

Th Dean walking up to Annie and handing her the orange and she is like what’s this and he goes scene four

Troy and abed having a pierces mom memorial tunnel in their blanket fort

Abeds hair flick when he was dressed as Jesus at the study group table

The way the professor professorson was like just talk to your father Craig

Pierce giving Gilbert a gun in the video game episode to kill their father

The whole bare naked ladies fight in early 21st century romanticism

The hobgoblin interrogation scene in the second dungeons and dragon episode

Abed giving Troy all the cups and blankets in the ass crack bandit episode

The deans map in the kfc spaceship episode where he has like rated or recorded in some way his hookups idk what exactly it was but it was funny

Baby boomer Santa song I honestly think that was the best original song to come out of community but that’s just me

The way britta was like OMG I know what we need to do you need to bang that kids mom and the way her and Jeff got so excited for it

Abed and Annie’s weird cow handshake coz they’re adorable

When annie is like minuses are made up and neal pushes the book trolley over and like how fuckin QUICKLY they descended into a riot like green dale is always one breath away from going absolutely batshit insane and I love them for it

When Chang kidnaps those kids and is like I am NUTS Jeff get with the program

The s5 finale when brittas is like hey Chang become a bad guy again and he attempts to rip his face off and he is like I guess it’s not more complicated than that and he is like I think I’m just mentally ill

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theadventuresofgarlandodra · 9 months

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The Adventures of Garl and Odra Manyboots- Quick March

Prev.

“All right, company! We have a long distance to go today, and I won’t have any complaints. No sirree, we must reach the Lower Willow Bow, and we will march as long as it takes! Even it takes longer than the day, we will go forth with our heads held high and weapons at the ready! Right, company, forward- march!”

Oh gods, this was going to be a long day. Sahsi groaned and almost fell into marching stance (or what she supposed marching stance was, she really didn’t know) when she realized that literally no one else in the party was falling in position and were just, well… walking. Like a normal party. No one was giving Turgut the time of day, despite all his grumbling about how marching was more efficient use of energy and pacing.

Elphira leaned in close and murmured into Sahsi’s ear, “Just ignore him. We’re take a break for lunch and we’ll stop once it gets too dark to see.”

“Oh.” Thank the gods. “I can see in almost no light though, so…”

“I mean, I do too. Tynos can’t though, and I think Turgut’s a little nearsighted. Explains why he’s shit with a crossbow,” Elphira patted Sahsi’s shoulder, “just let him prattle on. He’ll make for good meat for the grinder if shit goes sideways.”

Ah. Right. This wasn’t like the other parties Sahsi had been temporarily recruited into, where everyone was a team. Crowley’s peers were just as likely to throw her to the wolves as they were likely to save her. And at least one of them would gladly throw her an anchor rather than a rope if she was drowning.

Wick was up front, talking with Crowley as if they didn’t have a hostage leading the charge into the kingdom of the hags. It was going to be fine, Sahsi told herself as she stuck in the middle of the group. As long as she held up her end of the bargain, Wick would let her go. At least she hoped he would.

“You’ll get to go home.”

It was like Elphira read her mind. The half drow didn’t look sympathetic or anything, just matter of fact. “We’re all pretty cut throat around here, it’s how you make it around people like Crowley. However, Nalthea, you call her Thunderwarrior- she’s pretty serious about deals and contracts. It’s part of her code, you say you’ll do something, well you better do it. She was there when Wick promised your freedom in exchange for the death of Matilda. If he tries to go back on it-” Elphira drew a line across her throat.

Sahsi nodded, reaching up to touch her throat. “And I’ll hold my part of the deal. Even if he tried to kill me…” she glanced back up to Wick. “He’s doing it because he’s hurt. What happened to him was wrong, and I’ll help make that right.”

Elphira snorted before she started giggling. “Oh- oh my gods, you’re doing it because it’s ‘right’? Even though he was about to gut you like a sacrificial lamb?” She patted Sahsi on the head. “You’re so stupid, it’s cute.”

Sahsi scowled, balling up her fists to prevent herself from swatting Elphira’s condescending hand away. “Just because I try to do the right thing doesn’t mean I’m stupid,” she said coldly.

“Ooooh, it’s not a bad kind of stupid. It’s the ‘you know nothing’ kind of stupid,” Elphira leaned down to look Sahsi in the eyes. “It’s the naive kind of stupid where you really think that ‘good’ and ‘bad’ means something in the long run. You can keep that delusion, it’s nice that there’s still some people who thinks it matters.”

“It does though,” Sahsi insisted.

Elphira chuckled again before she picked up the pace to catch up to the goliath, who perked up upon noticing Elphira and immediately struck up an animated conversation.

Crowley really surrounded himself with a coldblooded pack, hadn’t he? Sahsi glanced among the group, between the two bickering hobgoblins, the oathbreaking aasimar and his revenge obsessed genasi, the upbeat but apparently brutal goliath and the jaded half elf… Sahsi was really alone here.

Her foot caught on a branch and she yelped as she fell to the ground, bouncing her face off the ground once or twice before she even realized what had happened.

Ow.

“Hey, you okay?”

Sahsi peeled her face off the dirt path to look up at Tynos. The final party member, the satyr. His strange eyes looked at Sahsi with genuine concern as he offered her one of his hands. “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” he asked.

Sahsi took the offered hand and pulled herself up. “I’m okay, I’m okay. Thank you. I didn’t spot you for a bit, did you wander off?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Tynos grinned sheepishly before lifting up a basket. “We passed a bush full of blueberries, so I figured I’d fall back to pick them and catch up in a bit! I’m pretty fast, so I had the time! You want some?”

Well. Perhaps not all of the party were cold. Sahsi smiled before taking a few berries. “I’d love some, thank you,” she said before popping the handful in her mouth. They immediately burst in her mouth, nice and juicy. “Oh! These are so good!”

“Good to know! I’ll probably add them to dinner, you think some blueberry pancakes will be good?” Tynos practically did a little dance as he walked alongside Sahsi. “Or I could reduce it to a sauce, pour it over some venison if Turgut manages to shoot a deer along the way. He’s a really good hunter, he could probably make a living off of it if he wanted.”

“Both of those sound delicious!” Sahsi nodded excitedly. “They make a good path snack at least for now.”

Tynos’ fluffy ears happily flipflopped and Sahsi was already feeling better. Then they tilted down as Tynos looked down at his feet.

“I… I want to apologize to you, actually.”

Sahsi frowned. “Why?” she asked.

“I mean, he would’ve gotten you any other way, but I didn’t have to help, I just…” Tynos sighed as he kicked an acorn, watching it bounce down the path before he continued. “I was the one who gave Wick the herbs to drug your beer. Wick had told me you were another hag in the making, and he’s… really convincing, I really believed you were like the others.”

Oh. Wow. Sahsi dimly remembered the satyr chatting with everyone at the tavern, but she’d not thought he’d really- wow. That kind of hurt a bit. “Others?” she asked, choosing to focus on that.

“He’s killed a lot of hags, and hexbloods too.But the hexbloods were usually paired with hags, you’re the first I’ve seen that wasn’t with a hag.” Tynos’ ears twitched again. “That… probably should’ve clued me in that you’re not a normal hexblood huh?”

“I mean,” Sahsi bit her lip, “I don’t think I could be the only hexblood out there that isn’t studying under their mother or teacher. Not every hexblood is even born, even- a lot of them are cursed, or the result of tangling with the wrong fae magic.”

“… Oh.”

Tynos turned away, raising a hand to hide his face. “I… I didn’t really know. I mean, the only hags and hexbloods I’ve met seemed mean. But you’re probably right, I don’t really like it when people assume things about me just because I’m a satyr, so… should I just shut up?”

“No, you can keep talking,” Sahsi said with a smile. “I have to say, you’re not really like everyone else here.”

“It’s kinda obvious, huh?” Tynos rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re probably right though. I’m a bit soft. But I owe Crowley and Wick, and I won’t leave them until that debt’s paid.”

Sahsi glanced down at Tynos’ golden hoof, trying to be subtle about it. Tynos caught it though and he nodded. “Yeah, everything to do with that. I can tell you-”

“You don’t have to!” Sahsi held up her hands. “If it’s too painful, anyway. I can understand painful memories.”

“It’s okay, it’ll hopefully help me make sense to you.” Tynos kicked his golden hoof up in the air. “It’s not really a big, complicated story anyway, I’m not like Wick. Everything was pretty normal for me at the temple I lived at, there was a lot of priests for Shepa, and being a satyr the people thought I had a better connection with him since he’s the god of shepherds. But then a bunch of orcs came tromping through our lands and chased us out. Most of the others got away, but… I didn’t. I was cornered, down a hoof, and they were threatening to turn me into mutton when out of nowhere,” Tynos snapped his fingers. “There they were! Wick lit one of their heads on fire and it got their attention off of me, long enough so I could escape. Turns out Crowley was out there to collect a bounty on the orc chieftain. I was hiding in the woods, I managed to heal myself enough so I wasn’t bleeding out anymore, and they caught up to me. I couldn’t thank them enough, so I offered to tag along to see if I could make it right. Soooo, here I am.”

Sahsi nodded slowly. “Did they help you get the new hoof too?” she asked.

“That was all Wick. He found someone who made fake feet and they found a way to make me a new one! It’s just as good as the old one, even if sometimes it feels like it hurts,” Tynos twisted his mouth, “it’s apparently a common thing if you lose a leg or an arm. It’ll feel like pins and needles, even if it’s not there anymore.”

“I’m glad that Wick could help you though,” Sahsi said.

“I am too! I like walking too much to give it up!”

The pair giggled until Turgut shouted, “Quiet in the ranks! More marching, less lip flapping! This is the most unprofessional- OW!”

Kendrenal’s wild giggles echoed off the trees. “Oopsiiiee! I was testing out one of my new inventions, I didn’t mean to shock you!” he said.

Sahsi and Tynos turned to see Turgut shaking his arm out while Kendrenal cradled a little metal knick knack between his hands. Turgut scowled at Kendrenal. “Mutiny! Insubordination! I’ll have your guts for garters!” he shouted before taking a swing at Kendrenal.

Kendrenal ‘eep’ed’ and ducked before running away, Turgut hot on his heels. “Don’t hurt Sir Frederick! He’ll be a loyal member of the party!”

“I’ll take that Sir Frederick and shove it right up your-”

“Languaaaage! He’s just a baby!”

“Give it here right now or you’ll spend the entire night polishing the entire unit’s weapons!”

“Don’t listen to it, Sir Frederick, it’s just loud and crass.”

“And again with the ‘it’! You have disrespected me for the last time!”

The pair of hobgoblins continued to run circles around the party that was currently losing their minds laughing. Even Crowley couldn’t hide a grin when Kendrenal managed to stick his leg out and trip Turgut, causing the older hobgoblin to fall into the bushes.

Of course, that would be when a pack of bandits would pop out of the trees, demanding their gold or their lives.

Sahsi learned very quickly despite their jovial natures the moment before, the second you tried taking anything from Crowley you might as well have your coffin ready.

This was going to be a long, long adventure.

#writeblr #short stories #fantasy comedy #fantasy stories #creative writing #dnd homebrew #goblins #spilled ink #the adventures of garl and odra manyboots #short fantasy stories #writers of tumblr

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echosong971 · 3 years

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- The Most Important Mission -

“Y’know, I’ve…actually never been down to the City.”

Cayde snaps his head to stare at Echo with wide eyes, looking at her as if she had just admitted to having snuck a rogue Hobgoblin into the Tower.

“No way!” He exclaims incredulously.

“I just never found the time I guess,” Echo replies with a nonchalant shrug, eliciting a disbelieving scoff from the exo beside her.

“Well, now I am obligated by the Hunter Code to treat you to a visit to the city.”

She scoffs and cocks her head to one side, “…since when did we have a Hunter Code?”

“Since I just made one up not four seconds ago, and it requires the Hunter Vanguard to be accompanied by one lucky Guardian to his favorite ramen restaurant,” he remarks definitively, poking the Nightstalker in the center of her chest as he winks at her, the exo shaking her head at him.

“Oh?” She flashes him a small, intrigued smile as she waves his hand away.

“Yeah, trust me, absolutely no offense to our buddy up here—they’re super great, one of my favorite shops—but the ramen from Saka’s Soup, the shop down in the City, is GODLY,” Cayde’s mouth lights up in a chuckle as he lays back on the dock of the Annex they were currently sitting on, gesticulating with his hands as he continues talking, “Especially the spicy ramen in the soy sauce broth with the ground up pork and garlic chives mmhmhmhmmm-” he lets out a somewhat dreamy, robotic whine, running his hands down his metallic face.

“DAMN, I’m gettin’ hungry just thinkin’ about it, and I don’t even have a stomach to be hungry with!”

The verdant-eyed Exo chuckles beside him, tilting her head to the side. “Mmmm, and who’s the lucky Guardian this Hunter Vanguard is going to request to accompany him then, hmm?” She questions with a small, knowing smile, glancing at him with mischievous eyes.

Cayde flashes her a wide grin, eyes bright. “Take a guess.”

“Ikora.”

“Mmmm, no.”

“Zavala?”

“HAH, absolutely not. Zavala practically only exists in the Tower, I don’t think he could leave if he tried.”

That joke gets a small laugh out of his fellow Hunter, Cayde’s chest welling up with pride at the fact he elicited such a noise from her.

“Hmm….Amanda?” She continues to guess after her giggling dies down.

“Close, but no.”

She shrugs at him. “Well…I’m stumped.”

The Hunter Vanguard sits up, giving her a sly look.

“I’ll give you some hints: she’s an Exo Hunter, just like yours truly-“ he announces proudly as he puts a hand to his puffed up chest. “-she’s rather quiet and reserved, always lurkin’ in the back corner of the room. That is, until you break through her icy shell, and then she suddenly becomes the second funniest person you’ve ever met, the first of course being me-”

Echo scoffs and rolls her eyes, shaking her head in mock disappointment. Cayde could tell she was still smiling, however.

“And…” his voice and gaze suddenly soften as he looks over at her, the arrogant expression he had been wearing melting into a gentle and sincere appreciation.

“She doesn’t show it, but she has a nasty tendency to think little of herself—she puts so much pressure on herself, tryin’ to live up to the legacy her past self left behind, and then she beats herself up when she falls short.”

He pauses for a moment, blinking.

“…Lotta ‘selfs’ in that sentence, wow.” He chuckles to himself, before shaking his head and returning to his original train of thought. “Anyways- despite all that, I just want her to know…” he scoots a little closer to Echo, causing her to look up at him in surprise, their faces now mere inches apart from one another.

“…that I, for one, think she’s pretty spectacular—especially when considering all the shit she’s had to deal with recently? I’m amazed at how she’s still pushin’ forward,” he lets out a heartfelt laugh, “And not only that, but she is one talented as hell Nightstalker, to the point where—and don’t tell ANYONE else I said this or you’ll end up with a buncha jealous Hunters on your hands-“ he warns with a comical wagging of his finger, before his sincerity returned. “….out of all of my Hunters that I’ve ever had the wonderful pleasure of trainin’-”

“She’s gotta be my favorite.”

If Echo’s face plates could heat up, they would be doing so at the current moment as she locks eyes with the one and only Cayde-6, her Hunter Vanguard who had just admitted to her being his favorite.

She swears her servos just skipped a circuit as she stared into his glowing blue eyes, now gazing back at her with the kindest and most genuine expression she has ever seen him give anyone.

“….Oh, and also her name starts with an ‘E’ and ends with ‘cho-3.’”

“Well THAT’S not a hint, you just gave me the answer!” Echo blurts out in a flustered panic as she throws her hands up in exasperation, causing Cayde to erupt into a fit of hearty laughter. He nearly falls onto his back as he clutches his stomach, his contagious laugh echoing throughout the Annex whilst his fellow Hunter lets out an embarrassed huff and indignantly crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes at the chortling man.

This….stupid….arrogant….golden hearted man with the most amazing laugh….

“So, whaddya say, partner?” Cayde holds out a hand out to her as his laughter dies down, his grin as wide as ever.

“Are ya ready to join me on our mission to the City’s best ramen restaurant?”

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fightxxmexxshiggy · 3 years

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People mentioned dnd to me and now I'm having thoughts so everyone can have a crisis with me about how hot this would be.

BAKUGOU the first one up is our sexy boom man and lord let me tell you I absolutely see him as a lvl 15 half elf artificer (really hope I spelled that right) he would come up with the most intricate bombs and weapons that he'd have a reputation for always being ready to level a kingdom if he needed to. He would literally find you doing some petty theft to survive and decide your interesting. He would take you on as an assistant teach you some profitable skills and when he felt you were gonna be ok without him talked to you about where you could go for a good job. He is not happy when you laugh in his face. That is until you explain that the only thing you wanna do for work is be his assistant and work his cock inside your hole every night if he'd let you. This was absolutely the perfect thing to say because the next thing you know he's gripping you by the neck and slowly walking you backwards to the bed. The moment is tense and you can feel the sex energy in the air so you make a joke about being ready to store his boom stick for him. He smirks and pulls out a long thiccc cock that has you both wary and wetter than a flood. He would crawl over you and slide it between your lips the hand on your throat still gentle but the command he has over you is unmistakable. As he gets a steady pace of face FUCKING you, he also gets into a little rythm of squeezing and caressing your throat in time with his cock head hitting sliding into it. Before long he's cuming down your throat and growling at you to drink every drop like a good girl so he can fuck your little full of his next load. He would literally say "only good girls get breed and good girls drink all the cum their given so keep swallow my pretty assistant."

SERO he is a shifter archer who was on the way to meet up with his party when he finds you wounded after a battle with a rude hobgoblin. He patches you up and takes you with him to the next town to get you to a proper doctor. After meeting with his party he goes back to visit you and make sure he didn't drag you here only for you to take a ground nap. He doesn't expect to find you up and fully healed. But at this point he's just gonna go with it. As a thank you you take him to a local inn for a meal. After talking and laughing together for a bit you start getting flirty and rubbing his leg underneath the table. He grins slow and cat like before hooking his leg around yours and jerking his head towards the back alley. Once outside he's got you against the wall and is finger FUCKING you WHILE he rolls your clit with his thumb. In minutes your squirting and squeezing his fingers. That's when you learn that shifters are long and strong. SERO'S teeth are gripping your shoulder while he holds you up against the wall finger tips digging into your ass and hard cock rearranging your guts like it's a damn sport. Your cuming again when he let's go and floods your womb with hot cum. Just as your ready for him to put you down he starts thrusting again hitting your deepest spot like he's guided by magic. The nonstop pounding has you breathless an unable to do more than grip his hair as you moan in his ear. A part of your mind is wondering if his party has space for one more until everything goes blank when you cum so hard you go limp.

KIRISHIMA he is a goliath barbarian with a surprising sense of humor. His party uses your town as a homebase of sorts and he comes to your shop often for supplies and even more often for the snacks and pastries you sell at the counter. He always buys enough for his friends and then sits down with the large portion he got just for his big ass self and has tea with you while he fills up. He regales you with tales of his dungeon raids and where he might be off to next. Usually he leaves you with a little charm he had carved while off on a quest except this time he leaves a wooden carved ring with the word mine engraved on it. The sly man has already headed back to the large home he shares with his party on the edge of town. Once the work day is done you march down to his home an knock on the door. It's answered by the ever grumpy half self that you push past and march up to your goliath. You drag him out by his ear and hand him the ring back with a growled if you don't put it on me the right way no more snacks. He puts it on your left hand and then throws you over his shoulder. He runs to his room and drops you on the bed much faster than you would have thought such a big man could. With your skirts thrown up around your waist you have a perfect view of the redhead slurping and feasting on your pussy. It's only after your 6th screaming orgasm that he frees his cock. You swear it's a war hammer made of flesh but that doesn't stop your pussy from clenching at the sight of it. Long minutes later you were impaled on half of his cock just whimpering and squirting while he worked you up and down like a fuck doll. His growls and snarls only made your pussy weep more juices down the length of his cock. On a particularly hard thrust you came so hard your pussy convulsed around his cock milking his cum from him so violently that even when he had shot every drop into your welcoming womb he was still twitching inside as if he had more to shoot.

DENKI he is a tabaxi rogue. He was doing some scouting for his party on a quest when he sees you. Your collecting herbs and fruits nothing strange except your scent hits his nose like mace to the face and he jumps from the tree's to land in front of you. Needless to say you are freaked out until he apologizes and explains that his species are drawn to the sent of their mate and your scent is making him want to both protect you like a precious treasure but also rail you like he's in rut. Yes he says this like it's not kinda nuts to say to a stranger. You weren't happy in your village and you had given up on finding a life partner so you took a leap and said you'll be his mate on the condition that he courts you like other races do first. He's over the moon and agrees but asks that you let him cover you in his scent before he goes back to his work just to keep him sane. He rubs and grinds all over you for about five minutes before running off to continue his work. From that point on he visits you at least twice a week and courts you, bringing gifts and having meals with you. One night after it had been two weeks since he last came he shows up with a few almost healed wounds and tells you that his last mission was difficult. You fuss over him for a while until you notice the clear bulge in his pants. Thinking about how much you had missed him you decided that you needed the closeness that only sex could bring. He's panting at the knowledge that he'll finally be able to claim the little pussy that's been giving off the most alluring scent he's ever smelled. A few minutes of tongue FUCKING you with your leg over his shoulder later, your sliding down his thicc cock and riding him like you used to ride your father's horse. He's FUCKING up into you with no mercy, absolutely abusing your gspot. The sensations are too much and you can't stop crying as you cum soaking his cock. He rolls you to your back still fucking you like a madman until he shoves deep and his cock swells locking him inside your pussy as he cums so much you can feel it escape your pussy.

Someone come take my internet away. @hipster-merchant-of-death @reinawritesbnha @sendhelpimstupid @cupcake-rogue

#bakugou headcanons #sero smut #denki x reader #kirishima headcanon #mha sero x reader #bakugou smut #kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #denki headcanons #denki smut #sero headcanons #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakusquad #bakusquad dnd characters

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roach-works · 5 years

Text

here’s a story about changelings

reposted from my old blog, which got deleted: Mary was a beautiful baby, sweet and affectionate, but by the time she’s three she’s turned difficult and strange, with fey moods and a stubborn mouth that screams and bites but never says mama. But her mother’s well-used to hard work with little thanks, and when the village gossips wag their tongues she just shrugs, and pulls her difficult child away from their precious, perfect blossoms, before the bites draw blood. Mary’s mother doesn’t drown her in a bucket of saltwater, and she doesn’t take up the silver knife the wife of the village priest leaves out for her one Sunday brunch. She gives her daughter yarn, instead, and instead of a rowan stake through her inhuman heart she gives her a child’s first loom, oak and ash. She lets her vicious, uncooperative fairy daughter entertain herself with games of her own devising, in as much peace and comfort as either of them can manage. Mary grows up strangely, as a strange child would, learning everything in all the wrong order, and biting a great deal more than she should. But she also learns to weave, and takes to it with a grand passion. Soon enough she knows more than her mother–which isn’t all that much–and is striking out into unknown territory, turning out odd new knots and weaves, patterns as complex as spiderwebs and spellrings. “Aren’t you clever,” her mother says, of her work, and leaves her to her wool and flax and whatnot. Mary’s not biting anymore, and she smiles more than she frowns, and that’s about as much, her mother figures, as anyone should hope for from their child. Mary still cries sometimes, when the other girls reject her for her strange graces, her odd slow way of talking, her restless reaching fluttering hands that have learned to spin but never to settle. The other girls call her freak, witchblood, hobgoblin. “I don’t remember girls being quite so stupid when I was that age,” her mother says, brushing Mary’s hair smooth and steady like they’ve both learned to enjoy, smooth as a skein of silk. “Time was, you knew not to insult anyone you might need to flatter later. ‘Specially when you don’t know if they’re going to grow wings or horns or whatnot. Serve ‘em all right if you ever figure out curses.” “I want to go back,” Mary says. “I want to go home, to where I came from, where there’s people like me. If I’m a fairy’s child I should be in fairyland, and no one would call me a freak.” “Aye, well, I’d miss you though,” her mother says. “And I expect there’s stupid folk everywhere, even in fairyland. Cruel folk, too. You just have to make the best of things where you are, being my child instead.” Mary learns to read well enough, in between the weaving, especially when her mother tracks down the traveling booktraders and comes home with slim, precious manuals on dyes and stains and mordants, on pigments and patterns, diagrams too arcane for her own eyes but which make her daughter’s eyes shine. “We need an herb garden,” her daughter says, hands busy, flipping from page to page, pulling on her hair, twisting in her skirt, itching for a project. “Yarrow, and madder, and woad and weld…” “Well, start digging,” her mother says. “Won’t do you a harm to get out of the house now’n then.” Mary doesn’t like dirt but she’s learned determination well enough from her mother. She digs and digs, and plants what she’s given, and the first year doesn’t turn out so well but the second’s better, and by the third a cauldron’s always simmering something over the fire, and Mary’s taking in orders from girls five years older or more, turning out vivid bolts and spools and skeins of red and gold and blue, restless fingers dancing like they’ve summoned down the rainbow. Her mother figures she probably has. “Just as well you never got the hang of curses,” she says, admiring her bright new skirts. “I like this sort of trick a lot better.” Mary smiles, rocking back and forth on her heels, fingers already fluttering to find the next project. She finally grows up tall and fair, if a bit stooped and squinty, and time and age seem to calm her unhappy mouth about as well as it does for human children. Word gets around she never lies or breaks a bargain, and if the first seems odd for a fairy’s child then the second one seems fit enough. The undyed stacks of taken orders grow taller, the dyed lots of filled orders grow brighter, the loom in the corner for Mary’s own creations grows stranger and more complex. Mary’s hands callus just like her mother’s, become as strong and tough and smooth as the oak and ash of her needles and frames, though they never fall still. “Do you ever wonder what your real daughter would be like?” the priest’s wife asks, once. Mary’s mother snorts. “She wouldn’t be worth a damn at weaving,” she says. “Lord knows I never was. No, I’ll keep what I’ve been given and thank the givers kindly. It was a fair enough trade for me. Good day, ma’am.” Mary brings her mother sweet chamomile tea, that night, and a warm shawl in all the colors of a garden, and a hairbrush. In the morning, the priest’s son comes round, with payment for his mother’s pretty new dress and a shy smile just for Mary. He thinks her hair is nice, and her hands are even nicer, vibrant in their strength and skill and endless motion. They all live happily ever after. * Here’s another story: Gregor grew fast, even for a boy, grew tall and big and healthy and began shoving his older siblings around early. He was blunt and strange and flew into rages over odd things, over the taste of his porridge or the scratch of his shirt, over the sound of rain hammering on the roof, over being touched when he didn’t expect it and sometimes even when he did. He never wore shoes if he could help it and he could tell you the number of nails in the floorboards without looking, and his favorite thing was to sit in the pantry and run his hands through the bags of dry barley and corn and oat. Considering as how he had fists like a young ox by the time he was five, his family left him to it. “He’s a changeling,” his father said to his wife, expecting an argument, but men are often the last to know anything about their children, and his wife only shrugged and nodded, like the matter was already settled, and that was that. They didn’t bind Gregor in iron and leave him in the woods for his own kind to take back. They didn’t dig him a grave and load him into it early. They worked out what made Gregor angry, in much the same way they figured out the personal constellations of emotion for each of their other sons, and when spring came, Gregor’s father taught him about sprouts, and when autumn came, Gregor’s father taught him about sheaves. Meanwhile his mother didn’t mind his quiet company around the house, the way he always knew where she’d left the kettle, or the mending, because she was forgetful and he never missed a detail. “Pity you’re not a girl, you’d never drop a stitch of knitting,” she tells Gregor, in the winter, watching him shell peas. His brothers wrestle and yell before the hearth fire, but her fairy child just works quietly, turning peas by their threes and fours into the bowl. “You know exactly how many you’ve got there, don’t you?” she says. “Six hundred and thirteen,” he says, in his quiet, precise way. His mother says “Very good,” and never says Pity you’re not human. He smiles just like one, if not for quite the same reasons. The next autumn he’s seven, a lucky number that pleases him immensely, and his father takes him along to the mill with the grain. “What you got there?” The miller asks them. “Sixty measures of Prince barley, thirty two measures of Hare’s Ear corn, and eighteen of Abernathy Blue Slate oats,” Gregor says. “Total weight is three hundred fifty pounds, or near enough. Our horse is named Madam. The wagon doesn’t have a name. I’m Gregor.” “My son,” his father says. “The changeling one.” “Bit sharper’n your others, ain’t he?” the miller says, and his father laughs. Gregor feels proud and excited and shy, and it dries up all his words, sticks them in his throat. The mill is overwhelming, but the miller is kind, and tells him the name of each and every part when he points at it, and the names of all the grain in all the bags waiting for him to get to them. “Didn’t know the fair folk were much for machinery,” the miller says. Gregor shrugs. “I like seeds,” he says, each word shelled out with careful concentration. “And names. And numbers.” “Aye, well. Suppose that’d do it. Want t’help me load up the grist?” They leave the grain with the miller, who tells Gregor’s father to bring him back ‘round when he comes to pick up the cornflour and cracked barley and rolled oats. Gregor falls asleep in the nameless wagon on the way back, and when he wakes up he goes right back to the pantry, where the rest of the seeds are left, and he runs his hands through the shifting, soothing textures and thinks about turning wheels, about windspeed and counterweights. When he’s twelve–another lucky number–he goes to live in the mill with the miller, and he never leaves, and he lives happily ever after. * Here’s another: James is a small boy who likes animals much more than people, which doesn’t bother his parents overmuch, as someone needs to watch the sheep and make the sheepdogs mind. James learns the whistles and calls along with the lambs and puppies, and by the time he’s six he’s out all day, tending to the flock. His dad gives him a knife and his mom gives him a knapsack, and the sheepdogs give him doggy kisses and the sheep don’t give him too much trouble, considering. “It’s not right for a boy to have so few complaints,” his mother says, once, when he’s about eight. “Probably ain’t right for his parents to have so few complaints about their boy, neither,” his dad says. That’s about the end of it. James’ parents aren’t very talkative, either. They live the routines of a farm, up at dawn and down by dusk, clucking softly to the chickens and calling harshly to the goats, and James grows up slow but happy. When James is eleven, he’s sent to school, because he’s going to be a man and a man should know his numbers. He gets in fights for the first time in his life, unused to peers with two legs and loud mouths and quick fists. He doesn’t like the feel of slate and chalk against his fingers, or the harsh bite of a wooden bench against his legs. He doesn’t like the rules: rules for math, rules for meals, rules for sitting down and speaking when you’re spoken to and wearing shoes all day and sitting under a low ceiling in a crowded room with no sheep or sheepdogs. Not even a puppy. But his teacher is a good woman, patient and experienced, and James isn’t the first miserable, rocking, kicking, crying lost lamb ever handed into her care. She herds the other boys away from him, when she can, and lets him sit in the corner by the door, and have a soft rag to hold his slate and chalk with, so they don’t gnaw so dryly at his fingers. James learns his numbers well enough, eventually, but he also learns with the abruptness of any lamb taking their first few steps–tottering straight into a gallop–to read. Familiar with the sort of things a strange boy needs to know, his teacher gives him myths and legends and fairytales, and steps back. James reads about Arthur and Morgana, about Hercules and Odysseus, about djinni and banshee and brownies and bargains and quests and how sometimes, something that looks human is left to try and stumble along in the humans’ world, step by uncertain step, as best they can. James never comes to enjoy writing. He learns to talk, instead, full tilt, a leaping joyous gambol, and after a time no one wants to hit him anymore. The other boys sit next to him, instead, with their mouths closed, and their hands quiet on their knees. “Let’s hear from James,” the men at the alehouse say, years later, when he’s become a man who still spends more time with sheep than anyone else, but who always comes back into town with something grand waiting for his friends on his tongue. “What’ve you got for us tonight, eh?” James finishes his pint, and stands up, and says, “Here’s a story about changelings.”

#long post #writing #fic #autism #changelings #fairies

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