#thus their warlock pact was formed

[the-dumb-smart-friend]

Thinking about my first bg3 Tav again

#basically someone agreed to sell their first born child to a high hag in exhange for something idk #however this person already had a kid that they didnt know about and as per the statements of the deal the fully grown adult drow bard just #kinda warped into the hags house but bc the hag cant exactly make a young hag out of an adult they had to make some use of them anyway #thus their warlock pact was formed #and then later in act 3 with the astral tadpole they tried to fight it but they couldnt and it just. #im brainrotting #aetherplaysdndnbg3

[madanythinglaboratory]

Pact of the Wolf (a DND 5e Homebrew inspired by Puss in Boots: The Last Wish and Dimension 20: Neverafter)

Death is the Great Equalizer. Though they may slip through the fingers of time, fairies, fiends, and celestials alike know to fear and respect Her, and even the undead can only substract themselves from Her grasp for so long.

Thus, many mortals come to see Death as the paramount example of persistence hunting in the wild: a wolf. This aspect is apparently not distasteful to Her, as the mortals who embrace inevitabilty and forge a pact with Her manifest Her powers through the form of a mighty wolf.

These mortals, nicknamed the Sheep-Clothed, are often only asked by Death not to interfere with the natural circle of life. However, while some of the powers She grants are geared towards dealing death and destroying undead, others have the sole purpose of defying Death Herself.

We can only speculate as to why Death would arm the Sheep-Clothed with the tools to fight Her. Perhaps, like the wolves She is compared to, She enjoys the chase. Perhaps She understands that a natural part of the circle of life is mortals fiercely defending their lives. Or perhaps She wants to teach us that even with the powers of Death at their sides, everyone eventually becomes Her subject.

Oath Spells

The Wolf lets you choose from an expanded list of spells when you learn a warlock spell. The following spells are added to the warlock spell list for you.

1st level: hunter's mark, inflict wounds

3rd: gentle repose, phantasmal force

5th: life transference, phantom steed

7th: greater invisibility, mordenkainen's faithful hound

9th: enervation, reincarnate

I Just Love The Smell Of Fear

At 1st level, your patron emboldens you at the familiar sight of someone being terrified to die. When you deal damage to an enemy who is frightened of you within 15 ft using a 1st level or higher spell, you can add your proficiency bonus to the damage.

Hasta La Muerte

At 6th level, you welcome the inevitability of Death, allowing you to partially let go of your life to act one last time. While you are at 0 hitpoints, Before making a death saving throw, you can cast a spell on a creature other than you on your turn. When you do so, you suffer one failed death save.

I Welcome Your Defiance

At 10th level, the power of the Great Equalizer lets you spread Her icy embrace to all your allies, weakening its coldness. When an ally within 30 ft of you fails a death save, you can use your reaction to transfer the failed save to another willing creature within 30 ft of you.

The willing creature remains conscious if they still have remaining hitpoints, but die instantly once they receive their third failed save, no matter their remaining hitpoints. You can only transfer one failed save per reaction.

Waiting At The End Of Every Story

At 14th level, you learn to salvage the raw potential of a life meeting a brutal, early end. When you kill a spellcasting creature, you gain a temporary spell slot of half the level of the spellcaster's highest unexpended spell slot (rounded up).

If you haven't used the temporary spell slot by the end of your next turn, its unstable magical power unravels, dealing you 1d8 necrotic damage per spell level. This damage cannot be reduced in any way.

Once you use this feature, you cannot use it again until you complete a long rest.

#dnd 5e homebrew #5e homebrew #dnd 5e #dnd subclass #warlock #warlock 5e #puss in boots the last wish #dimension 20 #neverafter #big bad wolf

[remidyal]

Bad Ideas of the Day, Part 7: The Continuing Bad Adventures of the Bad Kids

As usual, my quasi-monthly roundup of my bad ideas of the day from the D20 Fic discord! In this case, about half of these were written before FHJY started airing; I've put in a note at the point where that aired. (Oldest ideas are first on these lists. Part 6 is available here and then links to older lists are available from there!)

Bad idea of the day, making canon even messier edition: At the party, Aelwyn senses the one link in Adaine's friend group even weaker to a somewhat crazy girl kissing them and doing fantasy coke off their chest: Kristen Applebees, whose brain is borderline broken for the subsequent fight. (And who, in the months to follow, is somehow even LESS respectful of how much Adaine does not want to hear about her sister being hot)

Bad idea of the day, we go now to an interview of the deceased edition: A true crime crystalcast starts a series discussing the group of teens involved in the murders and other deaths of their school's lunchlady, guidance councilor, vice principal, and principal and the mysterious circumstances around their arrest and escape from prison. Oh, and bloodrush coach. Forgot one.

Bad idea of the day, 2023 memorial collectable retrospective vintage edition: On the first day of school, Aguefort comes demanding Riz run for the position he was destined to meet: Student Body President, a role that has gone unfilled since a great tragedy turned all the members of the then-student government to stone seventy five years before. Can Riz ascend to the ultimate form of every briefcase kid, or will he become another trophy president?

Bad idea of the day, pact of the tome edition: It's the end of their senior year and all the graduates to be have a period on the bloodrush field in which they're expected to sign one another's yearbooks! Will they fall for this scam, or will they realize that the teacher running this is the warlock instructor, trying to drum up business for his patron by slipping an infernal contract into the pages of one of the student's yearbooks?

Bad idea of the day, a horse is a home edition: Fabian is a rebellious kid early and decides that he must master what his father never could. Since his father was the master of the sea, he must become the true master of the land! Yes, he must become a horse boy! (Katja and Fabian as childhood friends, obviously)

Bad idea of the day, unhelpful parenting advice edition: The bad kids are faced with that classic nonsense assignment of protecting an egg for a week without letting it get damaged; they are not informed in advance that Arthur Aguefort himself will be testing them, making the 'week' rather flexible, nor that no student has ever passed.

Bad idea of the day, niche goods and services edition: Adaine, in her search for a Job and some cash, ends up getting paid by a casino not only to not play but to help them catch other diviners who might try cheating at the games with their ability to see the future, and then ends up caught up in a dramatic Ocean's 11 style heist

Bad idea of the day, unfortunate belief patterns edition: It turns out that Porter is actually a demigod, born of an affair Sol had with a mortal woman long ago, who historically has mostly wanted to chill out and do nice things and ignore all his more powerful side outside of his rages. Unfortunately, it also means his character is vulnerable to changing if someone starts believing in him hard enough, and nobody believes anything about him nearly as hard as Figueroth Faeth believes he is evil…

Bad idea of the day, lost and found edition: Riz finds, to his slight annoyance, that he's been voted in as the student government treasurer against his will (because he was out the day elections were held and Fig thought it would be funny) and thus he is now responsible for returning any treasures the student body accidentally loses over the course of the school year, a responsibility he is the first person to take seriously in three hundred years

Bad idea of the day, final countdown edition: The Bad Kids are forced into the annual Aguefort talent show; Fig and Gorgug have it easy with their band, and Fabian dances of course, but Kristen, Riz, and Adaine are forced to scramble for something. Riz and Adaine end up doing a stage magic show together; Kristen does a ribbon dance and manages to break her leg again in spite of the stage only being four feet off the ground. (Adaine gets talked out of her original plan by Riz of just going on stage and holding out Boggy for everyone to admire.)

(This is where FHJY started airing)

Bad idea of the day, Margaret's bad day edition: After the run-in with the art squad, Margaret jumps to some incorrect conclusions about what her 'friend' is looking for in a 'friend' and begins to take up bad poetry and nihilistic philosophy. Can the rest of the gunner channel snap her out of it before they all reach their limits of free verse in their lives?

Bad idea of the day, jury duty edition: We're shown in Unsleeping City that the unsleeping city side of new york has its own judicial system. The pool of potential jurors in these cases is very, very low; how does Mister Civic Duty himself Ricky handle getting Magical Jury Duty for the eighth time this year?

Bad idea of the day, romance is hatred right? edition: Plinth/Null slashfic fusion of ASO and TUC

Bad idea of the day, a (Basketball) Court of Fae and Flowers edition: BINX would like to reclaim the Court of Craft's lost magic from Apollo and Suntar. Can she do this in the one way that fae tradition allows, a 2-on-2 basketball game where the winner takes all and the first to 21 wins? Can she really trust Suntar's brother to play with all his might, and can they somehow claim victory with all the eyes of all the fae watching and cheering and charging way too much for concessions?

Bad idea of the day, Figueroth Faeth's wild ride edition: The first day of freshman year, Fig isn't in school because she successfully talked Gilear into a quest to look for her real dad instead, sending the two of them to go look into court records in Bastion City and leaving the bad kids down Fig for the corn fight.

Bad idea of the day, talking magical weapons edition: The Sword of Truth from Never After turns up and falls straight into the hands of the most truthful person with sword proficiencies in the party, one Figueroth Faeth. It does not approve of this carrier.

Bad idea of the day, FHJY spoiler edition: Riz handles Fabian making a romaence partner out of a mirror in front of him a lot worse, and sets out to find out if Ecaf is really on their side or is in fact two-faced. Can he deal with seven years of the misfortune of Fabian bitching at him if he need to shatter this mirror and his best friend's heart at the same time? (edited)

Bad idea of the day, Once Upon a Time edition: Instead of cutting through the woods and kind of accidentally murdering somebody, our intrepid fairy tale creatures end up deciding to ride the story of the lost Prince of Shoeburg into the ground in a blaze of glory. This definitely works out for them.

Bad idea of the day, grandfather paradox edition: Ayda, curious about her family beyond Arthur and her phoenix mother, tries to find out what happened to Arthur's parents. The quest eventually reveals that her grandparents haven't been born yet, and in fact Arthur won't actually be born for several hundred more years; he's travelled back in time a thousand years in his very young days, and much of his attention at all times is on making certain he doesn't accidentally do anything that will cause himself to not exist.

Bad idea of the day, you know I had to do it edition (JY spoilers!): Kristen, while having her little verbal pissing match with her competitor for student class president, is shocked when she's suddenly attacked from behind by an offended student who is actually four dogs in a trenchcoat.

Bad idea of the day, cosmic horror edition: There is a way in Spyre to detect those who might be infested with sometimes being possessed by eldritch beings of great impulse and power, those who can seem to reshape the world with their whims, those… 'player characters'

Bad idea of the day, no really this one's kind of bad edition: Fig, desperate to loop in the last bad kid who she's not in some weird way related to, decides to go all in on getting Gilear and Hallariel into some kind of poly swinger situation with the Thistlesprings, going so far as to set up a very awkward dinner party where she tries to prompt them to go for the binder, much to Gorgug's disconcertment

Bad idea of the day, this one's just canon but it was definitely a bad idea edition: The true love story of how Efink met and married Percival very very quickly for what definitely seemed like good reasons at the time.

Bad Idea of the Day, You Get What You Kill Edition, light JY ep4 spoiler: After killing her dad, Adaine is irritated to discover after they get back to Elmville that she is in fact now the official Fallinel envoy to Solace and that she's been fully Santa Claused into another elven position against her will.

Bad idea of the day, Adaine DID seem much more interested in this option edition: Adaine takes one of Aelwyn's suggestions and starts selling weapons in the forms of scrolls of fireball and the like

Bad idea of the day, the ultimate D20 party edition: Come up with an excuse to put Adaine, Fabian, Katja, Efink Murderdeath, and Colin Provolone in the same party to bring the ultimate fear to all parents everywhere. (I honestly might be forgetting somebody. There's been a lot of parent-killing in D20.)

#fhjy #fhjy spoilers #fanfic #fantasy high #dimension 20 #the unsleeping city #escape from the bloodkeep #a starstruck odyssey #bad ideas #not gonna tag every specific character this time because there's a ton #but for characters appearing a bunch: #adaine abernant #aelwyn abernant #fabian seacaster #fig faeth

[couchtaro]

!!

from the OC introduction ask! (Sorry followers this is long but its worth it i prommy there are even pictures)

This is my little dötter Basil, a D&D PC of mine! She only saw 3 sessions of play 3 years ago but she is getting a second chance at life because @eaudecrow picked her up from the shelter and gave her a lovely yard to run around in.

Basil is a little tiefling girl whose large family runs an apothecary and surgery in a tiny little backwater town called Tarnygee. Basil’s brilliant mother developed a strain of magical herb that when processed can cast (without spell slots or prior magical ability) Lesser Restoration, thereby curing any disease instantly.

While traveling to heal a local noble, Basil’s mother disappeared and a bigshot inventor came forward claiming her panacea as his own. When Basil’s oldest brother tried to confront him and wound up dead, it became clear there was nothing they could do to get justice on their own. So, fueled by grief and rage, Basil took a job as a part-time warlock at Seelie Corp., a fey megacorporation with mysterious motives. In return for her working as their errand girl, Basil gets to be distinctly less killable and more tricky as she tries to find the inventor and extort him for the good of her destitute family.

Things aren’t working as well as she would like though: due to being basically a middle schooler, she’s got to keep her work under 40 hours a week and gets limited pact benefits. Her supervisor (a weasely pseudodragon named Keith) is dismissive and unhelpful, and her small town upbringing has kept her deeply unprepared for taking on the wild world of men and magic on her own.

Luckily, she’s found some unexpected help! While submitting her weekly report through the postal system of Fey portals, Basil’s paperwork went awry and found its way to another world: specifically a bunker in a war torn parallel version of the material plane. This bunker is the home and prison of Crow’s Aaren D’Cannith.

As a youth, Aaren invented a mechanical race called warforged, but seeing their potential for war and servitude, his family seized his blueprints (AND HIS ROBOT DAUGHTER) and disowned him as soon as he came of age. Aaren spent a few years as a vigilante trying to free his creations, but was trapped in his secret library when a magical-chemical fallout steeped his homeland in a volatile and toxic arcane gas. There he stayed, trapped and utterly alone, for three years.

Until Basil.

The two are corresponding via letters that we actually write each other, and it’s SUCH a fun and interesting method of storytelling to me aah. Despite being little more than strangers separated by a barely permeable divide, and despite Aaren struggling to believe Basil was even real at first, the two have formed a very sweet bond that makes me so unwell, you would not believe.

Both are grieved by how much of their own misfortune they see in the other. Through Basil’s letters, Aaren can tell that she is young, inexperienced, lacking support, and actively in danger as she allows herself to be used in exchange for power. He sees her situation with the eyes of someone who has been there and thus liberally (almost desperately) shares what little he can: his own arcane study materials, what he’s learned about survival and avoiding arrest, and, not the least, assurance that despite her perceptions, Basil is clever and kind and she matters.

Basil in turn is Aaren’s one connection to other people, and to a world that, while imperfect, is not ravaged and desolate like his own. After years of incarceration and tedium, he now has the exhilarating privilege of small talk and an audience for the terrible, terrible jokes he’s cooked up in isolation. He has a way to not only talk to someone outside of himself, but to help. He has something productive to do, and a reason to do it, not to mention the interesting puzzles of how their letters are finding each other and what else might be going on with Basil’s work. Basil is truly grateful to him, and returns his kindness in what little ways she can—most recently by interdimensionally mailing him his first real food in years.

Currently, Aaren and Basil are working to craft a pair of sending stones for daily artificer/botany jokes and (real reason) so that Basil can have some sort of emergency contact if she needs urgent advice. 25 words once per day is frightfully little if she ever runs into real trouble, and the limitations of their contact are never more haunting than when one considers how little Aaren could truly do in an emergency. I’m sure this frustration is only worsened by the unfortunate atrophy of his knowledge and skill caused by fog exposure. But he’s a clever man, and Crow had some ideas that seized my brain for weeks. Goodness.

Anyway in conclusion

Thanks for coming to my TedTalk

#my OC #blorbos in law #Basil D’Pothecary #Aaren D’Cannith #Basil #answered asks #art: Basil #my art #TENDERNESS MAKES ME BONKERS AND THERE IS SO MUCH TO HE HAD WITH THESE TWO #thanks crow…. 😭💐🥺

[homebrewbydek]

Alright, well, I put it out to vote and the hexblade redux won!

Narrower than I thought it would be, tbh. I assumed hexblade would win but I was surprised how many votes I got for the war domain -- maybe I'll share that, too.

Anyway!

I hate the hexblade. Maybe that's a bit unfair, and extreme, but I feel like WotC really dropped the ball with it. It's potential was great, but it was just... a really missed opportunity. What the hell is that Spectre? Other than the first level, the subclass feels dreadfully uninspired, and honestly, I feel like they could have gotten a lot more done if they detached the word 'blade' from it.

Thus, I present the Arcane Vestige Otherworldly Patron.

In my reimagining, you form a pact with a magical artefact of some kind. It's not necessarily going to be a weapon, or have any kind of blade. I've renamed heblade's curse but left it the same because it was the only part of the class that didn't feel out of place. If it was going to be a blade-only thing, I might have changed it up -- perhaps instead of casting it on an enemy, you cast it on your sword, and regain hit points equal to your Charisma modifier when you kill an enemy? Alas, that's for another day.

I also binned the Charisma-for-attack-and-damage-rolls thing. Oh noes!! Why would I do such a thing! Because everyone takes unnecessary dips into a whole new subclass to get it and that bugs me. It's just an invocation now. You either have to commit to warlock to get it, or just take the Eldritch Adept feat, instead of wasting everybody's time. Anyway, cheer up, you get another attunement slot.

I threw out the Spectre. It makes no sense whatsoever. It's one of my huge gripes, actually. Instead, you can invoke your pact boon, creating one of four Pact Simulacrum, with the stat block being at the bottom of the subclass. This was based on the Summon spells from Tasha's, which I really liked, and off of an early spell draft I had for my hexblade warlock when I was trying to make it interesting. The spell was okay, but this is better.

At 10th level I beefed up the simulacrum a bit - overall this ability still feels a little underwhelming, but I'm struggling to think what to give it that doesn't push it over the edge into OP territory. Maybe something like what find steed gets, where if you cast a spell that effects you - cure wounds, blur, invisibility - it also effects your Simulacrum?

14th ability is just to make you more durable and useful on the battlefield - you can summon your simulacrum twice, and being close to it gives you resistance to the most common 'fighter' damage types.

I also reworked Hex Warrior into an invocation, added an unarmed strike option for those that want to be a bit feral with their pact boon, and updated Thirsting Blade to work with both.

Maybe people will hate this. I'm not sure. It's fine if you do, not everyone will ahve the same opinions and that's okay! But if hexblade let you down by being devoid of flavour and direction let me know if this does anything for you!

and here is a link back to my pinned for my other subclasses and lineages. ALT text is applied, I hope that it's useful for those that need it.

Stay fresh, cheesebags!

#homebrew #dungeons and dragons #5e #d&d #d&d 5e #dnd #d&d homebrew #fifth edition #5e homebrew #dnd 5e #hexblade #hexblade warlock #warlock #dmc v #grimoire weiss #neir

[coolseabird]

DS9 Characters as their DnD Equivalents

Sisko: Sisko imo would be a human Abberant Mind Sorcerer.

Abberant Mind Sorcerer: An alien influence has wrapped its tendrils around your mind, giving you psionic power. You can now touch other minds with that power and alter the world around you by using it to control the magical energy of the multiverse. Will this power shine from you as a hopeful beacon to others? Or will you be a source of terror to those who feel the stab of your mind and witness the strange manifestations of your might?

Kira: I think Kira would be a Tiefling or Deep Gnome Oath of the Watcher Paladin (Cardassians are technically alien invaders on her planet), maybe multiclassed with a Light Cleric. (Not the most optimal but this is just for fun)

Oath of the Watcher: The Oath of the Watchers binds paladins to protect mortal realms from the predations of extraplanar creatures, many of which can lay waste to mortal soldiers. Thus, the Watchers hone their minds, spirits, and bodies to be the ultimate weapons against such threats. Paladins who follow the Watchers' oath are ever vigilant in spotting the influence of extraplanar forces, often establishing a network of spies and informants to gather information on suspected cults. To a Watcher, keeping a healthy suspicion and awareness about one's surroundings is as natural as wearing armor in battle.

Light Domain Cleric: Gods of light – including Helm, Lathander, Pholtus, Branchala, the Silver Flame, Belenus, Apollo, and Re-Horakhty – promote the ideals of rebirth and renewal, truth, vigilance, and beauty, often using the symbol of the sun. Some of these gods are portrayed as the sun itself or as a charioteer who guides the sun across the sky. Others are tireless sentinels whose eyes pierce every shadow and see through every deception. Some are deities of beauty and artistry, who teach that art is a vehicle for the soul's improvement. Clerics of a god of light are enlightened souls infused with radiance and the power of their gods' discerning vision, charged with chasing away lies and burning away darkness.

Jadzia Dax: I think she would be a Fey Wanderer Ranger or a Hexblade Warlock. (If the weapon fully possessed her lol) I think her being a Githzerai could be cool (Mostly because spots XD) but Aasimar or any type of elf would make sense too!

Fey Wanderer Ranger: A fey mystique surrounds you, thanks to the boon of an archfey, the shining fruit you ate from a talking tree, the magic spring you swam in, or some other auspicious event. However you acquired your fey magic, you are now a Fey Wanderer, a ranger who represents both the mortal and the fey realms. As you wander the multiverse, your joyful laughter brightens the hearts of the downtrodden, and your martial prowess strikes terror in your foes, for great is the mirth of the fey and dreadful is their fury.

Hexblade Warlock:

You have made your pact with a mysterious entity from the Shadowfell – a force that manifests in sentient magic weapons carved from the stuff of shadow. The mighty sword Blackrazor is the most notable of these weapons, which have been spread across the multiverse over the ages. The shadowy force behind these weapons can offer power to warlocks who form pacts with it. Many hexblade warlocks create weapons that emulate those formed in the Shadowfell. Others forgo such arms, content to weave the dark magic of that plane into their spellcasting.

O'Brien: O'Brien would be a human artificer, Artillerist subclass.

An Artillerist specializes in using magic to hurl energy, projectiles, and explosions on a battlefield. This destructive power is valued by armies in the wars on many different worlds. And when war passes, some members of this specialization seek to build a more peaceful world by using their powers to fight the resurgence of strife. The world-hopping gnome artificer Vi has been especially vocal about making things right: "It's about time we fixed things instead of blowing them all to hell."

Bashir: I think Bashir would be a human Celestial Warlock. It's healing focused and his power not being original to him (but from a pact) kind of echoes his genetic modification in my opinion. (If this were a real campaign, his patron could be something he doesn't like telling people about)

Your patron is a powerful being of the Upper Planes. You have bound yourself to an ancient empyrean, solar, ki-rin, unicorn, or other entity that resides in the planes of everlasting bliss. Your pact with that being allows you to experience the barest touch of the holy light that illuminates the multiverse.

Worf: I think he screams paladin. I would make him either a Githyanki (for obvious reasons) or a Half Orc (I think it'd be similar to his being torn between the human and Klingon worlds due to his uprbinging) His devotion to honor and idealistic Klingon values is very important to him, even when compared to other Klingons. I think Oath of Glory would make a lot of sense. I don't think he'd be a perfect paladin by any means but I think he'd strive to be. (Also possibly a multiclass with war cleric?)

Oath of Glory: Paladins who take the Oath of Glory believe they and their companions are destined to achieve glory through deeds of heroism. They train diligently and encourage their companions so they're all ready when destiny calls. The tenets of the Oath of Glory drive a paladin to attempt heroics that might one day shine in legend. Actions over Words. Strive to be known by glorious deeds, not words. Challenges Are but Tests. Face hardships with courage, and encourage your allies to face them with you. Hone the Body. Like raw stone, your body must be worked so its potential can be realized. Discipline the Soul. You must marshal the discipline to overcome failings within yourself that threaten to dim the glory of you and your friends.

Odo: 100% a changeling also 100% an Order Domain Cleric

The Order Domain represents discipline, as well as devotion to the laws that govern a society, an institution, or a philosophy. Clerics of Order meditate on logic and justice as they serve their gods, examples of which appear in the Order Deities table. Clerics of Order believe that well-crafted laws establish legitimate hierarchies, and those selected by law to lead must be obeyed. Those who obey must do so to the best of their ability, and if those who lead fail to protect the law, they must be replaced. In this manner, law weaves a web of obligations that create order and security in a chaotic multiverse.

Quark: Kobold I think would make a ton of sense (loving shiny things XD) I also think he'd be a Rogue Inquisitive/ Lore Bard multiclass.

Rogue Inquisitive: As an archetypal Inquisitive, you excel at rooting out secrets and unraveling mysteries. You rely on your sharp eye for detail, but also on your finely honed ability to read the words and deeds of other creatures to determine their true intent. You excel at defeating creatures that hide among and prey upon ordinary folk, and your mastery of lore and your sharp eye make you well equipped to expose and end hidden evils.

Lore Bard: Bards of the College of Lore know something about most things, collecting bits of knowledge from sources as diverse as scholarly tomes and peasant tales. Whether singing folk ballads in taverns or elaborate compositions in royal courts, these bards use their gifts to hold audiences spellbound. When the applause dies down, the audience members might find themselves questioning everything they held to be true, from their faith in the priesthood of the local temple to their loyalty to the king.

Garak: I think Garak would be a Drow 100%, I also think he'd be a Mastermind Rogue.

Mastermind Rogue: Your focus is on people and on the influence and secrets they have. Many spies, courtiers, and schemers follow this archetype, leading lives of intrigue. Words are your weapons as often as knives or poison, and secrets and favors are some of your favorite treasures.

Inspired by this post by @bijoumikhawal

Go read it!

I'm new to DnD so if you have any other ideas please comment/ reblog with them! I'd love to hear it :)

#star trek #ds9 #star trek deep space nine #dnd #dungeons and dragons #dnd classes #just for fun

[dujour13]

Tehehe hope I’m not too late! 17 23 31 for Saedra please!!

Never too late! Thank you Dolly 🥰

17. What does your Character think of Withers?

He’s fine? She’s a barmaid from Eastway; she’s seen all sorts come and go. She’s also a fledgling warlock with an Archfey patron she knows next to nothing about, so let’s say she’s open-minded. Weird dude in the corner booth doing his thing, seems harmless.

On the other hand, Saedra’s patron once dropped a riddle about her and the Fates, so Withers’ talk about things happening as foreseen has her both curious and on edge. Too much of this cryptic beating around the bush and she’s going to lose it. She wants to know, because knowing gives you some control over your own destiny and there’s nothing more important to her.

23. What are your Character's thoughts on the dream visitor?

Since he takes the form of her satyr patron she instantly distrusts him. Her relationship with her patron is complicated – he seems genuinely invested in her and hasn’t gotten pushy, at least yet, but she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

When it becomes obvious that the dream visitor is someone else taking her patron’s form she’s even more confused. Why would they take the form of someone she distrusts if they want her to trust them? Why do they keep urging her to use the tadpoles? She’s definitely not indulging. One pact with an inscrutable entity is enough.

As long as the visitor seems to be on her side she’ll hear them out, but with a huge grain of salt.

31. Does your Character have new or old phobias or superstitions that affect their story?

Saedra grew up powerless: an orphan, a tiefling, a girl. Her earliest memories are of hard hands forcing her to stand up straight, eat her gruel, scrub the floors, say “Sir” and “Ma’am,” and later hard hands trying to force her into other things. And failing, because she’s feral about every aspect of her autonomy. Her life has been a constant fight to become strong enough to take control of what happens to her - even if she has to make a pact with an unpredictable power to get there. It’s her pact.

Thus the tadpole is a violation she's furious over. She wants it out and she wants it out yesterday. She and Lae’zel have that much in common, and she’s starting to see parallels between her story and Astarion’s, if on a different level.

This phobia of having her leash yanked obviously affects how she responds to the illithid and the cult of the Absolute, Raphael and the dream visitor. On the other hand she is willing consider offers from the more mysterious and less pushy entities like Auntie Ethel, from whom she may actually stand to gain.

#ooh i love the withers question #hadn't really thought it through until now but henceforth his bs-spouting is tolerated as long as he doesn't get grabby #thank you!! #commander-lariel #bald guy 3 #saedra

[niqhtlord01]

D&D Villain: The Herd Master

D&D villain: The Herd Master (Human Warlock)

Lore: Deep within the isolated regions of the countryside lay the ruins of many farms and villages that have been destroyed by the ravages of war. One such forgotten hamlet was a small collection of farms and hovels that had once been known as Kendelberg.

Having been reported destroyed some twenty years ago and never repopulated, the ghostly remains have found a new gathering of residents who are far from the kindly welcoming sort. For it is here that an evil warlock known only as the “Herd Master” has claimed dominion.

Rumored to have once been a farmer himself before losing his entire family in a brutal raid, the human turned to darker powers to exact his revenge at the world at large. Yet unlike others who trade their souls to a singular demon, the Herd Master has found a better use for his connection to demons and spirits.

In the dead of night the Herd master would roam village to village and snatch away a person or two before bringing them back to his lair. It was here that he would drag them to a basement and toss them inside a rusted metal cage; their only company a farm animal of some kind already occupying the cage.

The victims would threaten and plead with the warlock but he would just as quickly leave the room and not return for several days.

Trapped inside the darkened basement, the victims would slowly succumb to starvation or thirst, turning their savage gaze upon the animal that shared their cage. With ravenous hunger they devour the animal and thus seal their fate.

The warlock made pacts with many demons and put them into the bodies of the farm animals that were locked within the cage alongside the victims. When the poor soul devoured the animal it opened the doorway for the demon to pass on to the new host and begin to change them.

Flesh of man and animal would merge, twisting and deforming painfully as the demon took over and created a beastman. The Warlock would then return and release the new beastman who, in exchange for being given physical form, would serve the warlock for the duration of six years. After six years the beastman was given their freewill once more to do as they wish.

While many high ranking demons refused such crude methods, swarms of lower demons, who were weaker and unable to breach the barrier between worlds, actively sought out the warlock’s services. For each one held their own dark designs on the mortal realm, and a mere six years of servitude was a small price to pay for an all-powerful physical body.

Over the span of time the Herd Master’s herd grew to considerable size that no longer would he sneak in the dark for a mere handful of victims, but would send out his servants to capture entire towns and drag them back to his metal cages for convergence.

Stats: Armor Class 12 (15 with mage armor)

Hit Points 35 (5d8)

Speed 30 ft.

Abilities Str 8 (-1), Dex 14 (+1), Con 12 (+0), Int 16 (+1), Wis 16 (+1), Cha 17 (+3)

Saving Throws Wis +4, Cha +6

Skills Arcana +4, Deception +6

Senses darkvision 120 ft., passive Perception 12

Skills: Summon the Herd Blowing into a special horn, the Herd Master can summon his beastmen servants to him. Roll a D6 and the value it shows will be the number of beastmen that arrive. (Ex: Rule a 4 and four beastmen appear.) Can only be used three times per encounter with a gap of three turns between uses. Cannot be used if Herd Master has been silenced or their throat/ mouth has been damaged.

Feast Selecting a nearby beastman, the Herd Master devours them and gains 8 hit points back as health. (Cannot exceed max health of character) The beastman dies during the process.

Cage of Choices If a player character is defeated by a beastman they will not die but instead be taken back to the Herd Master’s lair and placed in an iron cage. There they are stripped of all physical possessions and placed in said iron cage with a demonic animal. There are several outcomes that can happen next which include:

- The player escapes the cage using their skills or magic abilities and can either fight through the beastman lair or sneak out to rejoin the main party.

- The party can attempt to rescue their comrade but must reach the lair and free them before they starve to death. (if their species does not need food ignore this outcome, they will remain locked up unless they can escape on their own.)

-  The player who has been captured may eat the demonic animal within their cage and become a beastman servant of the Herd Master. Their current skillset will remain unchanged save for their strength and dexterity which will increase each by +5.

- If the player’s species does require food, should they not be rescued before reaching their starvation point nor eat the demonic animal in their cage the player will starve to death. There will be no chance to revive the body as at this point the Herd Master will used the carcass to feed the other Beastmen.

Actions: Multiattack. The warlock makes two attacks with its daggers. The second attack has disadvantage.

Daggers. Melee Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, reach 5 ft. or range 20/60 ft., one target. Hit: 4 (1d4 + 2) piercing damage.

Light Crossbow. Ranged Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, range 80/320 ft., one target. Hit: 6 (1d8 + 2) piercing damage.

----

Beastmen: These stats are what will be used for the beastmen that accompany the Herd Master. Armor Class 18 (Thick Hide)

Hit Points 77 (9d8 + 36)

Speed 12m.

STR DEX CON INT WIS CHA

18(+4) 16(+3) 18(+4) 6(-2) 14(+2) 8(-1) Saving Throws Str +8

Skills Athletics +8, Stealth +7, Survival +6

Senses darkvision, passive Perception 12

Languages Beast Tongue

Challenge 4 (1100 XP)

Skills: Beast Charge. If the bestigor moves at least 6m toward a target and then hits it with a gore attack on the same turn, the target takes an extra 7 (2d6) piercing damage. If the target is a creature, it must succeed on a DC 14 Strength saving throw or be pushed up to 3m and knocked prone.

Frenzy.While in combat the bestigor has advantage on saving throws against charm and fear effects. In addition it can dash as a bonus action.

Reckless.The bestigor throws aside all concern for defense to attack with fierce desperation. Strength based melee attacks have advantage for this round of combat, but attacks against the bestigor also have advantage.

Actions: Multiattack. The bestigor makes two attacks with its greataxe and one gore attack with its horns.

Greataxe. Melee Weapon Attack: +8 to hit, reach 1,5m, one target. Hit: 10 (1d12 + 4) slashing damage.

Gore. Melee Weapon Attack: +8 to hit, reach 1,5m, one target. Hit: 11 (2d6 + 4) piercing damage.

Campaign Usage:

The Herd Master can be used as a main villain or mini boss for the scenario you have.

If used as a main villain the party would need to search the countryside after hearing reports of missing villages and mayors/governors/kings wishing to discover the source. The longer the party takes to investigate, track down, and eventually confront the Herd Master determines the size of the Herd he has at his side. This could range from a small handful of maybe a dozen or so, to a small army of a few hundred or thousand ready to wreak havoc across the land.

The longer he remains active and undiscovered allows him to send out more raiding parties of beastmen which in turn make it more difficult to narrow down his location as each band will range in different distances.

If used as a mini boss the Herd Master is to be considered a third party antagonist to your scenario, and to not be affiliated with your main villain. He prefers to work independently and will use the chaos caused by the current main villain to strike.

#Dungeons and Dragons #d&d #home brew character #Deviantart Dreamup #ai generated art #warlock #demons #The Herd Master #villain #fantasy #niqhtlord01

[cavernfullofexistentialdread]

Dnd/Fantasy Oc Idea

Some form of warlock that made a pact with a spirit to be the ultimate gambler

Thus they were granted insane luck, through a “puppet” familiar. Like an extra pair of hands controlled by their patron or a small doll with the sass of a fiend How does this familiar give them luck? They have a magical Sungka/Mangala (up to personal preference) board that they play on with their familiar. Whoever wins the game and by how much decides the results that are filed into a cursed Abacus.

DND NERD STUFF:

They can use the abacus to draw their magic from. Fancy way of saying “a game with the devil decides whether I punch you or blast you”. If they use their magic, that much is taken out of abacus value. Functionally, if you wanted to use this in a campaign you’d need an actual abacus and every time you wanted to use something you��d have to move a bead. Just use a dice to decide whether you won the Sungka/Mangala game, 10 or higher to win. 10 means you get to move 1 bead, NAT 20 and BAM! GIANT FIREBALL! TO CLARIFY: IDK HOW TO ACTUALLY PLAY DND AND I’M STARTING MY FIRST CAMPAIGN IN A COUPLE WEEKS I’M PLANNING ON USING THIS CONCEPT UHM CORRECT ME AND ADJUST IF TO SUIT YOU IDK WHAT IM DOING

#dnd character #dnd oc #character idea #oc ideas #dnd #dungeons and dragons

[sekhisadventures]

Dissonantia's Attempts at Immortality

Dissonantia’s main goal is to avoid death. Originally, she had made a pact with a demon in order to gain the power to consume souls to extend her own lifespan, but since then she’s expanded her research to either reverse her own aging so that she can pass as a young woman again in human form or to become a creature that does not age at all anymore, thus freeing her from her dependence on souls.

What follows are her attempts at extending her lifespan, indefinitely or otherwise, taken from her notes on the subject.

Consumption of Souls via Fel Magic

Attempted: Year 65 BFW (Before First War)

Inspiration: Taught to her by Quzgup, the imp she made her first pact with.

Notes: “Well, it works to a degree. I stop aging, but that’s it. I just stop aging! I’m still old as godsdamn dirt! Whats more, without a regular diet of souls I’ll start to age again and die! Animal souls work okay for a few days, a couple months at most for the bigger ones… but if I want to keep going I need souls from shit that walks on two legs. That could get… awkward. Near as I can figure, human (or at least humanoid) souls keep me going for a few years each. Animals are a few months for big shit like bears to a few weeks or days for smaller stuff.

“When I start to ‘starve’ it feels like some sort of cold hole in my gut opening up… its pretty damn unpleasant to say the least. I try to avoid that by setting live traps around my house for animals. If nothing else, they’ll do until I can lure in some human or catch a hunter who wandered into the wrong part of the forest.”

Ascension to an Elemental Being via infusion of Elemental Essences

Attempted: Year 28 AFW (After First War)

Inspiration: During her early days with the Alliance she witnessed a Twilight’s Hammer cultist become an Elemental Ascendant during a ritual, becoming seemingly ageless.

Notes: “Well, it definitely makes them stop aging, but it also makes them susceptible to control from the four elemental lords, arseholes like Deathwing, or even bloody shaman! I’m not about to take immortality if it means I’m Therezane’s bitch for the rest of eternity!”

Consumption of Sha-Corrupted Souls to Induce Permanent Demonic Transformation

Attempted: Year 30 AFW

Inspiration: During the Pandaria campaign she discovered that souls corrupted by the Sha became much more potent, extending her life for twice as long as normal and even enhancing her demonic powers. The Sha themselves though were totally useless for this as they didn’t have souls to consume.

Notes: “Came close that time… but it wouldn’t last. I could turn into a demon on a diet of Sha-infected souls, but the side effects… Not to mention I couldn't change ENTIRELY back! Bleeding horns are still here. I don’t think they ARE going away! Oh Dareley is going to be a total arsehole about that…”

“Even still, its never going to happen now. Since we sorted out Garrosh the Heart of Y’shaarj is just so much beef jerky. There’s still sha lingering here and there in Pandaria, but nowhere near enough. Best just move on.”

Immortality via drinking Demon Blood

Considered: 31 AFW (Azeroth Calendar,) 2 IH (Iron Horde, second year, Draenor Calendar)

Inspiration: Meeting Gul’dan under the Dark Portal during the battle of Tannan Jungle and being able to observe, however briefly, his power as a warlock.

Notes: “I’d never considered attempting this before as drinking demon blood binds you to the will of the demon, for all the power it gives you. Like I said earlier, I don’t wanna be anyone’s slave. I did try some alchemy with Shalandrae’s help after convincing her that I was trying to find a way to undo fel corruption (I can’t believe she bought that) but… well… no dice. Either the alchemy failed to purge that effect or it worked too well and reduced the demon blood to a toxic sludge that would have just poisoned anyone who drank it.”

Immortality via Infusion of Azerite

Attempted: 33 AFW (first year of the Fourth Great War)

Inspiration: Azerite had recently been discovered and was the new great weapon. Everyone wanted it, everyone wanted to use it.

Notes: “Bloody fel that was a terrible idea! Week and a half of pure misery! Titan blood is the antithesis of demon blood and I’m lucky that it just laid me up in Boralus with stomach cramps and the shits instead of making me explode or something! Note to self: Pay bloody attention to the domains such power comes from next time. Titans are Order, Fel is Disorder. DO. NOT. MIX!”

“Addendum: I’m beginning to doubt that the Azerite actually was Titan blood… given what we found in Zereth Mortis it seems like whatever the fuck Azeroth is, it ain’t a bloody Titan. Remember this for later, may be useful in the future.”

Immortality via Regular Infusions of Anima

Attempted: 35 AFW

Inspiration: After entering the Shadowlands she discovered the resource known as Anima and that the  Venthyr were master manipulators of it. They share many attributes with the san’layn of the Scourge and are often hundreds or thousands of years old.

Notes: “FINALLY! Bloody fucking fel FINALLY! Anima, all this time trying to stay outta the realm of Death and it was the one place I’d find what I wanted! Anima was the key all along. Eating souls stops aging, but its like eating raw meat, not exactly great for you. By comparison, Anima is like a well cooked steak, much better for you and much more nutritious. So long as I have regular infusions, and I will thanks to what I got set up now, I’ll stay young forever!”

#warcraft #warcraft fanfiction #world of warcraft #warcraft roleplay #warlock #worgen #fel magic #lore

[deadcityhq]

CHARACTER INFORMATION:

**CHARACTER NAME:** Theo Wyland

**CHARACTER FACECLAIM:** Phil Dunster

**CHARACTER AGE/DOB (if relevant/they’re not old af):** February 29th 1992

**CHARACTER PRONOUNS/GENDER IDENTITY/SEXUALITY ETC:** he/him cismale bisexual (???)

**CHARACTER FANDOM (if relevant):** none

**OC OR CANON:** OC

**CHARACTER TYPE (for example: werewolf, shadowhunter, warlock, demon etc):** Warlock/Werewolf

**HOW LONG HAVE THEY BEEN IN NEW YORK/WHY ARE THEY THERE ETC:** he’s aimless following around Whitt his alpha so ask Jesse i don’t know this is omegaverse

**IMPORTANT CHARACTER INFORMATION TO NOTE AND SHARE (this could be important headcanons for initial plotting, mini bios etc, supporting docs):**

There are 3 moments in Theos life which he regrets:

Regret One: Being Born

Being born to a prestigious line of sorcerers seems ideal. You get to be a magic nepotism baby in your small clan of sorcerers. What could be cooler than that? The issue is, when your father is the leader and you posses no natural magic ability… at all. Despite everyone’s best efforts Theo just couldn’t do any magic.

Growing up was hard, his dad acting like he didn’t exist, his mom wasn’t around and he was the town joke. Harassed by other kids who were his age, picked on by magic with nothing to do to defend himself. His life sucked, and the day he could he’d leave.

But with no power, where would he go?

Regret Two: The Deal

Theo was not actively trying to summon a demon, it just sort of happened. Reading in the ancient libraries, he tried to find ways to make himself magic. He was 13, his time was running out, in 5 years he knew his dad would kick him to the curb, if he could have already he would of. But when he read about obtaining magic through a deal, it was hard to pass up.

So he did everything the exact way he should and low and behold the demon Balial appeared before him.

Th terms of the pact were simple. He would be granted magic beyond his wildest dreams, so long as he stayed in the town until the time was right and gave himself to Balial. After discussing what Theo wanted Balial replied “Theo Wraithmore, seeker of the extraordinary, I extend to you the delicate threads of arcane finesse. A silent covenant, where your magic mirrors the brilliance of those around you. A subtle symphony, where their essence harmonizes with yours, unseen yet profoundly binding.”

It sounded good enough to him so he agreed.

Theo had magic finally, of which rivaled even his fathers. He told no one of the pact, just that he had been practicing and it finally kicked in for him. Life was finally working out in his favor.

What Theo failed to realize is the pact bonded him to Balial for life. In exchange for the magic power Theo became a siphon of magic and souls. It would manifest through a subtle yet insidious process. When in close proximity to individuals, especially other wizards or magical beings, Theo’s presence acted as a conduit for Belial’s influence.

As Theo interacted with or observed these magical beings, an unseen link would form. The magic and essence of those around him gradually seeped into him, feeding both his abilities and unknowingly siphoning their magical energy and souls. This parasitic connection fueled Theos power while draining the power of others.

If only he hadn’t realized too late.

Regret 3: Not Dying

A disease they called it filled the town. All the sorcerers were dying and there was nothing he could do to stop it. All but Theo were ill and it became apparent what he had done. So he ran. Ran into hiding so he could harm no other person and lived in a cave for years.

Thus was breaking the pact, the exchange of people’s souls for theos magic was the deal. Theo still had his magic but Balial was not getting its souls. So the pact was broken and Theo had to die. But he was fine with that. He had killed everyone he knew and felt like his soul should burn in hell for eternity. So living his days out in a cave was fine. He just wanted to die

When the demon soldiers came he hadn’t eaten a thing in years. He didn’t fight back and just let them attack. They left him there bleeding out saying that him suffering was the best way for him to die. He agreed. And everything went to black.

Then he woke up.

The last regret is theos biggest. And that is picking a stupid cave to die in.

Regret Four: The Hot Werewolf.

When Theo woke up he was pissed. Because he was alive and naked next to a man who introduced himself as Whitt. Whitt told Theo that he bit him to save his life and then Theo attacked him.

No they are bound together by some stupid werewolf law and Whitt regrets saving theos life everyday.

**THREE AESTHETICS THAT REMIND YOU OF YOUR CHARACTER:** spilled wine, the feeling before falling, the taste of iron on your tongue

OOC INFORMATION:

**MUN NAME/ALIAS:** az

**MUN AGE:** 27

**MUN TRIGGERS:** needles

#theo wyland app #accepted

[keegansakura]

I heard tiefling and I was immediately interested, do tell more about tiefling character :]

Zelda Lysander was a young tiefling noble

Born a draconic sorcerer she was ultimately taken in by a drow in her early years after her village got completely decimated, but that sadly didn't stick as a corrupt noble took her from the drow she called mother.. and it's unclear if her adopted mother is even still alive anymore.

Having fallen into an adventuring party not exactly by choice after setting fire to said corrupt nobles house on accident in a divine communion made out of desperation to the god Hoar to try and escape, she found herself in Barovia where things went ABOUT AS WELL AS EXPECTED. During the entirety of her first key arc she was watching Strahd with a great deal of interest, his magic and abilities catching her attention. There were several late night talks when she took watch, esspecially after he saw where she and the fighter specifically had a great deal of beef

Dinner rolls around and... Yeah they did it in the library and a plan was hatched to betray the party which happened when the group stormed the castle where she betrayed her previous patron and took Strahd as her current patron much to Volentas distaste

Arc 2 consisted of her at first trying to prove herself to Strahd by helping him bring in and deal with a new adventuring party

The cleric upon discovering this almost beat her to death in a fit of rage but eventually she was able to get along with the rest of the group, specifically the party druid.

From there she obtained her chain familiar after accidentally enraging an owlbear and the cleric completely decimating it and finding out it was just trying to protect its chub. The chub would later be named Ku.

Surprisingly.. her story doesn't exactly end with the death of Strahd. In Lore and Lunatics lore, Strahds patron was a primordial goddess by the name of Hana, mother of light and dark. When Strahd took the pact with Hana he was split into two people. Everything that was good about him in the form of Vasili, and the vampiric bastard we know and begrudgingly love.. and Vasili took this news about as well as you'd expect, causing a sorcerer surge and the death of Ismark and a touching moment at the lake. The party then undid the split in half that Hana's pact did which resulted in an EPIC fight with her, and Vasili temporarily dying

Quick backtrack for context:

EN ROUTE TO HELP A SHOP KEEPER AND THE AMBER TEMPLE: The party encountered a huge two headed wolf who tried to stop them, not wanting them to desecrate Hana's resting place, ultimately letting them in on the promise that they wouldn't touch anything

(sidenote this lead to hilarity with mage hand. The wolf found it fucking HILARIOUS)

We then encountered a SIZE CATEGORY FUCK SPIDER WHICH ALMOST ENDED IN A TPK- and the wolf jumped in to help revealing the wolfs name: Skoros.

Zelda later explained that Skoros was an old god that her adopted mother worshiped, and she later took on as her next patron after that fight as Skoros wanted to give her a chance to fix things.

I say Vasili temporarily died

DESPITE THE SHIT THE STRAHD HALF PUT HER THROUGH. LYSANDER FUCKING COULDN'T LET THOSE FEELINGS GO. And evoked her first divine comunion under Skoros to bring him back to life because to her it wasn't fair that she got a second chance, and he didn't.

The druid ultimately took the pact with Hana. There was not a dry eye with that last session.

Vasili/Strahd and her right now are waiting at Bread Store pastries run by a cleric and wizard couple for another warlock of Skoros to come find them so they can work out what to do next.

And that is her story thus far and I am so sorry if I'm all over the place with this formatting

#curse of strahd #dnd stuff #dnd oc #dnd #strahd von zarovich #tiefling slander #lore and lunatics #strahd

[nocturnal-city-offical]

Warlocks and Sorcerer. Opposites in sources of their power, yet siblings in backstories. Within the universe of Nocturnal City, almost every living creature within the cities land possesses magic, sentient or not. Naturally, you would think that this means that everyone is a sorcerer and no one can be a warlock. This would be the case if not for the unique rules of our world, and magics Origin. See, a Warlocks pact is not to grant the curse of magic, but to enhance a users potency and connection.

Casters ability to draw magic is related to a couple of different factors, one of the importance being originality. The more unique the magic is to the user, the more power its user can draw from their blood, granting stronger and more spells. The way the Egg granted Nocturnal City its magic was through a blood virus, and while the Eggs magic is strong, it was limited to organics. The Eggs magic is strong enough to enhance a creatures sentience, Ents and Orks being common examples of the Egg’s power to grant such things.

When a human from Nocturnal City enters a pack with a deitiy from one of the three true pantheons, they not only gain more potent and stronger magic, but their patron can grant them a fragment of the aspect of reality they control. Orks and Ents can do the same, all sentient life can enter a pact regardless of species or prior magic, this includes humans who aren’t descendants from Nocturnal City and thus, never inherited magic.

Humanity, however, has another they pact with. Their pantheons. When humanity gave birth to their various pantheons, the gods they made were relatively weak compared to the smallest Cosmic or Primordial. However, when the magic from the Egg began to spread, humanities ability to create their pantheons immensely, and thus, the pantheons power grew stronger. And humanity unlocked the next stage of evolution into becoming Demi-gods.

Due to humanities pantheon being their creations, this causes the gods magic to be completely original, and even more potent when a human uses it compared to an Ork or Vampire attempting to use Greek magic. Once more, should a Human and their human-pantheon become close, they form a symbiotic relationship that allows the human and god to live within the same body, and this formalises the human god into a “True” God. As the gods base, humanity, is what causes them to exist properly. Time remains unchanged however, and the 2 beings stay seperate conscienceless in one body.

There has only been 1 example of a human and their patron able achieve such a state, Tsuki and the Moon Kami, Tsukuyomi.

[powdermelonkeg]

Apologies in advance for the wall of text but I love lore debates!

So, I'm going to take issue with those counterpoints because the first quote in particular is missing a significant piece of context, including the last sentence of the paragraph which was left out in your post:

"Their appearance and their nature are not their fault, but the result of an ancient sin, for which they and their children, and their children's children will always be held accountable."

The player's handbook is referring to the ritual done by the Toril thirteen prior to the Spellplague and Asmodeus' ascent to godhood. The long and short of it is that the ritual took the majority of pre-existing tiefling lineages - not just of other devils, but also demons and creatures like hags and rakshasas - and made them ALL fall under Asmodeus' bloodline instead. This was done in advance of his ascent to godhood following the Spellplague, allowing him to have increased powers from his followers as a "racial god" since the ritual made it so that every tiefling had his bloodline, and thus contributed to his godly power. This is important to the quote, because one of the biggest side-effects to the ritual was that it had a major impact on how the infernal heritage showed itself.

Once Asmodeus became a god, the ritual took affect and most all tieflings born in from the 15th century onwards were Asmodeus tieflings, regardless of if their bloodline started with him from the start, or was obtained during the ritual, and by extension, took on the devilish physical traits. It also made it impossible to dilute the infernal blood through intermarriage, and ensured it would always take priority over other racial traits.

If grandma warlock swore her blood, she'd look like a tiefling, her child would look like one, and her child's child, and so on and so forth. If your argument is that the deal grandma made specifically came with the stipulation that the blood wouldn't be claimed for multiple generations, I don't think the poll question applies since at that point the elvish heritage is no longer relevant - the kid's basically been an infernal since before they were born. Any combination of parents and races could have been involved, at the end of the day, the bloodline's infernal and it'll show.

No apologies necessary! This is my favorite thing too.

So you're right in that I omitted that part of the quote, but that's because I thought it was referring to a different part of D&D mechanics, that being wanting to standardize tiefling appearance into the "humanoid, horned, stereotypical-devil-colored" for mechanical simplicity, and was therefore irrelevant. So now it doesn't matter if your bloodline had an orthon for a dad or an erinyes for a mom, you're still going to come out looking like a wingless cambion.

I will concede that grandma warlock likely DOES take on the transformation, based on how the lore's worded. I don't know that this retcons entirely the whole "skipping generations" bit from counterpoint 2 (it might be one of those "DM's discretion" things), but it does line up well with the whole pact deal.

However: Fey'ri.

Lore-wise, as far as I've researched for this, fey'ri are the result of sun elves trying to strengthen their bloodline by intermixing with tanar'ri (succubi specifically). That's a very specific origin, BUT, explicitly stated, they are to elves what tieflings are to humans. Ignoring splitting hairs over terminology ("tiefs are human-based, fey'ri are elf-based" tiefs are a catchall for everybody for the sake of argument), it's clear that the base bloodline at least has SOME impact as to the form of the child.

So back to my original question. Pact made so it doesn't show up for a few bloodlines. Devil spawn born to elves. Elven lifespan?

#the lifespan is the important question to me over abilities and origins #like. it would ABSOLUTELY suck if you as an elf had a kid that had the lifespan (metaphorically) of a cat #on that note. devils don't age right. would it impact anything at all on that front? #ask bee #long post #dnd #love this debate. maybe in over my head as far as niche lore goes but love it anyways

[thecreaturecodex]

Deadly Dancer

Image by Steve Prescott, © Wizards of the Coast. Accessed at the Tome of Magic Art Gallery here

[Of all of the experimental subsystems introduced in the 3.5 era, my favorite was the binder from Tome of Magic. They make flexible pacts by summoning vestiges, unbodied spirits that desire to influence the world through mortal proxies. Each vestige grants a different suite of powers, and a binder can swap out between vestiges each day or specialize in one. WoTC seems to have agreed that the binder is awesome, since the 4e and 5e warlocks are pretty much a fusion of the binder and the original 3e warlock. The vestiges in Tome of Horrors are a split between D&D deep cuts and references to the Ars Goetia and other demonologies, although the vestiges resemble their demonic predecessors in name only.

For example, Paimon. In demonological lore, Paimon is a general with a beautiful face and a hoarse voice who rides a camel and is especially devoted to Lucifer. Those that invoke him can be taught science and the secret arts, as well as being granted familiars.  In Tome of Magic, he is the Tin Woodsman made out of blades instead of tin. He grants bonuses to Dexterity and dancing based powers, and is a good match if you want to play a binder as a finesse fighter. The deadly dancers worship him and are said to be perhaps his transformed devotees. But they work just fine without him.]

Deadly Dancer CR 4 CN Aberration This gray-skinned creature is loosely humanoid, but it seems as comfortable walking on its arms as its legs. All four appendages are roughly the same length, and terminate in long thin blades. Its face is a series of horny plates, with tiny yellow eyes and no mouth. It spins and glides along, moving from one limb to the next like a ballet dancer.

A deadly dancer is a strange, vaguely humanoid creature that moves with astonishing fluidity and grace. They can balance easily on the tip of a single limb, spinning and slashing at all of the creatures around them. Their normal movement is in cartwheels and somersaults, and they rarely stand completely still for long. Deadly dancers are blood-drinkers, and need to soak their appendages in freshly spilled blood, with they absorb through capillary action. The similar feeding mechanism suggests a possible link with the mad slashers, but the two species rarely interact.

Deadly dancer is the name given to this species in vocal speech—their name for themselves is difficult to interpret except in sign language. The language of deadly dancers is something like sign language and something like semaphore, with the posture of the entire body as important as the gesturing of a single limb. They can be taught to understand other languages, but have no mouths to speak them. Deadly dancers are not evil, but they have no qualms about consuming other sapient races. They are violently devoted to their troupes, and will fight to the death to defend one another. Because they have no appendages to manipulate tools, they tend to shelter in caves or lean-tos, or simply sleep out in the open in warm areas.

The reproduction of deadly dancers is unusual. They are sexless creatures, and reproduce by snapping a bladed appendage off into a fresh corpse of a Medium size or larger creature. The blade absorbs tissue from the body, forming into a new deadly dancer over the course of one or two weeks and emerging from the dried husk like an insect from a cocoon. Doing this is dangerous to the deadly dancer that loses a limb—it takes the blade over a month to regrow, during which time the creature has difficulty moving and hunting, and the wounds often become infected. Thus, deadly dancers rarely reproduce unless they are well fed and well guarded by their fellows.

Deadly Dancer        CR 4 XP 1,200 CN Medium aberration Init +6; Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +7 Defense AC 18, touch 16, flat-footed 18 (+6 Dex, +2 natural) hp 30 (4d8+12) Fort +4, Ref +7, Will +3 Defensive Abilities improved uncanny dodge Offense Speed 50 ft. Melee 3 appendages +9 (1d6+2/18-20) Special Attacks slashing fury Statistics Str 14, Dex 22, Con 17, Int 11, Wis 8, Cha 15 Base Atk +3; CMB +5; CMD 21 Feats Alertness, Weapon Finesse Skills Acrobatics +14 (+22 when jumping), Perform (dance) +5, Perception +7, Sense Motive +4, Stealth +12; Racial Modifiers +4 Acrobatics Languages Aklo (cannot speak), Bladesign Ecology Environment warm land and underground Organization solitary, pair or troupe (3-8) Treasure incidental Special Abilities Appendages (Ex) The appendages of a deadly dancer are a primary natural weapon that deal slashing and piercing damage. They threaten a critical hit on a roll of 18-20. Slashing Fury (Ex) A deadly dancer may make a melee attack against every opponent in its reach as a standard action. When it does, it suffers a -2 to its attack rolls and AC for 1 round.

#deadly dancer #D&D #pathfinder 1e #tome of magic #paimon

[raibebe]

Invoke

Genre: Mystery? Thriller? Slightly gore? With some fluff? And eventual smut? Words: 13.315 Prompt: Warlock Yuta, familiar Ten, female reader Warnings: mentions of abuse, mentions of death, mentions of religion, blasphemy (our warlock doesn’t like the church and made a deal with the devil), blood, devil summoning, murder with magic, actual murder

A/N: This has a couple of darker themes, if you’re sensitive to any of them, please be careful or just sit this fic out and don’t read it. The abuse is only implied and is not happening to any of the main characters. This seriously went out of hand and holy fuck I love warlock Yuta?? Thank you so much for requesting this @def-sol​! Ruby I loved this idea so much, I hope you enjoyed this. The beautiful moodboard is by @min-inu as always, thank you darling! Another big thank you to @burtonized, Jo you’re the real MVP for listening to me whine all day long.

Warlock: A male practitioner of witchcraft. The word comes from the Old English word wǣrloga meaning “oathbreaker” or “deceiver”. The terms were associated with witches and warlocks as they were seen as someone who made a pact with the devil and thus had betrayed the Christian faith and broke their baptismal vows.

It was a rainy autumn afternoon, the clouds had sunken into the valley your hometown was located in and covered everything in a layer of grey fog, washing away every color. You adjusted the hood of your cloak to shield yourself from the moisture after you stepped out of the little bakery you worked at when you heard the hooves of multiple horses on the beat up street that lead to the little town. Knowing that nothing good ever came from those horseman, you quickly hid the loaf of bread in your ratty coat and headed to the town square. A small crowd had already gathered when one of the knights pulled loose what seemed to be a lump rolled into a cloth from his horse that fell to the ground with a low thud. Only when it started to move, you felt the horror creep up your back. A couple of people quickly scrambled to see what was inside the cloth, even though you all already knew it. Beneath the thick linen, a girl’s face was revealed. You hadn’t known her when the knights had taken her with them just a couple of weeks prior but you could feel nothing but sincere pity for the girl. Her face was unnaturally swollen, her skin more the color of violets than her actual skin tone, blood clinging to her features and she was shivering in the arms of one of the women, completely silent. You turned your back towards her, not wanting to see the state the rest of her body must be in. The last girl that had come back from the royal court had only lasted a week before she had died due to the multiple injuries she had. She also hadn’t spoken a single word. But everyone had known what that men of the court must have done to her in the castle that overlooked the little valley, sitting high up on a nearby hill.

The knights just kept sitting in their saddles, completely unfazed. How could a person be this cold? How could they just follow the orders from their sires to keep taking girls away from their families to bring them back broken and beat, unable to continue to live a normal life? And how was no one doing anything against this? Why were the lords of these lands above the law? Why didn’t the priests do anything with all the power they had? The sight made you sick to the stomach and you couldn’t stand to look at the scene even a second longer, walking back to your home, trying to ignore the screams of the girl the knights must have picked out to take with them. You grabbed the cross hanging around your neck tightly and spoke a prayer to protect the girl from the worst.

That night you couldn’t fall asleep, your thoughts twisting and turning inside your head. Your anger towards the royals only grew more and more with each girl they took with them and you were sick of everyone just accepting their fate. The girls lived in fear that they would be the next one taken and the fathers and mothers were desperate to keep their daughters safe, praying every evening inside the small church. But with every day that passed you lost faith in your god. How could a just god let all of this happen? And the people of the town alone couldn’t do anything to stop this abuse. If they would speak up, they wouldn’t even be able to finish their words because their head would be rolling from their shoulders as soon as they opened their mouths.

Sighing, you rolled onto your back, staring at the holes in the ceiling. You refused to accept that you should patiently wait until the knights unfortunately picked you to take you to the castle where the royals would completely break you, shattering your being to the core. There must be a way to stop all of this. To put an end to the injustice that was happening. When the new lord had been initiated, he had sworn with his hand on the Sacred Scriptures that he would protect the people caring for his lands. If this was what him caring looked like, you didn’t even want to know what it would be like if he was turning a blind eye. It really seemed like you and your town needed some supernatural help or otherwise the royals would just keep playing with the lives of their subjects like they meant nothing.

That was when an idea shot into your head, making you sit up in your bed. After the last girl had come back and the healers of your village hadn’t been able to arrest her bleeding and the prayers of the priests hadn’t helped either, her mother had sneaked away to find a man that lived alone in the woods who was rumored to be gifted with certain powers that allowed him to give and take life. Of course the mother had to do it in secret; if the priests ever found out about that man, he would be burned on the town’s square just like the red haired woman who had wanted to travel through the town. Sometimes you could still hear her screams when the flames ate away her flesh. The next night you had seen a figure wearing a dark cloak sneaking into the home of the family. Curious as to what was going to happen you had sneaked over as well, watching the scene through a crack in the back door: The man had sat down on the bed of the girl and took off his hood to reveal long unruly strands of a red brighter than you had ever seen. He had spoken a couple of words in a language unfamiliar to you, keeping his voice level and his gaze down towards the girl. After a while, the girl had begun to shake and thrash only to suddenly stop mid movement before deflating back onto the mattress. The man then had let out a deep sigh before he put the hood of his cloak over his head again. He only said four words to the parents on his way out: “Her struggle is over.” When the parents ran to the body of their daughter, he had picked up a bundle the father had set up on the desk and left without looking back. That night you could hear the mother cry until the sun crawled over the trees of the forest again and the nature came back to life to cover her pain with beautiful symphonies.  

That man had liberated the girl from her injuries and pain by taking her life just from talking to her. He must have some special powers people attributed to witches and warlocks. He must be powerful enough to help you. And if the family of that girl was able to pay him to use his abilities in their favor (even if it hadn’t turned out how they wanted to), he must also have a price for killing the royals. Or at least send them a warning. You had to find this man and at least try to win him over. As far as you were concerned he might be your only chance to put an end to this.

After a rough night of twisting and turning in your scratchy sheets, you got up more determined than ever to find the mysterious warlock. You quickly got dressed in your warmest cloak and left the house you had rented your room in, sneaking past your snoring landlord who smelled like he had spent his night in the tavern yet again, drinking too much and then lusting after the skirts of women that were way too young for him. You couldn’t help but feel relieved when you left the house and could breathe in the fresh air of the morning. Once your lungs were filled with air smelling like a mixture of freshly cut grass and baked bread, you turned to leave the town. You had no idea where exactly you could find the man. But rumors about him had traveled around the town since the day you were born. Coming to think of it, he seemed to have been around for as long as you could think which didn’t match with how young he had seemed to be when you got that glimpse of him a couple of weeks prior. But the priests always preached that those who had broken their vows and abandoned the right path had many different wicked tricks to disguise their true form.

Mindlessly you followed a trail that lead deeper into the woods and away from the fields where the workers were cultivating different plants both for themselves and for the damned royals. If the priests had never bothered to pay the man a visit, he must live in a place they couldn’t reach, up higher the hill where the paths were narrow and steep. So those were the paths you were taking, paying attention to never lose your footing and keeping your eyes open for anything suspicious.

You were about to give up when the underbrush became thicker and thicker, clearly untouched when you heard the jingle of what seemed to be a little bell. Why would there be a bell ringing in the middle of the forest? Cautiously you listened and crept closer to what seemed to be the source of the noise. It wasn’t long until you found the cause: A small black cat was rubbing its head against a branch in what seemed to be an attempt to get the collar off but it was wrapped too tightly around its throat. “Do you need some help, little one?” You softly asked as to not startle the feline. The cat immediately stopped whatever it was trying to do and stared up at you from big, amber eyes. You carefully approached it and kneeled down, slowly extending your hand towards it so it could see that you meant no harm.  After it carefully eyed you up and down, the cat crawled over to first sniff your fingers before it pressed its head into your palm. Giggling you scratched it behind its ears which earned you a loud purr. “Let me get that collar off of you,” you murmured, carefully tipping the cat’s head so you could examine the leather band the bell was fastened onto. With nimble fingers you undid the intricate knot and the cat could slip out of it. Once it was free, it curved its back and hissed loudly at the little object resting in your palm. “You really didn’t like that bell, huh?” You smiled. “Who do you belong to, little one? I’m looking for a man with red hair. I was hoping he could help me with a problem.” Why were you talking to a cat? It wasn’t like it could understand and lead you to the warlock.

Strangely enough the cat crooked its head as if it was listening to your words and thinking about what it should do. “Do you know him and can take me to him?” You asked carefully, eyeing the cat carefully. It meowed loudly before it got up to disappear deeper into the underbrush. You sighed deeply. Of course the cat had neither understood you nor would it be able to help you. Whether you liked it or not, you might had to ask the family who had lost their daughter where you could find the warlock. It was useless to stray through the forest like this, hoping to stumble upon a house or the man himself. You were about to turn around when another rather annoyed sounding meow tore through the sounds of the forest and a pair of amber eyes looked at you from the bush the cat had jumped into. “Are you trying to help me find him?” You disbelievingly asked the cat who actually rolled its eyes at you. When did a normal cat ever roll its eyes? Could cats even roll their eyes? What was happening? Before your thoughts could spiral any further, the cat made its way through the underbrush again, and you scrambled to follow the black creature, not taking chances of losing it between the bushes and trees.

Soon you reached a clearing the cat eagerly crossed, climbing onto a big stone surface in the grass where it curled up in the sun. Further back between a couple of big oak trees sat a small hut that surely had seen better times. “Where have you taken me?” You quietly asked the cat. Of course it didn’t respond, it just lazily turned its head towards the house where a figure clad in black clothes just emerged, their red hair reflecting the light of the sun that was peeking through the trees. “You little shit!” The person called, clearly a male voice, “How did you manage to get it off?” The cat didn’t even react to the screaming, just stretching its lithe body in the sun. “And who are you?” The man asked when he came closer, his green eyes so piercing it made you shiver. “I- Your cat showed me the way,” you stuttered. “That’s not what I asked, woman.” The warlock angrily crossed his arms in front of his chest and arched one of his eyebrows, waiting for an actual answer to his question. Taking a deep breath, you explained your situation to the man: Beginning with the story of how the knights kept kidnapping girls from your town and in which state they brought them back, if they brought them back at all. Then you told him how helpless the people were, how everyone with a daughter lived in constant fear that she would be next. You told him that you had seen him all those nights ago when he took the girl’s life to rid her from her suffering. Through all of it his face remained blank just the cat got up from where it was curled up, walking around its owner’s feet. “I need your help. We all do,” you ended your speech, “I know it’s within your powers to take lives. We need help getting rid of these royals. We can’t keep living like this, they will keep taking girls until there are no more left and I can’t just watch and wait until they take me. Please, we have no means of doing anything against them.”

“No.” “What do you mean no?” You asked the warlock who had scooped up his lithe cat into his arms and turned to walk back into his house. “I’m not doing it. It’s no use to interfere with royals, they never change.” “But you could help the whole town. We are being terrorized, every week the guards come and take another girl with them and they either never come back or they are so traumatized they can’t even speak about whatever has happened to them and we can only tend to their wounds. I am begging you,” you pleaded but the warlock didn’t turn back around, only his cat seemed to listen who had climbed onto his shoulder, looking at you from its big amber eyes. “I’ll do anything. Take me, take my body, I don’t care. I just don’t want them to break me.” “Anything you say?” The man asked, stopping in his tracks. “I don’t want them to have control over my body,” you whispered, “You can’t do anything worse to me than what the royals are doing to those girls.”

After a beat of silence, the cat meowed loudly, jumping down from the man’s shoulder to walk over to you again, cocking its head as if it was evaluating you. “I’m not going to do it,” the warlock repeated but before you could protest, he turned around again, locking his piercing green eyes with yours, “But I am going to teach you so you can do it yourself.” “It’s not going to be nice or easy,” he continued, looking you up and down once, then twice, “Take that thing off, we won’t need it where we are headed.” He motioned to the cross you had dangling around your neck; your only possession of any worth. “It has protected me from evil up until now,” you protested, closing your fist around it. “Woman. What did the priests tell you where me and my brothers and sisters have gotten our powers from?” The warlock asked, his green eyes almost glowing. You had never heard a man saying the word ‘priest’ with so much hatred and disgust. “They say you’ve made a deal with the... With the devil,” you stuttered. “For once that is a piece of truth that those fat men are speaking,” he snarled, “We are not born with these powers, we have to offer Satan a piece of ourselves in exchange for the powers he grants us with and he won’t be pleased to see that symbol of lies and oppression around your neck.”

For a while you stood still in front of the warlock who had come so close to you that you could count every single chain link on the chain that was hanging from the cartilage of his ear. “How badly do you want to make those good-for-nothing-royals to pay for what they have done?” He spoke lowly, lifting his hand to slowly caress your jaw. You took a shaky breath and met his eyes again. “More than anything in my life.” “Then this shouldn’t be a problem,” he rasped before he grabbed your necklace and ripped it straight off, throwing it into the woods. Shaking off the shock, you quickly followed him and his cat into the little house that seemed to burst from its seams: Herbs, candles and different bones hanging from the ceiling and sitting on almost every available surface.

“Just sit on the sofa and don’t distract me,” the warlock said, starting to rummage through drawers. “Are you going to tell me your name?” You carefully asked after you had sat down on the only free space of the sofa, the cat quickly joining you, “In the town they just call you ‘the outcast’ if they speak about you.” The man snorted loudly. “I like that title but you can call me Yuta.” Yuta. You had never heard that name before. “You aren’t from around here, are you?” “I am not. Not that it is any of your business. I am just going to help you to get your revenge on those royals. Nothing more, nothing less.”

You nodded, idly stroking the black cat in your lap who had started purring loudly. You hadn’t expected the warlock to act like he did. You had come here expecting to bribe him with either money or even your body. It hadn’t fully sunken in that Yuta would turn you into a witch by making a deal with the devil. But you had a mission. You couldn’t just watch another girl getting taken by the knights to become a toy for some royal asshole that would throw her away like a broken shield. You really hoped that the whole process wouldn’t take long. The longer you needed to wait with your revenge, the more girls would get taken and never be the same again.

“What’s its name?” You asked curiously after you had been stroking the cat’s fur for a while. “He’s called Ten,” Yuta answered while grabbing different stones and skulls from the drawers of his giant cupboard that was covering the length of a whole wall. “Like the number?” “He’s the tenth child of a tenth child. Don’t underestimate him just because he looks like a cat.” “But what could he do?” You were confused. “A lot more than your mortal brain could imagine,” a smooth voice answered instead of Yuta’s and it took you a second before you realized it had been the cat who had spoken. “Did the cat just speak?” You squeaked. “I didn’t hear anything,” the warlock grinned and left the room to search for more ingredients. “He did just tell you my name, don’t go around calling me ‘the cat’ now,” the voice spoke again. You looked down to the cat that was curled up in your lap to find him looking right back at you with a stare that should have been way too intense for a mere cat. “How do you do that?” You whispered. “Does he know you can talk?” “You think he would survive out here on his own for years on end if he didn’t have me to talk to?” “But he said he doesn’t hear you.” “Because I am talking to you right now and not to him,” Ten stated as if this was the most normal thing in the world while he was cleaning his fur.

“Don’t believe anything he is telling you. Everything he’s telling you about me is made up,” Yuta said when he came back to the room, a dagger in his hands.  “I sincerely hope you aren’t scared of blood because otherwise this is going to be difficult.” You swallowed dryly, looking at the size of that dagger, but slowly shook your head. Yuta’s green eyes fixated on yours for a couple of moments before he nodded, wrapping the dagger in a cloth with multiple questionable stains. “I’m assuming you have saved your virtue?” You felt the heat rise to your face at his question, never had you met such a man who would ask questions like that so directly and unashamed. “I- I have,” you stuttered, feeling the need to cover your burning cheeks. “That saves us a lot of trouble,” Yuta nodded, grabbing some more things that he had scattered around the house.

“We need to walk for a bit, I am not opening a gate to hell in my garden again. The smell is horrible to get rid of,” the warlock called after he had found everything he needed and had rolled it into a cloth for transportation.   “The smell?” “Have you ever been present at a burning of a supposed witch? That’s the smell. But amplified,” Ten provided from his space on the sofa cushions. “Already scared?” Yuta asked with a smirk on his plush lips when he saw your scandalized expression. “No,” you answered, squaring your shoulders, “I’ll do whatever it takes.” “You better,” he grinned and opened the door of his home, leading you into the forest, further up the hill.

Soon you reached a little clearing where the soil seemed oddly burned where Yuta dropped his bundle of supplies. “You do this here often?” You asked curiously, looking around the area. “Opening a gate to hell? No. But sometimes it is fun to mess with demons,” he answered, winking mischievously, making your heart skip a beat. “Demons are a thing?” “Of course they are,” the warlock giggled, wiggling his eyebrows while pulling a smaller sachet from his makeshift bag, “Just stand in the middle of the burned area and don’t move.”

Nodding you followed his orders and watched him paint a perfect circle around you with the white powder from the sachet. After he had finished the circle, he painted lines through it, creating a pentagram. Satisfied with his work he pulled candles and crystals from his bag next, placing them at the edges of the pentagram and lighting the candles with a mere flick of his wrist. Next he grabbed a skull from his bag, placing it at your feet. “Now to the less comfortable part,” Yuta mumbled, pulling the dagger from its wrappings, “Hold out your arms and don’t move whatever happens. Your innocence is what keeps this whole thing from falling apart.” Slowly you held up your arms and he rolled up your sleeves. You prayed that he wouldn’t notice how you were trying to fight the way your arms were shaking but of course it didn’t slip his sharp eyes. “Nervous?” He grinned. “You are about to summon the literal devil, telling me I am what makes or breaks this ritual. Of course I am nervous,” you stammered, balling your hands to control the shaking. “Cute. Nervous about the ritual and not about losing your humanity for a petty revenge,” the warlock laughed. Before you could reply, he had quickly pulled the dagger across his palm without even batting an eye. “Now brace yourself.” He walked along the perimeter of the circle again, speaking in a language you couldn’t understand, his voice carrying a different weight than before, like he was speaking with multiple voices at once. When he had completed the circle, he closed off his wound with another flick of his wrist before walking towards you, still chanting the foreign words. Once he stood in front of you, he slowly raised the blade, locking eyes with you once before he dragged it over your exposed arms, making your blood seep from the cut.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep the whimper inside that was trying to fight its way past your lips. You were not showing the warlock any more weaknesses than you already had; you could do this. Yuta kept his eyes to where more and more blood was coming to the surface, watching the droplets come together to drip off your arm. As soon as the first droplet hit the ground, the atmosphere around you changed: There were no more birds singing or wind ruffling through the leaves of the trees and it seemed to have gotten darker, almost unnaturally so, the candles supplying the only light on the clearing. A heartbeat later, the flames shot up high into the air, causing you to flinch. You fought your instinct to turn on the spot to run away. You needed to do this. Needed to do this for the sake of your town’s people. “Relax,” Yuta whispered into your ear, slowly turning your arms so the cuts were facing down, making more blood drop, “The devil is a lot nicer than the priests make him out to be.” You took a deep breath to calm your furiously beating heart which turned out to be a mistake: Your lungs were filled with the smell of burning air and sulfur, the smell so overbearing that you felt like you were suffocating. “Even breaths, in the mouth and out the nose,” Yuta whispered when he sensed your panic, gripping your arms tightly from where he was standing behind you. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly, trying to even out your breathing while the scent of fire and burnt flesh got stronger with each breath you took. “Yuta, I can’t”, you heaved. “You can and you will,” he replied, voice stern, his nails digging into your skin. You tried to focus on the pain he was inflicting on you, the way the cuts stung and the way the blood was seeping from your flesh. You had no idea how much blood you had lost but your head was getting dizzy and your legs weak. “Don’t quit on me now,” you heard Yuta hiss through the fog that started to cloud your brain, “We’re almost there.” His grip on you tightened significantly when a loud crack resonated in the air not unlike to when a strike of lightning had hit its target. If it was possible, the smell only became more potent and the heat the candles gave off intensified tenfold. When you heard a deep rumbling laugh, Yuta turned your arms back around so the wounds on your forearms were facing upward again.

“My lord,” you heard the warlock speak, addressing whoever he had just summoned with the help of your blood. You couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes, it was all too much: the heat, the smell and the stinging in your arms. If you were to see whatever was happening right in front of you, you were sure your brain would either forget how to breathe or how to keep holding your body up. You were already resting most of your weight on the warlock. “You brought me a new lamb,” a deep voice filled the space around you that seemed to come from every direction at once, covering you like a cloud. “Her cause is a noble one.” The voice chuckled. “Ready to give yourself over to me?” When you didn’t reply, Yuta pinched you again and you managed to squeeze out an affirmation even though your throat felt as if it was made out of sandpaper, your voice sounding gravely and foreign to your ears. “It’s over soon, my little lamb,” the voice rumbled, “I take good care of what is mine.” Whatever who you assumed to be the devil did next, filled your body with excruciating pain. It began from the cut in your arms and it felt like he had filled your veins with liquid fire that burned its way through your every fiber, taking over every thought in your brain. A silent scream left your lips and all you could remember before passing out were a pair of piercing green eyes and the smell of sulfur.

When you regained consciousness it was in the comfort of a soft mattress beneath a thick blanket. You carefully blinked your eyes open a couple of times, trying to get the herbs hanging from the ceiling into focus. Once you could make out the little flowers on the branch of lavender, you let your gaze wander. Opposite of you stood a big mirror in front of what you assumed was a closet made out of mismatched wood with intricate carvings. Yuta must have brought you back to his cabin. Which meant that you were currently laying in his bed. The thought made blood rush to your head and you instinctively hid yourself in the softness of the blanket even though no one was around to see you. Like this his smell invaded your senses. It was earthy yet spicy. Dangerous. You sighed and let the smell comfort you, closing your eyes again.

Your limbs still felt heavy but after checking quickly, the wounds on your arms were gone, not even the smallest scar left. How long had you been unconscious for?  With how tired you still felt, it couldn’t have been for long, but the sun that was shining through the curtains told a different story. Outside you could hear birds chirping and if you focused just enough you could hear a cat meowing, probably Ten. Smiling you let your mind wander, letting the sounds of the animals relax you. But while you were counting your breaths to empty your mind, you couldn’t help but think that something was wrong. With every breath you took, you mind didn’t become more empty, instead you were feeling more and more: First it was just the way the blanket was scratching your bare arms and legs. Then you thought you were able to feel the herbs that were strung up to dry above your head. And somehow you could tell that Ten was no longer meowing in the garden, probably talking to Yuta but that he was walking towards the window of the bedroom.

You quickly opened your eyes and sat up straight in the bed just as his paws met the windowsill. “You’re awake,” his voice filled your head. You could just nod, staring at the cat in disbelief. How had you been able to predict that he was jumping into the room the exact moment that he did? “Feeling different yet?” Ten asked on, smoothly jumping onto the mattress. “Not really but you do,” you confessed. From up close he still looked the same but something was different. He felt bigger? Older? You couldn’t quite put your finger on it. But what you knew for sure now was that he wasn’t just a talking cat. Yuta had been right, Ten was much more than his body made it seem. “I’m still the same,” he chuckled, neatly folding his tail around his sitting form, “But you certainly are different.” “How can you tell?” “Just take a look at yourself.” Both scared and curious you looked up and met your reflection in the mirror but the eyes that were looking back at you, weren’t your own. Your image in the mirror eyed you with deep emerald green eyes and if the light was not tricking your eyes, your hair had changed color as well. It wasn’t as vibrant as Yuta’s but it was definitely red. “So it is true that witches have red hair,” you mumbled under your breath, raking your hands through your hair to feel the strands. “Most witches have red hair but not all with red hair are witches and warlocks,” Ten confirmed.

Just with Ten before, you had a feeling that Yuta would enter the room before the door moved to reveal his body. “It’s about time you wake up, little witch,” the warlock grumbled. Today he had his hair tied back in a messy ponytail, strands of his unruly hair escaping it and curling at his nape. His piercing eyes scanned over your body quickly before he met yours. “Do you feel them yet?” “Feel whom?” “The energies around you,” Yuta replied as if it was a self-explanatory thing. When you kept quiet and just looked at him from big, unknowing eyes, he groaned and ran a hand over his face. “This is going to be a lot harder than I thought it was going to be.” “It would probably be easier, if you didn’t speak in riddles,” you mumbled under your breath but he must have caught it anyways. “Don’t give me this attitude or you won’t learn anything at all. I might be responsible for you now but I won’t feed you your lessons with silver spoon, you have to work for it. Starting now. Get dressed and meet me outside,” Yuta clarified and turned to left the room but halted in his steps. “And you won’t help her either, Ten. She needs to do this on her own.” Ten just meowed loudly and for some reason you could tell that he did not agree with how Yuta planned on training you. Were this the energies Yuta was talking about?

Once both the warlock and his companion had left the room, you quickly got dressed and headed outside only to find out that you were alone on the clearing. “Come on, this isn’t funny,” you groaned, looking around the house, “I didn’t come here to almost bleed out in a stupid ritual and then to be mocked.” But no one answered you. Yuta and Ten kept hiding. Wait, hiding? Why would they be hiding? Where did that thought come from? You let out a frustrated groan again and sat down on a patch of grass right in the middle of the clearing. “This is stupid, Yuta. I don’t know what to do,” you grumbled, picking at the grass and ripping out little pieces. But that did nothing to calm you down, it only got you more worked up for some reason.

“Take a deep breath and listen to your gut,” you heard Ten’s gentle voice resound inside your head. When you didn’t react and kept ripping out grass, he added: “Yuta is just as stubborn as you, he’ll not come out and I don’t fancy sleeping out here.” “This is so stupid!” You groaned again, letting your body fall back into the grass. When Ten didn’t answer, you took a couple of deep breaths to calm yourself back down. Why were you so irritated anyways? It really wasn’t like you. Closing your eyes, you started to count your breaths to calm your temper. That was when you felt it. Like a flame burning inside you: Bright and flickering wildly. Carefully you reached out to the flame and strangely enough it didn’t burn you, it felt welcome. Like coming home and you couldn’t help but smile. “Are you going to help me find Yuta and Ten?” You whispered. As if the flame was answering, it twitched slightly and calmed down a little. In turn you also felt calmer than you had been seconds ago. Taking another breath, you kept your eyes closed, focusing on the light your little flame shone and from your peripheral vision it seemed like there was another flame. It was a different color and seemed bigger than yours from what you could tell. Opening your eyes again, you quickly got up and walked over into the treeline where you had felt the flame.

“Are you going to throw a temper tantrum every lesson?” Yuta called you out when you had found him, lounging high in a tree eating an apple. You couldn’t fight the heat that crept up your neck, it had been rather childish in retro sight. “You gave me zero instructions,” you tried to rationalize it. “I didn’t have much more to go off from either when I gained my powers,” he argued and jumped down, “So lesson number one.” He patted down his pants once which did exactly nothing for the stains in the fabric before he placed his palm flat on your chest, making your breath hitch. “That in there is your energy. Get to know it. Learn how to read it. It’s where we draw our powers from, where every living being draws their energy from, they’re just not aware of it. If you concentrate and learn how to utilize it to your advantage, you’ll be able to feel other’s energies much more clearly and you will be able to manipulate them.” You nodded along with Yuta’s words even though you couldn’t quite grasp what it all would mean for you. “It’s overwhelming at first,” the warlock smiled, patting your chest before dropping his arm, “But I am here to help as long as you are willing to work with me and not throw a temper tantrum.” “Thank you,” you mumbled, smiling back at Yuta. “It’s thank you, master now,” he grinned. “Now go find Ten, I can tell he’s getting irritated.”

Nodding, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. “His hiding spot is a bit far away, I’ll guide you,” Yuta promised, taking one of your hands in his and you felt warmth spread through your body, comforting you. Smiling, you took another breath. You could do this, if Yuta was there to guide you, you could learn to use your powers.

Over the course of the next days and weeks, you stayed with Yuta and Ten. The warlock taught you how to handle all the new things you were able to feel and how to manipulate the different energies around you. At night while you were lying on the little old mattress Yuta had dug up somewhere, Ten often joined you for some ear scratches and told you stories about old witches and warlocks who had become mad in their hunt for power or about incredible pioneers that had written the big spell books Yuta had yet to show you. You had gotten somewhat close with your master as well but you never quite understood him completely. One moment he seemed like he’d rather be literally anywhere else when you were struggling with molding the energies like he had both explained and showed you and the next moment he told you the most shocking made-up stories only to laugh at your face when you had actually believed him. But since he was the only other human you had contact with in a while, you grew attached to him quickly, always gravitating towards him even when he was doing mandatory tasks like cooking or cleaning (which admittedly wasn’t very often).

One rainy afternoon though, the warlock seemed more grim than usual. He had yet to teach you anything today; he had just asked you to grab a few herbs he was running low on. When you had asked Ten what was going on with Yuta, he had only given you a very cryptic answer before he had disappeared. “Something is different today,” you tried to initiate a conversation when the warlock wouldn’t talk to you while he was stirring something in a small cauldron over the fire. “What makes you think that?” “You haven’t taught me anything yet and refuse to talk to me. Ten is also nowhere to be found and he hates the rain.” “Wrong answer,” Yuta cut you off, “You’re still thinking like a regular human.” “I am still human,” you argued. At that your master just snorted, closing the lid on the copper cauldron louder than he needed to. “You’re so much more than just a human; you just need to finally acknowledge it. You came here seeking revenge on those who wronged your people and who abused their powers.” “And I still want them to pay for what they did to those girls.” “You want them gone.” It wasn’t a question. Yuta locked eyes with you: Piercing green meeting yours that were a little more muted. “They don’t deserve to keep living their lives like that. They need to be taught a lesson.” The warlock slowly nodded before he lowered the heat of the fire with a flick of his hand. “Get your cloak.” “Where are we going?” You asked, slipping on the thick fabric and following Yuta outside.

“You tell me,” he answered, motioning for the forest. “Stop toying with me.” “Use your senses, woman,” he spat, “Figure it out.” Huffing in annoyance, you closed your eyes, concentrating on your own energy that swirled inside your chest, feeling it like a small flame before you turned your eyes outward, feeling Yuta’s energy right next to you. His flame was bigger and seemingly less controlled than your own, a little deeper in color and burning hotter than yours. “Stop spying on me,” he spoke lowly, sounding almost amused. Slowly you expanded your sight, feeling the animals hiding from the rain beneath the leaves of the trees and in little caves, feeling the power of the stream that lead into the valley, feeling... Feeling something that was not right. “What is that?” You asked, trying to pinpoint where this energy was coming from. “You tell me,” Yuta spoke lowly, careful to not break your concentration. “Something isn’t right. Near the stream.” The warlock hummed, slowly approaching you to place a hand on your shoulder. Bit by bit you could feel the warmth of his powers mingle with your own, sharpening your senses, his energy guiding yours in the right direction. The uneasy feeling in your stomach only intensified but the comforting warmth of your master made you push further, looking for the source. “See it now?” “It’s a man,” you gasped, your senses almost recoiling when you found him. He was unlike any energy you had ever felt before. His energy felt off, you couldn’t quite describe it. “How does he feel?” Yuta’s low voice calmed you down again, encouraging you to look closer. “Wrong. Something is not right about him. His energy is small but it feels like it’s too warm. Like he’s about to burst.” “Do you know where he is?” “Near the bridge that leads to my town.”

“Alright,” Yuta spoke, sounding content with your analysis and you could feel his energy leave you, signalizing you to come back to the little house as well. Slowly you blinked your eyes open. “What is wrong with the man?” “He is not a good man,” your master spoke, “We’re going to kill him.” You wanted to protest, to tell him that you couldn’t just kill a man. But something, maybe a voice in the back of your head, told you that you could. And more importantly that you should. Wordlessly you followed Yuta to the path that would lead you towards the bridge.

“Remember what I told you about energies when you first felt them?” “We can neither create energy out of nowhere nor can we just make it disappear. We can just change the nature of the energy,” you recited dutifully. “And what does that tell you?” “We can’t rule over life and death.” “Not exactly,” Yuta agreed. “But you took that girl’s life when you came to heal her,” you argued. “I used up all the energy her body had left in it to heal the wounds that were hidden beneath her skin. I killed by healing her. After all her energy was used up, her heart stopped beating just like that.” “Is that what you’re going to teach me?” “No. that man’s body is healthy as far as I could tell,” Yuta shook his head, halting in his steps so you could meet his eyes again. “You might recognize him when we meet him. I need you to keep a level head and do exactly as I say or you might never get the revenge you want to get so badly.” You throat suddenly felt dryer than it had ever been and you tried to swallow down the feeling of fear that had begun to crawl up your spine.

“Swear that you’re going to do as I say,” Yuta pushed, holding out one of his arms. From what Ten had told you, Yuta was asking you to make an oath and those were not to be taken lightly. But you trusted Yuta. You trusted your master. He might have questionable methods to teach you certain things but he was a capable and strong warlock. Nodding, you held out your hand as well and he forcefully grabbed your forearm which you quickly copied. You could feel energy coming off of him, weaving around where you two were connected. “Say it.” “I swear I will do as you say as soon as we meet this man,” you said, your voice sounding deeper than it usually did, carrying a weight it only did when you tried to cast a spell. “And I will in turn swear to protect you and guide you through what we’re about to do,” Yuta promised, squeezing your arm tightly before his energy recoiled and he loosened the grip. “You’re going to make me kill him,” you breathed into the silence that stretched on. “I will,” he confirmed and turned around to keep making your way towards the strange man.

To say you were absolutely terrified was an understatement, your heart was hammering wildly inside your chest and you were sure Yuta must feel how unruly your energy was becoming. “Calm down,” he spoke, “Once you see him, you will feel differently.” “Can’t we start with something a little less drastic?” You pleaded. You weren’t ready for this. “What use does it have? You have learned everything you need to know about manipulating energies. The energy in humans is no different than the energy in a fire or in a plant and you’re doing well manipulating those. You’re ready for the next step.” “Yuta, I can’t,” you begged, swallowing down the taste of bile you suddenly had in your mouth. “You can and you’re going to,” he replied, a tone of finality in his voice, “Now be quiet, we’re almost there.” You had half a mind to scream so the man would run away when there wouldn’t be this voice in your head telling you that this man was no good. Taking a deep breath, you quickly followed your master until you arrived at the bridge, hiding between the bushes.

“He’s not far,” Yuta promised, “I’ll explain it once, listen closely: You will wait for him on the bridge. Make him stop so it’s easier for you to get a grasp on his energy. Just like you do it when you’re putting out a fire, you’re going to tug. Expect resistance because while every energy has the will to exist, human energy usually resists a little harder than just fire.” “What am I going to do with his energy?” You asked, proud that your voice wasn’t breaking. “It’s going to be a lot more energy than you can hold unlike with fires. You need to release it. Find something you can direct it to.” You bit your lip and nodded shakily. Sensing your discomfort, Yuta reached out and grabbed your hands in his, rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs. “I’m right behind you. I swore to protect you. If you fail to redirect it, I’ll do it before it eats you alive. But I do not want you to not try. Keep a level head.” Taking a couple of beep breaths, you tried to calm down. Yuta must have his reasons he wanted you to kill this man. He wasn’t unjust. You trusted your master. “Now go out there and wait for him. Maybe stretch your senses to find something to redirect the energy to,” he smiled, making your heart flutter for completely different reasons.

Following your masters orders, you stepped out onto the bridge, pulling your hood further into your face so it would be obscured to the man and briefly stretched out your senses like Yuta had suggested. You could feel the weird energy of the man approach, accompanied by another energy that might belong to his horse. Other than that you couldn’t feel much. The safest way was probably to redirect the energy to the water flowing in the stream. You couldn’t think about any other possibilities because the sounds of hooves approached quickly, revealing the horseman. He abruptly stopped his horse when he saw you blocking his path. “Move!” He yelled but you didn’t budge. In fact you were frozen in place when you recognized the man.

He was one of the knights of the king. But not just any knight. Images from summer flashed your mind: The man had stayed at the inn when it was too late to make the travel back to the castle after he had laughed at the girl he had brought back. In the inn he had drunk enough for three men and boasted about what a great lover he was and that the women could never get enough of him. You felt rage rise inside you. This man was rotten to the core. Yuta had been right, he had no rights to live a comfortable life after he had destroyed the life of so many girls and women. “Move!” He called again but you stayed right where you were, slowly lowering your hood so he could see the dark red color of your hair. “A little witch bitch,” the knight spat, dismounting his horse, a big grin on his face, “The lord will be delighted when I bring you to him.” “You disgust me,” you growled, feeling your energy burn brighter inside you, itching to rip the rotten flame from this poor excuse of a man. Behind you, you could feel Yuta’s own energy shift but you paid it no mind. He wouldn’t interfere. This was your test.

The knight slowly approached you, step after step and you could already smell that he reeked of alcohol. “Stop right there,” you demanded, focusing on his energy. Against your expectation he actually halted in his steps before he started to laugh at you. That was it. You wouldn’t allow him to harm another person anymore. Determined, you reached out with your own energy, gripping his firmly and tugging just like you had learned it. The man promptly choked on his laugh, clutching his chest tightly, looking at you with wide eyes. His lips moved with silent pleas and it only made you feel more disgusted than you already were. How did he have the audacity to beg for forgiveness after all he had done? “You disgust me,” you spat before you tugged for a last time, feeling how the energy separated from his body that limply fell to the ground. A great sense of satisfaction filled you and you couldn’t fight the laughter that bubbled from your chest. You could feel his energy course through and around you, seemingly growing now that it wasn’t trapped anymore, latching onto your body as it was the closest living thing. The feeling was indescribable. To feel this much energy coursing through you was incredible but after a moment you knew that you couldn’t hold it, the foreign energy trying to force itself inside you alongside your own energy.

Redirect. You had to redirect it before it ate you alive. Your eyes flickered from the trees to the end of the bridge to the sky above you, covered by dark storm clouds. Without thinking too much, you balled up your own energy, giving the foreign one a firm push upwards, forcing it out of your body and towards the clouds instead. Like a thread that suddenly snapped, the energy left you, making you stumble and fall to the ground.

A loud rumbling noise could be heard from above and you knew that you hadn’t made the smartest decision with where you had redirected the energy to. The next thing you felt was a firm chest that you were pressed against and the smell of burning wood and static filling the air. “My little apprentice,” Yuta whispered fondly, gently cupping your cheek. His green eyes were sparkling and if you didn’t know better, you would say that he looked proud of what you had done. “Did I do good?” You asked, looking around his shoulder to see the damage on the bridge. A flash of lightning must have hit it exactly where you and the man’s corpse had been just moments prior, the wood now black and burning. “You did better than I had ever whished for,” Yuta answered, pressing your shivering body tightly against his chest, whispering words of praise into your hair as the reality of what you had just done came crushing down to you, making your body shake with the sobs you let out. You hated yourself for crying. But you weren’t crying for the man. He had deserved what had happened to him. You were crying because it was you who had done it. You weren’t just a human anymore and Yuta had forced you to accept it. You weren’t what was considered normal. You had special powers now, dangerous powers and the only other person that could ever understand and shared the weight that came with those powers was holding you in his arms right now.

“Let’s go home,” Yuta gently spoke, pressing a kiss to your hair and you could only nod and try to not get lost in his eyes when he loosened his grip on you.

“You’re ready.” Puzzled you looked up from where you were reading in one of the big spellbooks in the armchair in front of the fire, Ten curled up in your lap. “You’re ready to get your revenge. You know all you need to know,” Yuta explained himself, crossing his arms in front of his chest where he was leaning against his kitchen counter. When you still couldn’t find the words to tell your master how you were feeling, he continued: “It’s not far to the castle from here. The lord is having a banquet in the evening; all of the royals will be gathered. It’s a great opportunity. You shouldn’t miss it. Ten can show you the way.” “You’re not coming with me?” You asked in a small voice. As much as you still wanted the royals to pay, you had thought that Yuta would help you when it came down to get your revenge. The castle was filled with guards and knights after all. How were you supposed to get in and out of there without being seen? Especially when your plan was to kill the rotten men in charge. “I told you I wouldn’t kill anyone for you. I promised to teach you everything you needed to know so you can get your revenge. And I have done that. There is much more to our powers than just this but I did what I promised and now it’s time for you to do what you need to do.” Before you could argue or voice your concerns, Ten stretched his body in your lap so he could glare at Yuta, a disapproving sound leaving his throat. “Shut up, cat,” Yuta just growled when Ten wouldn’t stop complaining, angrily hissing by now. “I don’t care what you think,” the warlock exclaimed, throwing on his cloak, “Take her to the castle.” After taking a deep breath, he turned to lock eyes with you, a sad smile playing on his lips and added: “Make me proud my little apprentice.”

With that you were left alone in Yuta’s house that had become your home as well. You couldn’t understand the words he had just said. He was throwing you out. Had it all just been this to him and nothing more? Was he just trying to fulfill his promise all these weeks? Did you mean nothing to him? “He is a headstrong idiot,” Ten sighed, his smooth voice like honey for your soul, “You belong here with us and he will realize that eventually.” “Thank you,” you whispered, scratching Ten behind his ears until his purring filled the silence of the room. “And I am not just saying that because Yuta can’t seem to get that spot right there,” he added. You couldn’t hold your giggle, fondly smiling at the cat that you had gotten so close with. “He is right about you being ready though. We should leave soon.” “I have no idea how I should get in and out though. The place must be bursting with guards,” you voiced your concerns. “You would be surprised by how careless the royals are sometimes, they think they’re invincible.” Taking a deep breath, you felt out your own energy, feeling your fire burn brighter with excitement that you could finally give the royals what they deserved. “I’ll show them just how vulnerable they still are,” you said, your voice sounding more determined than you could have wished for. “That’s my girl,” Ten cheered you on, jumping from your lap onto the floor. “I’ll bring you to the castle but I won’t be a big help in this body.” You just nodded, gathering some things you had wanted to take with you: A couple of charged gems and the little dagger Yuta had given you a while back with a slender blade but sharpened to perfection. Lastly you got your cloak to conceal your red hair and green eyes that were a dead giveaway of your true nature. “Ready?” Ten asked, waiting for you outside. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” you answered, following the creature inside the forest.

When the castle came in sight, you said your farewell to Ten, squeezing his lithe body against your chest to his great dismay. Many people were bringing different things through the big gates and carriage after carriage brought in more supposedly rich and important people. For a while you just leaned against the big walls that surrounded the castle, feeling out the different energies. Of course there were the ordinary energies from the servants and most of the guards that were patrolling mostly on the high walls but the deeper you felt inside the castle, the more rotten energies you could feel, making you sick to the stomach. Your rage was only fueled when you carefully made your way into the courtyard and you could feel distressed and terrified energies further into the castle as well, some of their flames so terrifyingly small that they must belong to some kidnapped girls who were barely holding on to their life.

Waiting for a chance to slip into the more private rooms of the castle, you watched the servants scrambling around behind their masters who for the most time either ignored or scolded them and when a lady screamed at a little boy who had tripped and let some of the stuff he had been carrying drop to the floor, you couldn’t help yourself but to give her energy a quick push only enough to make her heart stutter once before she lost her footing and fell herself. The secret smile the boy quickly hid behind a blank expression was enough thanks for you.

“When is this fortune teller coming around?” One of the guards suddenly asked another one who had just come out of the castle. “She should have been here since the morning and the lord is getting restless, he is snapping at every servant who is coming into his chambers.” A fortune teller? That seemed almost too perfect to be true. Pulling your hood further into your face, you slipped from the shadows and made your way towards the guards. “Good afternoon,” you greeted the guards, honey dripping from your voice, “The lord of this castle sent for me, he wished to know about his future.” The older of the guards slowly let his gaze wander over your form before he reached out a hand to lower your hood. “Don’t,” you hissed, taking a step back. “Come on, leave her alone,” the younger groaned, “I can’t take the lord’s bad mood anymore.” The older one gave you one last once-over before he deemed you no threat and shrugged his shoulders. “You bring her to him, I’m going to the kitchens.”

If you had known how easy it would be to see the lord, you wouldn’t have been this nervous before entering the castle. “Wait in here for him,” the guard told you after he had dropped you off in a small saloon that was just filled with a big sofa and a vanity that displayed big jewels. In the middle of the room stood a small table with a crystal ball on top and you could only barely hold in your laughter. The only problem with this room was that there was nothing you could redirect the lord’s energy to once you had killed him. No fire or plants. This was anything but ideal. Hastily you sat down in front of the crystal ball when you felt the lord approach. You needed a different plan. Either you needed to let this perfect opportunity pass and try to kill him later or you had to do it without your powers. Suddenly the dagger in your pocket felt like it was as heavy as a bag of stones, the handle digging into your hand. You couldn’t let this opportunity pass. You had to take it. Even if it meant that you had to kill him like this. You could do this. This was no different than the guard you had killed.

When you felt the energy of the lord approach, you took another deep breath, searching out your energy for comfort. “Leave us alone,” the lord’s voice commanded the guard who had lead him inside and just like that you were alone with him in the room. You had never seen the lord in person and you didn’t know what you had expected but you thought that his appearance suited his energy: He was a rather small man with greasy black hair. His stomach was rounded and he smelled like he had bathed in perfume to gloss over how bad he smelled. “Finally you are here,” he spoke and even his voice was unattractive, his tone nasally and off pitch, likely from too much alcohol. You just wordlessly nodded your head, not deeming him worthy for words of greetings either. “Sit down so we can get started.”   “I don’t like your attitude woman,” he snarled, looking down at you from his reddened eyes, “You are different than the last one that came.” “I have my special ways to see what the future holds for you,” you simply answered, dragging your dagger from your pocket and placing it onto the table. At that the unruly eyebrows of the man shot up. “Are you threatening me?” “I would never dare to,” you gritted, fighting the sarcasm from creeping into your tone, “But nothing is purer than what your blood could tell me.”

The lord seemed to think about your words for a while, if he was even capable of that. But his energy seemed to calm down after a while when he sat down opposite of you. “Very well,” you smiled, pulling out a couple of the gems you had and placed them on the table, “Please hold your palms up.” When the lord did as you asked, you took a deep breath and willed your hands to not shake when you were grabbing for the dagger. It was rather small in comparison to Yuta’s favorite ones but it should do its job just as good as any other dagger he had in his collection. You really hadn’t thought all of this through. But you needed to do this. For all the girls living on this lord’s lands. You weren’t close enough to him to hurt him much with the dagger and if you weren’t quick enough and he’d sense your true intentions, he would call for the guards. And when you had nowhere to redirect their energy to, you were basically helpless.

“I don’t have all day,” the lord complained when you hadn’t moved after a while. “I was concentrating on your energy, you disgusting piece of shit,” you spat out, making an on-the-spot decision to stop the charade. Quickly, before he could even completely fathom your words, you gave his energy a push to render him breathless for a while which gave you just enough time to leap over the table to ram your dagger into the fat of his neck. With a furiously beating heart, you watched his eyes widen and his throat gurgle with the blood that was flowing into his lungs and seeping from the wound when you pulled your dagger back out. Unable to move your body, you watched him convulse in pain until he stopped moving altogether, his eyes open wide and unseeing. Slowly you could feel his flame getting smaller and smaller until you couldn’t detect it anymore. You had done it. The lord was dead.

Just like the last time when you had killed, the reality came crashing back down to you after the adrenaline had seeped from your body and you felt your hand shaking that still clutched the dagger tightly. When you looked down and saw it covered in the lord’s blood, you instinctively let the dagger fall, the noise unnaturally loud in the silent room.  Your breathing picked up and you felt panic rise in your chest. How were you going to get back out of here? You were drenched in blood and people would surely start to miss the lord soon. Yuta had been wrong, you weren’t ready for this. Bile rose too your mouth and tears were collecting in your eyes. You were done for; they would burn you in the courtyard while laughing at you for your foolish plan to take all the rotten royals out.

“My little apprentice,” a voice said behind you and through your tears you looked up into Yuta’s familiar face. “What are you doing here?” You sobbed, balling your blood smeared hands to fists, your nails digging into your palms. “I thought you had left me.” “Watching out for you, what else?” He smiled, pulling you away from the lord’s corpse and against his chest, not minding that you were staining his cloak with blood. His calming energy engulfed you like a cloud and slowly evened out your own untamed energy and eventually helped you to even out your breathing. “There are a lot more people here than I expected,” you mumbled when your tears had stopped falling, growing basically boneless in Yuta’s hold. “We’re going to take care of them together,” Yuta promised, pressing a kiss to your hair before he loosened his hold on you and took a look around the lord’s room, picking up some of the expensive looking jewelry that was laying around.

“The banquet has already begun,” you spoke after you had felt out the remaining rotten energies, all bundled up in the big hall, “They will become suspicious if he’s not coming down soon.” “I have always had a thing for dramatic entrances,” the warlock grinned, loosening his cloak so it fell to the ground, “How about we interrupt this boring dinner they are having right now and heat this place up a little? There is this nice little fire in the fireplace to keep them warm but I feel like it could use a little more energy.” His words made you mirror the wicked grin that had started to spread on his lips. “Lead the way,” you spoke, ready to teach all the rotten royals a lesson. With Yuta by your side, you knew that you couldn’t fail.

Together you stood in front of the burning castle, a little further up the hill and hidden by trees, listening to the people screaming in agony. When you turned your head to look at Yuta, the orange flames of the fire beautifully illuminated his features despite the ashes that were clinging to his cheeks and the fact that he was missing half an eyebrow that must have gotten burned off, his lips crooked into a cocky grin. “Nothing more beautiful than the chaos some little flames can cause,” he spoke before he tore his gaze from the castle and looked at you instead. Tenderly he reached out to wipe the splatters of blood on your cheeks away, just smearing them further onto your skin in the process. “You look beautiful like this,” he whispered, his green eyes sparkling dangerously. “I’m a mess,” you argued, feeling how the blood on your hands was slowly drying. “The most beautiful mess I have ever seen.” Before you could argue any further, the warlock connected your lips in a bruising kiss, pressing your body close to his. He tasted of smoke, blood and danger but to you it tasted like the most intoxicating drink you ever had the pleasure of tasting.

“What are you doing, Yuta?” You breathed against his lips when his hands had slipped beneath your shirt, nails raking over the skin of your stomach. “Unleashing your full powers,” he groaned, all but ripping the garment over your head before roughly connecting your lips again. “What do you mean?” “Stop asking so many questions,” the warlock growled, sucking harshly on the skin of your neck, obviously not bothered by the blood clinging to your skin. You could just mewl and desperately clutch onto him, afraid your legs would give out. Once Yuta was satisfied with how dark the mark on your neck had turned he gripped your hair to yank your head back so he could kiss you again. Still high on the adrenaline from before, you shamelessly moaned into his mouth when he kept your strands of hair in a firm grip to angle your head just how he wanted. Grinning against your lips, he used his chance to slip his tongue between your parted lips, turning the kiss downright filthy. “Yuta,” you sighed when he parted from you, both of you panting heavily while staring into each other’s green eyes. Blood was smeared onto both of your faces now and you had stained his shirt with the blood clinging to our hands. “Tell me you want this,” he whispered, his hands wandering to where the wrappings around your chest were fastened, “Tell me to unleash your full potential, my little witch.” Before you could answer, he leaned in to steal another kiss while he tugged on the cloth that had kept your breasts covered. “You don’t even know how fucking hot you are like this,” he groaned against your lips, roughly grabbing your boobs to massage the soft flesh, sending sparks of pleasure down your spine. “Do it,” you moaned, arching your back towards the warlock, “Do it, Yuta.”

A deep growl came from his chest and with quick movements he rid himself of his singed shirt and stepped out of his pants to stand before you completely naked safe for the ashes and blood clinging to his skin. His cock was already hard and hanging heavy between his legs. With a dangerous smile on his spit slicked lips, he crowded you against the trunk of a tree, the bark digging roughly into your back. With only so much as a flick of his wrist, the warlock had you naked as well and raked his widely blown eyes over the exposed skin. “My little witch, so beautiful,” he rasped, pressing his lips to the mark he had created on your neck, making you hiss in both pain and pleasure. Chuckling he grabbed one of your thighs to wrap it around his waist, exposing your most private part to him. But before you even had time to think about what you were about to do and how improper it was, Yuta had snaked a hand between your bodies to cup your sex, slowly grinding the heel of his palm in your clit which tore a loud moan from your lips that mingled with the screams you could still hear in the distance.

A grin spread on Yuta’s lips when you threw your head back and moaned unashamed when one of his fingers played around your entrance, teasing but never slipping inside, making more and more wetness seep from your core. “You want it?” He asked, pinching the skin of your thigh that he still held tightly to get your attention. “I already told you to do it,” you whined, grinding your hips in an attempt to finally make his finger slip inside you. “When will my little apprentice finally learn to answer my questions properly?” He sighed, bringing his hand down on your wet folds, creating a wet slapping noise that brought blood to your face. The mixture of pain and pleasure made your head swim even more than the adrenaline had minutes ago. “Answer your master,” Yuta growled, bringing his hand down a second time, causing you to jolt in his hold. “Do it already,” you groaned, burying your hands in his unruly red hair to kiss him again, wasting no time to lick into his mouth. If anything you were a fast learner and tried to match Yuta in the kiss. While you were distracted with kissing the life out of him, he finally slipped one of his fingers inside you, making you gasp and break the kiss. “Feels good?” He grinned as he began to move his finger at a steady pace before quickly adding a second one, stretching you out. “Yeah, feels good, master,” you breathed. You could feel Yuta’s breath hitch against your lips before he let out a row of colorful curses, speeding up the motion of his fingers. “Say it again,” he growled. “Say what again?” You hiccupped, holding onto his shoulders tightly, the pleasure making your head swim. “Call me your master,” the warlock growled, crooking his fingers inside you so you saw stars behind your eyes, punching all air from your lungs. “Master, please,” you choked out, burying your nails in his shoulder to drag them down his back, leaving angry red lines and a trail of smeared blood.

Cursing, Yuta pulled his fingers from your core, making a distressed mewls leave your lips. He just chuckled breathlessly at your reaction but before you had the time to even feel ashamed, you felt the blunt head of his cock slip inside you, the feeling so foreign and overwhelming that you had to close your eyes. Yuta slowly pushed inside deeper and deeper until your bodies were as flush together as the position was allowing you to. “Fuck you’re squeezing me so tightly,” Yuta cursed and breathed heavily into your ear. You could only mewl instead of answering properly; you had never felt like this in your entire life. You felt your energy bounce around wildly in your chest, slowly expanding and turning deeper in shade. But before you had any chance to take a closer took, Yuta pulled his hips back and thrust right back into you, pulling loud moans from both of you. “You feel it?” He groaned, slowly picking up his pace, “Feel how your powers grow?”

“I couldn’t care less about any of my powers right now,” you whined, yanking Yuta close by the hair on his nape to crash your lips together to stop yourself from moaning out loudly. “So feisty,” he breathlessly chuckled against your lips, “Hold on tightly.” In a heartbeat he had twirled you around to lay you down into the grass instead. Watching your expression closely, he thrust back inside you, causing you to moan loudly with how deep he was inside you now. The feeling was so overwhelming that you clamped your thighs tightly around his frame and threw your head back with a loud moan. “That’s it, let me hear you,” the warlock moaned, caging you between his arms before he started to move his hips in quick thrusts that made stars spark behind your closed eyelids. You didn’t have any brainpower left to even remotely feel embarrassed by how loud you were being, instead digging your fingers into Yuta’s shoulders to pull him back down into a messy kiss that was more tongue and panting into each other’s mouths than anything else.

“Look at me my little witch,” Yuta panted when his trusts were getting erratic and you felt like the energy inside you was ready to burst and explode in thousand little stars. Just when your emerald eyes met his piercing gaze and you saw how his eyes were filled with so much more than just lust, you couldn’t help yourself anymore and let go of the coil inside your stomach, letting the pleasure overwhelm your body while moaning your master’s name. Seconds after you heard Yuta moan your own name while he pressed inside you for one last time, his back arched and lips parted. Around you, the air was buzzing with energy, almost singing with how potent it was. For a while you just looked at each other, breathing heavily, silly smiles on both of your lips before Yuta leaned down to connect them in a tender kiss.

“You two disgust me,” a familiar voice suddenly broke the delicate silence but this time it wasn’t inside your head. When both Yuta and you looked to the side, you saw a slender man with jet black hair sitting in the grass not far from you, looking back at you with familiar amber eyes. “But I can’t say I hate what you managed to do,” Ten added, looking at his delicate hands. “Go stare at some other people fucking, you creep,” Yuta growled, covering your body with his. “But I finally had something different to see than you sadly beating your meat or trying out questionable spells,” Ten teased, poking out his tongue. “If you don’t leave right now, I will find a way to trap you inside a frog next time.” “I’d love to see you try, honey,” Ten laughed before he actually left to give you some privacy.

“This is so embarrassing,” you mumbled into Yuta’s chest where you had hidden your face that must have the same color as his hair at this point. “Don’t mind him,” Yuta smiled, kissing your forehead, then your nose and both of your cheeks before pecking your lips. “I can’t look Ten in the eyes anymore,” you groaned, making the warlock laugh. “Let’s not talk about him when I’m still inside you,” Yuta whispered, grinding your hips together to prove his point. “Let’s make him wait for a bit longer.”

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