Writing the romantic kiss scene
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Writing the romantic kiss scene
In your head:
In paper:

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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30 Uncommon Character Development Questions ( send me a number )
What position does your character sleep in? ( i.e; stomach, side, back, etc. ) Describe why they do this – optional.
Does your character have any noteworthy features? Freckles? Dimples? A scar somewhere unusual? etc.
Does your character have an accent? What does it sound like?
Do they have any verbal tics? Do they have trouble pronouncing certain words or getting their thoughts across clearly?
What are their chief tension areas?
If you were to pick one song – and only one song – to describe your character, what would it be and why?
How does your character perceive themselves? Positive? Negative? Neutral?
Are they a quick thinker or do they need time to sort through their thoughts?
Does your character dream or are their nights filled with an empty blackness? Describe a dream they’ve had or a night they couldn’t sleep and what they did to preoccupy their time.
If they had a choice, would they prefer a subway or a bus for public transportation?
What do they think of creation? Do they believe in evolution or do they believe in God? What is their religion like?
Describe 5 unusual characteristics your muse has.
Have they ever been so overwhelmed they had to stop and take a break from something?
Are they a team player or do they prefer to be solo?
Can they multi-task or must they focus on one subject at a time?
What are their best school subjects? What are their worst? List five of each.
Is your character an introvert or an extrovert? How do they handle big crowds of people?
Are they a leader, do they prefer to follow, or would they rather just stay on the sidelines altogether?
If your character was suddenly challenged, would they rather run away or stay and fight?
If your character was allowed to murder one person without any consequences, who would that person be and why?
Your character has been granted 3 wishes; what would they wish for and why?
Does your character trust people right off the bat or does it take them some time to warm up to someone?
Do they prefer romance or affection? What is the quickest way to your character’s heart?
Does your character have any enemies? If so, who and why?
Do they have any weird bedroom habits? Any unusual kinks?
How does your character prepare for bed? Do they sleep at all or can they stay awake for days on end without trouble?
If your character had one thing to say to their parents before they died, what would it be?
Are they afraid of death? Do they have any regrets?
Does your character get restless when things are too quiet or do they favour solitude and silence? Why?
Finally; if your character was forced to eat one thing for the rest of their life, what would they choose and why?
Woah, this actually works as a piece of art for one of the NPCs in my game… well other than that it’s arctic rather than desert sand dunes.
Read More
Just more awesome fanart and such. I don't take creds for any of this. Just sharing the awesomeness.
Hi;) perhaps you can assist me with a tiny task? My team are trying out our sci-fi online MMORP pc game. Can you put to a test and play it? It will take you couple of seconds. Give it a shot it on our BLOG. Thank you very much dear! July ;*
Sure thing! Is it just through your blog? I apologize since I am at work right now but I will certainly check it out once I get home (or if I manage to magically Harry Potter style my way into a break)!
Forest Witch by AlexRaspad
Such beautiful works. Credit goes where it is due.

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River's End
Fiction: Pathfinder/Dungeon and Dragons
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The party returns to the small riverside port for supplies on their way to the mountains, hoping to find someone who can read the infernal language of Rahovar’s journal. An uneasy quiet rests over the sisters, neither speaking of the events that had occurred within the college. Bardon has parted from them, heading back to Ambaron to tell the Council of what has occurred leaving the sisters for a time. An evening at the tavern leads to more trouble as Albany teams up with a dwarf to stop a gang from overrunning the village.
Category: Chapter Thirty-Five
Disclaimer: I do not lay claim to any of the following work. While the writings themselves are my own, my character is created fully by myself, the other characters and story elements I do not own. I also do not own any of the Pathfinder/D&D elements that are in play. Full credit goes to where it is due. Thank you.
Note: This session was spontaneous, our DM made it up on the spot in order to introduce new characters.
The Thirsty Stirge, our new abode for the next week or so…
I bit at my bottom lip, liquid blue eyes gazing across the tavern. Cigar smoke filled the air, casting us all into a fog of breathless gas, the drunkard laughter of men in the corner catching our attention every few minutes, ale and meed spilled on the floor in copious amounts. Barmaids continued to pass by, offering us food and drink but we waved them away. We weren’t hungry.
I played absent mindedly with the scarf that hung around my neck, the long deep scarlet ends draping casually across my torso till the charcoal colored tassels tickled my thighs. Silver embroidered script graced the bottom of each end but it was in a language neither Alyara nor I could read. My slender fingers fanned out the tassels, letting the pieces of fabric caress my palms, pulling the scarf up to cover my nose, attempting to rid myself of the stench that filled the tavern.
And also to remember him.
“Are you listening to a word I am saying?” my sister asked, tapping a clawed tip on the table to grab my attention.
I glanced up at her, blinking a few times. No. I wasn’t. Far from it. What had we been discussing? My brows knit together as I stared back at her, biting hard on my bottom lip.
“I’m guessing that’s a no?” she questioned further, leaning forward in the slightest.
I lowered the scarf from my face and offered a shrug. Nope.
Her expression softened. “It’s fine.” Alyara slouched back in her chair, sighing heavily. She had been giving me a lot of space lately, allowing me to… adjust. I think she hoped that if she didn’t pry too hard about… what happened… I wouldn’t implode again, I wouldn’t fall apart in front of her like I had on the boat ride leaving Castle Cantor.
The way I had started the boat on fire, the flames licking at the wood, strong enough that the storms overhead couldn’t banish them from existence. I almost sunk us. Alyara had been the only one who calmed me down, settled the rage that cursed inside of me, boiled under my flesh. Streloka… Kaldvic… Gods, it was all my fault. If I had been stronger minded, had the will, Kashal wouldn’t have taken over my body like he had… I never would have given him Rahovar’s phylactery… I never would have slaughtered my friends.
I yanked the scarf back up, eyes squeezed shut as if the action alone would make my memories untrue.
“-someone to read Infernal,” Alyara continued, laying a book on the table, assuming I was now paying proper attention. “Bardon had said someone by the name of Evan of Teal could read it… I don’t know how much I trust him.”
Bardon, the sun elf, the oracle who broke objects at the slightest of touches. The magic user who had been able to teach me a few things, had given me minor control over my own arcana. He had known Kashal nearly a century ago and had managed to expel him from existence, at least for a time. However, my sister and I struggled with the reality of the situation. It had been Bardon who brought us to Castle Cantor, he had led the way. Now we worried that he had known about this trap all along and had lured us into it.
But my gut told me that wasn’t true.
“Albany!” Alyara bit out.
I jumped, startled, chair rocking back on two legs for a brief moment of time. “Sorry, sorry!” I scrambled for words, fingers gripping the table to right myself. “I just… sorry.”
Alyara glared at me. I knew she was hurting too, I could hear her cry at night when she thought I was asleep. But, because of her determination and level headedness, two traits I only had when it came to combat and slaughtering things, she was able to remain afloat. I envied her for it. “Please, pay attention. We need to find Evan, get him to read the journal, and move on. Quickly. Rahovar and Kashal went North and we need to catch up with them sooner rather than later.”
I ran a hand through my messy blonde hair, frowning when I noticed just how snarled it was. “There’s no point in chasing them for now…” I let my gaze wander about the room, taking in faces. None of them appeared to be… wizard-ly… Granted, neither did Harold and he was one of the best wizards I knew, for a damphir. “With the head start they got, there is no way we could catch them. They are long gone.”
My sister grumbled at that but knew I was right.
“Then we need to find Evan, or someone who can read Infernal,” she muttered, bitterly staring at the book in front of us. We had taken the tome from what had been Rahovar’s – Samuel’s – room back at Castle Cantor. Gonqui, the bardmaster of the college, had informed us of his background, the bit we didn’t know, and mentioned that the book had been with him, he was always writing in it. We hoped that it would give us a weakness, a chink in his armor, something, anything. But… seeing as the little bastard wrote it in a language we didn’t know, we were in a bit of a pickle as far as unlocking its secrets.
“Did you say Infernal? My friend can read that,” came a voice from my right.
I flashed my gaze that way, surprised to see a dwarf. Stout yet sturdy, the man stood, arms at his sides. Though he didn’t have an offensive posture, something told me that I shouldn’t test him, that he was strong and able. “Eves dropping is rude,” I warned, teeth gritted.
“Understood. But I thought I could be of assistance.” He wore heavy armor, the metal gleaming but appearing as if it had been through some wear and tear of late.
Alyara snorted. “Right, he thinks he can help us.”
I offered a half-smirk, taking up the lop-sided grin Kaldvic had always worn, the one that would make my heart ache. “Bud, you don’t want to get into our mess, I promise you.” We may seem innocent and charming on the outside but I didn’t think anyone in their right state of mind would want to try to take down an all-powerful demon God of death and his merry band of blood thirsty, village annihilating vampire spawn. Our quest didn’t sound too peachy-keen when you phrased it like that.
The dwarf didn’t falter in his resolve. “I am a bodyguard to Mariian, a very knowledgeable scholar who has traveled much of the land, can read Infernal quite well, and just so happens to be living in this very tavern at the moment.”
I arched a brow to my sister. She rolled her eyes back. “What would you want in return? There’s always a catch,” I retorted, turning in my chair so I faced him.
“Help with a problem in town. Nothing more.”
“And what’s this problem?” my sister chimed in.
“Right, we aren’t too into anything that involves babies, elderly, or small puppies,” I added.
Realizing that he was likely going to win us over, not that it was too hard seeing as how desperate we were, the dwarf sat down at our table, waving over the barmaid for an ale, and took a swig before he replied. “As you know, there is a bit of gang conflict here in River’s End between the Merchant’s Guild, Trading Company, and the Teeth. I have been given a proposition to close off the Teeth, the worst of the gangs, in their sewers below the port in order to safeguard the alchemist.”
“Why don’t the Sherriff and Deputy handle the situation?” Alyara countered, leaning forward with her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands.
“Have you seen them?” the dwarf quickly quipped, gesturing with a head jerk to one of the tables. Ah, well it made sense now, didn’t it? Two men, with badges that clearly identified their titles, were practically falling over the table, drinks in hand though I questioned the amount of ale still inside based off of the amount of shaking they were doing, and the amount that was spilling over the brims. Their snorting laughter reached out ears, as well as slurred speech that I assumed fell around something vulgar due to the gestures they were making. Alyara was frowning. “They aren’t really well-suited for the matter…”
“Or any matter ever,” I breathed. No wonder River’s End was nothing but a shit hole.
Alyara shook her head. “I don’t know. I am not a fan of deep, dark, danky, gross sewers.”
“I can take care of it then,” I offered, scratching the back of my neck, fingers tickling along the silver chain that hung there. “You can try to find leads on Evan and I’ll hang with Dwarf to solve his little problem. Either way, we will end up with someone who can decipher the journal.” Granted, we wouldn’t trust either of them, Evan nor whomever this scholar was.
The dwarf nodded, seeming pleased. Alyara shrugged a shoulder. Where she once was the ever so eloquent diplomat, she no longer seemed to care. My sister had darkened, just as her fur had. The deaths of our companions hit us hard… and I wondered how permanent these changes would be.
“Shall we then?” the dwarf asked, waving a hand towards the door.
I sighed, snatching up the greatsword that rested against my chair, the silver metal glistening in the dim candlelight that filtered in through the heavy smoke fog that suffocated the air around us. I couldn’t remember the last time I had to use it, I had relied on my bow for the past year or so… It would feel strange to wield the weapon in my hands once more.
“Lead on,” I gestured, strapping the blade into the harness that rested between my shoulder blades, pack squished between it and my armor. Once the dwarf was out of ear shot I whispered to Aly, “Keep to the shadows while you’re out. We can’t trust anyone.” She put a sturdy hand on my shoulder and gave a tender squeeze. It was just the two of us now… we were all that remained. We had to watch each other’s backs… no one else would.
----
My nose crinkled up, stomach heaved, eyes watered as the dwarf hefted the sewage cover off to the side, the heavy metal clanking hard on the cobblestones. The gaping hole that remained before us was nothing less than putrid as what smelled of rotting decayed corpses and… well, sewage seeped out from it.
“Not a pleasant smell,” the dwarf commented, speaking the obvious. I scoffed, rolling my eyes, but hoped that the blonde hair that cascaded over my shoulder would conceal my face. I may be blunt and outwardly rude, but the dwarf didn’t need my attitude.
“So… uh… the Teeth? Do you know anything about them?” I grasped for something to talk about as I squatted down, peering into the manhole, debating whether or not I really wanted to jump in.
“Aside from what gossip tells me?” he replied, copying my movement. “No. They seem to be causing a problem for both of the local gangs and while gangs in general are not lawful or good, they are at least decent at holding the peace and maintaining trade… so they are tolerated. However, the Teeth are not. They ambush caravans, steal food from local farms, and are now getting their claws into the sewer systems, backing them up and you could likely guess what that is leading to.”
“Ew.”
“Right.” He stuck his legs into the hole, preparing to hoist himself in. “So, I agreed to take care of them by closing a few of the gate entrances, effectively closing them in for a time being. Hopefully by then, the alchemist and other townsfolk will be able to gather enough supplies and equipment to take care of their own pest problem for good.”
And then he was gone, disappearing down into the depths of the sewers, a splash of water resounding out of the hole upon his arrival. Gross.
Gritting my teeth, telling myself that this was for the greater good (though whether or not I believed myself still remains to be seen), I leapt in after him. Water and Gods know what else greeted me as I slammed into the water, falling to my hands and knees, the water almost covering my face. I nearly barfed right there.
Alyara was so damn lucky right now.
A firm grip tightened around my arm, just above my elbow, and lifted me from the water. My slender fingers found the slippery walkway and I pulled myself up onto the grimy, filth-encrusted stones.
“Normally people land better than that,” I heard the dwarf laugh.
“Whelp, hate to break it to you but I’m far from graceful.”
I stood, brushing what I could from my sleeves – cloth, garbage… unmentionables. He was already brandishing his shield and blade, ready for a fight. “My name is Dun, by the way.”
“Albany,” I replied, too quick to think about offering up a fake name and mentally smacking myself for my sheer stupidity. “So, we just have to close their gate, find a way to make it so they can’t get back out, go talk to your alchemist friend buddy buddy, and then you will let me speak to your scholar about our book? Do I have that right?”
He nodded. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”
At least it would be quick.
“Ah, and one more thing.” Dun cleared his throat, and tapped the ground gently with his booted foot. It trembled in response, buckling in the slightest… and a large earth elemental erupted behind him, the ground closing up once more like it never was split to begin with. The earth elemental loomed over us, his dark eyes centering in on me and narrowing. “This is Dun.”
“Wait, I thought your name is Dun?”
“It is.”
“Then…?” I pointed up at the creature.
“He is Dun as well.”
“Oooookay… Uh, he knows I’m cool, right?”
Dun… the dwarf… looked up at his earth elemental (also Dun, Dun Two) and gave an encouraging thumbs up. The beasts arms lowered to a normal position, abandoning the one of offensive, and he almost… smiled… at me… A freaking rock thing just smiled at me.
Again, Alyara was so damn lucky right now.
“And he’s coming with us?”
“Yeah, he’s with me. He fights what I fight and protects me as well. He comes in handy.”
“I can see why a huge ass tree rock thing would be handy, yeah.” I mused trying to look away from Dun Two but failing. It wasn’t something you saw every day. Granted, it’s not like I ever got to see ‘normal’ things with regularity; I really shouldn’t be too surprised any more. I mean, a damphir becoming a King, a portal that led to thousands of other worlds that I couldn’t even fathom, the Pool of Reincarnation, the rebirth of a God… Yeah.
“Let’s get this done then,” the dwarf said, turning on his heels and heading down a southern tunnel.
Ha, done… Dun was going to get stuff done… with other Dun. Oh wow.
I equipped my blade, the greatsword feeling heavy in my hands, and trudged after them, trying not to think about what was oozing off the walls.
We didn’t speak much, neither of us seemed to be charming conversationalists. This was fine by me. We took a few lefts and a right, a few more lefts, went straight… it dawned on me that the elemental was the one guiding us, using some sort of blindsense to find whatever the Teeth were.
Dwarf Dun was alert, ready, prepared for anything. His face was set, muscles taut in his arms. And here I was, just happy to have something distract me for once.
Then he stopped.
“They are just up ahead,” he whispered, pointing around the curve in the tunnel. “Dun says there are five of them… to many for the three of us to try and take on by ourselves.”
“Unless we could catch them off guard,” I offered, a plan already forming in my head.
“Well sure but, with the way the tunnels are set up, that isn’t going to happen. There is no other way to this area aside from the tunnel we are in, so we can’t come out a different way to get behind them.”
“Who said anything about sneaking?”
“What other option is there?”
“You clearly aren’t a female, Dun.”
His lips parted, likely a snarky retort on his tongue, but I waved him with my hand. I lowered my greatsword, letting it lean against one of the disgusting walls. I then gently tugged on my armor, undoing some of the laces in the front to better expose my breasts, tightening the corset to make them more of a focal point. I picked at my trousers, letting them fall lower on my hips and tasseled my hair to give me more of a half-crazed look.
“What… uh… what are you doing?” Dun’s cheeks flamed red, his stammering indicating just how uncomfortable he was.
“Giving them a distraction.” I peeked around the corner, eyes accustomed to the dark, thankful for the lack of light for once. “I’ll lure them over here… and you get the jump on them. We can pin them between us.”
Before he could object, I stepped forward, allowing myself to slump against the wall in a pitying way. The Teeth whirled towards me, blades brandished in their little hands, teeth snarling at me. Oh gross, they were were-rats. I tried to act frightened instead of grossed out.
“Please,” I begged, pitching my voice into the perfect damsel in distress. “I’m so terribly lost. I came down here looking for some fun and… I just…” I let a tear fall down my cheek. “I can’t find my way but…” I raised a hand, pulling at my bottom lip, eyeing them. “I mean, I did come down for fun after all… Maybe in return for you kind folk for helping me get back to the surface, I could repay you?”
“Repay us hoooow?” one of them cooed, stepping forward, the arm that wielded their swords lowering.
“How do you think?” I replied coyly, smirking.
Another chimed in, “All of uuusss?”
“Oh of course. Just step into my office?”
The sound of metal echoed off of the sewer walls as weapons dropped from greedy fingers, little padded feet racing after me as I ducked around the corner, my own hands working quickly to refasten my armor to allow me to maneuver faster. I ducked into an alcove right as a twisted around the corner, watched with a smile on my lips as the rat beings raced past, eyes only looking forward.
Then their shrieks of surprise rang out.
“Who is this!” one cried.
“Where’d the hot bitch go?” asked another.
Greatsword in hand once more I called, “Looking for me?”
And just as they turned in my direction, Dun’s shield slammed hard into the unsuspecting face of the closest were-rat.
I used the pummel of my blade and thrust it forward, cracking the were-rat’s chin that stood before me, smiling when I heard a satisfying crunch. Then I spun on my heels, using the momentum to swing my blade in a wide arch, cleaving a hole into his left flank, watching him flounder as pain registered in his face, his claws digging at his side in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. “Yeah, that’s not going to work,” I replied, shoving him off to the side and allowing him to die in the sewage water below. His friend stepped forward, ready to take me on.
Ahead of me, Dun and Dun were making quick work of their foes, the two seemingly in sync with one another as they bobbed and weaved in and out of combat; dwarf with his shield and hammer and elemental with his stone arms and feet. It was pretty amazing to watch.
It didn’t take long for us to rid the were-rats from existence, earth elemental dropping the final body into the water.
“That was a splendid idea,” the dwarf complimented, sheathing his blade and replacing his shield to its home on his back.
“I know my way around how to make a man happy,” I replied though the dryness in my voice indicated that I had no plans to try that same stunt on him. I wasn’t interested in any sort of relationship anything at the moment and doubted I would be anytime soon, especially with complete strangers.
The earth elemental lowered the gate that led to the Teeth layer, ripping the lever off its hinges once it was down. “That should slow them for a time,” the dwarf applauded.
---
“There you are!” Alyara exclaimed, jogging towards me, waving her arms to grab my attention. Dun straightened at my side, only relaxing when he realized who it was. Once she was closer she asked, “Did you guys do whatever it is you needed to do?”
Dun nodded. “Yes and I have agreed to take you to Mariian in the morning. He rented out the entire inn, as per usual, and does not want to be disturbed on his first night in a new town.”
I still thought that sounded ridiculous, even though this was now my second time hearing it.
“So we need to find somewhere else to stay for the night,” I interjected.
“I may have that covered,” my sister replied, ears twitching forward, pleased she beat me at something. “I found our lovely friend Evan of Teal while you were underground, you smell really gross by the way.” Her nose crinkled. “He runs a small school for gifted children, those gifted with the arcane arts. He’s a bit of a hero in these parts, conquered a few things, saved a few things, all of that.”
“He sounds peachy keen,” I muttered, reposition my knapsack on my shoulders.
“He gave us a place to stay for the night, in his mansion just outside of town at the edge of the marsh. And you will not be able to guess who his grandson is!”
----
“TOM!” I groaned, cowering behind a large stump outside of the mansion, Alyara snickering away next to me.
“Isn’t that hilarious!” she cried, her laughter making her speech hard to comprehend.
“No!” I shouted in reply.
Dun had parted ways, agreeing to meet back up with us in the morning to discuss the book, leaving Aly and I to Evan and… for the love of Gods, Tom.
Adorning his purple robes and hat, tinted yellow glasses on the brim of his nose, Tom lopped out of the front door. “Was that the sweetest voice of my dearest Albany that I hear?” he called.
“Over here!” Alyara replied, with a quick yelp as I slammed my foot down on her own.
Arms snacked around my throat, the smell of rotten fish evaded my nose as Tom latched onto me. This was worse than the sewers. So much worse. “Where have you beeeen?” he asked. “I’ve missed you! Did you miss me? Of course you did!”
He led us inside, gave us a grand tour of the house… and held onto my hand with a death grip the entire time. Eventually we were led to the great hall where a feast was prepared. We were encouraged to take a seat, servants quickly ushered into the room to serve us. The grand doors opened, a man dressed in a teal garb, dark hair graying around the edges, and overall air of intelligence strolled into the room.
Evan.
“Ah, Alyara, pleasure to see you again. And,” his gaze fell upon me, “This must be your sister, Albany. Yes, Tom has told me much about you.”
“I imagine he has,” I replied through gritted teeth that were hidden by a smile.
Alyara elbowed me and continued, “We are very grateful. Thank you for opening up your home for my sister and I. We appreciate it humbly.” Ah, there was her silver tongue. She still had it after all.
“Why of course, after I heard about the book you possessed and the quest you are on, I couldn’t help but offer my assistance in any way possible.”
I sent a glance to Alyara but her smile was warm. How much had she given away?
Evan must have caught my look as he took a seat across form us, already raising his wine cup to his lips and taking a few swigs. “I know only just enough but I am always fascinated by the chance to learn more about the unknown. Any journal by anyone written in Infernal would be an interesting site to behold and I am thankful you have given me the opportunity to read it. Of course, we will do so tomorrow. I have been told that you have found another that can decipher the tome and I would very much like to be part of that meeting, allowing us both to read the pages would allow for a better understanding of the material.”
We eventually agreed to meet with Dun and Mariian in the morning and to bring them back to the mansion. Over a cup of tea with Evan, the five of us would decipher the journal together, or at least a few bits of it. I didn’t want them to read too much, fearful that they would attempt to stop us or, even worse, trade the information they do learn later on to others.
We couldn’t trust anyone.
Not anymore.
That evening my sister and I shared a room, our panthers sprawled out on the floor between our two beds. Alyara was undoing her corset and leggings, placing them on a chair as I unpacked a few belongings.
We had a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Hopefully we would find a few answers. Evan sure was kind enough, every bit the hero that the town made him out to be. He spoke modestly and humbly about his deeds. We even got the chance to see him teach an evening class, one my sister eagerly took part in as I watched in the corner of the room. His students adored him, fawned over him practically. Evan gave them each his undivided attention, grinning with happiness when they achieved a task or completed a spell that they had been working on for the past few months. In the short amount of time I knew him, I could see the good in him. He did such wonderful things for the people around him while asking for nothing in return.
And he may have the key to the answers we were searching for.
I played with the onyx panther necklace that hung at the base of my throat, lost in thought. Kaldvic’s scarf lay looped on my pillow, ready for when I laid down for the night so I could curl up with it. My only belonging of his…
I hadn’t realized I was staring at it until Alyara cleared her throat. “You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, course. Yep.” I shook my head to clear it and began the process of unlacing my boots, pulling them off one by one, careful not to make eye contact with her. I knew the flood gates would open if I did that.
“Albi…” she began. I could feel her sit down beside me.
I inhaled slowly, I could hear the shakiness in my breath. “It’s just going to take time. I will be okay.”
She reached over, taking my hand in her hers and uncurling my fingers. She placed something in the palm of my hand, closing my fingers on it. “When we go back to Ninovan… or even Cumberbatch… or the mountains… wherever you want. I thought we could…” She spoke around a mouthful of tears. I could see her rub a few away from her cheeks out of the corner of my vision.
I brought my hand before me, relaxing the clenched fist. In my palm rested a handful of seeds – ones I recognized that would grow into elms, oaks, pine…
I smiled, my bottom lip trembling as I turned my gaze to her, saying the words she couldn’t.
When we had the time, when we were in a good place that was safe and familiar…
“We’ll plant a tree.”
Pensive Sorceress by Alexander Chelyshev
So pretty!!
Black Mage
So cute. Bew idea for Meelo!
Women of Steel
deep, heavy breathing
Give me armour and let me kill some shit.
pay special attention to the lack of boob cups and thank you
Oh look, no plate or chain mail bikinis
Sexual orientation: Cute ladies in armour :D
Stumbled upon this on Facebook today and couldn’t stop laughing.

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Reminds me of the first few times we played pathfinder and were trying to bring new people in.
Fanciful illustrations by Sean Andrew Murray.
The artwork of this page is amaaaazing. Seriously, check it out.
Act V Character Information
Albany
Skirmisher Ranger-Heartbreaker Oracle
Played by – Yours Truly
Guilt stricken and broken hearted, Albany feels lost in a wave of uncontrollable rage. Streloka… Kaldvic… It was her fault, utterly and completely her fault… and there was no way to change that. If it wasn’t for Alyara, Albi wouldn’t be able to surface from the depths of despair she has sunken into. Yet, in all of this uncertainty, one thing is clear: Rahovar will pay for every single thing he has done, for every single person he has taken from her… and no one, no one, will get in her way this time.
Alyara
Shadow-dancer Rogue
Played by – Cab/The Quagga
After the death of her friends and the loss of her Druid magic, Alyara's personality has turned towards darkness. No more does she care for preserving life; now she only cares for destroying Rahovar. At any cost. No longer will nature answer her call for aid, though the shadows are willing instead. With their help, she and Albany will end their enemy and all who follow him. Even if it means putting them in the ground.
Thank you, Quagga, for writing your exert for me! <3
Mariion
Scholar (Homebrew Class)
Played By – Joe
Hailing from Nimbriche, much of Mariion’s past is shrouded in mystery. Though the man is worldly, having traveled much of it with his companion Dun. Though his abilities in combat may not be powerful, he has the power of the past to help him with any dilemma.
Dun
Stone Lord Paladin
Played By – Coleman
Bodyguard to the scholar Marian, Dun is a dwarf from the mountains. Corinthia the tower of stone, is the hall of the house of thrash has been his place of worship for the last hundred years. With his earth elementa(Dun)l and stone stead(Dun) at his side, he is a force to be reckoned with. Calling the element of earth to him, Dun can cleave apart a battlefield and shield bash any foe out of his way.
Unexpecting Traitor
Fiction: Pathfinder/Dungeon and Dragons
Rating: PG-13
Summary: As the room cascaded into darkness, the group flounders at a resolve. They are outnumbered, outmatched, and clearly have no way of winning. With the phylactery of Rahovar clutched to her side, Albany turns to combat, hoping to fight their way out. Streloka’s guns blaze with smoke, Alyara clings to her magic even if as it weakens within her, Kaldvic’s blades hiss through the air… but not everyone will come out alive. Someone is going to get hurt. Someone is going to die.
Category: Chapter Thirty-Four
Disclaimer: I do not lay claim to any of the following work. While the writings themselves are my own, my character is created fully by myself, the other characters and story elements I do not own. I also do not own any of the Pathfinder/D&D elements that are in play. Full credit goes to where it is due. Thank you.
Note: I want to thank our DM Tyler for allowing me to use his notes for this section. Some parts I took word for word, but most I edited and changed to fit my cannon better. Huge thanks!
My lungs burned as I coughed out the putrid smoke, the ache traveling up my windpipe and causing my throat to sizzle under the pressure. With eyes watering, arm flushed against my lips, I tried to peer across the room. “Alyara?” I croaked out past raw lips, my voice barely traveling at all across the phylactery chamber.
I wasn’t sure where the door was, the dust and smoke obscuring my view. I knew I had been heading towards it before but now I was not certain of my location… or if anyone had made it out. The heavy doors had swung shut after the explosion. I raised a tentative hand out before me, guiding me forward. “Kaldvic?” I tried, terror sinking in. What if I was the only one left in here? What if the others made it out and I was to remain? And… what if Paprika and her minions were here as well? Prepared to slaughter me for the phylactery that rested at my hip.
Rahovar’s phylactery.
Upon its destruction would it release a God.
A hand clasped down on my wrist, fingers tightening. I was readying myself to pull back, to bash my fist forward to crush that bitch of a woman’s skull… “Albany, it’s me!” Streloka coughed out. I felt a surge of relief. At least if I was to die, it wouldn’t be alone. I reached for her hand.
Suddenly the phylacteries behind us began to shake, the sound of glass jingling against glass resounded throughout the room, the small shelves that held the bobbles shuddered underneath the activity.
“What’s going on?” I heard the Dread Pirate whisper, moving closer to my side until we were standing shoulder to shoulder. Her expression mirrored my own – terrified, uncertain, unknowing.
Before I could reply the room began to quake and buckle. The smoke had a life of its own, swirling in the darkness, pushing us back against the shelving. The force was too strong, we couldn’t fight the manic winds as they slammed us backwards. I gritted my teeth as glass bit into my back and arms, blood trickling down the length and dripping onto my hands making my grip slippery and useless.
Then, just as quickly as the smoke came did it begin to subside. It remained on the outer aspects of the phylactery chamber but my field of vision cleared enough for me to see. Paprika and her three minions were thrown against the southern wall, their faces masked with a blank expression as they moved to their knees, kneeling before the center of the room. Gonqui was wedged into a corner, face pale and hair plastered to her face with sweat and fear, eyes wide in complete and utter terror as she curled herself into the smallest form possible. Kaldvic was picking himself up, shoving shelves out from on top of him, shaking glass from his hair. Cuts marred his face, leaving trails of crimson in their wake.
Aly and Bardon had been left in the center, the two were aiding each other to stand, my sister leaning heavily on the oracle for support. I wanted to run to her, to heal her, to do something… But Streloka’s hand on my elbow stopped me.
“Something is appearing,” she warned, pointing a trembling finger towards my sister and friend.
I squinted through the swirling smoke that remained, only to have my eyes widen a faction of an inch as a figure began to step out of the inky blackness, as if emerging from the eye of the dark cyclone as it began to dissipate. A blood red cloak hung loosely over a bulging shoulder, long jagged horns rose form the top of a rough rust colored scaled head with slick hair that was tied back. “A tiefling,” I breathed. Tiefling were demons, or the closest things to them. They often only aid those who promise them power, wealth, or any other matter of greed… and this one, if I had to guess, was merely a puppet of Rahovar.
Piercing serpentine eyes glowed with a warm orange light, a hue that almost made me fall under a trance, begging me to come closer. I squeezed my eyes shut, banished the thought. No. It was just a trick, an illusion, another ploy to tempt us. If I looked deeper I could see the sinister cold of his soul hiding underneath the façade. We had to fight it.
In one long nailed hand, the tiefling gripped a longsword born pure of ebony metal. It was simplistic in design, only decorated with two small white gems on either side the hilt… but even from here I could sense some sort of magic oozing from the blade. The air moved around it in strange patterns, as if it was too frightened to kiss the ebony. “It’s cursed,” Streloka shared my thoughts, her hands gripping my arm tighter. The way my sister was edging backwards proved that she too understood. Her face turned, a glance tossed back to me, her eyes filled with fright as her hair whipped about her head from the wind that howled away.
As the tiefling stood, I caught glance of a silver brooch that rested on the edge of his scarlet cloak, the image just barely visible in the candlelight that remained. The insignia of Rahovar, the bleeding eye, pinned to his robe.
He reminded me of Rahovar, every detail of him. The terror I felt by simply being his presence… but not because he was doing anything diabolic, this terror was created from nothingness – from the sheer fear that he may do something and that something would destroy us. It was a calm and collected terror, a terror that came from a man who knew he was in control, and that no one could relinquish him of it. He had all the cards, he knew how the game would end… and the rest of us were mindless sheep in comparison.
The only one, however, who wasn’t backing away from the beast… was Bardon.
It was if he was oblivious to the howling wind, the glass that continued to shatter around us, the shelves that bucked and twisted, the room that trembled at our feet threatening to knock of us off balance. It was as if he was in a different place… or simply not paying attention… as he stood, brought himself upright, and stared at disbelief at the man who stood before him. Like… like he was a long lost friend. My eyes narrowed.
“Kashal…” the oracle spoke, voice intoned to reach all of those in the room. The tiefling ignored him, his greedy eyes too busy taking in the room and his new found subjects. Even from where I stood I could just barely make out the furious whisperings of Paprika as she prayed away to her God, to Rahovar. The tiefling grinned a toothy grin at her, one of pure lust and power. He knew he was the leader.
Bardon’s voice boomed out, exploding outwards, finally catching the attention of the tiefling, “Kashal Lotharn!” The silver spear in the oracle’s hand flashed bright as he raised it, hand steady and an expression absent of fear as he stepped forward.
Kashal, the tiefling, winced as if a lance of pain had shot through him, his gaze flicking from Paprika to Bardon, from lust to pure hatred, as he glanced to his right to stare daggers at the sun elf. His glare screamed ‘How dare that unexpected guest pause my moment of triumph?’ only to alter into one of… glee… I shuddered. I would never want that gaze turned upon me, to see such a sickly happiness caste in my general direction. I would be reduced to a muttering pile of arms and legs, pathetic.
“The Breaker!” Kashal hissed, his forced tongue sang out the name with an inhuman growl that echoed throughout the Vault, pressing down around us like a suffocating blanket. Aside from his voice the room went silent as we held our breaths. My hand grasped the phylactery on my hip, as if the action alone would prevent the tiefling from seeing it. Kashal turned slowly, fully facing Bardon head on, arms crossed though he kept a hand on the hilt of his blade, his threat remaining even though he spoke with a rather joyous tune. “How long has it been? How long did you think that paltry banish spell would keep me out of the Mortal Plane? Fifty years? One hundred? Not long for either of our lifetimes, is it, elf?”
I sent a confused glance to the oracle. What did he mean? What banishing spell? How long? I knew elves lived an exceptionally long time… but the way Kashal spoke made it sound as if this spell had been cast centuries ago, perhaps even longer. Just how much did Bardon know…? How much had he been keeping from me? How much of it was a lie?
Bardon didn’t glorify him with a response, he jabbed forward furiously with his spear at the fiend, planning to attack before Kashal could react. The tiefling was too quick to react, however, and he evaded the silver tipped spear with ease, gliding around the playing field as if this was nothing more than elaborate dance… one he had done before. He effortlessly toyed with the elf, parried each swipe with a wide sweep of his ebony blade. Bardon’s jaw set, the rest of us still in shock, too stunned to move.
Paprika stood, hefting herself up to level a glare at Streloka and I. “Get them, get the phylactery” she barked at her goons, the three of them turning to focus on us, already wielding weapons. I quickly notched an arrow, letting the fletching tickle the soft skin of my cheek as I took aim. My heart hammered away an unsteady rhythm fueled by horror, my breaths came in exhilarated pants that I couldn’t put under control, my eyes kept flicking between the foes coming at me and Kashal who stood reign in the middle. My bow shook in my hands, the arrow leaving my grip and returning.
“Focus,” Streloka ordered, pulling a pistol from her holster. “We can’t let them get the phylactery.”
As the three closed in on us, I saw from the corner of my eye Kaldvic brandishing his blood crystal katana, the red material visibly glowing, his eyes sharing the same hue, lips turning into a snarl. He wasn’t too keen on enemies putting me in a corner. Their pursuit was slowed by the wind, their steps sluggish and difficult as the smoke pushed them back, the glass cutting at their skin.
As we joined the fray, Bardon continued onwards in the center. His spear still making wild stabs at Kashal, the half-demon dodging them with a grace I could never dream of holding. Bardon spun to the left, attempting to skirt of range of Kashal’s own attack… but the crack of wood snapping in half indicated that it didn’t go too smoothly, the tip of Bardon’s spear careening out of reach and drifting away in the wind that still shrieked around us. With another cleave of his blade, Bardon was pushed backwards with the flat of the blade, flying into another set of shelves, the phylacteries raining down upon him before being taken up by the wind.
With Kashal’s attention robbed by Bardon, my sister launched forward, seeing an opening in the back where she could blindside the tiefling before he noticed. Her claws found their mark, Kashal’s growl of anger her satisfaction as he swung around trying to shake the deep grip Aly’s claws had on his neck between the glistening red scales. She cursed, druidic speech pooling from her lips as she clung to the half-demon, struggling to maintain her hold even as the wind attempted to yank her from behind.
Thorns engulfed her, her spell taking affect as she used ‘thorn body’ to further attach herself to the demon, the spines protruding into his spine and down his back. He screamed again, this time laced with more surprise then genuine pain. I frowned, we were nothing more than mere toys to him. We were his playthings.
The demon buckled, leaning low to the ground, the skin under Aly’s claws stretching and ripping out from under them, the scales falling to the ground in bloodied shreds. With a grunt the tiefling snapped upright, his cloak carried by the wind around him to reveal his torso, the muscles there rippling with strength. Black blood burst from his wounds, traveling in thick jet streams and propelling Alyara backwards and into the swirling smoke, clouding her from vision.
“Bardon!” I screamed, pointing towards my sister, panic and alarm in equal measure coloring my voice. My sister. “He has HER!”
The oracle gave a muted nod of understanding, rushing into the darkness to aid my sister. If he failed… I would bring him back from the grave myself to beat him to a pulp. I couldn’t lose her… I couldn’t…
If he succeeded… I would thank him… if we were alive. So many if’s.
Now with his attackers relieved, Kashal resumed his composure, his gaze perusing his body and taking account for his wounds. Aly’s spell had been all but useless, barely drawing the slightest bit of blood though her claw marks remained running deep into his neck. Though my attention was sent primarily on my own attackers, I could still see the tiefling start towards Paprika, eyes blazing with power and rage.
The witch stood, moving forward at the beckon of Kashal, his wrist flicking for her attention. With a hand outstretched I watched Kashal force Paprika back to her knees in obedience. Her head was contorted up to him, neck twisted at an odd angle that I was certain would break it had it been done but non-magical means. "Drink, witch,” Kashal spat down at her with disdain. “You are a weak thing, but with my gift, you will become great… as long as you serve my purposes, your God’s purposes.” With that he lowered his wrist, blood pooling on the edge about to spill over to just about her mouth.
I nearly gagged at the thought.
Paprika must have shared my thoughts. “But…. No… You, you are wrong! I was not meant for this path, this was not my duty!” She managed to break the demon’s will long enough to turn her head away, blood caking her cheeks and slinking down the side. “This can’t be what my God wants!” I see not everyone was up to date on how the evening was going to go.
Furious with her resistance, Kashal strengthened his resolve and met the samsaren woman at eye level. He punched forward, pressing his hand down her throat while screaming, “DRIIIINK!” his rage filled voice shook the room with a quake, jumbling the phylacteries more so, the winds picking up to deathly speeds. The inky black blood oozed into her mouth, her scream of terror enough to pause the trio that were nearly on us, startling them to a halt. One of them began to reach out for his master, the woman a pitiful mess on the ground as her body began to shake out of control but another raised his hand to stop him.
Paprika’s eyes widened, afraid, scared… The only sounds emitted from her were those of a choking gurgle as she vomited on Kashal’s hand. Kashal’s rage was one of control, only adding to his demeanor of terror, a wickedly pleased smirk lining his face, eyes glittering with pleasure at torturing the woman.
“Stop!” I shouted, “Just stop!”
Then the room fell silent, aside from the wind and the shattering of phylacteries.
Kaldvic moved to stand between me and Kashal but I could still peek around him. Pools of black liquid began to spill from Paprika’s eyes, the veins of her neck bulging and pressing against her pale skin in protest, foam spewed from her mouth and the gurgling stopped. She slumped to the floor, arms curled limply around her.
“She isn’t dead,” Kaldvic cautioned.
The wind picked up in speed, the room becoming more and more chaotic by the second, the havoc ensuing until it engulfed us. Paprika’s body rose involuntarily, the only thing remaining on the floor were her toes driven down my gravity. Her back swayed back, head drooped behind her and torso bent forward, hands floating at her sides though useless in action. Blood steadily flowed from her eyes now, her gaping mouth blackened with the same color, the streams of ooze flowing into the breeze and begin dragged along until they wrapped around her bent frame.
She was taking in his strength, his power… and that of Rahovar.
“Now, don’t be too greedy, girl,” Kashal cooed, that glint in his eyes flicking towards the trio that had been advancing on us until now. “Share my gift with your companions!”
Paprika didn’t move from her suspended state, but the black blood flowed more heavily, lacing its way through the air towards the trio. Their facial expressions turned to masks of horror as they stumbled over each other in a mad attempt to flee from the same fate Paprika went through. I almost felt bad for them. But the black ooze was faster, quicker, it caught them, pressed against their flesh… and it wasn’t long before three new blackened irises were staring at us, inky tears streaming down their faces.
Gonqui raced for the door during the madness, her tired old hands clasping on the ornate door handles, her hoarse voice trying to call for help though it was ripped from her lungs before it could even touch the walls.
One of the trio, a dragonborn monk began towards the door, enthralled to bend to the will of Kashal, and by extension Rahovar. Kaldvic attempted to take hold of the distraction as he reached for the blade at the monk’s side, slicing it free with his own blade and retrieving it. Now dual wielding he moved to block the monk from retreating. He would protect Gonqui for the time he could. Kaldvic’s gaze moved to me for a brief moment, a lop-sided grin plastering itself to his face. “Be brave,” he mouthed, and then snapped into combat, swords ready at his command.
Streloka burst into action as well, her pistol shots singing out around me, her movements almost too quick to track as she moved from firing to reloading in fluid motions, a twister of death, bullets raining down upon the two enemies that remained. Her actions were seamless. With the wind whipping her hair from her, it was difficult to determine where her crimson mane ended and her bullet fire began. One of the men dropped like a pile of bricks, hands clutching his knee. He had fallen victim to one of Streloka’s shots. The adamantine borrowing bullet dug deep into his flesh, likely to the bone with how aggressive the magic was wounded around them. The other took a shot clean through his clavicle, bone splinters exploding out from his shoulder, black blood splattering long the his armor and padding. It soaked into the leather jerkin, the entrance wound bleeding profusely.
And the man shrugged it off as if he had received nothing more than a mere paper cut. His daggers twirled expertly in his nimble hands, the blades hissing through the air. But even as he was poising to launch of volley of attacks, Streloka’s attention moved to Paprika. Three more gunshots rang out in quick succession, trained on Paprika, arguably the weakest link of their group. Though with her new powers, the bullets never graced her skin. They were disposed of as soon as they came within reach of the stirring black ooze that surrounded her like a shield, an impenetrable wall, catching the hostile fire and melting the enchanted lead as if it as butter.
One bullet managed to make it through, but it did nothing more than bless her arm with a caress before blasting open a phylactery that sat on a shelf behind her.
I too took advantage of the situation. I raced forward, ducking low underneath a sweeping blade attack from the man with twin daggers. I lopped to the side away from his range, preparing my bow. But suddenly, I felt dazed, a bit sick. My vision blurred in the slightest as I readied myself. My head swam, as if I was sitting atop a tall tree and the altitude was getting to me. A sharp stabbing pain ripped through the back of my skull and I winced, running my fingers gently across the nape of my neck and up. Had I gotten hit? My fingertips were bare, no blood, nothing. I shook my head gently, clearing my mind. Whatever, perhaps the smoke was giving me a headache.
A warm rush of adrenaline burst through me, veins begging for me to release that energy. The pain in my head fueled my desire to get payback. My eyes moved to where Alyara had vanished, Bardon was bent over, the shimmering air around the two of them indicated that he had placed ward of protection, his healing magic beginning to work. She was in good hands… in the meantime, I would make them pay.
My vision blurred around the edges like it always did when I was focusing, giving me tunnel vision towards Kashal – the man who had harmed my sister in the first place – tunnel vision that would lead my arrows straight to his cocky smug grinned faced, I would rain them down upon him. I stared down at my quarry, my prey, my jaw setting, teeth ground together angrily, eyes sharp and piercing. He hadn’t noticed me yet. Good. I would take the bastard by surprise. I almost didn’t notice my body going through the motions of notching an arrow and letting it fly, I only became aware when I saw my sizzling arrows embed into his torso.
Whatever, it was convenient. I wasn’t going to complain.
I let my arrows fly, felt a numb sensation as my arm moved on its own accord. Kashal stared at me stunned, eyes wide with horror. Arrows streamed from my bow madly, trails of smoke snaking behind them in their wake. With each pull back of the string I felt my fingers ache, my hands numb, but knew it would hurt more if I stopped, knew I couldn’t stop. He would PAY!
But now I had his attention. Kashal’s hand whipped up and with it a blockade of black goop. My arrows pressed against it uselessly and dropped to the wooden planks. I heard him curse in a language I didn’t understand, a snarl that made my hair stand on end and gooseflesh race over me, chills down my spine.
I shouted back, my rage consuming me and pushing my body to its limits. Bardon had prepared me for this, when my emotions were out of control and the fire consumed me. The candles around the room were igniting with energy, the once gentle flickering flames roaring to life threatening to start the walls on fire. If I had been in the right frame of mind, I would have stopped, I would have calmed myself. But nothing to me was more important in that moment than killing this man.
Behind Kashal I could see Bardon turn, his eyes flashing silver once as he called his spear to his side. On the off chance his ward broke, he needed his weapon to defend himself. The once splintered and broken silver tipped spear repaired itself on command, sometimes his oracle curse wasn’t too awful, especially now when he needed the staff. The look on his face caught my attention though, even as I was readying myself to send another onslaught of arrows towards the tiefling – frustration, anger, a murderous look I hadn’t seen him wear before. He wanted Kashal dead, even more so they I did. He visibly sighed, and returned his focus to my sister.
And then whipped around to look at me again, startled. When he moved to the side… Alyara was gone.
Across the room I heard Kaldvic grunt, the monk’s fist connecting with his jaw before launching into a series of heavy swings directed at his face. Kaldvic reeled in the slightest but used that momentum, ready and tensed for this moment, his muscles taut as he launched himself out of harm’s way. Rolling to bring himself upright once more, Kaldvic wielded his twin katana, the swords weaved back in forth in constant motion as he waited for an opening to make itself known. With a huff of effort he lunged, flashes of crimson and steel slicing towards the monk, his blades nothing more than extension of his arms reaching out to scrape away more and more of his enemy’s flesh. Thin cuts quickly became gaping wounds, the dragonborn’s scales becoming disfigured and bloodied. The monk’s cloth armor provided littler protection and there was next to nothing he could do to avoid further barrage rather than counter with his own.
His fists were slow and predicatble in comparison to the speed Kaldvic wielded, but he force behind them and upon each successful hit I could hear the man I loved yelp and cry out, his own blood painting the shelves where it hit. More than once I could have sworn I heard a bone snap under the heard knuckle of his adversary.
Whatever the black blood did to these people, it turned them into mindless husks. Neither the monk nor the dual wielding dagger rogue seemed to care about their injuries. They fought regardless of the damage they took, oblivious to their lack of will. Even when they took a hit, they did not show evidence of pain or agony, simply more aggression. Kaldvic’s gaze locked with mine from across the room, his expression grim. He needed the upper hand and he didn’t know how to obtain it. We were running on limited energy, we had a resource that was waning thing…
Our enemy did not.
But thankfully Kaldvic had the same crutch I did, a back door option, a trick up our sleeve. Where my rage was already going… his now just begun. His eyes glowed again, his muscles strengthened, I knew the minor injuries he had were now a nuisance he would deal with later. His strikes were faster, stronger, the tempo of his blows more erratic and unpredictable than they were before as his swords cleaved down for the kill rather than calculated arterial cuts. But even I knew this would only last for a few moments, brief moments at that… and then he would be exhausted. If the monk was taken care of by then…
I turned my attention back to my own task as I began to circle around to the side of the room. Kashal’s attention could only be divided so many ways, with Bardon taking up action on his rear and his minions under constant fire from Streloka, I took my chance to glance around for Aly. I was hoping she was simply using a new spell that she hadn’t warned me of and was hiding unseen in a corner. I did catch sight of Gonqui cowering away, giving up hope on the door to our exit. It wouldn’t open, it was magically sealed. No point wasting energy on a lost cause.
Kaldvic’s war cry brought me out of my thoughts. “No!” I gasped, watching as he sprinted head first towards Kashal. He too must have assumed the tiefling was too preoccupied to pay him much attention, but he had been mistaken.
Kashal hadn’t been as overwhelmed as Kaldvic presumed, it was as if he thrived in this environment, thirsted for this chaos. The more challenging the fight became, the calmer he seemed to become. It was as if Kaldvic’s headlong strike had been anticipated from the start. Just as Kaldvic’ bulky frame made its way to the demon, the half-fiend contorted, side stepping in an unnatural way and twisting out of reach of the twin blades. His grin became psychotic, wide and excited his eyes stared up to meet the confused downward look of the fighter. Perhaps on a lesser opponent such a move would have worked… but a lesser component Kashal was not.
Instead the tiefling’s backbone cracked audibly as he reared himself upright, his pitch black longsword thrust down in the same motion as a scorpion’s tail. It was wrong, disturbing, whatever this black blood did, it made people do impossible things. He should be broken, dead the way his body was disfigured. The look of confusion on Kaldvic’s face showed that he was thinking the same. He tried to bring his sword up to block, but the force of the ebony blade shattered through the katana like it wasn't even there, the shards of the blade flying in all directions.
A split second later Kaldvic was flat on his back, the air living his lungs in a long whoosh, swords flung from his limp fingers and resting out of reach. Blood pooled around him and he stared down at his chest where he had been skewered.
I started forward, hand reaching out to him, a scream left bare on my lips, my vision tinting red, head swimming. Kashal chuckled, a low menacing sound that echoed on the fringe of all other sounds in the room. His ebony sword remained embedded in Kaldvic, pinning him to the Vault floor.
“YOU BASTARD!!” Gun shots pierced out, the bang startling me out of my daze, the bullets aimed for Kashal. But the tiefling blocked it much in the same way he had with my bullets, a quick flick of his wrist and he had a barrier of acidic goo, flushing away any assistance the pirate’s bullets may have offered. Uselessly they pinged to the floor, clicking against my arrows.
The wave surged towards Streloka, slamming her against the huge locked doors of the phylactery chamber, age old dust exploded out from the ancient wood. She slid down, a pool of burning black ooze waiting for her at the bottom. She screamed, thrashed in the liquid, trying to break free as it ate at her skin, a wash of agony and white hot pain. But it stuck to her like glue, it refused to be removed… and eventually her screams became whimpers… and even those too died out.
Kashal stood confidently in the center of the room… Streloka… Kaldvic… I felt numb, I was going to be sick. My brain was allowing me to comprehend what happened, my adrenaline rush forcing me to continue to act. Slowly his turned to me, a long nailed finger rose to point in my direction but I felt as if I was hearing him speak through water, the room was tilting this way and that.
“You there,” he cooed amicably. “The fight is over, child. All of your friends are dead or quickly heading in that direction. I believe you know what I am here for, what has brought me here, worlds away for” I instinctually went for my quiver, wrapped my fingers around an arrow and let it lose piercing him in his face, slaughtering him where he stood.
Except…
Except that didn’t happen.
My hand moved on its own, not anymore. It was not instinct that controlled me this time. Instead of going for my quiver, I slipped my hand over the phylactery that rested at my hip, tied down by a cord. I undid that cord, cradeling the glass bottle in my hand, the yellowed label clearly reading ‘Samuel Stillwater’. Rahovar’s final earthly tether, the lock keeping the evil man from ascending into Godhood.
His smirk turn manic, widening at the sight of the vial. “Yes,” he hissed, lips barely moving. “This is it! Give it to me!”
No! Don’t do it! Don’t give it to him! STOP! STOP THIS!
But I tossed the vial across the room. It spun end over end in a high arc through the air… to Kashal’s greedy hand, snatching it. Two gun shots rang out at that last moment. The first bullet punched through the demon’s expecting hand while the other sent the phylactery fying back, the enchanted glas holding together even after a direct ballistic hit.
Kashal’s returning scream shook the chamber, the tiefling clutching his hand close to his body as he turned to stare with fiery eyes at Streloka. She had managed to remain upright against the door, both hands gripping her smoking pistol in a shaking grip. Even with Kashal’s black blood eating away at her, she still held that devil-may-care look in her violet eyes that showed he had no intention of letting anything, not even this pain, stop her. I turned to look at her, watched as she struggled to smile back even as she bit at her lip to stave off some of the insurmountable pain she must have been experiencing.
I moved towards her, I could help, I could pull her out. Kaldvic… He… I squeezed my eyes shut. I would save Streloka. As I moved closer my vision hazed again, common now with the rage that was blasting through me. I raised a hand to rub my eyes, hoping to clear them… but when I did I dropped to my knees.
Streloka was no longer smiling at me. Instead she had wide shocked eyes that were focused on her own torso. Half a dozen arrows were plunged arrowhead deep into her chest, arrows enchanted to torch a target from the inside out, arrows tipped with silver to kill vampires…
My arrows.
When I stared down at my hand I was holding up my bow, my sight geared straight towards Streloka.
I… I did it… I… I killed Streloka.
Kashal’s answering chuckle was my welcome. Then what happened dawned on me. The haze… every time my vision blurred… every time it reddened around the edges… That hadn’t been my rage. Now focusing I could feel a mental control on me, feel his thoughts inside my head.
Slowly, painstakingly so, my eyes traveled from Streloka to… Kaldvic. It wasn’t a sword that forced him to the ground… no… it was my arrows.
My stomach hurled, my head spun, I felt to my knees, hands shook, vision blurred though this time it wasn’t due to my lack of will. Tears streamed down my face. I couldn’t breathe, I was choking on sobs that wretched through my body as I curled into a tight ball, head almost touching the ground. I killed him… Oh gods, I killed Kaldvic.
I inched towards him, my whole body numb, my actions feeling like they were forced, as if I was standing outside myself, watching. I took his head in my hands, set it out on my lap. “I… I…” I couldn’t even speak. I buried my face in his hair, fingers clenching the collar of his shirt, his scarf twisting and balling in my hands. His blood was everywhere, slowly drying onto his clothing, turning into crystals. His scarf almost looked like it was covered with rubies, it glinted in the light. He let out a cough and looked up at me, the fire in his crimson eyes dying. He struggled, and turned his lips into his trademark smirk, then fell limp, dead. My back shuddered with the force of my cries, my lungs ached, stomach hurt from where I clenched the muscles there. “Please no,” I begged. “Please, just let him come back. I… I didn’t mean… It wasn’t… my fault. Please, I’ll do anything. Just give him back to me. Please…” my voice was barely above a whisper, my lips hardly moving. “I love him, please.” My heart felt like it had been ripped from chest, a gaping hole where it used to be. I wasn’t even sure it was beating…. How could it if he was dead? I could I exist if he was gone? “I love you,” I breathed into his hair. My hands glowed with magic, trying to heal him though I knew it was futile. “Please come back to me, I need you. I’m nothing… I can’t do this without you, please…” Tears soaked his hair, washed away the blood that was already drying upon his skin.
Kashal’s sinister chuckle turned into loud, cold laughter. “You cannot save him, you cannot kill me, no matter how hard you try.” Mocking, he was mocking me. I heard him move somewhere out of my view, picking up something from the ground. “I own you!” I turned to look up at him, my treasured bow in his hands, empty quiver slung over his shoulder. I had used all of my arrows… to kill my friends.
“You are nothing,” he spat, eyes darkening as he grasped my bow between his hands, easily snapping the weapon in two, wooden splinters shattering outwards as he dropped the now useless item at my knees. From his pocket he withdrew Rahovar’s phylactery, turning the bottle this way and that in his slender, gnarled fingers, eyeing the contents that swirled inside. “Cannot save the man you love, cannot stop the little voice in your head telling you to slaughter those close to you, cannot kill me… And, you know what? You cannot stop me from breaking this either.”
He cupped the tiny bottle in his hands, whispering strange words in a guttural and ugly language that made my insides crawl. Lightning surged between his fingers and charged into the vial. Whatever protective magic that was once protecting was waning thing as Kashal chanted faster, more furiously, lightning dancing on his palms and trailing down his fingers.
Black hands erupted from the flat ground, grasping around Kashal’s feet. Claws dug deep into his ankles, pulling him out of his trance-like concentration and forcing the phylactery from his hands, the vial rolling away across the floor boards.
“What in the Nine Hells-“ Kashal began in a growl, gaze locked on the floor in disbelief.
Alyara climbed her way up from Kashal’s shadow, piercing her claws into his flesh as she brought herself up. A sly smile curled upon her lips this time, no sign that she was injured or harmed by the black blood that had once stuck to her just moments ago. In fact, I looked closer, she appeared as if she hadn’t been hurt whatsoever even though I knew I had seen blood when she was launched backwards. Her attack was stronger, wild, less controlled… Something had changed.
“How are you not dead?” his voice boomed.
“I had help,” Alyara replied, her smirk growing wider her shadow shifted and changed. She was solid now, having pulled herself completely up off the ground. A secondary being appeared, obscured by mist and darkness but eventually it took the shape of Carruth, a murderous glare in his feline eyes. As quickly as he appeared he launched forward, lunging into Kashal and knocking him backwards, dark claws sunk into the rust colored scales that adorned his neck and face. Alyara pushed off as Carruth continued his onslaught, Kashal attempting meagerly to push the beast away.
Alyara moved to my side, her adrenaline likely blocking out the scene that lay before her, allowing her to remain blissfully ignorant to the destruction… the death…
“What-“ she began, but her voice was cut off as Kashal began his chant once more with more vigor and strength, with however much arcane ability he could hold while be attacked. He foamed at the mouth with rage, black inky blood beginning to edge down over his lips and dying his teeth, his concentration struggled but he maintained it.
Dark grey mist circled around his feet slowly drifting to fill the space around him. A sickening slurping sound issued from the mist just as thick black tentacles rose from the obscuring fog, twisting in the air. Those tentacle encircled Carruth, flinging him from Kashal as if he was nothing more than an irritating fly on a hot summer day. Kashal’s laughter bit out through the mist as he removed himself from the tentacles, reaching down for the phylactery once more.
Bardon’s boot clamped down on the glass vial, his eyes sharp with determination.
Kashal scoffed, eyes rolling as he paused momentarily in his stride. “Elf, do you truly think you can stop me? After all this time? Your little trick didn’t work back then and if you honestly believe that your booted foot will stop me now…”
“No,” the oracle answered, looking down towards the phylactery. His voice oozed with disappointment, not wanting to admit to Kashal, to anyone, that we had lost. “I don’t think I could ever stop, or kill you, or make you pay. I tried, I used a spell Kalin gave me to banish you but... clearly that didn’t work.” The vial rolled under his foot, back and forth. “I’m not much of a fighter, you yourself made sure that any weapon I hold is on the brink of falling apart.” Alyara and I met glances. His oracle curse… he hadn’t been born with it, nor had Kalin bestowed it to him as we had assumed. No, it had been Kashal, this tiefling. Had it been part of Rahovar’s plan all along? “I can’t beat you in a fight, and you know spells that can turn me inside out in a second with nothing more than a few words.
“So, no, I can’t stop you.” Bardon quickly stepped down on the phylactery, flipped the vial up to his right hand, a scroll suddenly appearing from his pocket in his left. He let the scroll open, revealing dozens or even hundreds of rows of arcane writing, much of it I couldn’t make out. A circular figure rested in the center, the words curving around it. “But, I can slow you down and toss this thing away!” The letters on the scroll began to gleam bright purple, each and every single letter igniting with a bright violet flame. “I’ll toss this through a rift! A thousand possible worlds and countless possible times!” Bardon pulled his hand back, ready to drop the phylactery into the swirling abyss.
“You brag that you have so much time to live, right? Then spend it searching!”
Bardon’s eye flushed over with black instead of his usual silver, his right hand holding the phylactery froze in place, the fingers holding the scroll slowly unfurled and dropped the parchment. He… was frozen… As the scroll touched the ground, the portal and the letters that created it faded away as if they had never been summoned. Only the black parchment remained.
Alyara moved to stand but I stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, my head shaking. Just stop, let us lose, let this be over… don’t try to fight… we will all die if we do.
Trying was futile.
Kashal leaned closer to Bardon, his voice like a whip, “Foolishness, breaker,” he whispered, “You should have known better than anyone else. I. Own. You. Just as I own her,” he jabbed a finger at me. “You are my pets! The only reason you live is because I let you. And you, like all my other possessions, serve a purpose.” Kashal reached out to lift Bardon’s hands, the phylactery bore cracks along the glass from being in his grip. Still black eyed and mute, Bardon offered no resistance as Kashal gently took the glass from him, he was unresponsive, complied without a fight.
Vial in hand, Kashal’s grip tightened on Bardon’s. “Now fulfill your purpose. Use the gift I gave to you all those years ago when you wished you could use magic like all the other highborn elves. Do what I made you to do and BREAK!”
“NO!” shrieked Alyara, hand outstretched to stop Kashal.
But it was too late.
The sound of glass crunching, shattering, cascading apart reached out ears.
A fine spray of tiny glass shards and ancient blood drooped to the floor, splattering it, staining it.
Whispers began in my head.
A great wind picked up around us all, the change so strong and forceful and churning it took us by surprise. The sheer force was even more violent than the smoke that Kashal had created earlier, foul black energy enveloping within it, evil, dark. The air writhed and spun, a low rumble shook the phylactery vault, countless vials jingled again, ringing to the rhythm of the small quake. The rumble grew louder, forming clearly into a grisly bellow that put my teeth on end, as if a giant was shouting in agony. The dark energy began to take shape, starting first with the frail human frame of the vampire cleric. Even from where we sat, I could make out the deceptively charming face of Rahovar.
The whispers were screaming now… but I knew only I could hear them… knew my sister was oblivious to their existence… as I finally realized what had happened back in Moffat.
Rahovar’s face rose up as his body formed, contorted in agony, screaming that inhuman sound, the very same he had shouted when he fell into the Pool of Resurrection so many months before. The dark energy about him turned back over, changing his thin frame and handsome features. Muscles expanded down the lengths of his arms and legs, spanning across his torso, stretching the vampire’s skin tight. Loud cracks could be heard as Rahovar’s bones jutted outwards and rearranged themselves within his body. Sharp spines protruded past his skin along his spine, lining the length of his backbone and pronounced the line of his brow. Great leathery wings sprouted from his back and pulled at the twisting current as they stretched out. The monstrous new form of Rahovar loomed over Kashal and Bardon. While the tiefling stared up at his God with nothing less than pure bliss, Bardon shrunk away, his mind now his own once more.
Rahovar’s stature continued to grow, pressing against the ceiling and cracking the ancient would and stone that held the room together. His horned forehead and shoulders punctured into the hard material, forcing it upwards until the ceiling fractured against the pressure. Dust and debris fell in great clumps. I quickly dragged myself backwards, sister in my arms, covering Alyara with my own body to protect her from the worst of it, cringing only in the slightest as they rained down up on us. I had already lost enough today, I wasn’t about to let her join Kaldvic and Streloka.
Bardon scurried out of the way, joining us against the back wall of the room, the shelves providing some shelter to the storm that raged in the middle of the chamber. Carruth at his side though quickly disappearing into Alyara’s shadow once close.
Kashal’s tentacles formed a barrier above his head, he wore the same pleased grin.
Gonqui pressed herself against the large ornate doors.
Rahovar, now clear of the ceiling and stretching into the lightning and thunder filled skies above, spread his vast wings wide into the open air, releasing yet another ground shaking bellow. Rather than pain, his shriek was nothing but relief and victory. The tiny room shuddered beneath our feet, tossing us about like we were rag dolls, involuntary to the chaos. Water droplets splattered against the wooden floor, joining the blood of our enemies and companions. The storm raged louder, stronger than it had been earlier as lightning streaked the sky in wild arcs, thunder bombarding us with its screams of protest. The winds whipped our hair form us, stole our breath, shook the foundation of Castle Cantor.
Even from under his tentacles I could see Kashal beaming with delight, so proud that his God of Tears had been reborn, careless of the storm that beat down upon us. Even as Rahovar dissipated, becoming one with the air above us… joining the pantheon of the Gods… even as Kashal was clearly left behind… he was happy. The fucker. He would pay.
He reached down as the winds subsided, pulling his crimson cloak out from amidst the rubble, sweeping it over his shoulders in one swift motion, pinning it with the silver eye brooch. His gaze moved to us, huddled in the corner, shelving pressing against us. “You should consider yourselves fortunate,” he remarked, still grinning with shark teeth from ear to ear. “You have had the pleasure of witnessing an new God’s birth, or rebirth, if you prefer.” The tiefling moved to Kaldvic’s body, bony fingers curling around one of the arrows, roughly pulling it loose from his body. I grit my teeth, tears pooled in the corner of my eyes. How dare he?
Kaldvic’s body gave one last shudder as the final arrow was removed and dropped at his side. Kashal continued his little speech, assuming we cared enough to listen… we didn’t. “Now, times are about to get very busy in this world. A new God means new religion, there is so much for me to do!” He sounded so… fucking… joyful. It made me sick. With a nonchalant wave of his bleeding hand, black blood surrounded Paprika’s enthrall body once more, stiffened and formed around her. No longer acidic, the viscous fluid seemed to compact to her, pulling her down, becoming one with the black stream until she was nothingness. The river of black trickled to the trio of enemies that had once wanted to slaughter us, their bodies now crushed under the rubble, and diluted them to ooze as well.
“I should take these two, as well, my well-earned trophies,” his hand flicked towards Streloka and Kaldvic. I heard Alyara gasp beside me as realization took hold, now that her adrenaline had worn off enough that her mind could tell her of the devastating lost he had taken. Her gaze turned to me, eyes wet, her lip trembling.
But I was too busy trying to launch forward, to dig my nails into his eyes, to rip his smug expression from his face, to bash his head into the wall so many times he wouldn’t be recognizable. But Bardon’s arms around my waist stopped me. “Let me go!” I snarled, but he refused.
The black blood encapsulated Kaldvic and Streloka’s bodies, adding them to his collection. The stream flowed back to Kashal, the impossible volume of tar-like substance returned back through the small cut on his hand, leaving the room clean once more.
I sunk to my knees, eyes trained on the spot Kaldvic’s body was rested.
And then Kashal was gone, sprouting his own wings and taking off into the storm above, heading north in the path of his God.
Gonqui turned to us, face pale and eyes wide, hair haphazardly arranged her face, clothing torn and ragged, hands trembling, knees weak. Her lips were parted but no words would come. I could guess that this was the most excitement her college had seen since its creation… and it would likely be the last.
Alyara shuffled behind me. “Bardon… you knew that thing they summoned. The tiefling. Kashal.” It wasn’t a quest, it was an accusation. Her mind had gone the same route mine did: did Bardon somehow know this would happen?
Bardon cleared his throat. “I do… He is Kashal Lotharn.” He paused for a moment as if trying to find his words, to phrase what he wanted in a way that we would understand without labeling him a traitor. “When I was Kalin’s servant, I made the mistake of telling him that my deepest desire was to be able to use magic. Sun elves who couldn’t were… looked down upon. Kalin told me he could help, that he could introduce me to someone who could give me magic.” He sighed heavily, the weight of the memory a burden. “That person was Kashal. I didn’t know what I was getting into. He gifted me with magic, but he also cursed me. At the time, I didn’t know of his connection to Rahovar, I still don’t know the extent of it. Maybe if we can somehow decipher Sam Stillwater’s journal, we can better understand what is occurring.”
“I don’t know Infernal,” my sister replied, her voice sounding used, exhausted.
Gonqui chimed in then finding her voice, “To the north of Castle Cantor is a town called River’s End… there was once a rather prominent family of wizards there known as the Carroways. I do not know much of the world now but if anyone could help or know where to look… I believe that family could be of assistance.”
Bardon mused this over for some time. “You have a point, they have a manor in the marsh and are well renowned for their studies into both the arcane and the divine. I believe Evan the Teal, the head master wizard for the family, was an adventurer and had helped overturn the cult of Fashmi. He would have knowledge, I am certain, though I am not so sure he would be able or even willing to help us.”
“But we have a place to start,” Alyara crossed her arms. “We can at least try.”
Bardon moved to the center of the room where Kashal once stood, picking through the rubble. Pulling his hand back I could just barely mack out the unmarked black diamond that had been thrown to the center of the room, the very gem Kashal had arisen from. “Once we are at River’s End we can track down Kashal with this… I assume Rahovar shouldn’t be too far away from him – he is likely still weak and needs the aid of the tiefling.”
Everyone began gathering their things, picking up tossed belongings and misplaced weapons and gear. Bardon began removing rubble from one of the collapsed walls, we would exit through there, Gonqui was fussing about, not quite sure what to do now that her home was destroyed. She couldn’t leave… she was bound to this place.
I couldn’t care less.
I heard Bardon ask something, Alyara replying, their idle chatter not cutting through the screaming in my head, the pounding of my heart… The ache in my chest. I glanced at Kaldvic’s scarf that still remained clutched in my hands.
I felt Alyara’s hands on my shoulder, giving me a gentle squeeze. “It’s time to go.”
“I didn’t mean to kill them…” I whispered.
“I know,” her voice was warm, comforting, caring, sympathetic.
“It wasn’t my fault…”
“I know.”
“I loved him.”
She knelt behind me, wrapping her arms around me, pulling me against her, resting her chin on my head as I closed my eyes, willing my mind to erase the image of Kaldvic’s body skewered with my arrows. My brain now able to conjure up the memory of shooting him, my arms acting without my consent, firing shot after shot with a blank expression.
“I loved him and he’s gone. He won’t ever know. I wanted to…” my voice muffled around tears, the sobs returning once more, wracking my body, I shook, my grip constricting around the scarf. “I didn’t even get to plant a tree...” It was tradition, to bury a tree over our fallen.
“We will plant him one,” she promised.
“It won’t be the same.” I won’t be the same.
“I know, Albi. I’m sorry.”
I vaguely heard her tell Bardon to meet us at the river boat, we would catch up with him later.
I don’t know how long we sat like that, how long she let me cry uncontrollably into her shoulder. I only know that afterwards I felt fatigued, spent, as if every ounce of energy I had was pressed out of me. My heart beat though I questioned how it could continue.
How many more people did I have to lose?
How many more times would I have to go through this?
Alyara slid Kaldvic’s scarf around my shoulders, circling it around my neck once and letting it fall around me. She pinned my ivory cloak, pulling the hood up though it seemed pointless now that my hair was already soaked from the rain.
Without further word, she took me by the hand and led me away from the chamber and into the storm.
Master Document
Alright guys, as I begin to edit documents and so on, I am going to provide links via THIS blog post, my master post, to the edited versions. I will provide BOTH a tumblr link AND a blog link. I might create a new blog to post the fully edited and fluffed up journals, going to start all the way back in Verizon, or I may just edit them here... or both. Haven't decided.
As you will see, a new format is going to be taking place. I used to use days in order to showcase how much time has passed. However, some of my buddies were a a bit argumentative about just how much time has passed soooo I decided to delete the days and just let you all guess on how much time has elapsed from beginning to end. Enjoy.
Fiction: Pathfinder/Dungeon and Dragons
Written By: AFinalHope (Anne)
Rating: PG-13 to Mature
Disclaimer: I do not lay claim to any of the following work. While the writings themselves are my own, my character is created fully by myself, the other characters and story elements I do not own. I also do not own any of the Pathfinder/D&D elements that are in play. Full credit goes to where it is due. Thank you.
ACT ONE
Verizon
Chapter One
The beginning of our journey – two sisters, Albany and Alyara, team up with a mountain man named Kaldvic after Albany saves him from a deadly goblin attack in the woods and Streloka, the (in)famous Dread Pirate. Together the four of them agree to aid the town of Verizon to vanquish the goblin threat in the area in return for a reward.
A Reward Not so Easily Obtained
Chapter Two
The party heads out to the outskirts of Verizon. It is there that an outpost rests, the very outpost manned by soldiers that will pay them for the removal of the goblins. However, things don’t go entirely according to plan.
The Beginning of it All
Chapter Three
They need answers, more specifically: who was behind the attack on the outposts and why were vampires rising up in power? Albany worries that there is more here than what meets the eye. Just as they begin to get answers, a new face joins the fray. Is he friend… or foe?
Friends in Low Places
Chapter Four
Albany grows increasingly suspicious of their newest party member. What are his motives? Who is he? Her sister’s fawning over him does little to ease her concerns. Before they are able to give Harold’s important message to the King of Cumberbatch, they are thrown from the gates. Harold may have another solution… one that Albany is not too keen on.
Murder on the Dance Floor
Chapter Five
With the masks in their possession, the party begins to prepare themselves for the masquerade that is to occur this evening. Alyara forces Albany into a gown and Streloka surprises the party with a complete change… of person. Kaldvic, not too pleased with his new look, manages to be the talk of the ballroom. However, it is Harold that shocks them all the most… with a secret so devastating it could tear the peace apart.
Payback
Chapter Six
While the party attempts to find new information out about the vampires behind the Masquerade Massacre, the complete odd jobs around town. Jealousy runs like a snake through the crowd, when Kaldvic begins to become close with the alchemist they aid. Pranks ensue in the evening, Albany’s attempt to lighten the mood… when the tables are turned though she is left less than pleased.
Long Live the Queen
Chapter Seven
A speech draws the group’s attention during one morning as they are leaving the apothecary’s. They pale as they discover exactly who is behind the plot to overthrow Cumberbatch into chaos. Just as they begin to retrieve the answers they have been looking for, they are ambushed in the dead of night.
Rise to Power
Chapter Eight
The chaos in Cumberbatch comes to a high as the group confronts the Queen. Will they get answers as to who is behind the attacks? Who is their leader? What do they want? Albany can’t shrug off the feeling that there is something larger going on, a bigger picture that they are only seeing a hint of. Alyara shares these concerns.
ACT TWO
Alone
Chapter Nine
Albany is left behind to finish up their work in Cumberbatch as the others journy south to Riversend. Believing their worries to be over for now, Streloka wanted to show the group the seaside harbor of Moffat with a few side trips along the way. Albany plans to join them later… though that time cannot come soon enough it seems as Cumberbatch sucks her into all the evils it has to offer.
Gaston
Chapter Ten
Finally, joining up with the others in Riversend, Albany is more than relieved. Sadly, those feelings change when her sister quickly returns to Cumberbatch in her stead to be with Harold, leaving Albany with Kaldvic while Streloka stays one more night in Riversend. Together the two travel with navigator Gaston, a bard. The journey is not so gentle.
Unexpected Guests
Chapter Eleven
Albany is awoken to the sounds of battle occuring on the upper decks. Rushing to gather her belongings she joins the fray. The enemies are stronger now, tougher than they ever have been before… will a bargain save them from the depths of the sea?
Then There Were Aboleths
Chapter Twelve
After stopping at a riverside port for supplies, the party rejoins together as Alyara and Streloka return. Alyara is more than pleased to share her time with Harold while Streloka revels in the fact that she is on a boat again. Trouble ensues as they near Moffat. Later, Kaldvic attempts to console Albany though the results were likely not what he expected.
Mutiny for the Cow
Chapter Thirteen
With the help of their newest party member, Streloka comes face to face with her oldest rival – Borris the Brown Cow. However, his crew seems to know something about the return of the aboleths. Seeing a familiar symbol, is it possible that Cumberbatch and Moffat are related somehow? By destroying one evil, had they created another?
Unrest and Resolution
Chapter Fourteen
A hiccup in the morning provides a diversion for the group as they try to discover information behind the Aboleths. Alyara has argued that fighting with knowledge may help since they are dealing with an enemy that is new. Ambaron, the city of the sun elves, may have the answers. Later, Alyara and Albany finally heal old wounds, their bond now closer than ever.
Memories
Chapter Fifteen
Over a month has passed since Moffat and Albany recollects on what has passed. The events of Ambaron leading to Moffat, the destruction that awaited them there, the battle they fought… and her new found powers.
This is merely a placeholder. I plan on going back and spreading this journal into two or three different journals to fully cover everything. As is it is lacking a lot of information.
ACT THREE
Unwelcome Home
Chapter Sixteen
Kaldvic grows increasingly angry with his ring, wanting to rid himself of his hunger. Albany and Alyara are able to stop him for now but they both worry what will happen if he doesn’t get it off soon. As they near their home of Ninovan, wanting to tell their family all that has happened over the past six months, the two sisters couldn’t be happier. Just as always, things never go as planned.
A Sister’s Confession
Between Chapters Fluff
Captured by their parents and loved ones, the group falls into silence. Alyara finally tells Albany why she wanted to leave with her in the first place, what she had been running from. She also confesses to her feelings for Harold though explains how her duty to her people may throttle any chance she has of being with him.
The Realm of the Spirits
Chapter Seventeen
A mysterious duo wakes the party up in the early morning hours, freeing them fromt heir cells and providing an illusion while they are gone. The vampires are here as well, and they need to learn who is pulling the strings once and for all. In order to do so, a trip to the Unseen Realm is going to be needed… apparently the answers can only be found there. But will the party survive?
A Reviving
Chapter Eighteen
The answers are finally out in the open, the ringleader to the vampire’s name is known as is his story. Pavati, a nymph provides them with a gift as well, wanting to see the Realm of the Living at peace. As they begin to leave, Albany can’t help but worry. Who is the blonde haired woman? What does she know? What does Rahovar want with Ninovan? How does this all play together? Though some answers were given, it seems they only created more questions.
Betrayel is Bittersweet
Chapter Nineteen
Something happened to Kaldvic while in the Unseen Realm but before the group can question it further, they are interrupted by none other than Kalin, the man who had led them through the tunnels underneath Ambaron to Ninovan. A once supposed friend and ally was now turning against them, forcing them to act. His words near the end, however, sent nothing but a chill racing down the backs of the party members. They were going to war…
Moment of Peace
Chapter Twenty
They had to tell Ninovan what was happening, that a band of vampires more powerful than ever seen before was heading their way. But with Argou under the control of a powerful spell, and with the Hunt on the search for them… their options were limited. The party splits, leaving Albany behind to tend to Kaldvic’s wounds.
The Battle Begins
Chapter Twenty-One
Alyara is gone, missing… and no one can find her. Broken away from her momentary peace, Albany is on the brink of panic as she remembers a time when she wasn’t there when her sister needed her. What if this occurance ends like the last one had? Or worse?
Vineridge
Chapter Twenty-Two
As Ninoan prepares for the coming battle, Streloka and Albany head out to meet with King Harold. He promises them aid from Cumberbatch, attempting form an alliance with the catfolk against Rahovar and his vampire army. They are to meet in Vineridge… but as the trio comes together, they realize that they have other problems to face before returning.
Captured
Chapter Twenty-Three
Vineridge had not ended as planned. Now captured and tortured for information by servants of Rahovar, the trio remain in a fortress hidden away iin the Tiraten Wood. They are not alone, five young children also rest in cells nearby. As the days pass by, Albany grows fearful that they will have nothing to return to, that Rahovar will march upon Ninovan while they are gone… Granted, will they ever be able to return at all?
Alyara Gone
Chapter Twenty-Four
Battle is thrust down upon Ninovan in the dead of night. Awoken from her sleep, Albany discovers that Alyara was taken and brought to the old ruins located in the middle of the wood. Furthermore… she learns that Ninovan has been betrayed, there is a traitor in their ranks… and that traitor has her sister. As chaos falls upon the village, she races to find her companions and together they head off into the Woods.
Gate to Hell
Chapter Twenty-Five
The party finally comes face to face with the leader of the vampires, the God of Tears Rahovar. They learn of his plot to become a full-fledged God, to rule over the world and do as he bids. With the use of the Feyradain, an ancient elven artifact, he plans to obtain the last item he needs to reach Godhood, a talisman that will unlock the Sphere of Annihilation. Just as he jumps through the portal, Albany follows after, watching as the gate to her friends closes behind her.
Ninovan Restoration
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ninovan is in ruin after the attack of the vampires. As wood elves wake from their trance-like state, the catfolk are wary to allow them to form an alliance. The weeks pass as repairs begin and all falls into a realm of calm. Albany comes face to face with her mother after a century and Kaldvic reveals secrets she isn’t sure she is ready to hear. Alyara still struggles with her decision between doing what isi right for her people, and what is right for her heart.
ACT FOUR
Cure a Curse
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Tensions between Kaldvic and Albany only strengthen as time goes on, espeically with the return of Erica who continues to fawn over the mountain man with lust. Now that Ninovan was underway with repairs, the group turns their attention to the ring on Kaldvic’s finger, the onen that curses him with a hunger for human flesh. Erica and Sylara have an idea, a way for them to remove it. They just need some ingrediants first. Later Albany tries to control her magic, only for it to snap out of control once more.
A Witch and Her Plan
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Now that Harold and Alyara are back together, it was time for the group to venture out and have a day for themselves – a day away from the sound of hammers and swords in Ninovan, a day where no one had to speak of Rahovar. While neither of those things happened, trouble still managed to find them, this time in the form of a witch looking for a wizard.
Complications
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ambaron greeted them warmly with food and rooms fit for nobles. The guild of EverBrave was given free reign of the training courts and knowledge, Harold and his companions able to train as they saw fit while Albany and the scholars delved into tomes, searching for more information on the Sphere. Bardon, a ward of Lannorus, joins the party, much to Kaldvic’s chagrin. Barodn agrees to help Albany learn magic, to control it. Kaldvic warns her against such an action, arguing that they know next to nothing about the man. Later, EverBrave attempts to speak to the Council, to appeal for aid.
Answers and Questions
Chapter Thirty
Harold, Kaldvic, and Streloka continue training the new recruits for EverBrave, Alyara aids in creating new alliances, and Albany returns to her search for information. Magic training consumes her morning, books in the afternoon, training recruits at night… there is barely any time to sleep. Sadly, her dreams have been less than favorable lately and take a turn for the worst, leaving her with a haunting message, a warning, a reminder that they were still at war with Rahovar.
To Speak the Truth
Chapter Thirty-One
Anxiety, stress, lack of sleep, and failure to findn any new leads brings Albany to a breaking point. Even knowing that the group will move north to the mountains in hopes of locating the ancient sylph library for more information doesn’t calm her nerves. Are they fighting a losing battle? Kaldvic follows her to magic training one day, a day without Bardon at her side. He believes that now is time to finally speak the truth, to tell her what he thinks…
Journey to Castle Cantor
Chapter Thirty-Two
The nightmares told them where to go, where the next set of clues would rest… but fear keeps Albany on edge. Kaldvic is the only one who can soothe it, make her forget how terrified she is for even just the briefest of moments. But just as he is helping her forget, Harold helps her remember. The party sets forth for Castle Cantor, Bardon as their guide. But there are storms brewing on the horizon.
Mionette’s Maze
Chapter Thirty-Three
With the help of Gonqui, the party heads deeper into the castle, chasing after the key that they need to keep Rahovar locked away. It’s a race, as Paprika and her minions begin to search for the same item, the group attempts to use a secret maze to beat them to it. Will they survive the trails and live another day? Or will they fall privy to the maze and it’s riddles, never to return?
Unsuspecting Traitor
Chapter Thirty-Four
As the room cascaded into darkness, the group flounders at a resolve. They are outnumbered, outmatched, and clearly have no way of winning. With the phylactery of Rahovar clutched to her side, Albany turns to combat, hoping to fight their way out. Streloka’s guns blaze with smoke, Alyara clings to her magic even if as it weakens within her, Kaldvic’s blades hiss through the air… but not everyone will come out alive. Someone is going to get hurt. Someone is going to die.
ACT FIVE
River’s End
Chapter Thirty-Five
The party returns to the small riverside port for supplies on their way to the mountains, hoping to find someone who can read the infernal langauge of Rahovar’s journal. An uneasy quiet rests over the sisters, neither speaking of the events that had occurred within the college. Bardon has parted from them, heading back to Ambaron to tell the Council of what has occurred leaving the sisters for a time. An evening at the tavern leads to more trouble as Albany teams up with a dwarf to stop a gang from overrunning the village.
Not yet written
Trust
Chapter Thirty-Six
Though the dwarf was able to leaad them to someone who could read the inferal inscribed in Rahovar’s journal as well as to Evan Carraway whom Gonqui had mentioned, Albany and Alyara are slow to trust. Knowing that their cause is a questionable one as their goals turn from doing what is right to seeking nothing but revenge, the two are weary of telling their new traveling companions much of anything. Thei distrust grows even further as a new realization dawns on them and they begin to question just who is on their side… and who should cease to exist at all.
Not yet written

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your icon will be the one sleeping in your bed tonight
Mine is an adorable doggie so I’m cool with this!
But my horse won’t fit in my bed….or my house….and does this mean I’m snuggling with myself, too? Hmmmm….
I think it does... I wish you luck in your endeavors, with Allie's head smushed against yours... and your other head... all not long.
Dorian’s kiss is rough at first. It seems to be all he knows. He lunges at you, his mouth violent and desperate. He grabs your sides, fingers curling around the fabric of your outfit, as if he needed to tear it from you. But he softens when he realizes that you mean him...